Dec. 6 — FINISH LINE IN SIGHT
Here we are, down to the last day of shooting. It'll be a fairly easy one: B-roll of the base and the town of Dj and maybe an interview with the U.S. ambassador. No heavy lifting at all.
So let's take a moment to review whether I have accomplished my most important objectives, shall we?
- Not get blown up, shot, otherwise physically injured or sick.
Check.
- Shoot the elements I thought best expressed the story we're trying to tell.
Check.
- Not piss off or otherwise anger any admirals or generals.
Check.
- Stay reasonably clean, fed and watered.
Check.
- Buy Maja (my significant other) lots of presents with the sincere hope of bribing her into forgiving me for having taken this gig in the first place.
Uh-oh, gotta go.
Dec. 8 — THE FAT LADY IS SINGIN’
It's 9.20 a.m. here in Dj. We are done. Finished. Assignment complete. Sent off the tapes and our body armor to the office yesterday. We'll head for the airport in about two hours. Fifty or so hours after that, I'nsh Allah (God willing), I should be walking through my front door in Los Angeles.
First meal? Pizza. I want pizza. And a salad (romaine lettuce, red onion sliced thin) with my own homemade dressing.
Last night there was a basketball game on the base. Army vs. Navy? Nope. Marines vs. Air Force? Uh-uh. Think "Sweet Georgia Brown" and Meadowlark Lemon and Curly Neal…
It was the Harlem Globetrotters! How's that for a fine adios party? In addition to the troops, a bunch of local tribal/political leaders were invited along with their kids. I haven't seen the Globetrotters in about 100 years, and am glad to report that in spite of new players (new to me anyway) they still carry on in their crazy way. The crowd was very appreciative of their performance.
I overheard a conversation between a soldier and a seaman sitting behind me. In addition to a discussion about the availability of the new Playstation 3, the seaman was explaining to the soldier that he was going to be heading out for Iraq soon to become the "doc," a medic for a Marine unit fighting there. I'm not trying to make any particular point with this, that's just the way things are here — frivolity and dark reality living side by side.
Jeez, how do I make a turn from that story to lighter fare? I guess maybe this time I don't. We're getting on a plane to go home and all of these soldiers aren't. At least not yet. I'm feeling a bit of what I felt deeply when I parted with the Marine unit I was with in Iraq in 2003. Yes, it's guilt. No, it really isn't deserved, but I feel it anyway. So that's that.
