Week 1

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The desert in Kuwait Looks like an ocean without waves, rising toward the horizon. Unlike the Sahara - where dunes rib the surface - this wasteland is flat. The winds off the Persian Gulf are constant, yet they never bring moisture. Just enough pressure to keep the surface dust moving through the lower levels of atmosphere.

The Sky is a hazy brown with a blueish-white dome on top. Rarely can you look up into it without squinting, either from the sand or the sun. Sunsets are always red - red like the color of rust – and it is only thing out here corroding.

“What the fuck are we doing here,” I asked, unsure whether it was a personal question or one for a nation.

Reading this, one might think the desert is a miserable place. Yet, people live out here. For a week I did too. With the winter temperature hitting 90 degrees I was surprised at how cool it felt. The dry air combined with the breeze makes life here a pleasure.

We stayed at a transition camp just outside of Iraq, but we're not really sure where. I'd like to imagine we played in the desert that U.S. Forces charged through during the Gulf War in 1991, but we collective think we are too far north. Our only connection may be driving down the same highway that bore Saddam's retreating army. Unfortunately, any traces have long since been removed or paved over.

My first taste of war was in Kuwait. Contrary to my previous update, we have pork. Still no alcohol or porn. The fed us like kings, with a Dinning hall, Burger King, Taco Bell, Subway, Baskins Robins, Pizza Inn and a Coffee place all in trailers in the middle of the desert. Our second night here a band named Drowning Pool held a concert as part of a USO tour. The center of camp is like a normal downtown on a Friday night. If only trailer parks in Oklahoma were like this.

We played games, ate well and got ready. With only five days to acclimate, we will be leaving our dirty paradise sooner than we would have liked. The plane that would take us to Baghdad is a C-130. It is a mule of a craft, sitting under the false protection of hangers bombed out during Desert Storm when Iraq occupied the Kuwaiti airfield.

One hour by air, then a sharp decent into the embattled capital city had our ears screaming in pain. The plane bobbed and weaved on its approach, using tactics to make RPG gunners rethink their shots, and touched down without incident. It is time to go to work.

Goodnight.