“…the Pit of Despair. Don’t even think about trying to escape.” – The Albino from The Princess Bride

I called it the pit of despair. It was my home for long periods of time during the early parts of the war. Military vehicles are not designed for comfort. They are strictly utilitarian. Cargo humvees are no exception. They are generally two-seaters, one seat for the driver and one for the passenger. However, there is a good deal of cargo space in the rear, which is covered by a large canvas canopy. The cargo area can carry troops, equipment, or both. In our case, the cargo area contained dozens of boxes of food and water; five or six fuel cans; three or four large tough boxes full of shit that belonged to someone else; all of our personal gear and affects; duffle bags; ruck sacks; pioneer tools (shovel, mattock, pick, etc.); sling legs and other air assault gear; an anti-tank bazooka type thing called an AT-4 (this is important later); and our radio equipment.  I realize that the preceding sentence is excessively long, but it is less crowded than our humvee’s cargo area was.

Our cargo was stacked so high that it piled over the firewall between the cargo area and the driver’s cabin. To prevent the cargo from crashing on top of the driver we had to build a wall out of plywood to hold the gear at bay. Now, even though I mentioned all of this crap, I forgot to mention one other vital piece of cargo contained in the cargo area. Me. I was the only Arabic linguist on the team and therefore was solely responsible for voice intercept operations during the first part of the war.

Chad and Mike took turns driving while I dosed off to the sound of radio static. My only window to the world was a small hole cut into the plywood that allowed me to hand things to Mike and Chad, and allowed me to communicate with them. I could also use the hole as an emergency egress if necessary. But I couldn’t fit through it when I was wearing my gear…so if I had to escape from it, I’d be screwed because I wouldn’t be able to bring my bullet proof vest or weapon. I sat in the dark, dusty, cramped area for the majority of the trip into Iraq…and though I was only inches from Mike and Chad, I felt like I was the only person on the planet. I felt like I was sleeping in a coffin. I was alone in my pit of despair.

This is a picture of me emerging from the pit after unloading all of the crap. We needed to reorganize and reload, so I was lucky to have about 10 minutes of fresh air.