New Years—a universal event that affects all time zones. But how would one celebrate in the middle of a war, during the deadliest year for U.S. troops in Iraq? Let me tell you how we did it.
We were more than halfway through our one-year deployment. Christmas had solemnly passed, and the next major holiday was New Year’s Eve.
At home, I love to host New Year’s parties. Everyone is happy, silly, and the atmosphere is always electric. I want to bring that energy to the troops. Well, at least to the extent that nobody gets hurt. We are in the Diyala Province of Iraq. Everyone carries a firearm, and alcohol is against regulations. Adapt, improvise, and overcome--the U.S. military motto.
Forward Operating Base (FOB) Grizzly contains approximately 1,000 people--U.S. military, coalition troops, civilian contractors and a nearby refugee camp. We are situated on the outskirts of the city of Ashraf, which is under the control of the People’s Mujahedeen of Iran. As the Troops Medical Clinic (TMC) non-commissioned officer in charge, I want to vaccinate the FOB with a healthy dose of fun. My celebration supplies are limited to a few party poppers that emit confetti. I need to get creative with what I can acquire.
I first get the word out to select individuals about a New Year’s “get-together” behind the TMC. I tell a few soldiers from the 28th Military Police and the 73rd Combat Support Company. I do not want a huge crowd due to the possibility of it attracting a mortar attack. Every party needs a bonfire. It is the end of December, a bit chilly, and everyone likes a good campfire. What a great opportunity to utilize the burn barrel that is used to destroy expired medications, documents and medical waste. In addition, I have some wooden pallets stacked up with nowhere to go. Issue solved for the bonfire.
The dining facility on the FOB has plenty of near-beer stocked in the coolers. The week before New Year’s Eve, I instruct the medics to fill their uniform pockets with a few cans of near-beer every time they go eat. Alcohol is prohibited; however, this foul tasting, military-authorized fluid that produces copious amounts of urine will have to do. One medic who cannot stand near-beer gets creative and stocks up on small containers of grape juice. The drink issue can be checked off.
Music has been taken care of by the younger medics. A hookah pipe, with apple tobacco, has been purchased at another military base during a convoy operation. We now have the items required for this secret mission of revelry.
The evening of Dec. 31 begins as a few soldiers trickled to the back area of the TMC. We are somewhat protected by the 16-foot high concrete T-walls that can absorb the impact of mortar rounds and missiles. A cement bunker is nearby in case of an attack along with HESCO barriers. Remember, we are in a hostile war zone with al Qaeda, not in Times Square with Dick Clark.
One medic begins breaking the wooden pallets apart as I get the fire lit in the burn barrel. The younger medics play their favorite cd’s on the boom box and the non-alcoholic drinks are passed around as the soldiers have their feet up, laughing and joking. This brings normalcy to a foreign land that is filled with death, destruction, and for some, a lifetime of twisted memories. I stoke the fire to where the flames get up to about 10 feet high. The warmth and crackle from the fire mesmerize us. This is a normal fire compared to the burning vehicles from the roadside bombs or the smell of cordite from military grade explosions.
These flames bring us serenity and a few more guests. A couple of soldiers from the 1/3-5 Military Transition Team come over because of the columns of smoke they saw from the other side of the FOB. They think the TMC is on fire because it’s an unusual time to be using a burn barrel. I invite these warriors to stay, relax, and take their minds off Iraq.
Next comes the lighting of the hookah pipe. This is similar to a water pipe or bong in the Western hemisphere. It is common to see men in the Middle East smoking on these devices that are straight out of a Cheech and Chong movie. For non-smokers like myself, it produces a light headed feeling. It is hilarious watching each soldier “hit” the pipe and then blow out a ridiculous amount of smoke.
Midnight is approaching, and one of the medics informs me of a covert plan about to occur. The soldiers on perimeter security at the five different checkpoints are going to pop off some flares at midnight. I decide to climb on the roof of the TMC to get a royal view of the event, but it is also a bit more dangerous by exposing myself. When the radio checks start at midnight, and each station reports that it is secure, the anticipation boils as if I was about to watch the ball drop. The second when the Tactical Operations Center gives the “all clear,” five starburst flares in unison give us a sense of normalcy, a sense of control and a sense of home. The beauty of a U.S. military standard-issue flare bursting in the midnight sky and not meant for casualties to be evacuated is moving for me.
And those party poppers I have stashed in my pockets that I give to the other medics to pop off. Bits of confetti and sparkles rain down on the group. Happy New Year, smiles, and cheers are everywhere at that very moment.
My goal as a medic and an NCO was to bring some normalcy to an abnormal and dangerous place. Being far from home, missing loved ones, and losing some friends in combat had affected us all. For elevating morale to a small group of American warriors, Mission Accomplished: Bravo Zulu!