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Shannie, September 8th, 1990
We're on the move. Today we husbanded up with our birds. I never thought I'd miss the sight of a Blackhawk. Go figure!. Rumor has it that tomorrow we're heading up towards the Kuwait border. We're nervous, but it beats the hell out standing around Fort Camel with our puds in our hand sweating out chicken-shit details. We don't know where we're going or what we're doing, scuttlebutt has it were going to be part of a covering force near the border. Don't shit your pants if you don't hear from me for a couple of weeks. I kinda figure we'll be completely in the sticks. It's fucked up to think that Fort Camel is like a city compared to where we're going.
Count
PS. Maybe you'll see me on CNN!
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Shannie, September 10th, 1990
What a difference a day makes! It's night, and there's actually a chill in the air. I'm 'Up North' at a place the apache pilots call Camp Hell. The pilot's say we're about 50 or so miles from Kuwait. Our battalion is garrisoning a FOB - army talk for a forward base - near a town called An Nuriya - General Peay dubbed it Bastonge. Wouldn't James' Grandfather get a kick out of that? I already figured you want to know why it's called Bastonge. Like the Belgium town, An Nuriya is an important road junction. If the Iraqi's come after Dhahran or Riyadh they'll need An Nuriya. We'd probably have orders to hold it at all costs. Say what you will about Peay, he's knows how to motivate. I think he's clever for invoking ghosts of campaigns past. Tradition creates high expectations.
What a night! I've just got back into camp. A few of us spent some free time on the dunes outside of town. We found a spot on a side of a dune and watched the heavens; I've never seen anything so beautiful. The night is so dark; it's the blackest black I ever saw. And piercing the blackness is the starlight, they're the whitest white I ever seen. Like lasers, they burn brilliant holes in the darkness. It's insane, in a good way! Back home, I never could make out constellations, here you can't miss them. Their sight is as liberating as the daytime heat is oppressive. It feels like a different planet up here. I can't explain how different it is than Dhahran. Even the sand is different. Back at Fort Camel, it is flat and white, kinda like at the shore. Up here the sand is yellow, coarse, and it rolls into dune after dune. They kinda remind me of waves on an ocean, only bigger. According to our topo maps they're anywhere form 150 to 1000 feet high. I bet Beyford could fit on the side of some of the bigger dunes. On the flight up, from the helicopter, the dunes were an overwhelming site. You got the feeling they were somehow alive, liquid, like water, but much tackier, much slower, plodding. A captain on board said it best; he called the sight sublime.