Credit:

"Good Morning Vietnam," you remember, was a movie about an airman/disc-jockey named Adrian Cronauer. Adrian Cronauer is a real person who is an acquaintance and occassional lunch-date of mine. He does not look like Robin Williams. He looks, by his own description, like Robert Bork.

Adrian is a lawyer with the Department of Defense whose specialty is working with the governments of North Korea and the Vietnam trying to locate the remains of military personnel who are still listed as "Missing in Action." This is a very worthy effort, and Adrian is a very worthy guy.

I've never asked Cronauer if he really started his radio show with "Goooooood Morning, Vietnam" as Robin Williams does in the movie, but we will stipulate - for the next four months or so - that he did.

A former Member of Congress from Minnesota (a Democratic Member of Congress) and current friend and colleague named Gerry Sikorsky suggested the title of these Travelogues in an e-mail.

Both Cronauer and Sikorsky get full credit for the title. The content - for better or worse - is my responsibility.

As I mentioned in Part B, I was more-or-less stranded at the 82nd when the helicopter which was scheduled to fly in got grounded.

As this happened on a Saturday night and there are no flights scheduled for Sunday, I was facing the prospect of staying out there until Monday night; with no guarantee that a flight would operate then, either.

Chief Warrant Officer Cook, who had offered me a ride if his company sent a convoy, sent a message over to the Division HQ saying a convoy would be leaving at 1030 and there was room for me if I wanted to tag along.

I did.

I stopped Major Harper from providing an escort (although upon further review he might have been providing me with a handler) saying I had been over to where the Military Intelligence folks hang out the day before and I felt certain I could find it again.

Of course, I was wrong. But helpful - if bemused - paratroopers helped me find my way. Remember what I said about depending upon the kindness of strangers? It works.

I knew where the M.I. guys were because I knew they were next to the Civil Affairs folks who camp out in the same area.

Remember I spoke about the briefing for MG Swannack that I had sat in on? These are the folks who have to actually supervise these projects.

Like a number of support elements, the Civil Affairs folks are reservists. Not only are they reservists, but I think they may have to pass a good-looking test.

As an example, here is a photo which makes my point: Major Gus Waterhouse from McKinney, Texas and Jackie Hunt from Ft. Worth, Texas.

I did not seek these two soldiers out. Specialist Hunt was going home for R&R and Major Waterhouse was planning a trip into town to look at the location for a meeting the C.A. people were putting together over the next few days.

The truth is, the United States probably has the best looking military in the history of the solar system. Every one of these kids looks like they stepped right out of a recruiting poster. Major Waterhouse and Specialist Hunt don't look all that much different from any two soldiers you picked out of a unit anywhere I've been.

I don't remember anyone remotely resembling Specialist Hunt when I was at Ft. Bragg, but that might have been because the Women's Army Corps (WACs) was not phase out until ten years late - October 1978.

As happens here in Eye-rack, 1030 turned into 1230 before the convoy actually showed up. I was not in a position (nor did I have any inclination) to complain. I used the time to drift down to the Euphrates River to see what there was to see.

According to bible-history.com the Euphrates "is among the four rivers, which flowed from the Garden of Eden (Gen 2:14). It formed the northeastern limit of the Promised Land (Gen 15:18)."

The ancestors of the reeds might well date back to biblical times; the barbed wire is likely of a more recent vintage.

When I got back to the staging area, a VEE-hicle had pulled in and parked. According to Major Waterhouse it was the First Sergeant's and it indicated how many times it had encountered an Improvised Explosive Device (an IED).

The Major hastened to add that the Top had never been injured. I asked if this vehicle was going to be part of the convoy I was going in.

"No," he said. "But I'm glad I'm not riding in it."

"Me, too," I thought.

Our convoy showed up from Baghdad and, after a quick trip to the mess hall (the Army will always feed you) we gathered up our belongings and prepared to head off. In the pre-trip briefing the Military Intelligence unit's First Sergeant asked me if I had a weapon.

"No," I said.

"Why not?"

"I, er, I guess because I'm a writer?"

He looked at me for a longish time and asked if I had military experience.

I didn't go into my whole number about Ft. Bragg and the 82nd and the Special Forces guys. I said, "Yes."

He looked at me again, and said, "Ok. Here's what we're going to do. We'll protect you. If we get into trouble you get down. If one of our guys goes down you grab HIS weapon and defend yourself. Got it?"

I think I nodded. I think HE thought I nodded, because he looked at me again and said to mount up.

This, was not a three graf ADD to a newspaper article. This was war. And I was preparing to drive right through it.

We loaded up and this is what I looked like.

What you cannot see is the extent of the clenching each and every muscle in my body was experiencing.

We took off down the highway and everyone - except me - was on the lookout for bad guys.

This is Chief Cook guarding our port flank.

Having nothing better to do than to look around, I spotted this instructional sign regarding seat belts:

I decided not to worry about my inability to understand the instructions. There wasn't any seatbelt anyway.

We were speeding down a six-lane highway when all of a sudden the radio crackled and we pulled off to the right side of the road. The vehicle in front of us made a U-turn and started heading back up the highway, the wrong way.

We pulled around to follow him and I asked the company commander (who was riding shotgun) what was going on.

"We spotted a guy walking along the side of the road carrying a box. We're going to check him out," he shouted over the wind.

"Do we have to?" I shouted back.

"You have to look for natural items in unnatural positions. A guy with a box on the side of a highway meets that test."

Oh, great. As if I haven't had enough to worry about, now I'm in the middle of an episode of COPS.

What'cha gonna do when they come for you? Ali, Ali.

We caught up to the guy and everyone hopped out. The company commander told me to stay put.

"No problemo," I said, thinking I was speaking Arabic.

This it what it looked out through the front windshield.

After a good deal of handwaving and discussion, everyone piled back into the vehicles, we made another U-turn and headed back down to Baghdad.

"What happened?" I shouted.

"It was just a box of food. But it was worthwhile checking out," the Company Commander shouted back.

The rest of the ride was without incident, but was interesting nonetheless.

This is a part of the trip which took us through the non-fertile crescent:

Which was followed, perhaps a half hour later, by a scene which hasn't changed much in a couple of thousand years.

Just before we pulled into the BIAP, I got this shot which is not instructive at all, but I liked the shoulder flag of the Company Commander in the mirror.

And thus - once again through the kindness of strangers - was I delivered safely back to Baghdad.

Be safe.

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