USO Blog: Baghdad. Day day one PART TWO
Baghdad: Day one, part two
We were taken to a small helicopter airfield near the hotel. This helipad is the in and out point for most of the troops in Iraq. Again, the evidence of this being a war zone was seeping in. Everyone is in Combat gear, heavy armor vests, helmets. Everyone has an M16 and a side-arm (except for us) Folks are coming from hot war zones or going to them. Things are more tense. Everyone looks more tired.
We were taken to another blackhawk.
This time, though, the bird was armed with 50mm machine guns sticking out of open windows on each side. This was not the case in Kuwait.
Dino sat beside me...
And across from me was Staff Seargent Helsham. She was a bad-ass. Very. She was also usually very friendly, as was seargent White, who sat beside her. On this ride, though, everyone looked serious.
I looked out the window and watched as our gunner loaded big brass bullets into this gun....
Seeing those bullets go into that gun, and the game-faces on the combat veterans we rode with triggered something in me: Real, actual, no fucking around fear. It was somethign about the combination of things happening around me. I looked at Seargent white and I chuckled. "So THIS is what anxiety feels like" I said, and laughed. He looked back at me, stone-faced. I saw him thinking "Yeah, I've seen this before, where they try to be funny to beat the fear." I was alone.
I felt the fear in my body. I felt it in my joints. It was as if I was aware, only all at once at this moment, what it meant to be in a war, where bullets rip people to shreds. Where aircraft get SHOT DOWN. Where people DIE. It hit me all at one moment. I am in BAGHDAD in a fucking HELICOPTER and there are huge guns on the sides and there is a WAR going on here.
The impact of this was so sudden, so physical and so complete, I felt as though all my blood stopped in midstream for a moment and then started reversing and flowing the other way throughout my body. The rotor engine above my head started screaming and speeding up.
They slammed the door on me and the gunners climbed in beside their huge weapons, which stayed pointed down as shown above. Again, there was no "Ok can we just hold on a second?" It was back to "this thing goes up. We're going to do that now."
I felt the fear rising in me and over me and I thought I was about to have a bad, bad time. I could feel the chopper lift just slightly. I started talking to myself inside. "Get a grip, man. you can't let this wash over you. You have no control over what happens right now. But you can do one thing. Get up on top of the fear. Get above it. It won't be gone but don't let it go over you. GEt on top of it and let it push you up. Up and up and get high from it. Let it take you to exhileration. Surf on it instead of drowning under it. Rejoice in your privalage to live this rare moment."
I was helped by the fact that as I had these thoughts, the helicopter was lifting up and up. I was breathing hard. But it was working. I was getting excited. I felt myself rising inside, over the fear. "This is awesome. SO so so awesome" I thought. We hovered about a hundred feet up, waiting for the other blackhawks to form around us.
The gunners reached out into the open air and leveled their guns with a great slot and click sound. They trained them on the ground. I felt my hands tense up. I realized, for the first time, that both my hands were wrapped tightly around my Leica. Oh my god, my Leica! I have the greatest camera in the world in my fucking hands and I'm in the middle of this shit right here.
In that moment, ALL FEAR was gone. I was right where I wanted to be in the whole world. I reached into my pocket, which was difficult with the armor, and took out my light meter. I got readings out the window, inside, the floor under my feet. I did quick averages of the readings in my head. Now all my thoughts were of film. "Okay I'm at about 5.6 outside if I'm at 250 which is a good speed from a moving helicopter. If I want to get stuff outside, I'll squeeze the fstop down to about 8. If I want inside the bird I'll open to 2.8, 4 if I want a bit of both." I set all these functions on the camera and started firing away. The helicopter leaned forward and we tore off across Baghdad.
Unlike in Kuwait, where no one is there to shoot at you, and you can fly up higher and slower, over Hostile Baghdad, you have to fly low and fast. That way no one can train a weapon on you from far off. By the time someone has a visual on you, you're over and gone.
FLying fast and low over Baghdad, with machine guns trained on the ground by two young soldiers is FUCKED UP. Sorry, I'm not a writer. It's just FUCKED UP.
Baghdad is a many-varied, torn up ancient and new city at the same time.
You could really feel the speed on this flight and, occasionally, the helicopter would bank over to the side sharply and you had to hold on to something. I'd be hanging by my harness, looking out the door, feeling like it was intensely likely that I could just fall right out the goddamn window. This was a moment I would NEVER have expected to live without screaming. But all i did was take pictures and think "Wow. Fucking cool."
We flew out of the city and across some farm land....
And soon the farmland gave away to desert. At first it was lived-in desert. Mostly sand but with frequent patches of irrigated settlement and farming.
But soon that became just desert. And not sandy desert. Dark, dead, blistered ground desert, with no sign of any kind of life or road. It went on and on like this. It was like flying over miles and miles of brown paper bag.
This is video of that part, taken by Dino with one of the flip-cams....
After about an hour of this, we started slowing down. We banked hard into a uturn. "What..." I thought "Could possibly be in the middle of this shit??"
I looked out the window and saw a tiny rectangular base. Just a few long tents surrounded by concrete barriers, a small motor-pool of humvees and a gravel-n-sand helipad. As we landed, we kicked up an opaque cloud of sand and dust. I could see absolutely nothing out the window. Our gunner climbed out the door into the dust and then appeared as if by magic, out of the dust, beside me and opened my door, letting us out.
Dino, god bless him, got it all on flip-cam....
I got out of the helicopter and took pictures of the other chopper landing....
Here's Dino's video after we landed. It's pretty cool because you can see me taking the pictures above.
We walked from the helipad to a small command tent. Dino filmed as we both giggled about how crazy it was to be here. Inside the tent you will see Seagent White tell Dino to turn the camera off, because there were maps and things on the walls in there.
The young Captain who greeted me at the door was a really nice guy who works on that base and turned out to be a really big fan of my standup and who was looking forward to this show for a long time.
After putting our gear away in that tent we were taken to the USO tent. During our walk there, the helicopters took off, leaving us in what was subsequently revealed to be the quietest place I have ever ever ever been. The sound of a quiet voice ten feet away, or the gravel crunching under your feet was impossibly loud and detailed in comparison. Dino managed to capture this as he stayed outside the tent for a minute and took this panoramic video of the scene...
As we walked to the tent, I chatted with some of the soldiers stationed there. They all seemed a little shy and spooked. I asked one of them "How long have you been here?" HE said "Oh, well, we came here in June. Middle of the summer. Pretty hot. This base wasn't here. We came here in June and we built it and... we been here ever since." Wow. he pointed to a tent on the far end of the base and said "There's the Iraqi Army." There were about five dark men in Iraqi uniforms huddled around the entrance o the tent watching us. The young soldier said "We train with them here. Fuckin' Iraqis." I waved at them. They smiled and waved back.
We went into the tent and the entire population of the base followed us in. They sat on the floor and on some chairs along the wall.
Now, I've performed under some pretty rough conditions but this was really something new for me. Standing on a dirt floor in front of a bunch of soldiers and just talking. I was more anxious about this than the flight over Baghdad.
For a few minutes, everyone, including me, stood around not sure how to get things started. Kenny Thomas, who had done this before (both being a soldier and performing for soldiers) took out his guitar and asked for attention... "me and louie here, he's a comedian. We just came out to share some time with you and hopefully bring you a little diversion. First Louie is going to tell you some jokes. he's a comedian..." He introduced me. I started with the same open that I used in Kuwait. "How you fuckers doin'?" I got a decent laugh. Immediately after, one of them talked across me to another. Then another one. I told them to shut up. They laughed. For the rest of the "set" I tried to feel them out. This was their place. I had no right to make demands here. They wanted to make inside jokes as I told my stories. that was fine. Some stuff worked, some didn't. I was sweating. At one point i mentioned New YOrk and a young guy made a noise. I asked if he was from New YOrk. he said yes, Buffallo. I said "That's not New York. Buffallo is horrible." he said "hey, don't mess with Buffallo." and he wasn't smiling. I said "Okay, Buffallo. Take it easy." I was learning as the moments flew by. The rules are different here. When a bunch of paid customers come into MY theater to MY show and I want to make fun of their town, they can take it or go fuck off. But this was squarely their place. They built it and they were it's only inhabitants EVER. And a kid in the middle of this shit saying "don't mess with Buffallo" really means it, because Buffallo is inside of him, keepign him from screaming in the middle of all this brown paper bag. So I backed off in respect.
I think most of these kids didn't find me too funny but they laughed generously anyway. I then re-introduced Kenny who sang two very sad songs about dead soldiers. I didn't understand why he thought they'd want to hear a song called "Another folded flag" but the applause was pretty hearty. What the hell do I know about being in the Army? Or country Western Music? Kenny was an army Ranger and a member of the Grand Ole Opry, so I guess he got it. The songs were fucking hard to take though, man. Really maudlin and sad.
After the show, we signed autographs. Instead of setting up a table, Kenny and I just walked around with our pictures and signed for whoever wanted one. These kids were so nice. Just big polite grins "Thank you for the show sir." As I was signing one kid's picture, a hand thrust another one in my face, on top of his. I looked up and saw that it was an officer in the Iraqi army. he was frowning at me and gesturing that he wanted an autograph. he had a big old mustache and just looked mean and strange. I really really doubt he was a fan of mine. He just wanted to make sure he was getting something that others were getting. I said "Oh. Okay. here you go." and signed it. He left.
The soldiers introduced me to a young Iraqi man, about 19 years old. His name was Hemo. He was in an American Army uniform and was clean shaven. I was told that he was a translator and that the Army likes to integrate their translators into the Army so that the locals will see them as a proper go-between. Something like that. Everyone was picking on Hemo but they clearly liked him and he enjoyed being part of their group. he spoke perfect English. I signed a picture for him.
After the signing we all went outside and stood around, smoking cigarettes, lounging with the soldiers and waiting for the Blackhawks to return for us.
It struck me that in the Army it's always the fourties. This tent could have been in Korea or Vietnam or Normandy. The guys were even playing horse-shoes...
If you look carefully, you can see the horseshoe captured in the air against the sky.
It was amazing to me, considering how secluded they were, how civil and fun they were. They were living a simple and social life. Talking, laughing, being quiet. No video games, no media. no John Stewart. I wonder how they will integrate that experience with life back home.
After a while, some guys started kicking a soccer ball around. The Iraqi soldiers had joined the Americans and they were kicking the ball back and forth between them, Americans on the right, Iraqis on the left. I joined them. I don't know how to play soccer. But they were just kicking the ball around. Everyone was laughing and relaxing...
After a few minutes, one of the Iraqis, a man of about 20 said, in broken English "play a game. We play a game."
One of the American soldiers, either from Oklahoma or a Carolina, yelled back "Okay, Lieutenant, but let's mix it up. Give us some of your guys, we'll give you some of ours."
"No!" The Leiutenant answered "Iraq against US." The American said "Aw come on! you know we suck at this game. It aint fair!" The LIeutenant stood his ground firmly, with such confidence that it was clear these guys all knew each other and were comfortable, farmiliar with each other.
"No! You USA. We Iraq!"
"Okay" said the young Okie "But we get Hemo!"
"No!" the Iraqi's protested, and grabbed Hemo by the arm. "He is Iraqi!" The American grabbed Hemo's other arm "No way! He's in an american uniform! Come on" A tug-of-war ensued with Hemo in the middle and everyone laughing.
Finally they relented and let Hemo play for the Americans. The Iraqis all took off their shoes. The soldiers let me play on their team. We started to charge their side of the field. An Iraqi soldier right in front of me got the ball and I ran toward him. I tried to kick it away from him and we collided. I grabbed his arms and we both held on, keeping one another from falling. We were both laughing. he could have been anybody. It was an incredible feeling.
I realized that, when we had arrived, the American soldiers had made derisive remarks about the Iraqis not because they didn't like them but because they had become close to them and having us there made them feel self-concious about that, reminding them that they hadn't felt that way when they arrived.
Just as the game got started, we heard the thudding of blackhawk rotors against the air. The helicopters hovered over us and Seargent white Rallied us to get going. Everyone seemed sad. I was sad. The soldiers walked us back to the helipad. One young kid said to me "You don't know how much this means to us. Thank you." At that moment, a Humvee arrived filled with mail. Starved for home, they forgot us and ran to it, starting already to tear open their packages as we made for the helipad.
We put our armor back on and went to the choppers. I shook the hand of the young Captain who had said he was a fan and told him to write me an email and that I'd send him some free DVDS. The choppers landed and we walked back to them. Right before I boarded mine, I saw a small group of Iraqis, not in uniform, huddled by the helipad, watching. I walked over and shook their hands. They each smiled and tapped their chest with their hands after shaking mine. I did the same. I didn't know what that means.
I took my seat in the helicopter and strapped in, exhausted. Dino tapped me on the shoulder (can't hear in a blackhawk) and pointed out the window. I looked out and saw that the entire population fo the camp was standing in a big clump and waving big waves. They weren't smiling. Just waving. We waved back and they waved bigger. The blackhawks took off, kicking up the dust and we watched out the windows as they covered their faces. As we shot up into the air, we saw them turn their backs and wander back into the tiny space of their bizzarre life. I closed my eyes and felt a wave of raw emotion rip my whole body open as we crossed back over the brown paper bag.
LCK
Posted by Louie in on March 30, 2009 | Comments [ 11 ]
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pretty awesome louie. you're a good boy for doin this. wondering what kind of material you did for them?
Wow Louie this was a fantastic read. I've been a fan of you for quite some time but I didn't realize you were such an eloquent writer! I've bookmarked your blog and I'll be back frequently. Thanks for sharing this experience!
Hey, Louis,
I'm kind of a schmuck because I've just remembered that you have this site and I'm glad you're posting your USO blog here, too because MySpace and I aren't getting along lately. A few weeks ago, for no discernible reason, I discovered I couldn't "comment" in anyone's blog, so I've been unable to share my thoughts about what you've written so far.
In short, I've really been digging it and I look forward to reading each new entry. At the risk of sounding pretentious, your writing style is very conversational and you are able to bring people along with you. Pretty awesome.
Anyway, take care and I look forward to reading more.
Your new best pal,
Robert Sims
Such a fascinating read from your first post to this one. I've been a big fan for some time. Wasted way too much money traveling to see you do the same funny routines.
My younger, smarter, brother is being shipped to Afghanistan this month and I can't tell you how much this has helped me cope with the anxiety. Please continue.
Thanks.
-Chris (NYC)
Hey, great post. It must be a weird feeling going to a war zone to do stand-up. I'm sure it's much appreciated by your soldiers. I look forward to reading more.
Regards,
Marcus Nyman, Lund, Sweden
I can't tell you how much I appreciate your posts. You've always been a favorite comedian and writer and your words are often quoted by me and my friends. But this journey that you have taken brings a whole new perspective on how meaningful comedy can be in people's lives. You totally rock for doing this.
Also, it's nice to get a perspective on the day to day situation on war zone living from someone who doesn't have an agenda or angle. It's honest and unfiltered and a real life lesson for those of us totally unconnected to that situation. Thanks for everything, LCK!
I thoroughly enjoyed this.
Great blog!!! Thanks so much for entertaining our wonderful troops! Heard about you through the milblog BlackFive. Love your humor...fu*ker!
Love it looong time!!!
da best. Keep it going! Thank you
Man, those photos are exceptional! I want a chopper now! Good read.
Thanks much for this wonderful blog post.