"I'll get you my pretty... and your little dog to!"

I've decided to change how I update this blog to make it more current. There is so much happening almost every day, if I just keep writing to try and get everyone caught up I think I'll be playing catch up until I leave. So I am going to begin posting more current updates interspersed with my adventures up to this point.

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Once inside the Palace compound (it's officially called The Embassy Annex and was formerly known as The Republican Palace) life is pretty good. They feed you, do your dry cleaning and try to provide plenty of activities when you are not working long hours for weeks on end. There is a large pool, a small movie theater, horseshoes, ping pong, pool tables, karaoke nights, salsa nights, poker nights and all kinds of other theme nights. Some events are very well attended. Others, no one shows up and the organizer ends up standing around with a clipboard looking a little pathetic. You can't help but feel sorry for them. Imagine spending days planning a party and no one comes. I've attended a few events, but in 2 1/2 months here I've only had 4 full days off. But here that's actually an advantage. Staying busy helps the time pass more quickly.

I hesitate to tarnish the image that some of you may have of me enjoying the glamorous life in Baghdad at one of Saddam's former palaces. But the worst part of this whole deal is the living arrangements. They SUCK! Everyone lives in trailers behind the Palace. They are small and poorly built with a shared bathroom for anywhere from 2 to 4 people. My trailer is one room about 7'x18' and that is one of the big ones. For the lingo here, you refer to it as your "hooch." There's a bed, a crappy metal cabinet for your clothes, a small fridge, a TV and dreadfully slow internet access. I am in between roommates right now and am working on keeping the place to myself. While I work the official channels, I have to play a cat & mouse game with the housing office to keep them from putting a new person in here. So I routinely rearrange some clothes on the other side of the room, make the bed look slept in and throw some trash around to give it that realistic "lived in" look. The game gets more interesting when they try to send a replacement roommate.

It starts with a phone call

Them: "This is so & so in the billeting office. We tried to send a new roommate to your trailer and they came back and said it looked like someone was already living there."

Me: "Umm, yeah that'd be my roommate."

Them: "But we don't show you as having a roommate."

Me: "Hmm, well I don't know what to tell you. It's the same guy that's been living there since I got here."

Them: "But our records show you as being the only one in that room."

Me: "No, I definitely have a roommate. I don't see him that often, we work opposite schedules. But he was there just the other day."

Them: "So, what's his name?"

Me: "It's Joe....something. I don't know his last name. I think he works at one of the FOB's (Forward Operating Bases). "

Them: "Hmm, well we'll investigate and see what we can figure out."

Good luck with that. They may have the power, but I have the upper hand in the game. See it's really not my problem...it's my roommate's ;) and since they are dealing with hundreds of trailers and thousands of people confusion is standard protocol in that office.

There's no such thing as a hooch with a view. This is what everyone looks at when they step out their front door. Sandbags are stacked around each hooch to protect them from incoming rounds, mortars and rockets. But the sandbags are only good if they take the hit. If your trailer takes the hit, it's like punching through paper.



My first week here I trudged back to my hooch late one night from a long day at the office. I was beat. I dropped my bag and flopped onto my bed with a sigh, letting my right forearm collapse across my eyes. The lack of quality sleep and dry air here make your eyes hurt constantly. I was tired, but I was hungry. It was getting late. If I wanted something to eat I needed to hurry before the DFAC closed. It's a 10 minute walk from my hooch. I pulled my arm down and forced my eyes open to an irritable squint.
I was about to pull myself up from my lumpy, uncomfortable mattress when I noticed something on the ceiling. At first I thought it was a bug. I stood up and looked closer...not a bug. It was a bullet hole. A bullet hole right above my bed. A bullet hole directly over where I lay my weary head every night. I couldn't trace the round, but the crew that came to seal up the hole found it.


They left it for me as a souvenir. It's one of my favorite keepsakes so far. We get a lot of IDF (Indirect Fire) in the compound. Occasionally someone gets hit.

Living at the Palace means learning to exist within a fishbowl of security. There are numerous guards, gates and badge checks everywhere you go. The RSO (Regional Security Officer) holds regular briefings to keep people updated and informed. For emergency situations they have a public address system that covers the entire compound. We call it "The Big Voice." It's used to put out security announcements and emergency alerts. If the detection systems pick up an incoming mortar or rocket a siren goes off and The Big Voice booms "Incoming, Incoming, Incoming!" When that happens you theoretically have a 10 second warning to take cover.
With no real place in your hooch to dive to safety you're supposed to strap on your body armor. That certainly takes longer than 10 seconds, but you should make the effort anyway. We had a very active few days not that long ago. The siren and incoming alerts started about 2am one morning. It's like the world's worst alarm clock. I roll out of bed, put on my body armor and sit there waiting. A few minutes later The Big Voice comes back with a few more words of wisdom, "All clear. All clear. All clear." So off comes the body armor, I crawl back under the covers and try to find The Sandman again. Less than an hour later..."Incoming, Incoming, Incoming!" Same drill. Armor on...wait for the all clear...armor off...back in bed. The third time it happened I was so tired I could barely see straight, my head felt like it was encased in bubble wrap. I got out of bed with a strong verbal expression of displeasure, put my armor on and waited. Usually the all clear comes within a couple of minutes. After 10 minutes of trying to keep my eyes open I figured I could at least lay down and wait. When my real alarm clock went off at 7am I tried to jump up but was held down by the armor. I groaned and expressed some more displeasure. My neck was stiff from sleeping with the helmet on and my back was sore from the weight of the armor. I peeled it off and threw it to the floor. The all clear never came. Now when The Big Voice tries to keep me up at night I just pull my armor over me and use it as a blanket.


In the IZ that's a close as you can get to sleeping safe and sound.

Please be sure to add my blog to your favorites and check back often for updates. Feel free to post comments. You can click on the photos for larger versions of my pictures.

Still to come...A personal tour of the IZ and a quiet stroll through a disaster zone.

Tinman

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