The trip started bright and early days before. I had the opportunity to travel to various military posts with an officer on a research mission. Sure, I could have tasked the assignment out, but I must admit I was getting a little stir-crazy from the “Dilbert” lifestyle working at Division Headquarters.
The mission had me scratching my head and looking for an escape route almost from the very beginning. Housing issues, wrong keys, long meetings, misunderstandings, missing contacts, unrelenting heat, missed meals, unhelpful people and lots of lugging dominated our existence. It became clear to me I wasn’t as young as I used to be.
A few days of this had put us behind schedule and time was no longer my friend. We eventually made the decision to move on.
After a night where it seemed like the indirect fire alarms would never end, we arose to catch a flight to Kalsu.
I was finally standing on the flight line watching our Black Hawks lift off to come over to pick us up. I liked Adder, but the lack of progress in my mission and general conditions had affected me. I needed to go.
The birds made a wide bank and I continued to watch them swing around back in our direction. I waited and they continued on. I waited some more. Any minute they would cut back toward us.
Then they flew off in the opposite direction.
The young specialist who brought us to the flight line turned to me with an expression of confusion.
“Where are they going?” he asked.
Yes, the young man with the flight information asked me where the two helicopters he was tracking had just gone.
My frustration now manifested itself in a verbal outburst.
“How the (expletive) would I know?”
The flight was lost to us. I will never have an answer to what had just occurred. To be honest, I don’t think I want to know.
The officer I was with went inside and returned shortly thereafter to report he got us on the next flight to Kalsu. It would be later that night.
I explained to him in utter defeat, that I was given limited time from my command to assist and had pushed as far as I dare. He understood, but still looked dejected and immediately went back inside the terminal to check on a flight to return me to Basra. He returned and said it was arranged.
I walked back inside only to hear my name called. The Basra flight was next. I turned back around to wait again.
This time the birds came and I eagerly strapped myself into the second vehicle. In moments we were airborne and a smile crept across my face. Or, maybe it was the intense wind lashing I received by picking the worst spot on a Black Hawk.
I admired the view outside the left window because, quite frankly, it was painful facing into the gusts coming through the right. That’s when I noticed we were making a lot of left turns. I can tell these things because I watch a lot of NASCAR.
We returned to the airfield on Adder. I began to think I needed Obi-Wan Kenobi to disable the tractor beam for me to get out of this place.
The pilot graciously explained that the first bird had issues which forced the crew and passengers to change to another vehicle. I can’t be angry with that. As a Pennsylvanian, I found myself comforted by pilots who wore the Pennsylvania National Guard patch.
Another hour on the ground had my concern growing again. Visibility was dwindling as we sat there. You have to love Iraqi weather. Maybe this wasn’t going to happen after all.
We finally received clearance to leave. My heart soared faster than the machines that carried us. Further and further we flew off. I was ecstatic.
We started making left turns again. Was Tony Stewart on our bumper, or what?
We landed again and the crew told us to get off. I went numb.
Oh, we were just getting fuel. Sometimes the simplest things can really make you feel like an idiot quickly.
After a short pit stop, we were once again airborne. Camera in hand, I eagerly watched out the left window again.
We didn’t make any more left turns. I was sure. Eventually I recognized landmarks near Basra and finally the airport came into view. Pseudo-home, sweet home.
I climbed out of the helicopter and gave the crew a thumbs-up. They responded in kind.
Then, I waited for the bus . . .
CONTINGENCY OPERATING BASE ADDER, Iraq – I stood by the airfield in Talil early on a Wednesday morning patiently waiting for two UH-60 Black Hawks to lift off from across the strip to come over and pick me up for a flight to Kalsu. I was on more of a time-crunch than I would have liked, but I was finally moving on with the next step of my journey.
