Ultimate Road Trip

The ultimate road trip started at Camp Navistar on the Kuwait border, an interesting place some have dubbed as the world’s largest truck stop. We struck out on a convoy called the “Arrow Express” making the run of about 400 miles to Balad, just north of Baghdad. This convoy consists of miles of “white” trucks, those driven by “TCN’s” or Third Country National contractors carrying the supplies and equipment needed to maintain the coalition Army. The amount of stuff we bring in is phenomenal and it all all comes into the country through Navistar. These “whites” are unarmed and vulerable, sometimes hijacked by desert pirates in the south or attacked by insurgents further north, so the Army provides armed escort trucks called “greens” to see to it they all reach their destinations safely. It's a dangerous and unheralded job. I'm glad Gina had the idea to do this convoy and hope her story gets these drivers, both "whites" and "greens" the attention they deserve. I had the priviledge of riding in the front of the convoy for the first and safest leg of the trip. Ironically, this is when I was most jumpy, tensing whenever we met a civilian or passed a mound of dirt on Hwy 1 (aka MSR Tampa.) My driver, Sgt. Robbie Green, a 1st Battalion 12th Field Artillery soldier from Springfield, VA, as the lead “green” truck, had the responsibilty of calling out everything that could be a potential hazard over the radio which would then be relayed back to each truck in the multi-mile long convoy. I first got the sense that we were really in Iraq when Sgt. Green radioed “oncoming traffic southbound in the northbound lane, advise all trucks to stay right” just as a civlian pick-up whizzed passed us. Noticing my dismay Sgt. Green said, “oh, that’s just normal here,” and I reminded myself that it was time to start expecting the unexpected and that I was once again going in the rabbit hole.
The trip to our first stop at Scania, another big truck stop near the ancient ruins of Ur took us a little over 7 hrs. where we crashed at a little paradise of a camp during the day wanting to make the final and more dangerous leg of the trip under the cover of darkness. One day turned into two as, par for the course here, after loading back up at 1a.m. and heading out the gate, the road was closed due to firefights and IEDs (improvised explosive devises) further along the route. So we turned around to do it again the following night. The good news is that Camp Scania is a little paradise. Largely removed from the fighting the town is relatively friendly, and the camp well equipped. Even camel rides are offered at a little bizaar there. Gina and I went on a brief patrol with 167th Infantry National Guard from AL, of the town of Shumali where I showed off my grace in front of the townspeople and soldiers by falling backwards dead into the center of a huge tractor tire as I back-peddled up the sidewalk photographing the patrol. I must have looked like a true redneck reclining in an intertube. A cold beer and a slow flowing river was all I needed but I was happy to provide all with a good laugh, far beyond embarrassment at this point.
The following evening we loaded back up and this time I drew the rear “gun-truck” which was an up-armored Humvee. I didn’t know which was better. When I was in the lead I was in a big armored tractor trailer safely enscounced but I would be the first to find any hazards. I thought it would be good to be in the rear but then I remembered how fragile Humvees seemed by comparision. Luckily, the route to Baghdad was fairly uneventful punctuated only by radio reports of other convoys that had hit IED’s, and the occasional tracer fire in the distance. My gun crew joked through it all, telling stories and cranking out tunes on the I-pod hanging from the review mirror. We made it to Balad by 3:30 a.m. (about 6 hours) and caught a couple hours sleep on a cot before jumping on a blackhawk helicopter for the short flight to Baghdad at day break.
Now, here we are at Baghdad’s “International Zone”, formerly “The Green Zone.” This is another surreal place where we have received our official Press ID’s that seem to put us only a notch above Most Wanted Terrorist in the eyes of all the security here. We’re living behind giant concrete walls. Of course, I’m anxious to explore this phenomenon of a modern International walled city inside a war zone where you can drink a cappacino while listening to bombs explode in town, but I’m not to go anywhere without an official escort and by the way, “no pictures please.” Oh, well, a comfortable bed awaits and is much appreciated. Goodnight to all.
JLee