Rat Monster

The roads on Victory Base Camp are not paved. They are made of compacted mud. None of the streets are lit up with any kind of light source. Many of the roads I travel at night I so lovingly refer to as "rape alleys" because they are lined with noisy generators that would easily drown out cries for help.

So while walking down one of these delightful roads coming back from dinner chow this evening, I saw something move in the road. I thought it was a toad. I have no idea why I thought it was a toad since I don't think Iraq is an environment that supports toads. Thinking it was a toad, I advanced on this mystery creature, only to discover it was a giant stinking rat monster!

It scurried off away from me on it's disgusting rat claws, at which point I was already screaming to my battle buddies, "IT'S A RAT!" And as if that rat thought I was calling for it, it busted a fat U-turn and started hauling ass back across the dark road back towards Wolfie and myself. Even though I'm not really scared of mouse-like-creatures, I was being a stupid girl and screaming and panic-dancing in place pointing at the thing. Wolfie took action and when the rat came into range, he punted the damn thing like a football. He kicked it in it's face and sent it flying up into the air. It's furry body landed with an audible thud on the other side of the road, white belly up, still and deader than dead.

In our office on the dry erase board we have a KIA (killed in action) Chart. We have tallied all the flies' lives we have ended. We're up to 138 just in our office since September. We have 138 little flies drawn on the board. And now we've added a cartoon rat. Another confirmed kill.

Operation Raider Sleigh Ride

Nothing says "Merry Christmas" like a loaded weapon. Most of the soldiers had the day off, or part of the day off. But the MPs and I got screwed. We had a mission to go out on. Well, I won't really call it a mission, since there was absolutely nothing going on that could possibly be considered fighting the war on terrorism. We drove to this shit hole called Nasser wa Salam, where the flies are King to play volleyball. It was part of Operation Raider Sleigh Ride. The Army likes to name important missions. So you don't have to say, that one time, you can call it by name. This one got a "cute" name that made me want to vomit.

Luckily we were back on post by dinner. The DFAC (Dining Facility-- the Army and their damn acronyms!) always tries to make meals special on holidays. I had carved turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, macaroni and cheese and peach cobbler. It was pretty good. And generally speaking, if everything on your plate is a shade of yellow or tan, it's going to be tasty.

My favorite part about the DFAC on holidays is the decorations. Hajji tries to decorate for us, but they are very confused about our holidays. So there are usually some questionable giant Styrofoam figures scattered around:

I'm not sure why Uncle Sam was there. He was actually there on Thanksgiving too. How nice of him to make two appearances. I pulled his finger.

President Obama was there, too! What celebrities the DFAC draws! I'm unclear why he was there, though. He was standing in front of a giant Styrofoam White House. He had toothpicks jammed into his skull to make his ears stick out. Giant Styrofoam replicas of your boss don't usually convey a big "Happy Holidays!" but Hajji was trying, I guess.

And then I found a creepy manger with baby Jesus in it lit up with Christmas lights. It was the only real Christmas thing in the DFAC. Baby Jesus was crying... so I gave him something else to cry about by biting his foot. There were a lot of other random things like mermaids, turtles and pilgrims (an obvious throw back from Thanksgiving). Hajji is very confused. But it gives me a lot of joy. If joy is the meaning of Christmas, then it was achieved. Merry Christmas... from Iraq, with love!!

It's fun to stay at the YMCA...

We went to a shitty Iraqi style YMCA today. Part of being in the US Army is showing the Iraqis that we want to help them and make their country a better place. So we fund projects to better their communities and schools. Personally, I liked this war a little better when we were blowing things up and shooting anyone who had a shovel in their hands. We have to be nice guys now.

This recreation center was a far cry from our YMCAs. Sure it had an outdoor swimming pool... but it was empty and had murky water, frogs and garbage in it. They had a soccer field... but it looked like a mortar had gone off in the center of it. There was a computer lab... full of yellow 1980's Apple computers with green screens. It was sad. But they were trying. Once they get some of our money to fix it up, it'll be better, I guess. We had to walk down a filthy alley to get to the YMCA. There were garbage piles with swarms of flies lining the roadway. Cloth propaganda posters had been hung up. There was a dude on all of them who I thought looked like Jesus. Several of the posters depicted his head on a stake, and him holding a baby with a spear through it's neck. I wanted to take pictures of it, but one of the officers I was with made me feel like a total asshole for being interested in that. So I just got one of me and Psychedelic Jesus, as pictured below.

The garbage in this part of Baghdad was particularly stinky. There was a lot of standing water that added to the foulness. Of course, the kids were all playing in it like it was no big deal. As I was walking along, I thought to myself, "Man, if I farted next to someone out here, they wouldn't be able to tell a difference." So I tested the theory. I totally crop dusted Major James and he didn't say a damn word about the stinky butt odor that he smelled. Haha.

Iraq is a Garbage Can

Iraq is a gross country. I suppose it's no better or worse than most third world countries. But this is the only third world country I've ever been to, so I have nothing to compare it to, so I just deem it the shittiest place on Earth. Good logic, I think.

The garbage is out of control in this country. It's everywhere. They have no concept of throwing things away properly. It made me realise that me recycling a few news papers and beer bottles is NOT going to save the Earth because of places like Iraq. This place counter acts all your Earth Saving Deeds. The smell of Iraq is unlike anything I will ever come across again. It's perfectly unique "Iraq". It's a delicate mix of sweet rotting garbage, urine, stagnant murky water and stank body odor. Really a very distinct aroma. Some days Iraq smells stronger than others, but it's always there. Hovering. Like a disgusting green film covering everything. When it rains, everything turns into a mud slide. It's thick sloppy mud that suctions to your boots. The mud looks like chocolate fluff desert from the grocery store deli. I'm sure it doesn't taste like it since it smells like dung. And the puddles... they form in a myseterious yellow color of goo and muck. I try to keep my distance from them; I'm not sure why they're yellow.

And if the garbage is "out of control", I don't even know what to call the flies. Super species is a start. These flies seem like ordinary house flies, but they are evolved and rude. These flying assholes land on your face and hands all the time. And no matter how many times you swat them away, they come right back. But they tread lightly, as if they weigh less than our skin can detect, so they crawl around on your face for a while. You don't feel them until they're on your lip or eyelid and by then you're totally grossed out because you know exactly what just happened because you watched it happen to your buddy sitting across from you and you were horrified he didn't notice the fly until he practically ate it.

Iraqi Army VS Iraqi Police

The Iraqi Army is, of course, shortened to "IA" and the Iraqi Police is shortened to "IP" because this is the Army and we like to turn everything we can into either an abbreviation or an acronym. That being said...

Today I had my first real encounter with the IA. I mean, I've seen them running around in their mismatched old US Army uniforms with their knee pads around their ankles and their M16s in the air flagging everyone with the barrel. But I had not ever had the chance to hang out with them and talk to them. When I say talk, I mean share broken English and Arabic accompanied with arm gestures and exaggerated facial expressions.

When the IA arrived at the Iraqi Council building we were at, they came flying through the IP's gate going about 50mph in approximately 12 Humvees. Before the wheels of the vehicles had even stopped rolling, like, 25 dudes came running out of them. RUNNING! I mean, I've never seen grown men haul ass like this before in my life. They broke off into 2 groups. One group came towards us to pull security for the VIP they were escorting, and the other group went straight for the IP check point/gate that they just blew through.

The IPs take great joy in their crappy little check points. So they were already running after the IAs, weapons in hand, to let them know they did not appreciate their bat-out-of-hell entrance into the compound. And what happens? A 30 dude mosh pit style knock down, drag out brawl. These grown men were throwing wild punches and knocking each other over to kick one another when they were down. It was insane. All I could do was dumbly stand there and watch. None of them fired any shots, so all of us Americans stayed out of their business. And just as soon as it started, it was over.

SSG Eltringham, my MP platoon sergeant, and I decided it would be OK to take my aid bag over to the Iraqis to see if any of them were injured. American forces try to be as helpful as possible. SSG E said, "Doctor?" to all of them and they waved him off, but then they laid eyes on me and realised I was the doctor and suddenly one guy was super hurt and needed me to fix his hand up. When he showed me his hand it was just a little rug burn between his thumb and pointer finger. So I slapped him on the wrist and smiled and told him to quit being a baby. The Iraqi guys get a kick out of me. I'm never scared of them.

I spent the rest of the afternoon having broken conversations with the IA soldiers. I met the most handsome Iraqi man I have ever seen. He had light skin and brown hair and blue eyes. And straight white teeth-- he looked American himself, and when I told that to him, he said he would come to America with me then. I got a picture with him (below) but you can't really tell how handsome he is. I hope I run across this guy again sometime so I can take a better picture with him. The Iraqis LOVE to take pictures with me. Everywhere I go, they ask to take my picture. My blond hair makes me a minor celebrity in this country.

"Boom" in Iraq

So there I was... Baghdad, Iraq...

Today was a busy day. Things (mostly cars) kept blowing up all over Baghdad. The first VBIED (vehicle borne improvised exploding devise) that went off this morning, I had the pleasure of being a mere 200 meters away. It was close enough to rattle my chest. There were a few secondary rockets that went off within minutes of the vehicle explosion.

The MPs and I were stuck in a traffic jam when all this was going on, of course, because the traffic in Baghdad is a completely different animal. No one stays in their lane... what lanes? Sometimes there are 3 cars side by side going down a 2 lane road. The go the wrong way down roads into oncoming traffic. They just stop their cars and get out in the middle of the road a talk to each other. But they don't have road rage like Americans do, they are really calm about the horrific traffic.

We started to hear small arms fire come from behind us, so the gunner turned the hatch, ready to open fire, and it turns out it's just the Iraqi Army being complete idiots. They were shooting into the sky, like as a warning? Or just to show us they had ammunition, too? Who knows?

There wasn't any other "action" for the MPs and me. No one got to shoot anything. No one got hurt. No one blew up. But at least it was a change in pace.