The 'Shark' boat
Kuwaiti patrol boat leaving portGoing out on the water with the boat crews is an enlightening experience. For one, they have a lot of practical knowledge about the boats and operations. For another, they have a lot of the same frustrations with lack of communication or clear guidance from higher up. But most importantly, we’re all Reservists and looking forward to getting home, and to life after this deployment. Except for a few sick-o’s who are extending to stay on with the squadron that relieves us!
Things are highly standardized on the water, but the crews each take on the personality of their coxswain, and as a result have their own way of doing some things. Some within the standard operating procedures, some outside of the SOPs. To protect the innocent, I won’t go into the latter. From how they position the boat, to where they sit on the boat, to how much training is conducted during slow periods, they all do things a little differently. For example, the last boat I was on we left our individual body armor (IBA) out on the deck. While at first I thought this looked sloppy, they explained they did this so it would be easier to put on in a hurry, something they occasionally have reason to do.
Pursuing my Navigator / RT qual meant I did the start-up or “pre-underway” checklist and then manned the radio while underway. It’s a fairly logical progression from Crewmember to Engineer to Navigator. For one thing, I’d already done the engineering start-up checklists several times, which is part of the overall pre-underway checklist. The Navigator also takes the hourly engineering logs, mostly because the engineer also doubles as the aft crewman / gunner. Finally, you get to troubleshoot the radios if they aren’t working properly, something we got lots of practice with.
Reviewing and using my navigation skills from my active duty and sailing experience was probably the best outcome. And putting that knowledge to use learning how to program and use the GPS and radar navigation equipment just reinforced everything. By the end I was teaching the other crew how to use the equipment, not unlike my experience in the JOC. I’ve found a lot of sailors are content knowing know how to turn on a piece of gear, but not necessarily how to use it. They are happy as long as someone else has that knowledge.
I finally got a chance to do a couple of escorts, which is about as exciting as it gets down at KNB. The base is a forward operating base for Navy and Coast Guard patrol ships that are permanently stationed in Bahrain but patrol up in the North Arabian Gulf, e.g. the OPLATs. It’s also home to some Army vessels that perform intertheater lift. Our boats escort all of these into and out of port, in addition to providing force protection while they are pierside. As much FP as we can in a foreign port, anyways.
Completion of an escort, with some of the Army vessels in the background.After my exciting week on the water, I worked directly with the Commodore on our Turnover Plan of Actions and Milestones (POA&M). We pretty much have our turnover with the next MSRON down to the day. Of course things will change, but at least we have a solid plan to work from.
Friday night I finally got to go to a Diwania. This is a Kuwaiti, probably Arabic, family gathering held weekly. Members of the command have been attending two different Diwanias throughout this deployment. This was actually a special one we were invited to, and I just happened to be at the right place at the right time. It was the Commodore, our assistant Supply Officer, another officer, and myself. I guess there was a hard limit of four for this event.
Normally these are held on week nights, so being a Friday night it was different from the start. Friday night is also their Saturday, so it was less formal to begin with. We only had to wear long pants and a collared shirt rather than the usual coat and slacks.
Warrant, the A-Suppo, was the one who got us invited and had the directions to the farm. From the base, it was south down the main coastal highway, then west along another major road towards Saudi Arabia. I was wondering aloud what kind of farm it would be, since we were surrounded by desert the whole way and just seemed to be heading further into the desert with every passing mile. Eventually we came to a round-about and a semblance of civiliation. Our host, a Colonel in the Kuwaiti Air Force, met us at the local firehouse. Already we were surrounded by trees and other vegetation. In hindsight I’d have to say they the source of water must contribute to this localized greenery.
Corn, sheltered between the green houses (only place they will grow).
We arrived at the farm and were pretty blown away. Long story short, we received a guided three hour tour of their whole farm operation, from hundreds of green houses to dozens of animal pens to a pigeon tower. The Colonel’s friend, or perhaps cousin, was very excited to show us everything. It was pretty clear he was in charge of the whole operation and took a lot of pride it what he had built in the last five years. We were left with the impression that he spends his time traveling the world looking for new crops to buy seeds for. They grow just about everything you could think of, from peppers to cucumbers to melons to dates. They also had an impressive array of farm animals: goats, sheep, chicken, roosters, and of course some camels.
As we neared the end of the tour, we stopped by this second gentleman’s house. I think one or more of the families actually lived on the farm in separate areas. After our initial introduction to several other men at the “club house” and previous diwanias and cultural training, we didn’t expect to meet any other family members. But low and behold, as we walk into the compound a lady comes out and proclaims, “Hi, I’m Catherine.” She had her eight-year old daughter and an older daughter with her, and they weren’t the least bit shy.
Turns out she was from Virginia and while I never got the whole story, I’m pretty sure she met her husband in the States while he attended college. While she looked like she could be Kuwaiti, she was 100% American from her accent and dress, and that of her kids. Just regular baseball playing, tee-shirt wearing Westerners.
I should probably point out that everyone we met spoke perfect English. It seemed that all the men had attended college in the U.S. or Australia. They were all very liberal in their thinking. Kuwait recently elected a new legislature, and four females were elected, the first ever. Every one of the men there had voted for at least one of the females, and were quite proud of this milestone in their country’s history.
After our long walk around the farm, we went back to the clubhouse. I call it this because it was like a guys-only cabin in the woods. A place to get away from their families, at least for the most part. I wish I could have seen more of the outside, because it was a crazy assortment of swimming pools and moats and cabannas. The inside was just one big room with a different function in each of four quarters. One just had couches arranged in a large horse-shoe shape facing a blank wall where they projected the TV. Next to this was a large sunken area with more cushions and a few board games. Diagonal from there was the pool table and huge dinner table. Finally there was the kitchen, about as big as you’ll ever see in a house.
Catherine and her daughters had actually beat us back, and we spent the next couple hours talking about life in Kuwait and how they had all traveled back and forth quite a bit. I talked at length with another gentleman whose wife and kids had moved back to Australia for school. It sounds like its much more beneficial for the men to stay and work in Kuwait, even though their Western tendency is to live where they went to college. Another man had received his engineering degree from Webber State up in Ogden, UT. He previously ran the maintenance department for one of the big hotels in Kuwait City, and he was now going to grad school in Kuwait in environmental science.
We had worked up an appetite with our earlier tour and were famished by the time the food was ready. And it was amazing. With all the fresh food on the farm it’s not surprising. The best food I’ve had this deployment, and probably the best food I’ve had in years, to be perfectly honest. To start off there was corn soup, I believe the receipt courtesy of the guy who went to school in Utah. For the main dish there was beef, pork chops, and chicken, all from the grill. There was also a meat wrap thing that was really good, and several dips to choose from.
After dinner we talked quite a bit more. Commodore and Warrant were content to talk with Catherine and her daughter, while the other two of us sought out conversation with the guys. I talked at length with the Colonel and the engineer. They were surprised to hear that were not allowed to leave the base except for business and this, the rarest of occasions. I can only hope to get out to one of these again, but if given the chance I might offer my seat to someone else so they can experience Kuwaiti social life for themselves.
Finally, last night was the much-anticipated luau put on by the Hawaiian National Guard we share Camp Patriot with. It was down at the beach by the harbor. Unfortunately I only had a few minutes to check it out before heading back to take the watch. Can’t party all the time!
Saturday also corresponded with the first “black flag” weather conditions. When I went to the Army clinic earlier in the week to get my annual anthrax booster I helped take the official temperature. There are separate dry bulb, wet bulb, and black bulb thermometers that are used to calculate the final heat index. I heard that yesterday’s “dry bulb” was 122 F. Yep, that’s hot!
First "black flag" of the season!
Dry bulb, wet bulb, & black bulb = HOT!
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