1st Lt Prifogle’s Blog

It’s less than a month until the XO’s challenge 11.5 on 5-11. Slowly and gradually CWO Colter and I have worked up to 9 miles on our long Sunday morning runs (5 miles on our weekday runs). In the mornings the base is quiet, peaceful, awaiting the day to come. We run on our ledge at the end of the world (or at least the base) at 0600 and there is hardly ever traffic. An occasional HMMWV or standard white, pick-up truck will drive by and blow up a cloud of dust that is finer than regular sand, we call it ‘moon dust,’ making it difficult to breathe. As Marines or civilian contractors drive by they stare at us wondering what we are doing and we stare back wondering the same thing. We pass the same guards-shacks every time and wave at the Marines sitting duty. Every once in a while we will pass another runner and nod our heads at one another in a silent recognition. I always think good thoughts to them, wishing that the wind is at their backs and the flies are kept down during their run. I like to think they are wishing the same good thoughts back as we pass for an instant.

Recently, there has been an increase of the Iraqi military on the base. In the world of Supply we bid contracts to Iraqi companies as part of the Iraqi First Project. In the chow hall they sit with the Marines that train them or by themselves. The Iraqi’s have a camp on base separated by guards and fences like many other areas of base. They do not drive on the main roads of the base, instead they convoy across the dirt road that runs the perimeter – our running road. Lately, there have been an increase of convoys that drive by in the morning. They drive the same HMMWVs that American forces do except there is an Iraqi flag painted on the side doors. They drive military trucks with Iraqi soldiers sitting in the back – American forces would not permit this safety hazard. They drive by in their dark green camouflage uniforms and stare at us as we stare at them veering away from the road and the dust. As they pass I take a mental picture of the sight. Some of the soldiers look like mere boys. Young and clean cut, learning to fire weapons and train with the US Marines. I wonder why they joined the Iraqi Army. I wonder about the towns and families they left behind. I wonder if it brought pride to their families or if it was a bold move of defiance. Another truck drives by and the soldiers are sitting on the edge of the overflowing truck-bed. It is a picture that looks like it could be in National Geographic or Newsweek with a headline that reads “Rebuilding Iraq”. Some of the trucks drive by and the soldiers yell. I can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but the infliction in their voice and the leering stares reminds me of construction site cat calls back in the states. I stare back. I don’t avert my eyes. I don’t change the determined look on my face – I just stare. It doesn’t alarm me to see them. I’m surprised at the fact that I don’t feel a threat of danger. Instead it is just a sense of wonder.

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