One of the other platoons snaps to attention for a moment, before heading out to their shift locations after receiving the pre-shift briefing.

My platoon sergeant and his squad leaders meet in the fog of night, as night-time temperatures dropped below the dew point, so near the Persian Gulf.

All my stuff sits on the cot and in the duffel bag on the shelf and the ruck sack nearby. We had some fumigators come through, so...

The rest of the platoon suffers through the fumigations. Or maybe it was rain-proofing the tents.

Brandy McPherson and Fred Feeley pose for the camera. I miss you knuckle-heads.

SGT McPherson gives me a 'not again' look for the camera, while SGT Ali Hardingbey looks on in the background.

The brain hasn't quite registered just what I took a picture of. This one's for Brandy's hubby. (giggles)

SPC Lossie Brown takes a momentary break from his overwatch position to check some paperwork. SPC Brown died the next year in Germany. RIP, ya Hawaiian. Lossie was survived by his wife and daughter.

The guys search a vehicle from explosives and contraband, in this picture taken from the overwatch position.

Look not to the truck being searched -- but to the dry-fire box of plywood in front of it. Every night I was on duty, some idiot would leave his 9mm magazine with all his ammunition at the dry-fire box. If we were really unlucky, he'd shoot the damned box. One of us was nearly hit by some idiot that just negligently waved his pistol at the box and pulled the trigger without thinking.

Christmas in the desert. Thanks, Mom, for sending me the tree and the mini-ornaments.

The boys get into a wrestling match down at the motor pool. In chaotic order: Troutman, Audet, Knoche, Haptas, Rodriguez, and I have no idea who's ass.

SSG Dilloway grins for the camera, with the overwatch position in the background.

The commander organized a 'Dragon Day', complete with T-shirts, for all the troops. We played cards, watched movies, and had a meal served just for us. You can recognize a very tall, bald-headed individual in the right frame. (raspberries Fred)

SSG Elkins cries, as he hears more bad news for the Maintenance Platoon. SSG Rasnake looks on as his maintenance crew hears the faux cries. (The fuel-tank being worked on was one pain in the arse after another.)

PFC Anglero and SSG Rasnake inspect every vehicle that leaves, making sure the occupants understand the local conditions, aren't walking off with classified property, ad nauseum, ad infinitum.

The foggy conditions make overwatch annoying -- and somewhat dangerous.

It would be nice to say this connex wound up 'all shook up' during its voyage, but unfortunately, this was just how it was maintained. I'm not namin any names, and that's why his back is to the camera, and not his nametape and face. (whistles innocently)

I have *no* idea who this band was, but they played for the camp, one evening -- there for the entertainment of the Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines that were transferring through the APOD.

I know this guy... He's familiar, but his name just isn't coming to mind.

Hrm. I swear I know this guy. Whatever his name was, he was tasked with driving the lil minibus quite a bit, cause he knew how to drive a stick-shift.

The KCIA Tower at 'Kuwait City International Airport'.

SSG John Rasnake smirks while SSG Dustin Knoche poses for the camera.

The Kuwaiti people are strange. Most of them descend from either sheep-herders or fishermen, so to stay in touch with their heritage they spend a season herding sheep. Because they can. That's them, in their tents, as seen from the highway.

It's a desert. That doesn't mean it's dry. The fog keeps many of the plants alive and thriving -- but they're so fragile that just driving through an area Once creates a road that won't grow back for a long, long time.

Kuwait may be a tiny country, but it's got money to 'burn' on asphalt, lemme tell ya.

Despite all the money, they seem to lack an equivalent of the EPA. There were parts of Kuwait we simply did not go into -- because of the pollution. Benzene, anyone? I'm sure some of the releases were worse; they may be fighting environmental woes for a long, long time.

A shot of one of the signs from the highway, and you also get a feel for some of the homes in Kuwait. Much of what you see isn't residences for the Kuwaitis -- but residences for many of the workers. Population of Kuwait: 2.5 million. Number of Kuwaitis in Kuwait: 1.2 million.

Another view of Kuwait City from the roadside, including the spinneret of a mosque, there to the right.

Some of the local insects, a beetle that was quite common -- or at least, quite commonly found whenever I looked.

PFC Mecham, my driver for a time. Last I heard, she had returned to Utah? Or married SGT Troutman? Or something... Helliphino. Rumors.

A nasty shot of a date orchard. We don't see too many dates, here in the US, but I enjoyed the ones I got to eat there in Kuwait.

Vehicles go in one gate -- people go in another gate. Here, one of the girls (can't remember her name) waves the wand over a TCN (Third Country National). You don't want to know why Rodriguez and Knoche are grinning. I'm not telling. And no, it doesn't involve what's-her-name. You had to've been there.

SSG John Rasnake takes a break during one of our off days, watching a movie. (coughs) No comment on how hard we living.

The guys take a break to play some games. Left to right, Troutman, Anglero, and my primary driver, Clayton.

SFC Freddie Williams checks serial numbers on file against the serial numbers we had in the CONNEX arms room. I was the acting armorer at the time. Whee!

The 172nd Chemical Company is Mechanized Smoke Generation unit. We blow smoke. Lots of it. We can hide an army -- or an airstrip. And when the Kuwaitis and the TCNs see smoke on the scale we generate, they freak out and think someone's using chemical weapons. After this test we were told, "No more."

If you can't see the SuperBowl in person -- then play it. Now *that* is how a video game is supposed to be played. God Bless the USO!

A nighttime view of Camp Wolverine's temper-tents. The APOD was originally Camp Wolf, and then it moved 50m and they renamed it to Camp Wolverine.

PVT Tristan Key. Voted most likely to become a serial killer. Also a helluva role-player.

The TCNs made about $30 a month, and they sent much of it home. Twenty TCNs to an apartment wasn't uncommon, and money for water to shower was uncommon. Why buy water at $2 a liter, when you could buy perfume instead? These water towers being constructed (in 2003) hopefully helped that situation a bit. But that's really just wishful thinking.

This is us preparing the tracks for turn in -- final turn in, so that we could get the hell out of Dodge!

On the flight back to the States, in between movies, a lil plane icon would show us slowly but steadily going west over the North Atlantic. We were stoked!

This is us, back in Kansas, turning our weapons in to the Rear Detachment. Hoozah! No fatalities, either -- at least, not over there.