The Night Letter

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

To Ward, the air base in Qatar appeared as an oasis of electricity in the untamed darkness of the desert. The lights of the plane descended to meet it, dispelling night as it went and the featureless black earth sped by and as they drew close it glowed red. Once they landed, they were herded through the grab n' go for cold sandwiches and gatorade. Duffle bags were a popular choice for luggage because they were endlessly stuffable but they all looked alike. Most people used a strip of colored duct tape around the circumference of the bag or a bandana tied to the handle or shoulder straps to distinguish their bag but on the truck they all still looked like a shapeless pile of bodies.

Even though it was an American air base they had to pass through Qatari customs. The various stations were staffed by unhurried men in uniforms, some of them incredibly thin and some of them incredibly fat. They would certainly have to be considered to be relatively elite members of society to even have a job with their government and they were probably getting paid very well to work through the night like this. Something of their official arrogance showed in the way they refused to look at any of the Americans, as if they were herding sheep. Still, within this bubble of American control, Ward got the first sense of foreignness from the place but it was not unpleasant. It made him strangely free. He was alone in the world, something he wasn't supposed to want or enjoy. But he was glad there was none he had to call; he didn't have to think about the time difference, didn't have to worry about other people or worry about them worrying about him.

Outside, the night was cool and he enjoyed it knowing that the days would be unbearably hot. A rare breeze would suggest something familiar but out of place in the arid climate; it was a slight taste of salt, reminding him how close was the ocean. The logistics contractors picked them up in their Hilux trucks and escorted them through an alternating succession of American and Qatari checkpoints. At one of the Qatari checkpoints, the driver had to get out and wake up the officer who was stretched out sleeping between two little, wooden chairs, an impressive feat of physical toughness, Ward thought. It was about 3am when they reached the cantonment area.

The billets consisted of Connex boxes within an airplane hangar. The rooms were designed to sleep two but Ward was glad he got his own box. The desert was no match for the air conditioners and even during the day when it was 120 degrees outside, the Connex box was refrigerator cold. He lay on the bed and, even though he had been awake for more than twenty-four hours he could not sleep. The next day he rode the shuttle around the base. Leaving the hangar, he took the cold with him for several seconds until he could feel intense heat bear down on him, starting with the skin on his ears. It made it seem like he was traveling a very great distance even though it was only a few steps. Even the CENTCOM headquarters had grass in front of it. The base seemed deserted, not only because permanent party was mostly inside but because support bases always seem deserted. It was not a hive of activity but actually rather sleepy but suggesting nonetheless a mysterious quality of something going on beneath the surface despite, perhaps because of, the studied, almost brutal, nondescript, and anonymous government facades. Many of the inhabitants were pilots and air crew who worked through the night and slept days. The hangar like cafeteria was mostly empty at any hour. Ward also caught up on sleep during the day and for dinner went to the MWR facility. They gave him a ration card for three beers. He wanted a beer but ordered a Coke instead because he did not like to be rationed.

"And Conor Ward makes three," the bartender said.

"Who's counting?"

"I am Hamza. I have tended bar here, oh, years. I see them on their way in and on their way out. And then they come back again like old friends. Sorry, you hardly know me but I feel like I know all of you. I am Hamza."