Journey to the sandbox

Our formation for movement was at 1500, followed by loading of our rucks and duffels onto milvans for transport to the aircraft. We drew our weapons from the arms room…my M16 and I now will only part when I am working on the ward in the hospital. We did a large amount of sitting around and waiting…and waiting…and waiting.

Given that the majority of the CSH is PROFIS personnel (meaning that we came from other duty stations other than Ft Campbell, and therefore do not have family living locally) I was surprised to see the large number of family members that turned up. I know that most if not all the families thought that they were being supportive to their service member, but it can be so distressing at times that I heard a few people with family members present that they wish they had said their goodbyes already and begun to move on.

I said my goodbyes last month, but watching so many mothers, children, and friends in tears…and the resulting tears in my coworkers eyes caused me to have to fight back my own emotions. Having been the one left behind previously when Deven deployed, I can say that it is easier to be the one deploying- at least until you get on the airplane.

We finally boarded our buses around 1900 and headed off towards the airfield. After a final check of our medical and immunizations records we ate a meal of cold hamburgers and bland salad. We ate not because we were hungry, but because we didn’t know when our next meal might be.

Midnight came and we set off over the Atlantic. Liepzig, Germany became the first stop on our trek 7000 miles around the globe. Nothing to see or do in Liepzig- we were required to stay in a cordoned off section of the airport.

Around 2300 Kuwait time we touched down in Kuwait City. A chance to use the bathroom, stretch our legs. Our journey had taken over 24 hours thus far. We boarded buses, with curtains drawn to prevent anyone from knowing there were American Soldiers on board. In awkward silence we rode…not knowing our destination, what time we would get there, or what was on the other side of the curtains. Most slept, others like me stared forward without a word.

Exhausted we rolled into Camp…our new home for a bit. I would love to describe this place- but I refrain because I would never want to put myself or my fellow soldiers in danger.

The most striking thing upon arriving is noticing the sand. We all step in it, dig our toes in a tiny bit like a child would at the beach, and then say some form of “ick, that’s disgusting”. Should you ever want to experience the enjoyment of Kuwait sand, try this: remove the bag from your vacuum, dump the contents on yourself and the ground. Roll around in the dust to coat yourself liberally. The sand here isn’t really sand, or dust, or silt…it is somewhere in the middle. This brown dusty chalky substance floats through the air, coats every inch of yourself and everything you own, and likes to linger in your throat as much as possible.