Our unit was sequestered in a small high-walled compound with a secure entrance manned by a guard at the front. To enter, you needed appropriate clearance or permission to come inside. Unexpected guests were required to wait while a message was sent indoors and the interior was secured as needed, depending on the guest’s level of security clearance. At the rear of the compound, a massive gate allowed the entrance of our MEWS vehicles.
Once past the guard shack, the compound opened up to the right, with pull up bars, a couple picnic tables, and a smoking area filling the dusty open space. Overhead, camouflage netting helped reduce the glare of the desert sun. Straight ahead, a pallet walkway led to the main building. To the left, two large black tents stood covered in a heavy film of sandy brown. Inside the first, a small mini fridge attempted to operate, holding energy drinks and bottled water at a lukewarm temperature. A large table sat beside the fridge, covered in the excesses from care packages sent by well-meaning friends and family back home. The general idea was that any unwanted treats, snacks, or hygiene items could be left there for someone else to pick up and make use of. It amounted to a small mountain of junk food. Chocolate was rarely available because it just melted too quickly, but occasionally brownies would survive the journey and find their way to the table. The next black tent held command radios, a table, and a couple chairs. Behind the main building lurked a few small shipping containers for storage and repairs, in addition to our air-conditioning units and a burn pit.
The doors to most structures on base were simple in design, sheet metal on hinges with a plastic water bottle full of rocks and hung on a rope to serve as counterweight, keeping the doors shut even on windy days. They fit loosely though, and sand easily swept in through the cracks during sandstorms, coating everything in a thin layer of the finest beige. Upon entering the main compound, a rifle rack stood ready to hold each Marine’s weapon. Those carrying pistols left them strapped to their hip or chest. Immediately across from the main door stood another door leading into what we affectionately called the “Ling Cave”. This is where I spent the majority of my days. A tiny room, at any one time two or three linguists sat on shift working to translate incoming communications and writing reports. We sat at a plywood desk with rudimentary shelves to the right of the entrance. Opposite, a large map of Iraq plastered the wall. Pelican cases of varying sizes stacked in storage, as well as a makeshift desk for another marine crowded the side with the map, and added to the crowded space. Not a comfortable room, we sat variously on a broken metal folding chair, an old ammo case or a pelican case, and occasionally a dilapidated office chair. Crappy swamp-cooler style air conditioning vents hung over our heads, vented through holes crudely chopped into the wall. The working temperature rarely dropped below 90 degrees in the summer months, making it challenging for the fans of our computers to keep up. In the winter, it was equally miserable and we all wore extra layers.
Outside of the Ling Cave and to the right of the main entrance, another door led to the main room. Where the entryway had only a door floor, inside the central workspace a mottled multicolor indoor/outdoor carpet lined the floor. Simple plywood desks skirted the rim of the room, and a small group of workstations protruded into the room from the far wall. Maps, important documents, and half-naked models torn from men’s magazines papered the walls. Our command and staff sat in the close left corner. Analysts spread themselves throughout the room. An industrial size coffee pot held dominance near the Lieutenant’s desk, with a file cabinet beneath it to hold the motherlode of bags of ground coffee. Despite an abundance of filters available, whenever a new pot was prepared, fresh grounds were merely added to the previous remains until the filter overflowed. Only then would a fresh filter be placed. Needless to say, I rarely drank from this pot unless I absolutely had to. I was quick to order a small coffee maker and grounds for our use in the Ling Cave. When word of our quality brew leaked out, a few of the pickier analysts would occasionally sneak over to fill their cups.
The main room was where we held our two daily briefings. We had two shifts, day and night, that turned over at 8am and 8pm respectively. Briefings were held at turnover to inform the oncoming shift of new developments and expectations. Usually brief, rarely contentious, the briefings took on a monotonous tone as the weeks and months progressed.
Next to the CO’s chair, an open computer with access to email outside of the secure lines was available for use. I frequently sent emails home, sandwiched between the CO and the Company GySgt. It made for interesting eavesdropping at times.
pine sap & paper 