Send lawyers, guns and money

We awoke to mortar rounds landing inside the camp in the early hours of Friday morning. It was exactly 4 am when the first one hit…followed by the whistles and explosions of the following three. The base is pretty large, and they didn’t hit a thing. No casualties and no fatalities.

All my guys rolled out of bed and met outside so we could get a quick head count and let the TOC know that everyone still had all their fingers and toes. Nothing like an adrenaline rush at that hour to start the day right. Their tactics are to shoot and run, so the danger was over almost as soon as it began. They don’t get this brave that often… soon the dunes would be covered with patrols.

I needed to be on a convoy to Kuwait by 7, so I just headed for the showers. We had some equipment to pick up, and it was a good excuse for me to get off the base for a couple of days. I rode down what must have been the most pot hole filled road in Kuwait, in an armored semi with little or no shocks left. Imagine getting kidney punched for 2 hours straight.

We played the normal game of find the package when we got to the shipment receiving point. We had a group of TCNs (third country nationals – people from places like Bangladesh, the Thailand, India, etc, who do all the actual work in Kuwait. The Kuwaiti don’t do labor), rifling through papers and talking excitedly in foreign tongues as they searched for our cargo. Total cluster, but they found it and called us later in the afternoon.

That night was incredible. We were invited to the “mini-palace” of a Lebanese (Beau, Sammy, Chris…I said Lebanese) entrepreneur who indulged us with some Cuban cigars and refreshments before taking us to what he claimed was the nicest restaurant in Kuwait City. All glass, and opulence, and situated so that the best tables not only had an ocean view, but felt like you were hovering over it. Most men were in the stereotypical white robes and head dresses, but many were in European style business wear. We, on the other hand, were in jeans, tennis shoes, and oxfords. We were told to leave all civilian clothes in the States so we were lucky to have anything at all. No one batted an eye, and we were greeted with smiles by patrons and staff alike.

Our host treated us to as many traditional Lebanese dishes as he could find on the menu. Our table was full of dozens of small dishes of different delicacies. It was one of the best meals of my life. As we ate, one of the TCNs brought us each a hooka pipe (for those that are un-indoctrinated, it looks like a fancy version of what most of you hid in your closets in college). They used some sort of apple flavored tobacco that was filtered through water as it traveled through the hooka, so it came out as little more than a breath freshener. Apparently good for digestion.

Although there was more in store for us, it was midnight and we had to be up early; so we parted ways. Even conservative countries have underground discos, but we’d have to make that another visit. We had to get the big rig back across the border and be awake enough to be vigilant. No sense pushing our luck in a war zone.

We made our way north the following morning, and scheduled one additional stop to pick up some cargo for a crew of special ops guys. We ended up having lunch with them and swapping ideas on how they could use our assets. Real nice guys…you’d never believe they were stone cold killers.

It was nice to get “home” after the arduous road trip. The boys hadn’t missed a beat in my absence, but were excited to hear some new stories. I guess that’s pretty much how we spend the majority of our down time…swapping stories.

Hope you’re all good, T.