QBLOG #14- A piece of home

BLOG #14-A piece of home

…and the bombings continue as does the mayhem. In the middle of all this there is a little piece of home for the Soldiers, Airmen, Marines and Seamen that are deployed here. It is called the P/X or B/X. P/X stands for Post Exchange (found on Army installations or Army Posts). B/X stands for Base Exchange (found on Air Force, Navy and Marine bases). The Army and Air Force Exchange services primarily Army and Air Force personnel. All service members, however, are allowed to shop an AAFES exchange, a Marine exchange or a Navy exchange.

I was at the grand opening of a food court/Burger King in the International Zone last weekend. This was a pretty big thing. Burger King, here, in Iraq. Along with Burger King, we have Popeye’s, Subway, Pizza Hut, Green Beans Coffee houses and soon, a Cinnabon. We provide barber and beauty shops where you can get a haircut for as little as $3.00. There is a pressing service where it costs you only $2.00 to have a set of BDU’s ironed and usually ready within an hour or two. We have gift shops, jewelry, photo processing, engraving, tailoring, a carpet shop, a plant shop and even a place to buy a new car or a Hardley Davidson. AT&T phone centers are ours, as is Western Union. We even have roving vendors selling souvenirs and Bazaar’s run by local vendor’s selling everything from chewing gum to electronics. All of this in the ancient land of Mesopotamia, now known as Iraq, the land between two rivers.

It is in this land that I find myself in the midst of old and new. Here where I sit in an air conditioned trailer working for the American Government in Iraq. I can say that almost every Sunday we hear sporadic gunfire going off in the very near distance. Not until I flew to CPA, in the light of day, was I able to see how close we are to the city of Baghdad. As we flew into the sky last weekend, and over the city, I could see the familiar rush hour traffic I’ve seen in every major city I’ve been. Except it was not heavy traffic alone that created this large line of stacked cars. As we flew on I could see that there were a set of Hummvees that pulled an Iraqi car off to the side. People were standing outside the car. Traffic had been stopped several meters before this. A tinge of fear ran through my body. And we flew on. We were in the sky a total of five minutes. We landed safely at CPA (Coalition Provisional Authority)/IZ (International Zone). We only had to walk a few hundred yards to reach the PX. It is right across from The Palace, which is currently serving as the U.S. Embassy.

My cell phone worked here. I was happy because my friend Eddie Sanders has been living in Baghdad since late 2003. This was an opportunity to see him. He lives in the Red Zone, the unprotected part of Baghdad. We were able to make arrangements and spent a few hours in the late afternoon together before he had to leave. He said that the gates to the IZ from the Red Zone closed at 5:00 and he needed to be back before then. It was great to see and visit with Eddie. I wished that we were able to see each other more often. Unfortunately, the atmosphere doesn’t allow it. We are, after all, in a war.

There is some complacency, but reality always comes back when you “suit up” and head out the front gate to patrol, or on a helicopter ride with gunners on either side of the craft. Reality set’s in when those BOOMs hit. Reality is always just a rocket or mortar away. Another dose of reality sets in when you hear the Rattatatat of rifles being fired in the distance. Yet, we wake up, go to work, shop, eat and go about our lives as if all were normal. And it is normal, now. It is so normal that we get complaints from soldiers about not having their brand of toothpaste or hair care. We get complaints for not having a greater variety of food or HBC items, or not having larger TV’s and mini systems. You almost want to laugh. But that is why we are here. To bring a little bit of home to them, and they just want a larger piece of home here. Now. Shopping is the thing that they do when they are not on patrol. You see them lined up, everyday, at the PX or BX or Bazaar. They and we end up getting our hair cut twice as often. You see more guys getting manicures and pedicures. It is what you do when you are not on patrol or working to support those who do patrol. You want to get these soldiers, airmen, seamen and marines whatever they want. You want them to have a little piece of home, and you want it to.

I’ve been part of AAFES for 19 years. I’ve understood and experienced what our true purpose is as an organization twice in my career. Once while stationed in Europe where I had the opportunity to work for two weeks in Kosovo not long after the U.S. and the UN landed there. The second time is now. In my time at HQ’s one feels removed from what our true mission is. Amid the never ending suspense’s and dog and pony shows, one has little time to focus on what the true mission is. I know many at HQ’s who want to move beyond pony shows and focus on our customer, the soldier. The soldier who wants a little piece of the U.S. in a land that is not his or her home. That is what our true purpose is. I hope we discover that again. Many of us have re-discovered it here…in Iraq, in Afghanistan, in Kosovo, in Bosnia and in other places that we support our troops. There is no politics in that support. It does not matter if we are republican or democrat or independent. It doesn’t matter if we agree or disagree with why our troops are where they are. It only matters that we bring a little piece of home to them where they are.


…a piece of home


He is looking up in the sky
It is dark, but the stars shine bright here…
In this desert, this land of old

You see him searching for a place, a star,
Something to guide him back..
Back to a place that is now so far away.

A smile comes across his face.
He’s found the place, the star, the light in the sky
That rouses his memory of a time before he was here

Her arms are filled with snacks and lotion and magazines
Her eyes are tired, but she waits patiently
Until they call, “next” at the cash register.

She places the merchandise, her gifts to herself, on the counter
The total appears and she swipes her Star card and signs the pad,
Suddenly energy appears in her eyes as she carries her bags out the door of the PX

Friends of hers gather round and they talk about the magazine,
And how they wish there were different body washes, or perfume,
But this scented lotion will do, for now, to give her a piece of home.

The basketball court is filled with young wannabe’s
Each shifting the ball between their hands, anxious to play a little ‘hoop’
And bring back that memory of their neighborhood game.

Baseball and football and soccer are being played,
Men and women gathering in their PT’s to form teams…
Playing the game here on this dirt, but it’s better than being out on patrol.

It’s 5:30 a.m. and they start showing up at the gym for PT.
Eyes are heavy, kidding abounds
And then the shouts to line up get every one up and moving around.

It’s out for a run around the lake,
Or an aerobics work out in the gym,
Some just linger and move towards the weights..

A little piece of home is what we have here.
The MWR tent for TV, or internet, or just to sit and read.
The PX for shopping and gathering or whatever you might need.

Here in Iraq, or Qatar or Kuwait. Germany, Korea, a foreign peninsula or straight.
A little piece of home is all that they want, sometimes what they need.
We are here to give it to them, and to try to fill the need, for a little piece of home.


Robert Quintana