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Iraq IV – Day 2
I be not be late for our 6:45 PM bus call, in fact be nobody be late for it. We were already a day behind, nobody wanted to make it worse. The bus I was on made it back to Charleston Air Force Base in record time, the other bus took a wrong turn and ended up at the international terminal of the civilian airport.
With the amount of trouble we were having just getting out of Charleston, what could Baghdad have in store for us?
Unfortunately for those on the other bus, they eventually made their way to the Air Force base, though it was a commendable escape attempt. Once everyone was on the base, we were taken directly to the Spirit of Broken Parts, and started the procedure once again.
C-17 interior, complete with inaccurately named ‘Comfort Package’ seating installed.
Nice.
This time our flying FRED actually managed to take off, and we settled in for a long eight hour flight to Ramstein Air Force base. About two hours into the flight, we heard the following announcement, ” In about twenty minutes we will begin in-air refueling. It might get bumpy for about the next hour or so, so if you’re sleeping on top of a pallet, you’ll need to get down now.”
The top of the cargo pallets is probably the most comfortable place to sleep, though there is a lot less oxygen back there. The first year I stretched out on top of a pallet and slept. When I woke up, I was so disoriented, and had such a huge headache that I felt like I was going to die. An airman explained that there is much less oxygen circulated to the back of the plane, because the cargo doesn’t need it. I never went back there again.
An hour later – this cryptic announcement crackled over the loudspeakers; “Well that refueling thing was pretty much a joke. The tanker never showed up.”
I was starting to sense the pattern. But this was a little scarier, since we were already three hours away from Charleston. Uhh… the WHAT?? No tanker? Do we have enough fuel to make it to Germany?
The pranks continued, including locking people in the bathroom and hiding sleeping victim’s sneakers. It does get pretty boring on these long flights, but sometimes it felt like traveling with a high school football team.
Fortunately, we did in fact have enough fuel to make it, and landed in Germany eight hours later. They told us we would be be on the ground for three hours. Our German hosts laid out a feast for us, and we hungrily accepted it. Four and a half hours later, we were back aboard the C-17 for the final leg of this journey. It’s funny to think that only an hour and a half delay is actually doing well.
The pilots allowed two people inside the cockpit during takeoff from Ramstein. I guess it is OK with them because they are armed.
Baghdad or Bust!
Good idea.
Landing in Baghdad is always a treat. The plane flies into the Baghdad International Airport (BIAP) controlled airspace at high altitude, then rapidly spirals down, hitting the runway at over 400 MPH to avoid being blasted out of the sky.
And with that, we had made it. The WWE was back in Baghdad for a second time. I never thought I would see Baghdad again, and there we were. I was a little surprised that we weren’t issued flak jackets and helmets, standard practice on the first three trips. I guess things are safer now, four years later.
The first time we came to Baghdad, cell phones didn’t work. I was very surprised to see this when I turned my phone on:
Better service than I get at home!
It was midnight when we landed, which proved the mathematical equation (Time the Military says something will happen + 1 hour) once again. Busses were waiting to take us to our living quarters.
Four years ago our quarters were inside the Al-Faw palace. That palace is now one of the centers of BIAP, and no one is allowed inside without proper clearance and credentials. I wasn’t really sure where we would be staying, so when the bus pulled up to the ‘JVB Hotel’, another palatial building, I was excited. JVB stands for Joint Visitors Bureau, the place where visitors to Iraq are quartered.
Joint Visitors Bureau Five Star Hotel.
Gold, marble and ornate carvings were everywhere. There were tables and chairs that looked straight from a movie set. Even the toilets were rimmed with gold. This was shaping up to be the best accommodations ever!
Except the crew wouldn’t be staying there. At this point, twenty hours after leaving Charleston, I didn’t really care. I just wanted a bed. While the WWE talent all had rooms at the JVB Hotel, the crew was put back on the busses and taken to the RAGT.
Raggedy-Assed Ghetto – No Star – Tent.
Home Sweet Hell
Even with the chatty idiots doing their best, I passed out almost immediately.
Author: frenchy
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