"Veni, Vidi, Dormivi" (I came, I saw, I slept)
12 March 2006 @ 0301, Camp Lemonier, Djibouti - Horn of Africa
A full bladder has found me and jarred me from a solid sleep inside my stuffy medical tent within the QRF compound. I make the walk outside and into the partly cloudy muggy morning in search of an outlet in which to relieve this ever stretching irritation.
It's the same walk - a mere 50 feet from the tent to the trailer that houses the toilet facility. A walk I have made an average of 10 times a day while I have been here in this moonscape of a land.
Over the small rocks - up the stairs - past the weapons bench - past the ever present snapping of the "bug zapper" to the ill-smelling and refrigerator-like trailer that houses instant relief for my overflowing bladder.
I see my many Marines there - all day and at any time - the conversations are pretty much all the same...
"How you doing today, Doc?"
Which usually leads to some banter about the current happenings and often ends with, "Hey, I've got this bump here on my neck" or "I keep coughing up phlegm from a cold that has not gone away in about 2 weeks" or "My smallpox bandage needs to be changed - when can I come and get it looked at?" My advice is often dispensed like a 24 hour pharmacy, in clear and precise tones with a minimum of inflection, but usually with enough enthusiasm to let the Marines know that even after 4 straight days of being locked-up here in the Quick Reaction Force (QRF) compound that the "Doc" has still managed to keep his humor, maintain his spirits and remain "at the ready" for their constant questions and maladies.
Nobody likes a complacent Corpsman...
My hands washed and another conversation ended, I walk back out into the suffocating humidity of an early Sunday morning. How was I to know that a filth ridden and foul smelling refrigerator-like trailer would become a social gathering spot in the middle of this poverty-filled lunar landscape? The toilet facility has become our morning water cooler much like the local fire hydrant is for urban canines.
The waxing half moon peeks through a shroud of clouds like a curious toddler enraptured with precious new curtains. There is a scattering of a few faint stars which glint in the velvet of the early morning sky. The only sounds I can differentiate at this time from a still foggy mind is the ever present drone of the compound air conditioning units, the sound of my feet moving over the small rocks in the area and the snap, snap, snap of the many insects committing ritual seppuku against the violet backdrop of the always busy bug zapper.
Morning has begun yet again...
Originally published 12 March 2006 on the blog "Totum dependeat (Let it all hang out!)"
A full bladder has found me and jarred me from a solid sleep inside my stuffy medical tent within the QRF compound. I make the walk outside and into the partly cloudy muggy morning in search of an outlet in which to relieve this ever stretching irritation.
It's the same walk - a mere 50 feet from the tent to the trailer that houses the toilet facility. A walk I have made an average of 10 times a day while I have been here in this moonscape of a land.
Over the small rocks - up the stairs - past the weapons bench - past the ever present snapping of the "bug zapper" to the ill-smelling and refrigerator-like trailer that houses instant relief for my overflowing bladder.
I see my many Marines there - all day and at any time - the conversations are pretty much all the same...
"How you doing today, Doc?"
Which usually leads to some banter about the current happenings and often ends with, "Hey, I've got this bump here on my neck" or "I keep coughing up phlegm from a cold that has not gone away in about 2 weeks" or "My smallpox bandage needs to be changed - when can I come and get it looked at?" My advice is often dispensed like a 24 hour pharmacy, in clear and precise tones with a minimum of inflection, but usually with enough enthusiasm to let the Marines know that even after 4 straight days of being locked-up here in the Quick Reaction Force (QRF) compound that the "Doc" has still managed to keep his humor, maintain his spirits and remain "at the ready" for their constant questions and maladies.
Nobody likes a complacent Corpsman...
My hands washed and another conversation ended, I walk back out into the suffocating humidity of an early Sunday morning. How was I to know that a filth ridden and foul smelling refrigerator-like trailer would become a social gathering spot in the middle of this poverty-filled lunar landscape? The toilet facility has become our morning water cooler much like the local fire hydrant is for urban canines.
The waxing half moon peeks through a shroud of clouds like a curious toddler enraptured with precious new curtains. There is a scattering of a few faint stars which glint in the velvet of the early morning sky. The only sounds I can differentiate at this time from a still foggy mind is the ever present drone of the compound air conditioning units, the sound of my feet moving over the small rocks in the area and the snap, snap, snap of the many insects committing ritual seppuku against the violet backdrop of the always busy bug zapper.
Morning has begun yet again...
Originally published 12 March 2006 on the blog "Totum dependeat (Let it all hang out!)"
posted by P.A. Gutierrez at 6:00 AM
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