Reaching Past The Wire: A Nurse at Abu Ghraib

4. Convoy

Convoy The convoy consisted of both military and non-military vehicles. That surprised me. American contractors drove their own vehicles, and drivers in western or traditional Arab dress drove the fuel tankers, food trucks, and other vehicles that provided service and supplies to the combat zone. Some of the drivers waiting in the convoy looked bored, as if they had been doing this for some time. Money must be the magnet that brought them to work here. I thought it must be di∞cult being here without a sense of doing this for a purpose. Before long I was standing next to a five-ton truck with slats on the sides of the truck bed, getting ready to pull myself up into it for the first of many times to come. With a twenty-eight pound vest, three-and-a-half pound helmet, weapon, ammo belt, and rucksack, I was carrying about thirty-eight pounds of equipment. I hooked my foot into a little section of the tailgate (about shoulder height to me— I’m five feet four inches tall) and hoisted myself up into the 33 ★ 4 bed of the truck with all that weight on my back. It came clearly to me in that moment why I had to be in such good physical condition. Yet I couldn’t help but think that if I had lost twenty more pounds on that Desert Diet Plan in Kuwait (our name for the constant sand in the teeth and heavy hydration), this would be a lot easier. We were told we would be moving through an area often targeted for attacks and would have to travel with our weapons loaded and aimed out the sides of the truck, ready to fire if necessary. My handgun provided little protection . There were four of us on each side, and I seated myself between two soldiers with powerful M16 rifles. My weapons training had been the same as every other soldier’s basic training, but at that moment I had doubts about my ability and skill with a weapon. I didn’t feel ready for a combat zone. As medical personnel, I had never had to use my weapon, nor did I think I ever would. What if I had to kill someone? I was dedicated to saving, not taking, people’s lives. Ever since I realized I might be sent to Iraq, I had practiced pulling my weapon out and putting in the clip every chance I got. Now I had to start handling my loaded weapon for real. Can I do this? I wondered. When it came down to the real deal, I especially didn’t want to hurt myself or someone near me. Specialist Baker was sitting next to me. “Specialist Baker,” I said. “Please watch me load and unload my weapon. Make sure I’m doing it right.” “Don’t worry, Ma’am. I’ll take care of you,” he said as he watched me load and unload one last time. He nodded in approval. Reaching Past the Wire 34 Then we waited. Vehicles kept coming in. Some were Humvees, some five-ton trucks, some fuel tankers, some white Suburbans filled with contractors, all heading in the same direction. There were about forty vehicles altogether in the convoy, all of us hoping to get from Baghdad to Abu Ghraib safely. The convoy commander was organizing the vehicles in the order in which they would travel. Every sixth vehicle or so was a Humvee with a gunner who turned in a pivoting seat just above the vehicle’s roof. About an hour after we had arrived at the convoy location , the commander waved us in behind a fuel truck. Oh, great! If we’re attacked, and the fuel truck explodes, we’re dead as well. Before we took o≠, the drivers got together. They went over an intelligence report about what had gone on during the previous days. Did they suspect high danger? Was something blown up within the last day? Then the drivers huddled together to pray for the safety of the convoy. When our driver came back, he said, with a New Jersey accent, “This is a dangerous road. You are all responsible for defending this convoy. This means everyone. Yesterday there was firing from the mosque about five miles out, so you guys on the right side be especially watchful when we get to...