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Time Off
Here's my bunk. This is the only space that I can call my own. I live with twenty-five other guys in one room. We've built a loft over part of the room, and my squad lives up there. The ceiling in only six feet two inches high off the deck of the loft. I'm six feet tall. There is nowhere in my area that I can extend my arm and NOT hit something or someone. It's pretty tight.
The mosquito net is to help keep away the malaria carrying insects, as well as the dreaded camel spider. It also lends a sort of "Island Getaway" ambiance to the whole scene (if you pretend that it's not a desert, it's just really low tide). I've fashioned walls on three sides of my bunk, and I can drop a poncho down in front of the open side if I want additional privacy (which is as much a dream as the Island getaway) - or to keep the daylight out while I sleep. (we sleep during the day and work at night)
Keep in mind, I'm not complaining. I have it good. I expected to be living in a foxhole in the middle of the desert, but instead I'm indoors with electricity and a bunk - luxuries the Infantry does not usually expect. There are other people in the Company living in soft wall tents. They have slightly more privacy, but less protection against the stray mortar round that fall from the sky (they just installed concrete barriers around some of the tents this morning - so it is less of a danger now) and even less protection against the roar of the F-16s as they take off right over our heads. Comparatively, this is paradise.
Wednesday, September 8, 2004
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