Originally written 8 September 2009...delay due to lack of internet.
… My very first job in the Army, before I enacted a career change I was a fuel-handler. Yep. While stationed at Fort Riley, Kansas, I drove a 5-ton fuel truck, full of diesel and pumped it into the 596 Signal Company’s arsenal of Humvees and generators. Each morning during a field exercise I would wake up to no less than 100 five-gallon fuel cans to refill. February in Fort Riley can be beyond cold and I spent many sub-zero days standing on the concrete floor of the motor pool dispensing fuel. I can also remember while in the field at Fort Bragg they had record snowfall. Tents were collapsing and I was trapped in the field on Kitchen Police Duty, (read dishwasher).
Anyway, the point of all this, is I’ve spent some very cold, miserable moments, as a junior enlisted Soldier. Those days of numb toes and chattering teeth while pumping fuel or pulling guard or some other duty.
However, the one night I spent in Bagram, Afghanistan, trumps all of those other moments of coldness and prevails as the coldest night in my Army career. Yes. No doubt about it, 7 September 2009, is the worst night sleep I’ve ever gotten in the Army. Including the night I slept in a hasty-fighting position in basic training.
Here is how it all happened:
My traveling party and I landed at Bagram Army Airfield around 7 p.m. After an improvised ruck march across the flight-line wearing around 40 pounds of gear and carrying my 3-day pack, all 60 or so of us crammed into a rickety bus close enough to ‘make your buddy smile,’ as we like to say. The bus driver dropped us on a remote side of the base known as the ‘Transient Area.’ We all barreled out of the bus relieved to be out in the open where we could breathe some of that good, dusty Afghani air. It took a moment for us to realize that we weren’t dropped in front of your typical Army tents, but actual bona-fide circus tents. In Manas, Kyrgyzstan, the Air Force issued us some suspicious looking linen and a wool blanket that smelled faintly of Fritos. Well, as it turns out, in comparison to our welcome into Bagram, Manas was a resort.
The other two girls in my travelling party and I entered the designated female circus tent, it was easy to find as it was conveniently located NEXT DOOR to the H1N1 Quarantine tent. Either side of our tent was lined with Army cots. The ones that have green canvas stretched drum-tight on an aluminum frame. What was disconcerting was the fact that there was no linen. Not even a scratchy wool blanket! We had been separated from our ruck sacks where our sleeping bags and ‘woobies’ were stored. Just as we were realizing our predicament, we were greeted by the Army’s fattest female Private 1st Class. She announced that we can sleep anywhere we wanted, except where the cots were obviously occupied. The girls and I were pretty disgusted with the whole situation we knew we were in for a miserable night. After a hearty meal supplied by the Army’s favorite contractor, KBR, we headed back to our circus tent. We realized that we were going to be cold and uncomfortable without any amenities and disgust and depression started to set in. My female battle buddy put it best when she said “Damn! We went from the penthouse to the projects. I’m just going to go to sleep so this will be over in morning.” With that said, we rounded up what we could out of our assault packs to get us a little bit comfortable. I settled for lying on my Army Combat Uniform top, covering up with my towel and using my blow-up airline pillow. I pulled my towel up over my head and closed my eyes.
Then the chatter started. There were about 13 other girls in the tent. Private 1st Class Pudgy from before decided to call her boyfriend. Describing, loudly, in detail the photos she had taken of herself for his viewing pleasure. I’ll spare the details. There was a mouse sighting which caused a ruckus and last, but not least an argument about when to turn off the lights. I thought, they are lucky that I am only here one night, or we would have to establish some ground rules.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, the cold set in. I woke up in the wee hours of the night with my teeth chattering. The other girls were snug in the sleeping bags. While I flopped around trying to keep one side of me warm at a time and trying to stretch my brown Army towel to cover my body. It was absolutely pathetic, but it got worse! I decided to incorporate some brown t-shirts, using the theory that most of the body’s heat escapes through the head, I wrapped a brown t-shirt turban around my head and tried to use one as a blanket, but this didn’t combat the cold air attack I was getting from under my cot. I took another look at the girls that were already occupying the tent. They had 3-piece sleeping bags, ponchos and poncho liners! They didn’t just look snug and warm, they were! Admittedly, and I think naturally, I was freakin’ jealous. I can’t believe how cold I was, it was unreal. I was actually yearning for the sun to come up so that it could warm the tent a bit. At 5 a.m. I decided to just go and take a shower. The funny thing was that all the males were out of their circus tent and milling around because it was actually warmer OUTSIDE the tent than it was INSIDE the tent. No one slept that night, no one. Unbelievable. Of course after I took a shower, and the sun came up it was blazing hot again, we were right back to sweating and happy about it.
In Summation: Bagram=Freaking Cold at Night; A Good Night’s Sleep=Underestimated; Faith in Mankind=Frozen in Hopes to Be Thawed Later.
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