Ride of the Valkyries

COS Kalsu, Iraq. It's cooler here than in BIAP or Camp Liberty. Which while isn’t saying much, speaks volumes. Camp Liberty was humid. There was moisture around in little canals everywhere. Our LT, who was there in 04, said Camp Liberty is located in the former hunting preserve of Saddam Hussein. He irrigated the whole area, making the vegetation lush and beautiful so his flunkies and he could hunt wild exotic game. Everything from antelope to lions. The flight from Kuwait was uneventful. Taking off was like leaving John Wayne Airport on a normal day, and the landing was like coming in to John Wayne during the Santa Ana winds. STEEP, needless to say. We rode (flew? Rode? Same difference really?) in a C-17 Globemaster jet. I’ve seen these built and flown in and out of Long Beach Airport, but it’s totally different and quite surreal to be in full gear, walking up the loading ramp of a HUGE transport jet, past 2 giant pallets of duffle bags, only to sit in normal airline seats. The military doesn’t care if you buckle your seatbelt, listen to your iPod while you take off or land. Basically, the FAA doesn’t exist with these cats. As I was walking up to the plane, off to my left were 2 bunker/hangars. US munitions made short work of these during Desert Storm. Strange to see them still bombed out 20 years later and not recycled yet or rebuilt. The interior of a C-17 is amazingly stripped down, wires and hoses and fluid lines going every which way in a chaotically organized manner. Running down the length of the fuselage on either side are cables, the manual cable back up controls to the hydraulic and redundant hydraulic flight control systems.  While I tried to find an appropriate song to listen to on my iPhone while taxiing and taking off and finally settling on Fortunate Son, my buddy nudged me and showed me his selection: Ride of the Valkyries. One-upped. So while spending just over 24 hours in Camp Liberty, once again it was time to get moving. Too bad I wasn’t racking up frequent flier miles, because July would have been a goldmine! Getting to the airport, we wait at the convoy loading area. A list of names are read off and bummed, 11 others and myself have not heard our names meaning we’d have to wait 3 hours until the convoy came BACK from Kalsu. Sergeant takes us aside and says “You 12 are lucky. You get the Chinook ride!” SCORE!! So at 2145, we load up on 2 Chinooks and head south. I got the best seat in the house, aside from the tail gunner or pilot. Tail gunner sits in a chair on the edge of the tail ramp and chills out while scanning for threats. I got to share in this view. What is a 1.5-5 hour (depending on traffic and route safety) convoy ride in a cramped MRAP, turned into a 20-30 min (MAX) ride over the country side? Thinking back to my flight from Kuwait, those 2 songs both immediately came to mind. Makes me wonder how soldiers back in 1965-1975 felt staring out the tail ramp of a Chinook or the doors of a Huey flying across the rice patties of Viet Nam. Up there, in relative safety, above the tripwires and makeshift bombs and booby traps of an enemy that didn’t fight fair, didn’t fight using traditional and accepted Western tactics. Up in the air, you feel invincible, safe, and unbeatable. Still, in the back of your head, you know you’re not. So you soldier up and disembark your chopper to await the unknown as you settle into a country side that you know doesn’t like you and wait.