Entry #22: December 22, 2005

Camp Buehring, Kuwait (somewhere near the Iraq border)

As Christmas draws nearer, things get gloomier here. Here’s a quick synopsis of how the situation is here at Camp Buehring. First of all, as a brigade, we’re not really at war, but then again we’re not really in a garrison environment either. I’m a plane in a holding pattern and leaking gas.

It’s the worst of both worlds. It is war in the fact that we’re working around the clock, but not really contributing. It is garrison in the fact that we’re continually training on stuff we’ve been doing the past year just to get here, but without the weekends off to unwind. We’re shackled by ridiculous rules and regulations. I can’t let my Soldiers go anywhere unless escorted by a sergeant or above. Of my NCO’s, one is working in the S-2 section and unavailable, another is at a different location working, one is incompetent and can’t be trusted to tie his own shoes, and the other is my platoon sergeant and thus, too busy to baby-sit. I’m busy briefing commanders on a system I’ve never seen or operated, hiding from the S-2 lest I be dragged into his pit of reading last week’s news and making a slide of all the left hand turns possible in Ramadi. It’s incredibly frustrating. This time of year should be spent celebrating, not wondering what last minute FRAGO came out where someone needs my shot records in the next 10 minutes or the whole war is lost. Life at Camp Buehring is nearing rock bottom.

It seems like our brigade is the back-up place-kicker. We won’t get to play unless something goes wrong and the starter is injured or whiffs a bunch of kicks. Yet we still have to go to practice and dress up for the games. Why were we sent here to Kuwait? I’m sitting, waiting, wishing (to shamelessly quote a Jack Johnson song) for someone to either send me to war so I can really do my job or send me home. Cause this in between crap doesn’t cut it. I feel like an unsupported pawn about to taken by the opposing queen. Easy to sacrifice for some greater good I can’t foresee.

I haven’t seen a smiling face in two weeks. It’s hard to make a joke when no one wants to laugh. All I want for Christmas is some purpose for being here.