When I was a little girl, I remember our family drives to the beach—or our drives west—and knowing when we were driving pass by the refineries. The distinct smell that emanate from it was an undesirable mix of rotten eggs and sewer water times two. Even if we had been sleeping, we instantly woke up to pinch our nose and complain about the smell.
I was dreaming about eating delicious chocolate cake and I was suddenly awaken to the same disgusting smell that hunt me so many years ago. This time though, when I woke up, I opened my eyes to find a tall wall of duffle bags in front of me and two people beside me clutching riffles as the helicopter—H60 Blackhawk—was approaching its destination. We were in the Kirkuk region of northern Iraq. When I looked out the opening in the back of the helicopter, I could see flames burning marking the sites of the refineries. I nodded my head, closed my eyes and thought about how I got there…
Early in the evening, we were told that we would fly out of Taji into the Iraqi Base in Kirkuk that we are going to be working at. We packed up—once again, as we have done the past three days—loaded the bus and headed to the flight line once again. This time, we unloaded all of our bags from the trucks so I was convinced we would finally fly that night. We sat by our bags through the night, and jumped off to grab them every time we saw a Chinook land on the airfield just to sit back down and continue to wait.
Four hours after we arrived at the airfield, we were still sitting, lying, or standing around waiting for a “bird.” Of course, guess what happened when I decided that it has been a long time, that I was hungry and that I must eat; you got it, the “bird” finally arrived. So, I hurried up and put my snacks away, ran to the bags and began a series of trips back and forth from the helicopter to put our 36 duffle bags, 9 ruck sacks, and 9 other different individual carry-on’s inside.
There was not a soul in sight at K-1, we looked but there was nobody to pick us up. After much wondering, our team leader decided to fly back to FOB Warrior—the American base—and get a bed for the night—or what was left of it. Therefore, we took off again, landed in Warrior and arranged to have a place to sleep. After it was all set and done, we were traveling from place to place for two hours. We moved our bags out of the aircraft, onto the ground, into a bus and into a tent; we prepared our nasty little beds for sleeping, used the bathroom and came outside to see the sun up and that it was time to go eat breakfast. We ate, bathed, and ended up going to bed around 0630 in the morning; it was a long day.
I was dreaming about eating delicious chocolate cake and I was suddenly awaken to the same disgusting smell that hunt me so many years ago. This time though, when I woke up, I opened my eyes to find a tall wall of duffle bags in front of me and two people beside me clutching riffles as the helicopter—H60 Blackhawk—was approaching its destination. We were in the Kirkuk region of northern Iraq. When I looked out the opening in the back of the helicopter, I could see flames burning marking the sites of the refineries. I nodded my head, closed my eyes and thought about how I got there…
Early in the evening, we were told that we would fly out of Taji into the Iraqi Base in Kirkuk that we are going to be working at. We packed up—once again, as we have done the past three days—loaded the bus and headed to the flight line once again. This time, we unloaded all of our bags from the trucks so I was convinced we would finally fly that night. We sat by our bags through the night, and jumped off to grab them every time we saw a Chinook land on the airfield just to sit back down and continue to wait.
Four hours after we arrived at the airfield, we were still sitting, lying, or standing around waiting for a “bird.” Of course, guess what happened when I decided that it has been a long time, that I was hungry and that I must eat; you got it, the “bird” finally arrived. So, I hurried up and put my snacks away, ran to the bags and began a series of trips back and forth from the helicopter to put our 36 duffle bags, 9 ruck sacks, and 9 other different individual carry-on’s inside.
There was not a soul in sight at K-1, we looked but there was nobody to pick us up. After much wondering, our team leader decided to fly back to FOB Warrior—the American base—and get a bed for the night—or what was left of it. Therefore, we took off again, landed in Warrior and arranged to have a place to sleep. After it was all set and done, we were traveling from place to place for two hours. We moved our bags out of the aircraft, onto the ground, into a bus and into a tent; we prepared our nasty little beds for sleeping, used the bathroom and came outside to see the sun up and that it was time to go eat breakfast. We ate, bathed, and ended up going to bed around 0630 in the morning; it was a long day.
