A few days ago, I received a message that the Commander of the S-5
section (These guys address all civilian concerns, the “C” in MET-TC,
the Army mnemonic device for remembering all of the challenges that must
be overcome when planning a mission – Mission - what you’re trying
to accomplish, Equipment – what you have available to you to get it
done, Time- deadline/suspense time, Troops- the number of guys involved,
and Civilian concerns – what are now called “COBS” for Civilians
On the Battlefield) needed someone to “certify” a ROWPU, which is
Reverse Osmosis Water Purification Unit. The U.S. Government had
purchased the equipment for the city of Umm Qasr and hired a contractor to
install it and get it running. The American Government bought it to
provide drinking water to the citizens of the city, part of rebuilding
Iraq’s debilitated and neglected infrastructure. The S-5 Commander
didn’t know anything about the project as it had been managed by the unit
that was here before he arrived. Good battle hand-off, huh? He gets a call
from the Iraqi Minister of Something or Other asking whether or not people
can begin drinking the water the ROWPU is producing. “How do I know?”
responds the S-5 Commander to the Minister In Charge of Getting Coffee for
the Brother-In-Law Of Somebody Really Important. Finally, he found out
that I was on the ground and that I was his best chance of getting the
stuff “certified”. I talked to my Commander about my going out
there to do the work. Though I am sure he had absolutely no understanding
of what I was talking about, he said O.K.
I met up with the convoy guys who were going out to Umm Qasr the next
day. They would be my ride. Turns out, they’re all from California
– a National Guard unit from up near Sacramento. They’re Infantry
guys, real gun bunnies who trade lead with the bad guys just about every
day. From them, I found out a little more about the mission. Turns
out, Uncle Sam paid the contractor half of what it cost to get the unit
up and running and my “certifying” it would determine whether or not
the U.S. Government would give the contractor the balance of the fee.
The Guard guys pointed out that we were in a prime payoff spot. The
contractor gets none of the money he’s owed unless I say. I can’t get out
there unless they run the route. How much money are we talking about?
Many hundreds of thousands if not millions, certainly enough for each
of us to dip into the pot. Needless to say, we didn’t do it...this
time. Next time...Who knows?
An interesting side note to offer the readers some insight into the
Army way. I needed ice to keep the samples that I would be bringing back
for laboratory analysis cool. There is much ice on the FOB, a small
glacier’s worth at least. Between the Troop Dining Facility and the
Detainee Food Operations and the ICOTA (Iraqi Correctional Officer
Training Academy) Dining Hall, a few pounds of ice would be easily obtained
and not be missed. Or so I reasoned. Nobody would give me ice. The
guys in the Troop Dining Facility told me to e-mail a Staff Sergeant in
the supply (S-4) section. I did so. She very promptly, e-mailed back
to me an attachment which I could print out, fill out, and submit to
her. And in about three or four days, I’d get my ice. Outstanding!!
The Guard unit had a freezer in their area and could provide me with the
ice that I would need, thankfully, so I didn’t have to kill that
Staff Sergeant.
I got up, ate breakfast, and headed over to the convoy rally point. We
met at 0500 hrs. A quick refresher briefing on ROE (Rules of
Engagement, that is, when we fire and at what or whom and when we don’t)
and 9 Line MedEvac (radio protocol for calling in a helicopter to get the
casualties out swiftly) and we saddled up. We put on our body armor,
kevlars (helmets), strapped into the HMMWVs and locked and loaded (put live
ammo into our weapons) and rolled out. Even though it’s not even
close to Summer yet, you bake in the vehicles with all that gear on. And
the sights of Southern Iraq are pretty grim. It is the filthiest place
I have ever seen. Everywhere there is space for it, and in a lot of
places where there isn’t, trash is thrown. There are rusted car parts,
rusted appliances, and black plastic garbage bags all over the place.
There are very few buildings that are complete. Most have either begun
to fall down or were never completed in the first place. I have seen some
terrible slums in Mexico but the town of Umm Qasr is many times worse.
It was a bit worrisome riding around the town seeing all that garbage.
It would have been a simple thing to hide an IED (Improvised Explosive
Device) or EFP (Explosively Formed Projectile – like an IED only much
more lethal) in amongst all that stuff lying about. Heck, I could have
hidden one out there and then come back an hour later and been unable
to locate it. But, as I am writing this to you, you no doubt have
figured out that nothing was out there waiting for us.
The ROWPU is located along the shipping channel. I think that in
looking East, the bank I saw on the other side was Iran. Not sure about
that. I should have written down the GPS coordinates so I could look it
up later. At any rate, we turned off the road and went through two big,
big gates into a courtyard. The drivers positioned the vehicles and
then the gun bunnies dismounted. They did their Infantry thing and
established a security perimeter for me. Imagine that!! All this just for
me!! I got out of our vehicle and met the two engineers who run the
joint. Both were smoking cigarettes. One was wearing sandals and the
other was barefoot. There were about five dogs running in and out of the
“Operations Center” where the RO elements were housed. What would
the OSHA guys back in the States say if they saw something like this in
Dallas, Atlanta, Seattle, Denver, etc. Their heads would explode!!
An interpreter came with us on this mission. His name is Abdel. He
was born in Mauritania, moved to the States as a kid, and now lives in
New York. He has a wife and daughter back there. I began my inspection
by walking with Abdel and one of the engineers (the one with sandals.
I figured if he has actual footwear, he must be someone important
around this place) to the “Operations Center”. The engineer explained
how they run the system. As it happens, their “raw” or source water
is groundwater, just like we use back on Camp Bucca. The engineer was
practically attached to me the whole time he was giving me the tour of
the place. That’s typical for Iraqis. They’re an “Up Close And
Personal” kind of people. I wouldn’t have minded but for his breath
and the shower he was giving me. The only word he spoke that I could
understand was “Umm Qasr”. He said it about a thousand times. And
when the people who live there say the “Q” part of their hometown’s name,
they’re practically gargling. To say it properly, apparently you must have
about a gallon of phlegm/sputum/saliva in your mouth and project it forward
like a shotgun blast into the face of the person you’re addressing.
It was really irritating – especially because, technically, I was not
the person he was talking to. He was, in fact, speaking to the
interpreter. Picture this: He’s 18 inches from my face, talking in a voice
so loud you could hear him in the U.S. and he’s directing this
multimedia (fluid and sound) presentation right at me. All of this for no
reason. I can’t understand a word he’s saying, except the aforementioned
city name, and at the end of each of his splatter-filled sentences, we both
look at the interpreter. He too, though speaking English, stands practically
on top of me and sprays the “Q”.
I thought I was going to vomit. And I wanted to shout at the engineer,
“Spray this guy!! He at least understands what you’re saying. I
don’t!! Let me skip at least one part of the body fluid bath I’m
taking.”
I got the picture. I learned how they run their ROWPU. It was
essentially the same set up that the Army uses. The notable exception was the
piping. Good Lord!! The pipes that carry the “raw” water into the
RO elements and carry the “finished” water into storage tanks
looked like they came from the exhaust system of a minivan, part of a
Coca-Cola bottling plant, and the sprinkler system in my front yard.
Anything they could get their hands on to move water from Point A to Point B,
I guess. There were flanges, couplings, elbows, etc. for no apparent
reason. It looked like there had been an explosion in the plumbing
department of a Home Depot.
I collected samples of both the “raw” and “finished” water to
take back (kept cool on ice that I didn’t have to fill out a form to
acquire) for lab work. Before I left, the engineers gave me a wish list
of items that they would like to have to do their jobs – a few
containers, some injection hardware, and some new meters. After my walking
reconnaissance of the place, those things are clearly needed. The
meters that these guys are using are like toys, they are so rudimentary.
And the containers are a “must-have”. They were storing their
chemicals (chlorine for disinfection, hydrochloric acid to prevent fouling of
the membranes, and caustic soda to kick the pH up on the back end –
all just the way we do it) all over the place. That too, would make an
OSHA guy drop dead.
We all got back into the HMMWVs and returned to the FOB. In
conclusion, the water tested O.K. There are bacteriological issues with the
“raw” water, but the Reverse Osmosis and disinfection are taking care
of it. As long as the barefoot, smoking, phlegmy engineers don’t take
any shortcuts, the water will be fine. Finally, to conclude this very
lengthy note, I will say that I was very proud to have participated in
the mission, more so than I am of any other accomplishment during this
deployment. The people of Umm Qasr who are relying on this system for
their water number about 65,000. It’s clean and safe and there is
enough of it…….Thanks to the U.S. Army and the American taxpayer.
