I don’t know what the world may need, but I’m sure as hell that it starts with me. And that’s a wisdom I’ve laughed at…

Roll to BIAP scheduled for today. We are deadheading, so we don’t have to pull trucks down. I try to talk the convoy commander into a run down Route Irish, just to say that we did it once. The worst reputed road in the country. He is thinking Route St. Paul for a little while. Then, later, he decides that we should do Excalibur to check it out first. Okay, that makes sense since it is our outbound route, but it is less fun. Although for a deadhead out of BIAP, we could do another route. We should practice up for the other routes once in a while.

But no matter. We have a new power inverter hooked up in the truck and it worked well last night. So tonight, we have tunes and can crank them through some real speakers for a change. Tunes are key to staying awake on long runs and longer waits.

So, the day I spent doing the network that we have going on here. The site is unblocked on the bird, so all I have to do is get the router and switch working. I manage to get the router to link up, having only the laptop connected. It isn’t set to a static IP like I did the laptop to hook directly to the modem. It worked right off the bat, so I hooked up the switch and then plugged in the laptop to the switch. Then it was weird. Nothing seemed to work, like it would then stop. I was thinking that there might be a bad cable. So, I set the router to a static IP too like the instructions. Then everything worked. Especially when I realized that when I hooked it all back up after moving it to where I wanted it in the room, I hooked it up wrong.

Everyone was on in minutes. That news spread fast. Best of all, the hours flew by while I worked on the system. It was kind of like being home, just warming and wiring the neighbors instead of rooms in my house. But I was tinkering with computers, solving problems and puzzling through things. I looked down at my watch and four or five hours had evaporated. And I was happy.

The downside was that there was little time left until load out for the mission, so it was time to cut it off and run out. I hate that part since I always feel rushed and like I forgot something, even though I have triple checked everything against a list.

I never meant to cause you problems. I’ve got solutions in my head, so I jumped out the window and down the fire escape…

Once it was working, I popped down to Doozer’s room and helped him plug in. I did some updating on his anti-virus and anti-spyware, making sure that he was all square. He ducked out to get the truck up to the pod we live in since time was running short. I finished and headed back to my room. When he came back, he came bounding into my room. “You got to see this. Come.” I come out and immediately the smell hits me. “I don’t know what happened. All of a sudden it started smoking. I’m just glad didn’t burn down.”

The inverter is fried. The smell is stronger getting to the truck and pungent in the air. At least the truck didn’t burn down. But the 2800 Watt inverter is cooked. Damn. Another night with the portable speakers in the truck. But we have a new addition of two Kevlar blankets for the deck of the Hummer, covering the transmission hump and hopefully keeping down on the heat. Plus, maybe it will stop any fragmentation from below, although we have the armor for the undercarriage.

We get in the truck and I make a radio check. The convoy commander tells us to head straight for the gate, don’t bother turning for the KBR yard. I tell him right, just after I splash the tanks with diesel. He sounds perturbed when he gives a roger.

We get to the gate and have a quick meeting. I get my crew on getting out the armor and splashing the tanks. KBR won’t fill the tanks directly with diesel in this base. All other bases will, but not here. So we have to fill up the Jerry cans, then fill the tanks.

The convoy commander is impatient to beat out a convoy that is staged. Nice try, but it starts taking off when we are ready to break. So, we have to wait. He explains that when he put the start time for deadheading, he wants us to show up ASAP ready to roll. The idea is to get out on a quick bounce so we can beat all the shit hitting the fan and getting jacked up in traffic. Gotcha, but that would have been nicer to know earlier.

We are set now, refueling complete as the last of the convoy rolls out. We jump in, the other trucks starting up, trying to get out collective shit together to roll out. I feel rushed again, like we are behind the curve and I am missing things.

Now, don’t have me break this thing down for nothing. I want to see you all on your baddest behavior. Lend me some sugar! I am your neighbor!

Out the gate we go, headed south for the night. We cruise down Route Abner with no problems, the convoy is already a ways out. We get to Route Jaguar and turn south catching the convoy in no time.

They are pulled on the side of the road around checkpoint 149 Alpha and blacked out. We stop. They are searching the fields to the left with search lights, so we are thinking that they are onto something. Then, they cross over the median into the northbound lane headed south. Not long later, they cross back over into the southbound lane. It’s as though they were going around something on the road in the southbound lane. Two goes up and scouts the area. There is nothing there that he can see that would make for a crossover, like something shady to avoid. It’s weird and confusing what they are doing. “If they are going around something that is there, that is fucked up, ” says the convoy commander over the radio.

We cross over in the same spot and stay in the northbound lane headed south when they go back. We head past them and keep going. Both of our units roll through the IP checkpoint at the same time, one in each lane, both rolling south.

Getting past them, we cut back over and continue on. Doozer leans down later and says something about hearing something. “What is it?” I ask.

“Don’t know.”

“Right.” Actually, he is saying something, but I can’t hear him and he isn’t being clear with what he is trying to say. We are bearing down on someone else, some other convoy, on the road while looking out for the inevitable IED or small arms fire that comes with 149A. Incomprehensible bullshit falls to the bottom of the mental task list. This convoy is stopped and blacked out. Something else is up and we need to figure out what it is.

A report comes across the Vigilante Net that there is a complex attack in 149A, RPGs and small arms fire. The grid is given out. Two plots it as about 1500 meters up. “Dude, the convoy in front is that one that got hit,” he says. The report still comes in. More small arms, one tractor trailer down, vehicle is fine, but the driver needs medical attention. They are thinking ground evacuation to Taji, which is just ahead. The tractor trailer went into a Jersey barrier when it was shot up. The vehicle is missing a windshield and a little dinged up, but the driver needs some attention.

More reports coming in over the net. Another convoy is hit with an IED, the grid being behind us about six clicks or so. “That must have been the convoy behind us, the one that we passed,” I tell the crew.

“I told you I heard it, “says Doozer.

“When?”

“Back there, when I told you I heard a boom.”

“You heard a boom? Oh. Fuck, I didn’t understand you.” Fuck. I radio up that we might have heard something passing back, but couldn’t be sure. Fuck. “They have one truck down and need medevac.”

Two is out front, so he is in the best position to see what is happening up front. “One this is Two. Looks like they got hit right in the Iraqi Police checkpoint. One of the trucks is in the Jersey barrier, there are vehicles on both sides of the road. There’s some Bradleys or something up there, so there is shit everywhere. It’s a mess.”

“Right in the IP checkpoint? That’s fucking bullshit. Don’t tell me those fuckers didn’t know anything.”

“I dunno, it was RPG fire. It looks like one of the trucks crashed into the checkpoint.”

“Still, don’t tell me those fuckers didn’t know about the IED, or the shit around them. They’re assholes. Fucking bullshit, those IPs.”

It’s now in front of us, behind us, and we are in the middle of the shitstorm. “Okay, look alive. We’re right in the middle of this shit.” Flares go up from the convoy in front. “Flares, twelve o’clock, ” I call out.

“Got it.”

Two comes on the net. “They are still taking fire up there.”

“Roger.”

Next to us, a light pierces the sky, flashing up like searchlight three times, then going out along with all the lights of the surrounding buildings and houses. “Hey, One, this is Four, all the lights went out next to us. There was some kind of flash three times, then it went out.” Two calls up: “Another IED det up front. They took a secondary about 500 meters farther down.”

One comes back on the air. “Okay gentleman, keep your gunners scanning. This is it.” I lean back so the crew can hear me better. “Another IED det with the convoy in front.”

“Shit.”

The radio crackles. “One this is Two, they have another truck down up ahead. They’re still reporting small arms fire on Vigilante. No report of casualties other than the one driver.”

“They still have small arms fire? Which side?” asks One

“Didn’t say.”

“Gotta love these contact reports from these pogue motherfuckers. Do they need any assistance?”

“Dunno.”

“Did you make contact with their rear element?”

“Dude, it a mess up here. There’s vehicles everywhere, I don’t know what they are doing.”

“They left that down vehicle?”

“No, they have Brads up here, but they are part of some OP or something,” Two says.

“Dude, push up there and see what the fuck is going on, and if they need help. We have four trucks sitting here,” One says.

I’m scanning with my night vision, the NODs, looking where the lights were, around us, looking for movement, bombs, suspicious stuff, movement, anything. I notice my driver doesn’t have his NODs up. He has mentally taken a shit lately and acting completely retarded. Now, he is looking out into the dark without NODs. Fat lot of good that will do, but if I lay into him, he will get all pissy, then everything goes to shit. But I can’t ignore it.

“Where’s your NODs?”

“I put them right here in the bag,” he says tapping the floor of the Hummer. “But they aren’t there now. Doozer says that he doesn’t see them, so I don’t know what happened.” In the darkness he can’t see me look at him like I just saw the most amazingly retarded thing in my life. Here we go with the excuses. Everything is an excuse. “Well, something happened….” or “Well, I was thinking this, that, and the other….” This is beginning to annoy me. But I can’t yell because we will be back to the same pouty, depressed crap as before. They don’t pay me enough for this bullshit.

I flick on my flashlight, pointing it in the back seat. “Doozer, do you see anything back there?”

“Yeah, it’s right there on the floor.” What an unmotivated idiot. I try not to have too much of a pained expression. My driver reaches back. “A little more back. The other side. Right there.” He now has NODs.

“Team Three, this is One. Birds are in the air at the three o’clock.” I lean back. “Guardian Angels in the air at the three o’clock.”

“Roger.”

A little later, Two comes back on. “Okay, the Brads are an OP, and they are pulling security on the truck. The rest of the convoy pushed up to get out and is stopped with the IED ahead. They are waiting on medevac, but the truck is drivable, they are going to try to self recover. You can pull up some more and get on the northbound lane.”

“Do they need our help?”

“No, the Brads have the security and the convoy is farther on down the road. There’s not much for us to do.”

“What’s it like up there? Is there buildings closer to the road?”

“Yeah, right past the checkpoint, there are houses both sides, right on the road.”

“Yeah, that’s a natural chokepoint. We have good position back here. Fall back here and we will wait it out.”

Doozer pipes up. I have been monitoring the radio, but left the speaker off. “Sergeant S, why are we just sitting here? Can’t we go around them on the left?”

“No, it’s a goat fuck up there, vehicles all over.”

“Well, if they are taking fire, why are we here? Let’s get up there.”

“Dude, we can’t. Look around, we have good visibility, not too many buildings. Up there is a chokepoint. Buildings right on the road. You have vehicles and people everywhere and they are waiting on a medevac. So if we went driving through it, it might be fucking up some evac, or just making things worse. The convoy is past, we don’t have comms with them, so there is no way to coordinate with them. The Brads are someone else, and they don’t know what is going on. So if we go running into it, we would be getting in the way and making it worse, then Habibi could shoot us all up. Better to wait in a better position and not get in the way until we are needed. We don’t need to run into the burning house and fuck shit up.”

“Gotcha.”

“Are you saying ‘gotcha’ because you see what I’m saying, or ‘gotcha’ because you are trying to humor me?”

“No, I understand. Makes sense.”

There are lights to our rear. Another convoy is pulling up. “One, this is Four. We have a convoy coming up on our six.”

“Roger, convoy on our six. Is it that one that got hit?”

“Dunno, we are making contact.” The lead vehicle pulls up next to mine. “Dooz, yell over to them and see what they want.” Dooz yells at them: “The convoy in front got hit. RPGs and small arms. Another got an IED. They are doing a medevac.” They say something back. “They want to know if they can pass.”

“Fuck no. The route is red. They are doing a fucking medevac.”

“NO.” Pause. “They are doing a medevac, you can’t pass. The route is red.”

“Are they the guys that got hit back there?” I ask Doozer. He asks them. “No.”

“Hey, find out who the fuck they are, and their net ID, ” I call up to Doozer in the turret. “Hey what unit are you?” he calls over. They call back their unit and net. “Hey, get their call sign too.”

“What’s your call sign?…Your call sign!…On the radio, your call sign, the name that you use on the radio…Comcast 15.”

“Comcast?” My driver and I both say.

“That’s what is sounded like. They say they’re going to Talil.”

“Fuck them.” I call back to One and pass the information. “I have their Net ID and call sign if we have to talk to them.”

“Hey,” calls Doozer. “They want to know if we can pull up.”

“Fuck no, they can go back. Assholes.”

“Damn, he is freaking out.”

“Huh?”

“He is screaming at his lead truck driver. When he came up, the truck followed him. Now the gunner is throwing chem lights at him. The TC is ripping him a new asshole.”

“Must be a helluva group that they are pulling,” I comment. “And Talil is a long run. Damn.”

“Dude, this guy is freaking out.” I snicker and smile. Sometimes things get weird.

Lights from approaching vehicles cut into my vision. A small patrol is coming up, threading its way through the traffic on the road. The lead vehicle pulls up next to my truck and opens the door. One soldier jumps out. I drop my window. His vehicle can provide cover for that side from any effects of weapons, so while I normally wouldn’t do that, I do now. “What’s up?”

“Are you the unit that was hit?”

“No, I’m the last vehicle in this group. We’re the four gun trucks here,” I say waving ahead, “and the next convoy starts behind me. They didn’t get hit. The one that was hit is about six clicks back.”

“Do you know if they need recovery or medevac?”

“They had one TCN vehicle down and called for medevac. I don’t know about recovery. Didn’t hear anything on Vigilante.”

“Any idea where they are at?”

“Um, hold on, I’ll call and see if we have a grid.” I call to Two. He doesn’t have the grid, but Three does. I copy it down, and the unit identifier. “Hey, they are XYZ Armor, and at 234 blah blah blah.”

“Great, thanks.” The guy jumps back in his Hummer and continues on back in the traffic looking for some unit.

“Hey, Vigilante is reporting that a medevac is coming in along Jaguar from the north,” One calls. “Keep an eye out on our six for a bird.” We don’t see anything in the air. Maybe it is still too far out. Maybe it is coming in for the unit behind us and we won’t see it.

Lights are coming up the northbound lane slowly heading towards us. “And what is this circus coming at us, ” I ask over the radio.

“It looks like route clearance coming up, ” calls back Two.

“Um, a little late don’t you think?”

“Yeah, better late than never. I think that the route is cleared now of IEDs now that they blew up.”

They keep coming up and pause by us. They flip on a search light and shine it by my truck, looking at a pile of rags off the road. The route team stops, blacks out their lights, and the one truck comes over the median at it. “Route clearance just went black, ” calls One.

“Yeah, they are playing by me looking at some trash,” I radio back. “It’s only been about 45 minutes and nothing went boom. What a joke.”

The monster truck that the clearance uses for investigating stuff is parked in front of me. Looking at the rags. Finally the lights go out and it pulls alongside. Doozer talks to them. “Hey they are looking for a possible IED around here. Do we know anything about that?”

“No, no reports of possibles, just the one definite behind us. I didn’t hear anything on Vigilante,” I tell Doozer. “No idea,” he shouts back, “don’t know anything about a possible, just a definite one back there that exploded.”

What a night. We wait some more.

Some Bradleys move up to where Two is. A pause. “One this is Two, we can pass on the northbound lane, it’s cleared up enough that we can go.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Well, Lucky always gets me home. With Lucky near, I can’t go wrong…

Lights come on and we cross over the median. In the checkpoint as we pass is the truck that is wrapped up on a Jersey barrier. It doesn’t look too bad, glass everywhere, but possibly drivable. A little later is the remains of the second truck, a bobtail destroyed in the median. The cab is a mess, metal everywhere, looking every bit that it was lumped up bad and partly burned. “Fuck, look at that.” We pass the rest of the convoy, blacked out on the road. Houses are all around, closing in on the road. We scan the night, looking for someone silly enough to mess with us without trucks to mind, looking for the responsible parties that worked this destruction. Nothing comes from the night. All is quiet now on the roadway front. We continue south into the night.

The roll south is now quiet. We are alert now, more so having the wake up call right out the gate. The monster is hungry tonight and all around. But we keep going, the situation being quiet and uneventful in our immediate area. Which is good.

As we are coming down Jaguar, we see a broken Stryker in the opposite lane. Their patrol is halted and pulling security. An entire wheel of the Stryker has come off. No self-recovery for that.

Once we get to the turn off to Excalibur, we fall in behind another convoy. They are right on the off ramp, moving slowly. Then they stop, black out, and wait. “What the fuck?” calls One. “Looks like they are spooked by something.” We stop. They wait for a moment, then slowly pull on the off ramp to Excalibur. “Oh, great. They are probably lost.”

“Spooked and lost, what a great combination,” I call.

“Yeah, and we’re behind them. Great.” One calls for a route status on St. Paul. If these guys don’t get fully on Excalibur, we can still do St. Paul as an alternate. But they pull fully on the road. “Okay Two, let’s still do Excalibur and get around them.”

They pull off, we follow, and immediately cross the median into the opposing lane. Off we go. They are poking along, for all the world lost and confused. Which is bad in Baghdad, especially this neighborhood. “I told you we should have just done Irish,” I call. Irish is notorious for being Bad, Very Bad, with a capital bad. We blow by the convoy, though, and haul through Excalibur. The run into BIAP is quiet. We are looking around intently; Excalibur has been hellacious the last couple of nights.

I ain’t lying, girls be cryin’ ‘cause I’m on T.V…

BIAP is in front of us. We pull into the gate. There is a cute female at the front gate. The Three truck barely touches the brakes and blows through. We slow down to show ID. “Hi there.” She smiles and walks away, job being done. “Note: Three barely slowed down. Gay. Not Metro-sexual. Full out Gay.”

We pick up the trucks, and Doozer checks the trucks. We have a 45 minute turn around, so we can actually check the trucks tonight. One won’t start, there is a last minute substitution. I am talking to the KBR guy getting the information as to what this substitution is. Three drivers are standing around right behind me, literally right over my shoulder. I can’t take it any more and whip around to the one on my left. “MA? [What?]” I growl. He steps back. The guy on my right giggles at the first’s reaction. I whip around on him. “What?!? Sayarek? [Your truck?]” I ask him.

“No.”

My eyes narrow. “Then Imshi [walk away].” He giggles. “Imshi, ” he repeats chuckling. “Get the fuck away from me now!” I yell, my hand moving to my extendible baton. He backs up a bit and the first guy is back over my shoulder. I jot down some information and walk to the truck giving it the quickie once over.

The driver is there, and gets in. I ask KBR Dude what it is hauling. “I think that it is empty.”

“Any manifest?”

“I don’t know.” KBR Dude gets on the radio. “Yeah, we’re changing out one truck on this convoy.” He gives the license information. “Hey, is there any more convoys headed north?” He asks me. I turn to him, his cluelessness beginning to irritate me. “I don’t know,” I reply

The convoy gets started and we start pulling the trucks out. A bunch of other drivers are standing in front of the new truck of ours. “Move, fuckers!” The truck honks. They stay. It creeps. They slowly move out of the way. “Man, do we have a crowd tonight,” I mutter to myself. We get everything out and I jump in my truck. “One this is Four, we’re rolling.”

“Roger, what do we have?”

“Two Zero Victors, two seven packs.”

“What?”

“We have seven hitchhikers.”

“Man. Are we having a night of tards again?”

“No, but the other convoys are going to have a bunch of winners.”

“Yeah, I was wondering if that was our group of re-re’s in front of the other truck.”

“Nah, the other convoys are going to have their hands full. They were almost hood ornaments, but we left them.”

On the road, pulling north. Getting out is a pain, since we have a bunch of twists and turns in the roads coming out the gate. We are spread out and rolling slow. “One is through the IP checkpoint.”

“Three is on Lincoln.”

“Four, St. Paul.”

“Roger, Four, we are spread out pretty good.”

“Two is on Bernard.”

“Roger, Two….wait, Bernard?!? How far….Bernard? You’re on Bernard?”

“Nah, just fucking with you.”

“Damn, I’m used to just rogering what you say. What the fuck?”

We roll. As my truck, holding the rear, comes up to the turn off to Excalibur, we see flares. “Flares, our eleven o’clock,” I radio.

“Roger, that’s One Three One Alpha,” One replies. “That’s a bad area. That’s where the other convoy was hit when we turned off the other day.”

“Yeah, I remember the fireworks display.” We continue on.

Vanish in the air, you’ll never find me. I will turn your flesh to alabaster, then you find that your servant is your master…

There is a convoy ahead stopped. It’s a group of Strykers. “One this is Two. They are broken down and doing self recovery. They said about five minutes and then we can roll. They are going to turn around so we can go by in this lane.”

“Roger.”

“One this Four, I have lights going off to my eleven o’clock. Continuing to observe.”

“Roger, keep eyes on.” Fuck, what a night.

“Hey, there looks like a vehicle in that field.” I pull down my NODs, and the lights are very faint. “It’s like he is parked with his parking lights on.”

“I was just about to say that, ” says Doozer from the turret.

“Keep an eye on him. You see anyone?”

“No, you want me to light him up with a flare?”

“Nah, just watch him. If there is anything weird, flare him.” Doozer puts the spotlight on it. It is behind weeds and hard to make out. He kills the spotlight

“One, this is Four. I have a victor in the field to my ten o’clock blacked out. We’re watching him.”

“Roger, put the light on him to make sure that he knows we’re watching.”

“Roger.”

“Flare him up if you feel froggy.”

“Roger that.” Dude, already on it. I don’t mind the reminders, though. It is a good double check that we are doing the right thing.

Nothing comes of it. No movement, nothing other than it is there. We start rolling about five minutes later.

We pass the broken Stryker going north. “Clear the Crunchies with driver’s licenses.”

“How do you know that they have licenses?”

And the roll north is quiet. Nothing. No reports either, until we get to the gate. I hear over the Vigilante net that Team Five is bringing in human remains. What? I find Convoy commander’ truck. “Hey Tulip, did Team Five get hit?”

“Yeah, they got hit in The Market. Destroyed a tractor trailer and killed the driver.”

“Fuck.”

We escort our trucks in and are chatting in the truck about the dead foreigner. “Hard way to make a living. Come to a foreign country, drive a truck around, and get shot at. I’ll bet there family has no information.”

“Yeah, probably just here to make a living. Feed the family back home.”

“Plus, these guys are subcontractors to subcontractors. They don’t have insurance. And the family won’t know for a couple of weeks or so until the remains show up. ‘Hey, here’s what’s left of Abu. Sorry about your luck.'”

“That’s fucking hard, dude.”

“Yeah, and the truck might be borrowed, so maybe they have to pay for what is left of it to whoever owns it.”

“Fuck.”

Lyrics: Teen Angst, by Cracker. It’s Tricky, by Run DMC. Wrapped Around Your Finger, by The Police. Hey Ya, by Outkast. Lucky, by Secondhand Jive. All copyrights by their respective holder.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.