AEGIS security letting the locals check out his gone
Gabe talking with our "fluent" site engineer.
My attempt at taking a picture of the greenery through the window
The man who makes it all happen!!
Our ride...
I’ve been itching to leave the base since I’ve been here. Granted, ma and pa like me just where I am, but I want to see Iraq, gosh darn it! Today is a Friday – which is my half day, and I was just about to pack up and head back to my CHU for an afternoon nap when the one and only Gabe Marrero – the military man who makes things happen – says to me, “Betsy, there’s a movement planned at 1330 today to see two project sites but the project engineers for that site are off today” (We have Local Nationals – Iraqis – that work for the Corps, but Friday is the weekend and their religious holiday so they have the day off). “I need an engineer to come with me on the site visit – you busy?”
Hellllllllllllllllllllllll no, I’m not busy!!! Let’s go!!!
So I make a dash for my CHU, throw on my uniform, take my IBA (body army, vest, helmet, etc.) out of the plastic wrapping for the first time and lay it all out to put it on.
Then, it hits me – I have NO CLUE HOW to put this stuff on. I mean, I got a vest, I got side pieces, I got a neck thingy, a helmet, shoulder covers, gloves, and even a pectoral shield for a “woohoo” which females don’t have…
And it has to weigh at least 40 lbs.
And...at least before I messed with it, it was all neatly in wrapping-- together. Now I’m staring at a bed littered with pieces that I don’t what goes where, let alone which way is up and which way is down for each. Well, it’s 1326, I don’t have time to figure it out. So I stack all 7 pieces as best as I can and waddle back to the meeting point, and literally drop it all at Gabes feet, let out a sigh and give a pityfull “help” look.
Good thing he’s a military dude with a sense of humor. He gets down on his knees and start unsnapping, weaving and re-snapping until it’s all one piece again, stands it up and presents the IBA to me.
There’s one more problem.
I cant lift it.
I’m too weak to pick it up and swing it around my shoulders to put it on…
Gabe saves me again and helps me put it on. It’s not fitted well and most of the weight is on my shoulders instead of my back due to lack of time to properly adjust it, but whatever. I’m leaving this joint and gettin' out!!! Wahoo!!!!!!…
While all this is happening, AEGIS (I have no idea what it stands for, so don’t ask), our British security team, was getting my information (allergies, blood type, social etc) and briefing me on the movement – where we’re going, what’s the intended route, which vehicle I’ll be in, procedure on what to do under different situations, etc. They take their job very seriously and I trust every one of them with my life.
So don’t worry mom, I’ll be ok.
When they take us out we’re usually in Light Armored SUVs or Reebas (which looks like an SUV version of the hummer). Today we took the reebas. There’s commonly 3 or 4 cars on the movement – minimum of 3—Alpha, Beta and Charlie. I’ll always be in the middle vehicle – Beta. Up to 5 folks can go on a movement plus the AEGIS team – which is anywhere between 9 and 12 or more. Today there’s 9, 3 in each vehicle. 7 protectors and 3 armored vehicles with big guns for Gabe and me – not a bad ratio!
We finally hit the road and start heading out. It’s a bit toasty in the reeba—AC is really only blowing hot air onto us– but that’s ok, I’m going outside!!
We get to the gate, stop for a moment for the team and Gabe to load up their guns and off we go!
As we leave the security of the t-walls, I couldn’t believe my eyes…. It’s GREEN out here! I mean, full blown vegetation, farmland GREEN. It can take 30-40 minutes with no traffic to drive from one side of Victory Base Compound to the other and in all that space, I’ve never seen a SPECK of green. There was something very comforting about this discovery--and so I was trying very hard to not grin from ear to ear when everyone else around me had a super serious look about them.
…
Eventually we turned off the main road and continued into town on a smaller street. After spending time in Kenya, I didn’t see anything I didn’t expect, but it still amazes me to realize how over 50% of the world population is living--and it's right down the street. There were less sheet metal lean-to’s than I saw in Kenya (though, they were still there) and more actual buildings/shacks. The building looked as if they were made of clay, but I know better from working the housing project – it’s a poor yellow brick job that shatter when you drop it (not close to the quality of brick we’re used to seeing), with mortar only placed horizontally between layers and not on the sides of the bricks. There aren’t any corner bricks or anything to connect wall 1 with the it’s perpendicular component. I cant see any of this because it’s covered with plaster and a stucco paint, but I’ll bet any dollar that’s what it is. I’ll also bet any money that very few—if any—of these houses are more than two rooms or have more than a whole in the ground for a toilet, if they even have that. (many probably just go down to the same river they bath, drink and wash clothes in). Most of Iraq does not have a public water sewage system or water system and if they have grid power in the area for electricity, it’s not always reliable. The better off have generator’s, but from the looks of it, that’s not the kind of neighborhood I'm in right now.
It took about 30 minutes to get to the first site. The time was primarily due to the fact that there’s check points every few miles in Iraq. Granted, we usually get through them pretty easily, but we still have to stop at them. And every once in a while, but fortunately not today, you get an Iraqi Army guard that just wants to flex his muscles and holds you at the check point for a good amount of time just to be difficult.
Can you imagine: living in a country that you can’t even get to work without being stopped half a dozen times on the way? It a concrete reminder that we’re still in a war zone.
We got to the first site, in the city of Mahymoudiya, and well – it was nice to get out of the increasingly uncomfortable reeba, but there wasn’t much there. The project was building a bridge to connect two towns so they didn’t have to drive miles and miles to come along, except nothing more than grading had been done and it was Friday--their holiday-- so there weren’t workers on site either.
As I took photos and walked the site, the AEGIS team goes with me. They situate themselves around Gabe and I so that all angles are covered and one is always right next to us. Mahymoudiya has been a safe area for a while now, so there was not really anything to worry about. Kids came out of the woodworks when they saw us come with the three vehicles. One of the AEGIS guys lowered his gun so that the kids could look through it, and it may have made their day.
We didn’t stay long since there wasn’t much to see. This was fine with me. The weight of the IBA was starting to get to me and I was ready to get back onto the smoldering hot steel seats of the vehicle just to give my shoulders a break.
Site two wasn’t much either – it will be an Iraqi Police station (and ironically, will become one of my projects in about a month or two after this visit), but for now all that’s going on is surveying. There actually were workers on site. We tried talking to the one in a dress shirt – who obviously was the QC or project engineer. He didn’t really speak English and was very hesitant to give any information. The conversation went something like this:
“Is this your project?”
“Yes”
“Are you the engineer?”
“Yes, I engineer.”
“Can you tell us about the project and what you’re working on right now?”
“Not my project, I don’t know”
“This isn’t your project?”
“No”
“Is there a site engineer we can talk to?”
“I am site engineer”
Oh boy…
… “Do you have drawings we could look at?”
“Yes”
(Excellent)
“Are these the most recent drawings?”
“Yes you can have drawings”
(Ok, let’s try a different question)
“Do you have a contact number? Email? Card?”
“No, no.”
“Do you have a cell phone”
“Phone, yes”
…
I think you get the picture. Granted, I don’t know more than “thank you, you're welcome, hello, good morning and counting 1-6, so I will be the last person to criticize someone’s English. We are in THEIR country, after all.
I didn't know it at the time, but I will meet this man again – in about two months from now I’ll see him in a meeting and find out that he’s the “fluent” Quality Control manager on site…
While all this was happening, the weight of the IBA and heat of the trailer we were standing in – which had to be about 20 degrees warmer than outside desert—was starting to make me nauseous. This was not my project, there wasn’t much to see and this guy clearly didn’t have any drawings, plans or specs that he was building by anyways. It was time to go.
The novelty had worn off – time to go back to the safe t-walls where I am free of 40lbs of weight crushing my shoulders and Kevlar helmets pressing into my head causing a larger and larger migraine by the second.
On our way out, the old man who had been standing with us the whole time but not saying anything (we thought he didn’t speak English), goes to me, “You civil engineer?”
“Yes, I’m civil engineer.”
“No, no you Cutie Engineer.”
Oh boy…some things don’t change regardless of country, religion, language, and education…
Men.
Hellllllllllllllllllllllll no, I’m not busy!!! Let’s go!!!
So I make a dash for my CHU, throw on my uniform, take my IBA (body army, vest, helmet, etc.) out of the plastic wrapping for the first time and lay it all out to put it on.
Then, it hits me – I have NO CLUE HOW to put this stuff on. I mean, I got a vest, I got side pieces, I got a neck thingy, a helmet, shoulder covers, gloves, and even a pectoral shield for a “woohoo” which females don’t have…
And it has to weigh at least 40 lbs.
And...at least before I messed with it, it was all neatly in wrapping-- together. Now I’m staring at a bed littered with pieces that I don’t what goes where, let alone which way is up and which way is down for each. Well, it’s 1326, I don’t have time to figure it out. So I stack all 7 pieces as best as I can and waddle back to the meeting point, and literally drop it all at Gabes feet, let out a sigh and give a pityfull “help” look.
Good thing he’s a military dude with a sense of humor. He gets down on his knees and start unsnapping, weaving and re-snapping until it’s all one piece again, stands it up and presents the IBA to me.
There’s one more problem.
I cant lift it.
I’m too weak to pick it up and swing it around my shoulders to put it on…
Gabe saves me again and helps me put it on. It’s not fitted well and most of the weight is on my shoulders instead of my back due to lack of time to properly adjust it, but whatever. I’m leaving this joint and gettin' out!!! Wahoo!!!!!!…
While all this is happening, AEGIS (I have no idea what it stands for, so don’t ask), our British security team, was getting my information (allergies, blood type, social etc) and briefing me on the movement – where we’re going, what’s the intended route, which vehicle I’ll be in, procedure on what to do under different situations, etc. They take their job very seriously and I trust every one of them with my life.
So don’t worry mom, I’ll be ok.
When they take us out we’re usually in Light Armored SUVs or Reebas (which looks like an SUV version of the hummer). Today we took the reebas. There’s commonly 3 or 4 cars on the movement – minimum of 3—Alpha, Beta and Charlie. I’ll always be in the middle vehicle – Beta. Up to 5 folks can go on a movement plus the AEGIS team – which is anywhere between 9 and 12 or more. Today there’s 9, 3 in each vehicle. 7 protectors and 3 armored vehicles with big guns for Gabe and me – not a bad ratio!
We finally hit the road and start heading out. It’s a bit toasty in the reeba—AC is really only blowing hot air onto us– but that’s ok, I’m going outside!!
We get to the gate, stop for a moment for the team and Gabe to load up their guns and off we go!
As we leave the security of the t-walls, I couldn’t believe my eyes…. It’s GREEN out here! I mean, full blown vegetation, farmland GREEN. It can take 30-40 minutes with no traffic to drive from one side of Victory Base Compound to the other and in all that space, I’ve never seen a SPECK of green. There was something very comforting about this discovery--and so I was trying very hard to not grin from ear to ear when everyone else around me had a super serious look about them.
…
Eventually we turned off the main road and continued into town on a smaller street. After spending time in Kenya, I didn’t see anything I didn’t expect, but it still amazes me to realize how over 50% of the world population is living--and it's right down the street. There were less sheet metal lean-to’s than I saw in Kenya (though, they were still there) and more actual buildings/shacks. The building looked as if they were made of clay, but I know better from working the housing project – it’s a poor yellow brick job that shatter when you drop it (not close to the quality of brick we’re used to seeing), with mortar only placed horizontally between layers and not on the sides of the bricks. There aren’t any corner bricks or anything to connect wall 1 with the it’s perpendicular component. I cant see any of this because it’s covered with plaster and a stucco paint, but I’ll bet any dollar that’s what it is. I’ll also bet any money that very few—if any—of these houses are more than two rooms or have more than a whole in the ground for a toilet, if they even have that. (many probably just go down to the same river they bath, drink and wash clothes in). Most of Iraq does not have a public water sewage system or water system and if they have grid power in the area for electricity, it’s not always reliable. The better off have generator’s, but from the looks of it, that’s not the kind of neighborhood I'm in right now.
It took about 30 minutes to get to the first site. The time was primarily due to the fact that there’s check points every few miles in Iraq. Granted, we usually get through them pretty easily, but we still have to stop at them. And every once in a while, but fortunately not today, you get an Iraqi Army guard that just wants to flex his muscles and holds you at the check point for a good amount of time just to be difficult.
Can you imagine: living in a country that you can’t even get to work without being stopped half a dozen times on the way? It a concrete reminder that we’re still in a war zone.
We got to the first site, in the city of Mahymoudiya, and well – it was nice to get out of the increasingly uncomfortable reeba, but there wasn’t much there. The project was building a bridge to connect two towns so they didn’t have to drive miles and miles to come along, except nothing more than grading had been done and it was Friday--their holiday-- so there weren’t workers on site either.
As I took photos and walked the site, the AEGIS team goes with me. They situate themselves around Gabe and I so that all angles are covered and one is always right next to us. Mahymoudiya has been a safe area for a while now, so there was not really anything to worry about. Kids came out of the woodworks when they saw us come with the three vehicles. One of the AEGIS guys lowered his gun so that the kids could look through it, and it may have made their day.
We didn’t stay long since there wasn’t much to see. This was fine with me. The weight of the IBA was starting to get to me and I was ready to get back onto the smoldering hot steel seats of the vehicle just to give my shoulders a break.
Site two wasn’t much either – it will be an Iraqi Police station (and ironically, will become one of my projects in about a month or two after this visit), but for now all that’s going on is surveying. There actually were workers on site. We tried talking to the one in a dress shirt – who obviously was the QC or project engineer. He didn’t really speak English and was very hesitant to give any information. The conversation went something like this:
“Is this your project?”
“Yes”
“Are you the engineer?”
“Yes, I engineer.”
“Can you tell us about the project and what you’re working on right now?”
“Not my project, I don’t know”
“This isn’t your project?”
“No”
“Is there a site engineer we can talk to?”
“I am site engineer”
Oh boy…
… “Do you have drawings we could look at?”
“Yes”
(Excellent)
“Are these the most recent drawings?”
“Yes you can have drawings”
(Ok, let’s try a different question)
“Do you have a contact number? Email? Card?”
“No, no.”
“Do you have a cell phone”
“Phone, yes”
…
I think you get the picture. Granted, I don’t know more than “thank you, you're welcome, hello, good morning and counting 1-6, so I will be the last person to criticize someone’s English. We are in THEIR country, after all.
I didn't know it at the time, but I will meet this man again – in about two months from now I’ll see him in a meeting and find out that he’s the “fluent” Quality Control manager on site…
While all this was happening, the weight of the IBA and heat of the trailer we were standing in – which had to be about 20 degrees warmer than outside desert—was starting to make me nauseous. This was not my project, there wasn’t much to see and this guy clearly didn’t have any drawings, plans or specs that he was building by anyways. It was time to go.
The novelty had worn off – time to go back to the safe t-walls where I am free of 40lbs of weight crushing my shoulders and Kevlar helmets pressing into my head causing a larger and larger migraine by the second.
On our way out, the old man who had been standing with us the whole time but not saying anything (we thought he didn’t speak English), goes to me, “You civil engineer?”
“Yes, I’m civil engineer.”
“No, no you Cutie Engineer.”
Oh boy…some things don’t change regardless of country, religion, language, and education…
Men.
