August 20, 1990

By the time we’d been in Saudi Arabia for 12 days, we’d pretty much started to settle into a routine. One by one the Wing had overcome the little inconveniences associated with deploying to a foreign land to a base that was in no way ready for you. The big ones – potable water, washers and dryers, and Class “A” telephones – had been taken care of early in our deployment. There were still numerous others to take care of, however, and the Wing took care of them one at a time. For example…

After securing a place for us to stay, the next thing was securing a place for us to eat. For the first week or so everyone was eating MREs, and I imagine that got kind of old with the Wing staff really quick. Those of us in Security Police didn't mind, but the Wing staff, however...so the staff set their sights on the Saudi Officer’s Club Dining Hall. Pretty soon the Wing and the Saudis had come to an agreement for its use, and the OSI came in and did a site survey to ensure it was a safe place for us to eat. This took about ten days or so to happen, and once the dining hall was up and running I went there a couple of times to eat. I was in no way comfortable in that place, because if I were an Iraqi agent who wanted to kill a large number of Americans in one fell swoop, that’s the place I’d go. Aside from that, we had to unload our weapons while we were in there, and in a combat zone I just wasn’t comfortable with that. But the big thing was if that place became a target for a suicide bomber I didn’t want to be anywhere near it, so I think I ate there all of four times until another location – a more secure one – was established about a month or so later. In the mean time we ate MREs on post, which we were still able to get from Supply by the case with no trouble.

Then there was the issue of getting people to work, and that meant transporting them all over the base. The Saudis produced a fleet of “mini-buses” that were capable of holding about 30 people each, tops. They had folding doors set in the middle of the right side of the bus, and to get on or off you had to use this door. While these buses would have been great in normal circumstances, our circumstances were anything but “normal” – everyone there had to carry their gas masks, chemical suits, helmets, and flak vests with them everywhere they went. For us in Security Police we were also saddled with our weapons and webbed gear, although after a while we weren’t required to carry our web gear, just the weapons. (That changed the day the shooting started, though.) To carry all this gear, everyone was carrying around a large sage-green canvas bag called a “pilot’s kit bag,” and it was cumbersome and heavy at best. It was also big – big enough to hold all that gear. This made it a bitch to get in and out of that microbus with, considering the bus was a Mitsubishi and was designed for smaller people without “war bags,” which is what we came to call them. But it beat the hell out of walking, so we put up with it.

While Tent City was being built, the wing was staying in the two Saudi Security Police barracks we moved into the day we arrived. For the most part the Wing was working 12 hour shifts, 6 days on and 1 day off, so there really wasn’t much time for recreation. But on the one day off you had to have somewhere to go and something to do, so the Wing Morale, Welfare and Recreation (MWR) folks erected a Temper-Tent between the two buildings and outfitted it with a large screen TV with a satellite feed, a Nintendo system, a VCR with a fairly good supply of movies, and a popcorn machine. Let me tell you, this “recreation tent” became a little slice of heaven, and it was always crowded. The free popcorn was a big hit as well.

Along about this time I was moved from the flightline area to the main base area, and assumed Anti-Terrorist duties along with a flight of about 45 Security Police troops. I really wasn’t too happy with it as I was being moved from the day shift to the night shift, but I didn’t have much of a choice. So instead of guarding aircraft out in the desert, I was now guarding the main base against terrorist attacks. Only problem was, you never knew just who the terrorist was since they were all Middle Eastern, so you had to treat everyone who wasn’t a Brit or an American as a suspect – even if they wore the Saudi uniform. In the early days of the Gulf War we trusted NO ONE who wasn’t a Brit or an American – NO ONE.

This move to the AT unit – which was still a part of “Charlie” Sector – had the happy result of my meeting the man would soon become my best friend in the war, and one of my best friends for the rest of my life.

Right after Guardmount (the gathering of troops for a pre-duty briefing, post and vehicle assignment) which was held in our barracks, I was taken downstairs and introduced to the other Technical Sergeant on the flight, Lonnie Fulbright. Lonnie is one of those rare people who is continually in a good mood, always happy and smiling, and always able to see both the humor and the good in any situation. He was grinning from ear to ear when I was introduced to him, and the sight of him in his green jungle boots, desert camouflaged pants, brown t-shirt, boonie hat with the brim turned up, grinning behind his wire-rimmed glasses and waving at me like a long-lost friend is a pleasant memory that I’ll keep with me for the rest of my days. We went through a lot of crap together during that time, he and I, and I can honestly say that I never saw him lose his temper once. Nor did I ever hear him swear, although I will say that I did enough of that for both of us. Lonnie was a Christian, a devout one, so he just didn’t lose his temper or swear. But he also didn’t do something that I am both admirable of and thankful for to this day – he didn’t shove his religion at me every chance he got like some overly-devout folks do. Nothing will turn me off to a person faster than this, and I’m glad to say that Lonnie wasn’t like that. I admired his faith then and I admire it now, because it took the both of us through some tough times both during and after the war. To this day we still keep in touch, and we always will.

So that first night Lonnie showed me around the main part of the base, pointing out where the static posts were and introducing me to the other members of the flight. The 12 hours went by pretty quickly, and before we knew it the sun was coming up. Our shifts were split so that you worked half of your shift in the daylight and the other half at night, with the day shift coming on at 1100 hours and the night shift coming on at 2300 hours. So after the sun came up we still had about 5 hours left, and if you don’t think it’s tough to stay awake for 5 hours after the sun comes up and you’ve been up al night, try it sometime. But we managed it, and after we got off work we’d go back to the barracks, take a shower, eat, write a letter, and then hit the sack to get some sleep before we got up and did it all over again.

For 12 hours a day, six days a week. Every week. For 7 months.

Yeah, I know, there were folks out there who had it much worse than that, and I feel sorry for them. But then again, nobody told them to join the Army, did they?

More later.

IHC