A Warrior Thanksgiving

So this post, as with most of the previous posts, does not have any pics, but I will try to alleviate that shortly.

Since last I wrote, I went to a wonderful place known as FOB Warrior, which is the coolest name for a FOB that I have been to as of yet. Some argue that calling it FOB Ninja would be better, but I don't have a whole lot of say into that. In fact they are trying to change the name to FOB Wild Boar, which would degrade its status to the worst named FOB that I have been to. However, while I was there it was Warrior, and that is how it will stay in my memory.

As with all of my travels, there were some irregularities in my getting there. It seems that no matter how hard I try, I simply cannot travel from point A to point B with no interuptions. This time I tried really really hard. I got on a Chinook in Salerno that was supposed to go directly the Warrior. Yeah, I could not have done better. Sadly that direct flight was redirected to BAF, the blackhole of helicopter travels, where one of the Chinooks was pronounced DOA. It had some sort of electrical malfunction. The flight was cancelled and I ended up stuck, yet again, in BAF. Knowing that leaving BAF for Warrior was going to be a challenge, I befriended the helo crew and we made plans to meet again in the morning to attempt to leave BAF together. We met, they left, I stayed.

As we prepared for departure, some person that had precedence over me decided that I was not going to make that trip. Conveniently for me the helo was to do a round trip and go back out. So with all of my bags already burried in the bottom of a rather large pile, I told the aircrew, whom I had befriended, to simply leave them on for the round trip. It was easy and it even saved time. Now this was somewhat foolish, but I had faith that my bags would make the roundtrip. Six hours later, when the helo returned three hours late from its trip, one half of my bags was not there, but rather was waiting for me in Warrior. Not bad odds, really. Sadly the trip took three hours longer than scheduled and the next trip was cancelled till yet the next morning.

The next morning I went back out to the helicopter with the crew that I had befriended and loaded my bag and some equipment, as I had the prior day. As a thinking man, I had talked to the jerk that took me off the flight the day prior and arranged for my ride on this time. As we spin up the rotors, the other Chinook comes up with another problem, and I am yet again pulled from the flight. This time the pilots hook me up with another bird going my way. So, I ran across the flightline to the other bird and they convienently had one seat open, it was the seat known as "shotgun." The seat is aft of the pilots (slightly), facing forward (nice), and located directly below the forward rotor trnasmission box. The best seat in the house, except in any sort of accident. I got a set of headphones and talked to the crew as the flight made its way south.

When we arrived in Warrior, the other bird (the one with my bag and equipment) had already come and gone. The crew, which I had befriended, put my bag off with the rest, but forgot to get the equipment which I had stashed under the cargo seats. No problem, they were scheduled to make another trip that day. As the day went on I waited and waited. As I mentioned previously, everything sounds like a helicopter when that is what you are waiting for. Finally the bird arrived, and I got my equipment. Finally, I was all there . . . in FOB Warrior. It took another twenty four hours to find my bag from the previous day, but it was there and I was happy.

I spent eleven days in Warrior, doing various things. In that time Thanksgiving took place. The FOB had an interesting meal arrangement. They normally serve a brunch and then a dinner due to short staffing. The day before Thanksgiving they closed down the Galley following brunch, which meant that the dinner meal was to be everybodies favorite. . . MREs. YEAH!

On Thanksgiving the galley opened at 1130 for dinner. The big question on everybodies mind. . . was it worth it? AKA was an MRE for dinner the night before and the really long line worth the meal. My answer is most definately yes. In fact it was the best meal that I have had in country.

Sadly that night the peace was broken when one of the units out on patrol got into a firefight, and lost one soldier while critically wounding another. The wounded man survived. . .the wonders of modern battlefield medicine.

A few days later I returned to BAF where I now sit waiting to get back to Salerno. This month I am going to try to go to Quatar for a little bit of down time. I am still not sure when, though.

Till next time. . .