Desert Storm(part 3)

 Landing in the Saudi desert

After we left the port, we flew out to our first camp — nothing fancy, just a flat spot in the desert where we had to turn nothing into something. We started by digging foxholes and helping build a berm around the perimeter. The “bathrooms” were portable crappers with three holes cut into a plank laid over small barrels filled with diesel fuel. No stalls. No walls. Zero privacy. The shower setup wasn’t much better — three coed stalls side-by-side with dividers that weren’t tall enough, and no one next to anyone above average height had any chance at modesty. I remember one night, I was showering next to one of our taller female officers. She turned towards me to turn on her water, as I turned to turn on mine. I looked at her and she looked at me, and we both thought, "Well, that just happened." There was nothing either of us could do about it. The showers were heated with gas immersion heaters, which at least kept the water warm. After returning late from a flight, I had missed the shower time. I was filthy and needed a shower. I tried to relight the heater and made a mistake, causing a flash burn to my eyes. That took me out of commission for several days. 

The sand was relentless. It got into everything — uniforms, boots, food, sleeping bags, and every damn nook and cranny of your body. You just accepted it or went crazy.

And the sandstorms… brutal doesn’t even scratch the surface. There were times you couldn’t see from our tents to the aircraft. Sand got into your boots, your gear, your food, your sheets, your ears — everywhere. One flight went on so long that the sand trapped between my helmet ear cups and my skin literally rubbed my head raw. By the time we landed, blood was running down my neck.

But the holy hell, this is real moment?
That was the night the air war started.

We sat in foxholes for 14 hours, freezing cold, soaked to the bone, and not allowed to use lights or fires. The fear was quiet, but it was there. We didn’t know if there were enemy forces outside the camp; we weren’t sure of anything at that point. So we sat there — shivering, soaked, hungry, staring into the dark — waiting for whatever came next.

That was the moment it hit me:
We were at war.


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