All I want for Christmas is a UH60 Blackhawk

For the record, I shamelessy copied this photo from globalsecurity.com

This weekend my fellow LT Frank Solorzano and I went up to Balad, home of Camp Anaconda, for a quick look-around and site visit to our facilities up there. The place is huge, claiming over 23 square kilometers and like most of Saddam’s former military airfields, this one was built under contract by Yugoslavian engineers in the early 1980s. Unused bunkers for fighter jets are clustered at either end of the runway, a remnant, like much else here, of Saddam’s time.

We flew in on a C130 and entered the, by standards around here, palatial passenger terminal. The tiled floor, drop ceiling, bright lights, new chairs and fresh restrooms led me to only one conclusion: THIS PLACE IS RUN BY THE AIR FORCE! Almost like a plane safety video in the states, all new arrivals are required to watch a mortar safety video. Camp Anaconda, affectionately nicknamed Mortaritaville, was hit with mortars on average twice a day in past years. Things have improved – no mortars during my visit.

This is a NICE camp. Large movie theater, huge gym, well paved streets, great PX and almost the perfect cinnamon roll at the DFAC. I consider myself a connoisseur of only a few things (good taste being prime among them ;-) but one thing I am a connoisseur of is the cinnamon roll – well done Camp Anaconda. Now lets get some hummus on order for these carrot sticks at lunch and call it a day. Once again, my living situation improved to a two-man trailer room that I shared with Frank. No in-room bathroom but hey, I really don’t ask for much these days.

But all of this was really just the lead-up. The best part of Camp Anaconda was flying home under the glow of a full moon . . . in a UH60 Blackhawk. I gotta get me one of these! The Blackhawk holds up to 12 passengers plus a crew of four - pilot, co-pilot and two gunners manning M240H machine guns on either side. The side windows have been removed to facilitate what the crew chief liked to call “Pax assistance.” You’ll remember that “pax” is the super cool military word for passengers . . . In any case, pax assistance means returning fire. We are all in trouble if I end up having to return fire with an M9 from a helicopter. But the bonus – the nighttime wind in your face and an incredible view of the landscape.

If you look closely, you can see my first Blackhawk-ride behind me. Looks like this is the first time I ever wore a kevlar helmut too . . . .

We had been warned that, as standard operating procedure, the gunners would do a test fire when we cleared the base. The petty officer sitting across from me must not have heard that part of the brief – he almost broke out of his harness when it happened.

We flew low and fast over bucolic farmland and little villages that smattered the terrain below until looming ahead were the lights of Baghdad. Note the important word in that sentence – LIGHTS. Baghdad has power and plenty of it. The only thing really missing? Cars on the streets below – it’s still not safe. Our flight pattern took us on a circuitous route to the helo terminal, offering even more time to enjoy the thrill.

No more C130s for me.