Jessica Ganzermiller
ENG101
Kambui
3/21/11
A Home away from Home
I was ready or as ready as I could have been to take on the twenty six thousand detainees of Camp Bucca Iraq, the largest detention facility in the world. As I stepped off the plane; suddenly hit by the nearly unbearable One hundred forty seven degree heat. My boots were tightly laced ID tag on my left and Boot knife on the right. Eighty pounds of protective gear; Bullet proof vest with survival tools and pouches of ammo strapped to the front, helmet with my name and blood type so if my head were to blown off the would know it was mine, my ruck sac strapped to my back full of the bare essentials; weapons cleaning kit, 2 uniforms, hygiene items, extra boots, a sheet, a towel and a wash cloth; ready for a mission I had been trained for, but little did I know all the training in the world could not have prepared me for what I was up against. In fear I could not help but to wonder if this flight had been my last. This was going to be a fifteen month trip that would change my life forever. This was not just a mission assignment for the military; it was my personal road to self- discovery.
We arrived in Kuwait; this place was not like any place I had been before. The fine sand whimsically disappeared as the drifting air carried it away. One place that had once been a place of calm reflection; was now a place where war death and hatred lurked in the air. “Formation” yells my Platoon Sargent in his newly pressed uniform with badges of achievements placed just right upon his chest. Anxious and focused I got into my position in the formation and stood at attention and waited for further instruction from our commander. “Ground your gear and settle yourself in your designated tents for the night and be in formation at 0430 hours” he demanded in a stern yet laid back persona. As we were dismissed I made my way to the tent that was designated for the female soldiers. The tent we were to stay in was a long white and looked as if a pipe was lying on the ground and buried half way in the dirt. As I entered the tent my boots made a loud thumping sound upon the plywood floors and echoed along the white vinyl walls. The cots were placed side by side along each length of the tent with a foot of space between each one. There were ninety seven females scattered around; all from different battalions and military branches all over the United States; no room for privacy. I place my things under my cot and snuggle into my sleeping bag with my weapon; that could at one point decide my fate and existence in life tucked snuggly to my side with the sling wrapped securely around my ankle and rest my head on a towel I had folded up into a pillow. Staring into the unknown I could see the last image of my mother that was locked into my memory. The look of concern and heartbreak as her tears followed the contour of her face like rivers. I did not want to remember my mother that way so I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and fell asleep to the sounds of generators and alarms off in the distance.
0300 hours and the alarm I had set on my watch were sounding for me to get up and ready for the day ahead. The sun had not risen yet and the air was cold. I put my boots back on and went outside the tent to brush my teeth and wash my face with a bottle of water. I went back into the tent to make sure my battle buddies were awake for formation. After formation we walked five miles to get to the pickup site where we were told we would board black hawks that would fly us to our final destination, Camp Bucca Iraq.
The sun has come up with not a cloud in the sky and the temperatures quickly increasing. Sweat pouring down my face and my cheeks reddened from the sun; my arms have started to go numb and limp from holding my weapon on this long and exhausting journey in the sweltering heat. Finally we arrive to the landing pad and aboard the choppers in groups of eight. Stuffed in shoulder to shoulder; two rows of four facing each other with our bags on our laps; we take off. The view is amazing large spaces of desert with the occasional little farms of fresh vegetation, groups of camels and small villages. After a thirty minute flight we arrive at Camp Bucca. Approaching the camp I notice nothing but fencing and yellow dots. As we get closer to land I realized the yellow dots were the twenty six thousand Iraqi detainees in the facility. As we walked through the facility it was as if the tall chain fence topped with barbed wire went on for miles. As I walked the fence there were dozens of dead decaying birds. Some trapped in the wire and some dead from dehydration and exhaustion. The flies were by the millions. You could hear the sounds of Arabic prayer in every direction and see the detainees gathered on their knees to perform their prayer rituals. Suddenly a sand storm rushes in from afar and I can only see orange. The sand is so thick in the air that my hand could not be seen in front of my face. The winds so strong I am nearly knocked off balance. The alarm sounded a long roar for guard to be outside and maintain high security and the detainees to be put on lock down. It was then that I came to the realization that Iraq was going to test me in every way possible. Iraq was going to be physically demanding, mentally challenging and emotionally draining. This experience was going to change my life forever and it did.