When last we spoke, I had completed a work-out at the Camp Al Asad gym - just like home but for the presence of weightlifters bearing M-16s.  The plan had been to spend the rest of the day working out of the Public Affairs Office at Al-Asad, but to be on the safe side it was decided to go right out to the air terminal.  We were flying Space 'A,' the military equivalent of stand-by, and it's always better to get there early.

In the waiting area, a number of dogs, accompanied by their military handlers, were in their travel kennels.  When one would howl, the others would join in.  Kind of eery, kind of homey. I made good use of the time in the terminal, pounding out a story for our sister site Cybercast News Service about the heroic work of the Combat Logistics Battalion surgical hospital.

Since there isn't a lot in the way of events to share with you, let me try to describe the landscape.  This is of course desert, but it is far from featureless. One edge of the Al Asad base is framed by a ridge or massive dune of what appears to be petrified sand, carved by the wind.  It has a stark and majestic beauty.  Water must lie beneath the sands on some parts of the base, for here and there rushes are to be seen, and in one spot, a true oasis: a dense cluster of palm trees.  I try to imagine how welcome that sight must have been when, before there was a base here, nomads would spot it from afar, shimmering in the desert heat.

We were to be flying a C-130 to Al Taqeddum with hopes of connecting to another flight to one of the big bases near Baghdad from which we could catch a C-5 to Spain. We were driven out onto the tarmac to the foot of the C-130, where we had a front row seat on the spectacle of two Humvees being very carefully maneuvered up a ramp and onboard. Withe the wind blowing hard in the chilly evening air, we were happy to get inside the belly of the plane.  A C-130 isn't huge, but it's known as a real workhorse, and lifted off with ease despite the vehicular cargo and the fifty or so passengers.

The waiting game began when we got to Al Taqeddum.  A sand storm had blown up and visibility was below minimal standards.  We got updates on the hour but at about 2:30 AM or so came word that there would be no flights that night.  So it was off to the tent city again.  I was too tired and/or lazy to use my sleeping bag - opening it's not bad but stuffing it back into its impossibly small container is a pain.  So I decided to make do with my jacket as blanket.  Things were cozy early on, but after a few hours it got chilly and I ultimately sought refuge a hundred yards or so away in the head.  Amazing the places a person tired enough can manage to fall asleep!

It's been a quiet day here at Al Taqeddum, getting some work done before heading back to the air terminal in hopes of catching a flight to Baghdad or Balad.  I'll close with something I wrote for the alternative weekly paper in my liberal hometown haven of Ithaca, NY: "Whatever people back home think of this war, they can, and should, be proud of the brave, determined men and women who, day in and day out, under the most difficult conditions imaginable, put themselves on the line."

And let's not forget the Marine with the greatest name and rank in the US military, pictured here.  A senior Public Affairs Officer at Camp Fallujah - and Ithaca College grad - Major Player.

Contact Mark at mark@gunhill.net

—Mark Finkelstein is a NewsBusters contributing editor and host of Right Angle. Contact him at mark@gunhill.net.