That Was Wind

Remember what I said about boring being good? Sunday night was anything but boring.

Before I continue: no Marines were killed, all injuries were minor. At no point was I or any of my Marines in danger. So, yeah, I didn’t take a shower for the one night (I could have, but my better judgment overruled me), and breakfast was an MRE the next morning, but I’ve had worse.

I left work late Sunday afternoon—it wasn’t my intention to be working Sunday afternoon, but things always come up, so I was working Sunday afternoon. As I left work, I saw smoke rising in the air just off to the northwest, probably a tenth of a mile away. It was thick, black smoke, and looked like someone had lit a pile of tires on fire.

By the time I’d walked a little closer to see what was going on, the fire had grown significantly. The fire had started in a supply lot, where a lot of boxes were stacked up close to each other, the wind was blowing hard, and it hadn’t rained since we’d gotten here. Marines were already on site directing traffic, and I could hear sirens as emergency vehicles came in from multiple directions. One civilian vehicle didn’t want to stop for the emergency vehicles, so a Marine shouted at it to stop and walked over angrily. It stopped.

I watched for a few minutes then headed back to the barracks. The wind was blowing the fire away from the main body of the camp, and my Marines were all at the barracks, at the other end of the camp. By the time arrived at the barracks, 10 minutes later, the flames were shooting up 50-100ft in the air and the cloud of smoke was huge.

The dust storm didn’t start for another 45 minutes or so. We had a small dust storm the first day I was here, the previous Sunday. Yeah, it wasn’t much fun—sand gets in your eyes, you want to stay inside. But as my SSgt puts it, that dust storm the week before was just wind. This was miserable. I was in the chow hall, a set of large tents. The sides of the tents started flapping, and the interior of the chow hall became dusty. As I headed out, two Marines came through the exit. I immediately saw why.

I couldn’t see more than five feet in front of me. I don’t know if the sun had set at that point, but it certainly appeared to have. I could see lights—headlights, flashlights of Marines seeking cover, but not much else. I knew where I was going—there was a wall and a fence that would channelize me as I headed back to the barracks. But I was walking into the wind, dust stinging my eyes every time I tried to look where I was going. I got about halfway there and heard a shout from one of the vehicles on the road asking if I wanted a ride. I took it, gladly.

They dropped me off at my barracks, where I picked up my goggles and neck gaiter. I checked with my platoon again; the power had been out in our barracks for a day and a half, so without A/C they were down to skivvy shorts, but happily watching Scrubs. The XO and I walked back down to the Battalion office to report that all the Marines were accounted for. We passed streams of Marines on the way heading away from the fire; there were a lot of billeting areas just across the street from the fire, so they had been evacuated. The Marines down at Battalion were watching the fire; it had started in the lot just across the street, so they had a good view. We were told the fire was approaching the fuel farm, which had the potential to make the situation much worse.

The XO asked around and found out that our reporting superior was up at the barracks. We walked back up there and reported in, then went back to our own rooms. Fortunately by this time the dust storm had settled down, so I took my goggles and neck gaiter off. I hung out with some of the other officers for an hour or so before I decided there was nothing more for me to do. We saw five large explosions and thought it was our fuel, but found out later they were oxygen tanks.

They shut down some of the camp services—there was no water or electricity in the heads the next morning, and the chow halls were handing out MREs for breakfast. We hadn’t lost any of our food or water (or at least not a significant amount), but the trucks that normally carry potable water had been used to fight the fire and had to be disinfected before they could take water to the chow halls again. They opened the fast food line for lunch—the daily special for lunch was flame broiled burgers and hot dogs, complete with a cool drawing on the whiteboard outside the chow hall. They closed down laundry for a day but re-opened it; turn-around time for drop-off laundry is normally 24 hours but they’re up at 48 hours right now.

Life goes on, returning to that uneventful routine. Sunday before all this happened, I headed down to the bazaar on Camp Leatherneck and picked up the entire Stargate SG-1 series to keep me entertained while I’m here. It’s got a second audio track—I can’t recognize the language but I did recognize the word ‘Abu’—but the quality is fairly good. I’ll see how long it lasts; maybe I’ll need to head back down and pick up Stargate Atlantis as well. :-)