A walk in the moon dust

He sat on a small wooden folding chair keeping a sharp eye on a wall of blackness. His fate, just inches from the end of the platform with only a machine gun bolted to the floor and positioned between his legs; the only thing from keeping him from going over the edge. “Don’t mess with Texas,” was written on the back of his helmet in orange marker. At the opposite end of the helicopter, the flashing lights of the instruments guided the pilot and co-pilot to our destination.

Like a horse rearing up on its back legs, the aircraft took off. We were only in the air for less than two minutes when the pilot made an abrupt landing. A crewman got out and made a strange look towards the port side. He was followed by the pilot who made the same face. Then they disappeared. It wasn't very reassuring for myself and the three reporters I was escorting.
Ten minutes later, with the thud, thud, thud of the huge rotors still spinning, we were off again. No problems occured so I guess the aircraft was okay. The flight would take us over some of the most dangerous land on Earth.

We eventually landed safely at our FOB or Forward Operating Base. From here, thousands of Marines will launch their largest air and ground operation since the Vietnam War, and I’m getting a front row seat documenting the event as a combat photographer. For the magnitude of this operation, surprisingly, there aren’t many media embedded on the trip; no CNN, Fox News or New York Times. The only people with me are a reporter from National Public Radio and a photographer from the Washington Post but I hear a couple of French journalists and an ABC documentary crew are also lurking around. It’s funny to watch each of these journalists secretly cozying up to the lead Marine Public Affairs Officer; each jockeying to get with the unit that is guaranteed to see the most action. It reminds me of my parents telling me, “be careful about what you ask for. You just might get it.” But the media’s ambition to see some action is only outweighed by the Marines here who are tired of walking in the “moon dust” and are ready to fight.

That’s what the Marines call the ground here, moon dust. It’s a talcum like powder dirt three to five inches deep everywhere you step. You can’t help but kick it up as you walk across the base; everyone surrounded in their own private brown cloud just like Pig Pen from the old Charlie Brown cartoons. Between the dirt and the sweat from the 120-degree weather, is there really a point to showering?

If you use the shower, go to lunch or have the insane idea that a run in this scorching hot weather sounds like a good time, make sure you know exactly where you tent is located. There are dozens and dozens of rows of unmarked tents and they all look exactly alike. You could easily find yourself walking into someone else’s tent or even worse… or even better based on your perspective… walking into one of the all female tent. Sorry ladies. Thank you for understanding.