Camp Buehring

   Ali Al Salem is like the Atlanta of the Middle East; you can't get anywhere without traveling through there. My stay was measured in hours, but during that time I discovered proof that we had indeed won the war in the Middle East. The sweet smell of fried food sang to me like a siren from across the sand and gravel, and the bright shining beacon of the Golden Arches illuminated the night as a symbol of freedom and capitalism. I had the #2 combo.   

   In the regions around Ali Al Salem are a number of encampments, one of which is Camp Buehring. After departing Ali Al Salem in the middle of the night, our hour and a half bus ride finally dropped us off at Buehring. We were ushered to our tent around 0230, and told that training would commence at 1430 that afternoon. I think I finally got my cot prepared and settled in by 0430.

   Our first exercise was to attend HEAT training.

While it might stand to reason that we should be acclimated to the ridiculous temperatures in the region, this is yet another Army acronym which stands for Humvee Egress Assistance Training. We all strapped ourselves into a Humvee mock-up which was then rolled over, and we had to then escape from an upside-down vehicle. True, releasing the seat belt is an essential step in this process, but it should be undertaken with great care. Gravity is a bitch. The HEAT training we had just encountered was indeed very valuable. Apparently Humvee rollovers are a major source of non-combat related injuries in this part of the world. I hope that I never find myself in a Humvee, but if I do, I'll know how to get out.

   Getting accustomed to the extreme temperature was a whole other matter. I grew up in Alabama. Next to the Tennessee river. I had been in Arizona just prior to deploying. I thought I knew what hot meant. I was wrong. The heat here is oppressive. The sun is intense. How ancient cultures came to worship this Vampirous Devil in the sky which literally drains your will to live, I'll never know. The moon is a much more inviting Heavenly body. Night is almost tolerable as the temperatures plummet into the nineties. Daytime highs are in the mid-120s up to 130. How anyone survived in this environment wearing a full chemical suit and protective mask is beyond me. For all of my complaining, I am grateful that the most I had to wear was my uniform with body armor. That was enough.

   I stayed at Buehring for a total of about 3 days prior to heading to my "final" destination - Camp Bucca. Those days were filled with exciting training about IEDs and how to recognize friendly forces and avoid shooting them. Perhaps the most crucial part of the Buehring experience was our trip to the range on Monday morning. Allow me preface this story by saying that we were issued our weapons less than one week previously. We had all been to the range at Ft. Benning 4 days prior and shot 50 rounds to actually QUALIFY with said weapon. I'm not sure what powerful force might have intervened in those 4 days, but there must have been sincere concern that our weapon might have been rendered non-functional by the rigors of

travel. In an effort to avoid this grave circumstance, we were roused at 0400, loaded on - you guessed it - a bus and carted an hour away to the range. Upon arrival, we were given a magazine with 5 rounds which we were to fire in the general direction of an array of silhouette targets.

No one was interested in whether or not we actually HIT the target. This was simply a way of proving that our weapon was indeed functional. We then got back on the bus and drove the one hour back to Buehring.

   In the morning twilight, I gazed out of the window of the bus (for some reason the curtain restriction had been relaxed this day). Between the range and Camp Buehring was a vast panorama of sand. There was no hint of civilization or nomadic herders in the vicinity. I'm fairly certain that if we had simply walked out the main gate at Buehring and fired our weapons in some general direction away from the Camp we could have proven that they were functional and would have caused absolutely no harm to anyone or anything. Although I complain about this foolishness, I will say that I am somewhat happy about it because I did get to see a camel caravan - the only one to date.

   Other creature comforts at Buehring, and further proof of the dominance of American Capitalism came in the form of Starbucks. Right there in Kuwait. 

I could enjoy a little after dinner latte following my 6-pack of tacos from none other than Taco Bell. When dining there, I made sure to wear my IBA and bring the M-9, though! Despite my precautions, Taco Bell in Kuwait proved to be safer than Taco Bell in Atlanta. Go figure.

   On Wednesday, 3 September, it was finally time to leave Camp Buehring. I awoke, ate breakfast, and again gathered all of my belongings. This time, I hauled them to the flight line to await boarding a UH-60 Blackhawk - my ride to Camp Bucca. 

All told, it was about twenty minutes of flight time before we arced in low over Bucca and settled onto the helipad. We had unceremoniously crossed into Iraq about 2-3 miles previously. The sand here looked no different than it had in Kuwait. There were no "Welcome to Iraq" signs down below to denote the transition. I had, nevertheless, arrived in Camp Bucca, Iraq.