Rhinitis

Op tempo remains high, so we've been keeping pretty busy. Centaur75 has a new team member, so our manpower strength has spiked a whopping 50% in the past week. Now that we have a full crew, we're far more self-sufficient and flexible when it comes to being able to take advantage of opportunities to go outside the wire, which is what we've essentially been doing non-stop for a while now.

Sometimes our interactions with the local nationals can border of the surreal. A recent mission took us to a local hospital in a dominantly Sunni neighborhood. We had a helluva time finding it, as the GPS coordinates that filtered through the byzantine military bureaucracy had us wandering aimlessly through residential neighborhoods, and backtracking at makeshift roadblocks composed of concrete, rusted engine blocks and palm logs. The frustration at not being able to find the place was eased by the reception we received from neighborhood children who flocked to the curbs and actually cheered us as we drove by; some snapping smartly to attention, stomping their right foot, and whipping out that ridiculous palm-outward military salute that the Iraqis borrowed from the British ages ago.

We finally found the hospital, and positioned our vehicles in a defensive perimeter. Our audience with the hospital director, and our tour of the facilities found us in the somewhat awkward position of clanking through and amongst the hospital beds in full battle-rattle, all the while noisily smacking weapons into walls, bed frames and chairs. The patients all stared at us wide-eyed as if we'd descended from another planet. Navigating the narrow stairwell through three stories under all the weight of armor, weapons and magazines was exhausting in itself.

As we were wrapping up the mission, and collapsing our security perimeter, we were approached by two middle aged women in an agitated state. Their animated gestures and tone drew several other soldiers to where my interpreter and I were standing. Now, it is not at all unusual for locals to approach American patrols with information on bad guys, or complaints about infrastructure, etc. It is common and expected. So... what did these two woman believe was so important that only the might of the U.S. Army was up to the challenge? What was so pressing that they had to wave us down so that we could stand there in the triple-digit heat, encased in armor, with sweat pouring down our brows?

The allergy medicine they got from the pharmacy wasn't working.

I am not making this up. I was ready to draw my 9mm Beretta semi-automatic and tell them that it was the only thing we carried that was guaranteed to clear sinus passages. I didn't, of course. We were polite, told them we just couldn't help them with that, gave them some ice water, and sent them on their way.

This is just an example of what can constitute a priority on one Baghdad street. A five minute drive from this location is a neighborhood that may be witnessing a spike in sectarian violence. A clash between rival militias, in which U.S. forces were not involved, left bodies burning in the streets and families fleeing their homes.

Shift gears and drive on.