Moving Out

Once your in the CRC, you can't wait to get out. Eventually it happens. For the group I was with, we were only delayed one day due to an unforeseen circumstance, that being the group that finished a week earlier was in the way. Seems the Big Volcano Eruption spewed at a bad time for them, forcing them to hole up in some sub-standard nook of Ft. Benning until the skies cleared.

The skies finally did clear, but on the day I was supposed to leave. So our group boarded buses, headed on down to the airfield, and stayed there for 24 hours until they could bring in another aircraft for us. The facility is a very large terminal building, perfect for preparing soldiers for departure but less than ideal as a barracks. The place seems practically brand new, but for some reason there was no hot water and wouldn't be for another week or so. They handed out cots and sleeping bags and everyone dispersed to find a quiet niche somewhere. Probably resembled a bunch of homeless at Grand Central Station more than anything remotely military.

Anyway, everything eventually fell into place and it was time to board the plane. For the very first time since I left Ft. Monroe, Rank Hath Its Priviliages (RHIP) finally kicks in. Because of high demand on the usual contract carriers (World Air, Ryan Air, and other scarily anonymous monikers), we were blessed with a Delta 777 and an awesome patriotic crew. They decorated the cabin with all sorts of stars, stripes, flags, banners and other such accoutrements. Since there were just a handful of colonels, sergeants major, and senior warrant officers, we boarded first and were directed to Executive Business Class.

What a way to fly! You routine globetrotters are probably a bit jaded to this, but it was tall cotton to me. All sorts of entertainment options, seat that motors its way completely flat to a bed, cozy blanket and pillow -- the only way to spend 13 hours in the air. Unless, of course, you are the President, a big business muckety-muck, or obscenely wealthy.

It was a great flight, but all good things must come to an end. The end was Ali al Salem airfield and squatter camp in Kuwait. That is another story for another day.