Another day in paradise

I am reminded of Christmas Eve thirty years ago during which many of my fellow veterans were preparing to deploy to Saudi Arabia. With a tinge of dread in my heart, I awoke Christmas Day, drove to our kaserne where we said our farewells, loaded a bus and then boarded a commercial plane. As we flew into the darkness, I remember savoring my ice cold apple juice, my favorite, while watching the in-flight movie, Young Guns 2. I remember this as it was the sequel to Young Guns, the first VHS movie I bought in Germany and had watched at least twenty times as I only received German TV stations where I lived and my German was not very proficient.

Fast forward five months later, most of us boarded back onto a similar plane to return to Germany. There was a sense of excitement. I once again savored my ice cold apple juice and settled in to watch the in-flight movie, Russia House, which by happenstance was released on December 21, 1990 only four days prior to our departure to the desert five months earlier. As we flew towards Italy to refuel in Rome, one step closer to our old normal lives, I looked out the window and felt an unexpected tinge of dread.  

From the past five months, our lives had been transformed, perhaps permanently. Starting with that Christmas Day, this was the story of our normal...

On December 26, 1990, after flying through the night, we landed and were met with a blast of warm, dry desert air, the opposite of the cold German winter which a month prior we had skied in. We grabbed our gear, loaded on buses and unloaded outside of our temporary housing at Kobar Towers. I thought, "Great! We will be living indoors!" My enthusiasm was interrupted by a scud siren and we ran for cover. Our normal recalibrated in an instant.

A day later, I received a package from friends in Germany. They must have sent it way before we left for it to arrive so soon. It was a Christmas Tree. Despite our earlier welcome siren, this welcome gift hinted that some things were the same.

We lived in the Kobar Towers, six to a room, for the first few weeks. But this "luxury" ended early into the New Year when we moved to the spacious desert which would be our home for the next four months.

In the desert, just like with our ancestors not so long ago, the rhythm of the sunrise and sunset dictated the rhythm of our lives. In the night, we often read and wrote letters with only the light of our flashlights. The beauty of the rising and setting sun was a gift everyday. At the end of the day, we welcomed the coolness of the moon and in the morning, the rising sun reheated the seemingly frigid air.

The vast desert terrain gave little clue to direction. Without GPS, on one occasion I was disoriented in the darkening night. Luckily, I looked up to my left to see a rise of smoke over the flat desert calling like a beacon, "We’re over here."

Our basic needs were met. Many of the men warmed up Meals Ready To Eat (MREs) and water for coffee in the darkness of the morning on the hot exhaust grill of our tanks. A little can of mango juice and a twinky were treats. Our supply sergeant diligently ensured these were fairly distributed as he did with all of our supplies.

Showers consisted of wet ones, isopropyl alcohol, makeshift showers or simply pouring water over ourselves from a basin. Finally once in late March or early April, we jumped into armored personnel carriers to be taken to temporary showers where we got one minute to get wet, one minute to soap up, and one minute to rinse off. Three minutes to wash away the desert sand.

We washed our clothes in shallow wash basins by hand. The dry desert heat dried our clothes in minutes. Self selected barbers gave free haircuts. Any style you wanted as long as it was high and tight.

We slept outside much of the time. On occasion, we would sleep in our simple tents where desert rats could be heard running around at night.

However, we preferred to sleep on top of our tank or in it. When it rained, we pulled ponchos over our sleeping bags and managed to stay dry. The top of the turret was comfortable if you like a firm mattress and the back deck was sometimes warmed from the turbine engine.

Despite the basic accommodations, we faced challenges together with calmness and professionalism. A calmness not due to the pending circumstances, but rather because we were on purpose with a shared mission.

Our normal was not all without luxuries. For entertainment, we connected our Walkmans through our intercom system. Cassette tapes held up well in the austere conditions and some of them remain amongst my favorites.

"But I would walk five hundred miles...And I would walk five hundred more" - The Proclaimers

In the desert heat, air conditioning consisted of the wind and sand blowing across our faces and into our eyes. When it got really warm especially when wearing our body armor, our chemical protective system hose tucked into our flame resistant clothing blowing ambient air added a little bit of coolness.

The soda and water we drank was usually hot or lukewarm at best. We cooled our "beverages" by wrapping water soaked OD green socks around the bottles and cans, letting the principle of evaporation cool them. It seemed to make a difference.

We did not call home very often...we did not have cell phones or even email. On occasion, we were taken by armored carriers to a phone bank to make brief calls. Our communication home was mainly by letter which took weeks either way.  Receiving and replying by letter was like looking at stars in the sky knowing the words you were seeing were from the distant past. Nonetheless, getting mail and packages made a huge difference. Even the Any Soldier Mail was appreciated. I wrote back to one student and weeks afterwards the whole school was writing to me expressing their support. I kept all of the letters.

We befriended the wild dogs. They welcomed our arrival as if they were expecting us, stayed in our perimeter at night, and kept us company while we over-watched checkpoints.

As we left to convoy from Iraq, the dogs ran up on the berm to see us off, as we passed through the entrance of our temporary base, probably disappointed when we did not return as usual after a daily patrol. Truly, man's best friend.

As we moved back into Kuwait, the burning oil fields powerful glow miles away provided at times enough light so we could read at night, while on other nights their anger filled the sky with so much smoke that it completely blocked heaven's light. It was pure and utter darkness. During the day, the same fires left rain drops of brown crude oil on our skin. It was a terrible yet awe inspiring site. I called this home Firebase Chicago.

As spring arrived and the temperature increased daily, we made the best of it including one day barbecuing chicken on a metal grate but appreciating every bite. Some of us even wore shorts that day like it was a beach party except without the ocean. In our last few days in the desert, the 118 degree heat could not break our spirits.

In late May, we boarded planes to fly back home to our old normal.

In the past five months, life had been spartan and simple; our purpose had sent us towards chaos yet it was clear. Perks were non-existent, but there were no real complaints. Purpose was far more important than perks. The desert would not have listened anyways. One morning at 0300, I woke up to wet sand blowing into my tent and sleeping bag. I got up and dressed knowing that laying there complaining was not going to make it any better.

Now, just as we had arrived what seemed a lifetime ago, we were flying back at 600 mph towards our old normal. I was happy to go back to friends and family...to the conveniences of the old normal of running water, sleeping in a bed, electricity and light at the flip of switch turning night into day, clean clothes, a roof overhead, going to a movie and restaurant, and travelling freely across the beautiful German countryside...to continue my life's journey...but I felt this unexpected tinge of dread.

Upon reflection, I realized despite my excitement to return home, I dreaded going back to the minutiae that would clamor for our attention often successfully distracting us from our life's journey and mimicking as our purpose. The bells and whistles that trick us away from our full selves and irreplaceably steal our time from creating what matters to us, individually and collectively. The loss of the much needed rhythm to our days and nights replaced by the constant 24/7 hum of expectations, more and open signs.

I dreaded losing the clarity and simplicity demanded by a clear purpose absent of distractions which for five months was a resonant aspect of our normal in the desert. In the morning, one of my sergeants would, I realized, unintentionally remind us of this by saying...another day in paradise.

Now thirty years later, my fellow soldiers and I are all surely reflecting on our shared experience. During those five months in the desert, along with risks, opportunities, victories and losses we experienced and missed out on, as our unit chaplain said, "We had changed." We also had experienced a level of clarity of purpose which we could choose to carry forward to make our return journey out of the desert not one to our old normal or even to a new normal, but rather one to a new beginning.

I wish everyone a happy holiday and a fulfilling new beginning as 2021 unfolds.

#leadership #purpose #values #2021 #desertstorm #fulfillment #military