It feels like spring again here; the wind is cool and has just a gentle bite of winter past (a winter that had little force here), while the sun is warm and heartening. Mini-lakes of rainwater still cover many low parts of the camp; indeed, yesterday’s wind thrashed veritable waves across the surface of what used to be a staging ground for LMTVs and 5-ton trucks.
Time here advances at a steady, unsurprising pace, with the passage of time delimited by eating, sleeping, traveling to the site. Always, a countdown to the next transition: two hours till lunch, one hour till shift, twenty minutes to the next radio check. In concrete pieces the time drops away, sometimes in infintesimal slivers and at others (most mercifully) in big, ragged chunks hewed from the monolith of our remaining deployment.
Last night I ran into CW2 Roseau, a brother-in-law of one of my friends from the U. He joined the Army four or five years ago, to be a helicopter pilot – lo and behold, here he is, flying Chinook helicopters for 3rd ID. Well, sort of – as it turns out, he’s visiting Camp Liberty as the aviation liaison for the 256th BCT (our nominal parent unit), so he managed to hunt me down.
So, hopefully, soon I can add a Chinook ride to my helicopter resume…!