Fun in the Sun at NTC, Fort Irwin, CA

The dirt and grime of nine days on the floor of the great Mojave Desert was taking its toll. With water rationing in effect, I had not come close to a shower, since we left the pine studded forests of Georgia. Dust was everywhere, in everything, on everything. Cascading sweat circles stained my shirt from armpit to waist. The dust was so permeating that I could no longer distinguish the black of my boots from the camouflage pattern of my trousers. My short-cropped hair was the color of desert dried and parched lakebeds. Had it not been for the Rommel-style goggles, I would have been blind from the wind driven dust. The crow’s feet around my eyes were darkly stained by trails of tears, seeping though the dust from behind the protective goggles.

Even with the constant dust and heat, I found the desert an awesome place. I witnessed two-foot long lizards running on their hind legs; scorpions - black as coal – at least six inches in length; tarantulas larger than the spread of a man’s hand. At night I saw packs of coyotes scurrying for cover and always on the lookout for a scrap of a meal dropped by a careless soldier; the sunsets had more color than one can imagine; and stars – I have never seen so many stars in my life. The Milky Way would swoop from the horizon and on past the midnight zenith. The environment was unmatched in its diversity.

Having attended a commanders briefing and having finished a reconnaissance of potential tactical positions for my firing battery, my jeep driver and I headed back to the battery’s current location. The battery was some twenty miles away. The drive was dark – no headlights allowed - and many hours had passed, since our last meal from a plastic bag of assorted dried fruits and chopped, pressed, formed, and packaged meat. We were looking forward to the promise of a new selection of plastic meals and fresh water. Earlier in the day I had confirmed that a much needed 500 gallons of the good stuff had been delivered.

When we arrived at the firing battery encampment, I sent my driver to chow and made my way to the fire direction center to check in with my lieutenants, get unit status, and pass along the instructions for the next day’s live fire activities. To my surprise, Lieutenants Nick and Joe had prepared a shower for me. Hanging from a crossbeam between two command tracks, suspended over a wooden pallet, was an Australian shower – a four-gallon, canvas bag with a showerhead attached to the bottom of the bag. The way it works, you fill the bag with water, turn the valve on the shower head to get a dribble of water, close the valve, lather up, and then open the valve to rinse. It is amazing how little water is used, if the procedure is done correctly. To say the least, I was overwhelmed and grateful for the chance to rid myself of a multiple layers of dust and sweat and a closely following odor of stale billy goat.

When the briefings were complete, I pulled a clean uniform out of my rucksack and shook off the collected dust. I grabbed a towel and a bar of soap and headed to the makeshift shower. I stripped down to dog tags, stepped up on the pallet, and turned the valve to start the trickle of water. Dark rivulets of dirt ran down my face and body. I turned off the water and began a lathering scrub. I detected a slightly sweet taste and thought the soap I was using had had a run in with the toothpaste in my bag. With little concern I continued the shower and started the rinse cycle. It was at this point that I heard a muffled giggle from the far side of one of the command tracks. As I rinsed, the laughter increased, and the rinse water grew sweeter and sweeter. By this time there must have been two lieutenants and a gunnery sergeant rolling in the dirt between the creosote bushes. Grape Kool-Aid had been mixed into my shower water. I should have known that the prepared shower was too good to be true. I finished the shower never saying a word.

In a sleeping bag for the rest of the short night, I dreamt sweet, sweet, grape scented dreams, dreams of payback on a day, when my unsuspecting officers would least expect it. I bided my time, planning the revenge that would be a dish served cold by a cold, cold-hearted battery commander.