Memoirs of an Outlaw: Life in the Sandbox

Chapter 42: Headed Back

Our trip back to Kuwait was not much to talk about. The only thing that comes to mind is that it was a very, very long drive. It did seem to go a bit faster than our trip up to Baharia, but it was still long. It wasn’t until we arrived at the Kuwait border that I began to perk up a bit. The familiar barbed-wire fence was still there, separating destruction from paradise. It still came as a shock to me that just by crossing the border there was such a huge difference in surroundings. Gone was the constant reminder of war. All around us as we made our way through Kuwait were well-maintained BMWs and Mercedes driving past us at high speeds. Tall, glimmering buildings could be seen in the distance, surrounded by small cities. Even the sand in the desert seemed cleaner.

Before we could take off, we had to make a stop at Camp Arifjan, one of the largest US bases in Kuwait. Prior to the vehicles being shipped back to the United States, they needed to go through what is called a wash down. When vehicles go overseas, they go through extensive exercises or operations. Not only do they accrue a lot of dirt and sand, they can also harbor bacteria, bugs, or parasites that are foreign to US soil. To ensure we didn’t bring back anything, we had to give the vehicles a very thorough cleaning. And it’s not an ordinary cleaning either. I’m talking about "break out your toothbrush and scrub down the hubcap bolts" cleaning. For about three or four days, we would spend a good eight hours down at the wash ramp cleaning every nook and cranny of the vehicle and power washing the hell out of it. And just when we thought it was done, we’d call for an inspector to come over to check it out, and he'd find something else. It seemed like a never-ending process.

The only good thing was that when we weren’t cleaning our vehicles, we were given permission to roam the base. Compared to the previous bases we had been to, this one was like Disney World. They had everything there: fast-food restaurants, a movie theater, a barbershop, a video game center, a telephone center, and so much more. We even had a small bus that our company was given to help transport everyone to and from the wash ramp. When I wasn’t eating or playing video games, I would fight to drive the bus. I’d grab Madden, Sprenger, Klinger, or whoever had spare time and have them navigate while we zipped around exploring the base. I probably spent more time driving that bus than I did anything else during our stay at Arifjan. It wasn't that I loved to drive, it was that I hadn’t driven in seven months, and the moment I was given the chance to do it, the joy of having that privilege was overwhelming. It truly was the small things in life that were making me happy.

A few days went by, and we finally passed our inspections. Our next stop was customs. A few Marines stayed behind with the vehicles as the rear party. The rest of us were shipped over to Camp Virginia along with our personal belongings and duffel bags to get inspected. When we got there, groups of us were ushered into tents and ordered to dump everything. These guys weren’t looking for bugs and bacteria; they were looking for contraband. They wanted to go through everything to make sure we didn’t bring back ammunition or weapons. So they had us go in groups of ten or so into a hooch. Inside, we had to take our cammies off to make sure we weren’t hiding anything on our bodies, and then they dumped our gear and inspected everything. It took about fifteen minutes to go through all of our stuff, and when they were done, we had to neatly pack it all back up. It took the better part of a day to get the whole company through customs. No one really complained, though, because the next stop was the airport.

They piled all of us and our gear onto a bunch of buses and took us to Kuwait International Airport. Unlike our trip to Kuwait, we were treated like royalty and given an actual commercial airliner to fly home on. All of our gear was stowed away on the underside of the plane, and all we carried on board were any carry-on items we wanted and our rifles. The plane itself was huge in comparison to what I was accustomed to. The seats had plenty of legroom to stretch out, and the aisles seemed to be bigger than normal. While the plane was huge, it couldn’t hold all of us at once, so we flew home in several planes. Not only were we flying home, but several other Marine Corps units were flying home as well. Fortunately, most of us were able to stick together and fly home on the same plane.

Prior to our departure, I heard someone in the back of the plane shout something about going home, and then everyone began to cheer. We had made it. Seven months had come and gone, and we were finally on our way home. The plane began to roll down the runway and then slowly started to lift into the nighttime sky. As the plane banked to the right, I looked toward the window to my right and saw the city lights below me. I looked forward, rested my chin on my chest, and closed my eyes.

So long, Iraq, it was nice knowing you. And good-bye, dear friends. You may not be with us anymore, but you will never be forgotten and will always be missed.

With that, I fell asleep.