With the battalion validated for our mission there remained only one thing to do - fly to Kuwait and then on to Iraq. If it were up to me we'd avoid Kuwait altogether and report straight to our ultimate destination. Unfortunately, higher powers than a lowly battalion commander dictate the rules. A visit to Kuwait would be required. Upon our return from 4-day pass we hastily packed our bags and cleaned the Alamo for the next unit. We would travel on a "ULN" charter flight that would depart straight from Biggs Army Airfield at Fort Bliss. On the day of our flight we lined our dufflebags, loaded them on the trucks, and then convoyed to the airfield. There would be an MP unit joining us on the flight. It was a Boeing 757, so the normal wide-body comforts would be absent. The MP unit had a loud, fat, and pompous Lieutenant Colonel with them who quickly got on my bad side. I dubbed him LTC "Tubby" and made several offhand wisecracks at his expense. He had made the mistake of jumping on one of my Company Commanders earlier in the day when I wasn't around. Then when I talked to him he commenced to tell me all his war stories of time he spent at Victory Base Compound on a previous deployment. A simple rule of thumb is this - if someone boasts about their war adventures it actually means they did very little and saw even less when they were deployed. That way, if a mortar round landed a mile away on their compound it means a year later they tell the story as though it landed right on their lap, failed to immediately explode, which allowed them to dispose of the ordance in a manner that saved everyone around and earned accolades from God himself. Bottom line? This chubby LTC had never done anything on his previous deployment except walk from his CHU to the DFAC and then to the Liberty PX and back. But damn he could sure boast about it. 
While waiting to load our aircraft we ate a hot meal as we passed the time. I held a formation so that we could exchange our full-color U.S. flag patches for an infrared (IR) version. This signified to each of the Soldiers in the Battalion that we were now considered a forward-deployed unit. CSM and I walked the ranks and shook hands with each of our Soldiers as we switched their shoulder patches. It was a moving event and set the tone to everyone that it was time for the game face. Then we boarded the plane and got comfortable for the next 30 hours of traveling. Dammit! I had to sit almost right next to Tubby.
A flight to Kuwait is
never direct. In our case there would be two refueling stops. The first was in Bangor, ME. Having flown through Bangor on several military charter flights I knew what was in store for us - the Maine Greeters. These folks may be the most patriotic people I have ever met. It is truly an honor for any military member to be greeted by them. They are old and young, veterans and civilians, women and men, and all selfless in their love of Soldiers. No matter what time of day or night, when a military charter flight arrives at Bangor they line up and greet every single person coming off the plane. They have phones to use, food in abundance, stories to share, coins to hand out, and will even mail things for you. I consider it such a special moment to experience the love they share. God bless each and every one of them. I love them all. True to form, they greeted every Soldier on our flight and loved them as their own. We were on the ground for around an hour and for that entire time we were taken care of by the greeters. Then we said our goodbyes and loaded back on the aircraft. Next stop Leipzig, Germany.Not much to say about Leipzig except that it's another refuel stop I've seen many times. The military terminal has a gift shop where the German girls at the registers have Rammstein blaring on their stereo. In a cruel twist of irony, the coolers in the gift shop are stocked with beer. We can only stare. Most of us simply find a latrine to take care of two of the three S's. Then we wait. There's lots of waiting in the Army. It doesn't respect rank. I waited with everyone else.
We finally landed at Ali Al Salem, Kuwait at around 0300. Our travel wasn't over. We still had to unload the aircraft, board buses, and drive to Camp Buehring. When all was said and done we were at our transient location. At 0600 we swiped our ID cards and sat through about an hour of welcome briefings. I noticed they were all out of date but really didn't care at this point. We shuffled to the DFAC for breakfast. Everyone had the zombie look. By 0900 we were, at last, bedded down for a day of recovery. We needed it. All I could think of was how to plot my escape from Camp Beuhring and get on up to Iraq. Sleep first though. Kuwait is always best in my rear-view mirror. That's true both coming and going.
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