This is the first update from my high school friend Scott from Iraq. Click on the category “Notes from Iraq” to see all his letters. Here is his description of life in Iraq, as only Scott can tell it. Amazing that he can have a sense of humor in such God-awful conditions…he writes “Just like home - only different”. Some of you might find the second half of this note a bit offensive. Try living it… as he says, “War is Hell”. I pray every night he comes home soon!
-----Original Message-----
From: Maj. Scott Marconda
Sent: Wednesday, October 06, 2004 2:10 AM
To: cucina testa rossa
Subject: News letters
“From ‘Paradise’ To You, At The Speed Of An Electron”
Greetings from lovely Camp Blue Diamond, located just outside the fascinating city of Al Ramadi, Iraq.
We (myself and about 300 other folks), arrived safely at Camp Victory, Kuwait about 0400 on September 18th, after having left Camp Pendleton for March AFB about the same time the day prior. We flew by chartered 747 (United Airlines), and I must say it was the best flight I’ve ever had. The fact I was one of the last to board, entitling me to a first class seat, certainly didn’t hurt. Had my choice of several in-flight movies, a revolving and continuous smorgasbord of eats and a seat which puts the finest Laz-E-Boy to shame.
We spent about 14 hours at Camp Victory awaiting our C-130 to Al Asad Air Base. The accommodations weren’t quite the same, but at least the flight was only 2.5 hours instead of 10. Below left is me waiting for the buses to March AFB. Below right is where I work, having arrived there by convoy about 24 hours after landing at Al Asad. It’s about 71 miles between the two bases, but we traveled in the dark and had to remain tactical, so it took about 3 hours.
All things considered, my present surroundings are quite opulent when compared to most of our guys in the field. Both my work and living spaces have A/C, hot meals are served 4 times a day, we have running water for showers (once a day) and brushing your teeth, and port-a-johns. More on the latter later.
Below left is a picture of the “Hovel” (barracks) from the outside. You can see why we call them “Cans.” To the right is the interior. As you can readily tell, it has both a living room AND a bedroom. All the comforts of home. It’s clean and it’s mine, or rather, mine and Stumpy’s.
Speaking of which, I’m still trying to get a photo of the bugger, but the whole Toothbrush incident has caused him to go-to-ground. Haven’t seen hide nor nub of him for the last couple days. Here below is a picture of Stumpy’s portion of the Hovel. His conspicuous absence has lead to some conjecture and speculation from the other “Can” denizens. We figure one of the following has happened: he’s dead; he’s fine but laying low after nearly getting shot; he’s relocated to another part of our ‘hood and raiding toothbrushes from other Hovels; he’s been kidnapped.
While I don’t expect to see him on the evening news with anyone threatening to cut his head off (or other body parts), several of us have grown concerned enough to start a neighborhood watch. We’re also putting up a “Missing” poster. We don’t have a photo, but the description should provide enough to go on:
“Missing: Camel Spider. Minus one leg. Answers to the name ‘Stumpy.’ Last seen Oct 3. Gets pissed easily. May be armed with a toothbrush. Reward.” I figure I can part with a couple cigars if someone locates him. A man’s gotta look after his peeps.
I haven’t really had the opportunity to take many photos. We’re also rather particular about what gets photo-graphed. We have to be mindful of security. To the right is what is known
as a “jump.” It’s a convoy of hardened vehicles, armed to the teeth, with lots
of whiz-bang, secret squirrel stuff intended for transporting and protecting VIPs, like the CG. It may
be hard to see from the size, but each has a turret up top, armed with any-thing from .50 cal machine guns to MK19 grenade launchers. Next, to your left is a view looking down the main drag for the Camp. There are several of these arches, which we’ve adapted to other uses. This particular one houses the post office. Hard to believe, but this entire complex is all one big Palace. I’m told it used to belong to Ude, one of Saddam’s sons. This is considered a minor, little palace. The one where the MEF headquarters is has porcelain heads (toilets) and elevators. Ours just has Stumpy, but theirs is the lesser for it.
Here’s a picture of me and one of the many Colonels I work with, Col. Horigan, our Ops Officer. The tent behind us is where our junior Marines sleep. They have decking on the floors to keep them off of the sand, as well as A/C units spaced about every five feet on both sides. Everything is then surrounded by sand bags – to keep the lead out.
I was going to take a picture of the port-a-johns, but then who hasn’t seen one? But getting back to my earlier point on the johns and ‘more to follow’, I have additional gas to pour on the fire over the age old debate on whether or not to ‘leave the seat down.’
Why It’s Best to Leave the “Seat” Up
I suppose waste disposal and sanitation engineering are as old as man. Perhaps we started with the “lava-tree”, or the nearest cat hole. We evolved and technology improved. I can recall visiting Ephesus in Turkey and the tour guide showing us the bath house. On three sides were marble benches with holes cut in them. Running water flowed constantly below them. Because marble is cold, particularly in the winter, you’re typical Roman aristocrat would send his slave off to the latrine before him, not only to save a spot, but to sit there and warm it up for him. I guess about the closest I’ve come to that is catching one of the dogs drinking out of the thing.
Today, it’s my opinion the Japanese have us all beat. This thing is right out of the “Jetsons.” First, it’s electric. They play music. The seat heats up at the push of a button and some even vibrate to provide a massage. They have reading lights and an array of scents to be dispensed. Some recline. Some raise and lower. It’s fair to say if you find one of these babies under the tree, someone truly loves you and wants you to be happy.
Back to Paradise. Today’s Warfighter on the go benefits from the latest and greatest in field mobile latrines – the Port-a-John. It’s the Out House without the pit, capable of being employed world-wide at a moment’s notice. Door locking mechanism, tissue dispenser, hand sanitizer dispenser, liftable seat (often with accompanying seat cover – but not always) and the built in, wall “basin” for ol’ no. 1 when you don’t have to sit (or just feel lucky). The “cargo area” has “mystery goo” which is blue like the water in your home commode when you hang the thingy on the side or drop the blue hockey puck in the reservoir. Sometimes its orange, kind of like “Tang” – which in my opinion just ain’t right. This story doesn’t require further detail, so I won’t go there. We have these John’s strategically “staged” throughout the Camp. Makes sense since the Marine Corps also has us strategically staged throughout the Camp. Naturally, everyone in the Camp, Marine or not, uses them.
Now we have to consider cultural differences. We’re all built the same. The Port-a-John’s are all built the same. But not everyone uses them the same.
Muslim cultural lesson no. 273: The Standing No. 2??? That’s right. I’m guessing it’s an acquired skill. While you and I will raise the lid, lower the seat and have at it, not so with our Iraqi friends. Apparently, it’s unclean to sit where another has sat (which leads me to believe there were few Roman Muslims). To avoid contact with that which is deemed unclean, one stands above, straddles, takes aim and there you are.
Cultural differences become amplified during the hours of darkness. I refer you all to previous correspondence describing how dark the Camp gets at night. Due to tactical concerns, everything is blacked out. And while there is ambient light from the moon, stars, neighboring cities, etc., even the ambient light is blocked out once you enter Mr. Port-a-John and engage the door locking mechanism. (Important Safety Tip: particularly during the hours of darkness, ALWAYS engage the door locking mechanism).
We’re all familiar with the basic layout of the John such that even in total darkness, we expect and find the seat front and center of the bench. It may take a little getting used to, but we all find our way.
But imagine if your inclined to straddle and shoot? The P-A-J just doesn’t readily allow for this. I mean, there aren’t even any pre-fab foot placements on either side of the seat. And there’s a bit of an incline to the bench. So standing on an incline in the dark with your clothes around your ankles and no real hand holds to speak of requires coordination, concentration and balance worthy of an Olympic gymnast.
That lid/seat thingy is kind of a problem though.
Standing in these things certainly presents a higher center of gravity than sitting. So the P-A-J must wobble or shake somewhat. I can’t say with any certainty how often it’s due to absent mindedness or gravity pulling the seat down after the fact once it’s rocked free. Or it may just be for the same reason we won the War – being these guys don’t aim very well.
I’m here to tell ya these guys can’t aim at all! I mean some of this stuff just ain’t even close! Reinforcing failure with failure, bad aim is made worse if the seat’s down. And you might as well call it a night if the lid was down too!
I could go on (you know I could) but, well there it is. I realize I’ve probably lost many of you reading this by now (anyone finding himself riveted by the story line should seek professional help).
Here’s the point – LEAVE THE SEAT UP
It’s just the good neighbor thing to do.