Chapter 41: Abu Dhabi

January 2007

Mom was very upset that I wasn’t going to come home on my leave. She just wasn’t buying my explanation about losing my squad. She wanted me to come home, squad or no squad. I think Dad understood, and he told me that his father understood, but Mom was very unhappy. I had been in the Army now for four Christmases, and three had been spent in Iraq.

I didn’t even bother telling her about the incident at Yankee North. One of her latest kicks was, “Are you the only soldier in Iraq? What are all those other soldiers doing that you have to be in so many battles and always getting wounded?” There was simply no way to explain that I wasn’t the only soldier, and that everybody was getting shot up, not just me. If she didn’t like it, maybe she could go see President Bush and get him to send us all home. The smiling little yellow ducks were getting pretty damn sick and tired of getting shot at. I had no good way around it.

Were we winning? Was there any way this was going to end positively? I just didn’t know. For me, winning meant people would stop shooting at me and my guys. Until that happened, we weren’t winning, and the hajjis didn’t seem to want to stop shooting. If anything, they were amping things up. They were learning as much as we were, and the most effective means they had to hurt us was out on the roads. Their IEDs kept getting bigger and more dangerous. When I came over in 2003, they were relatively small, maybe a few mortar shells with a pressure plate trigger. Now they were using howitzer shells, and might have a wireless remote trigger, with redundant fuses and secondary IEDs to back them up.

We kept hearing rumors about how things were going to change for the better. This unit or that unit would redeploy, or additional troops would be sent, or new tactics or training would offset the problems we were having. We were going to get a ‘surge’ of new troops, promised by the President no less. New equipment, new technology, new intelligence - new something - was just around the corner. Meanwhile the Iraqis were gaining control of their country, or regaining control, or training a new Army (again!) Yes, sir, things were getting better!

I’d believe it when they stopped shooting at me. The war was no longer about winning for me. I no longer cared whether we won or not. I only cared about surviving long enough to get my guys home at the end of our tour. Nobody knew when that would be, either. Going on the basis of my first tour, which ran about sixteen months, that would end up somewhere around July or August 2007, beyond the four years I had enlisted for. That didn’t matter. I would go home when Fourth of the Fourth went home.

All through the end of November and December we received Christmas packages from home. There were even outfits back home, charities or church groups, that sent packages to soldiers without families, like Riley. I got several nice packages, one from my grandmothers, and one each from Mom and Kelly. Kelly’s had a gym bag inside it with two sets of civilian clothes and some running shoes, for when I went on leave. She promised to bring some more of my clothes with her.

That was one of the reasons I didn’t think we were winning. We were under orders to not wear our uniforms or other identifying clothing when we went on leave. It was considered too dangerous to be out in the real world dressed like a soldier. Too many people hated American soldiers. It wasn’t just like that in Muslim countries, either. We were hearing that in many parts of Europe and the Far East sailors were being ordered into civilian clothing before they were allowed to leave their ships. The brass was terrified we would be captured or killed by the local crazies. I didn’t know what to make of that, but it was depressing to think about. Soldiers were trained to be proud of their uniforms, and what it meant to wear them, but now we were being told to hide them away.

Eventually January 8 rolled around, and it was time to get the hell away from Anaconda Three. According to the last phone call and an email I had received from Kelly, a round-trip ticket would be waiting for me at the Etihad Airlines terminal at the Baghdad International Airport. The flight was in the late morning, so I needed to get out of Anaconda Three at the crack of dawn.

I’ll be honest about it and say I was worried I would be able to get it done. It would have been an excellent chance to see classic military hurry-up-and-wait in action. It would be just like the Army to get me to the airport five minutes after the plane flew away. Instead, the Army managed to work at high efficiency. A Blackhawk landed before dawn, carrying some mail and supplies in and little old me out. I had all my gear packed away, and my weapons were locked in the armory. I had a single rucksack, and the only thing inside it was my old gym bag with my civvies, running shoes, and toilet kit. I climbed on the helo and we were at Camp Victory by the time the sun rose.

Once I had landed, a Humvee shuttled me off to a storage facility. I showered, shaved, and changed, and then stowed my uniform, boots, armor, and helmet in a locker. I would retrieve it when I got back. After that it was off for a quick haircut and I was driven directly to the main terminal of the Baghdad Airport, where I was turned over to a detachment of MPs. My bag was inspected to make sure I wasn’t smuggling anything out, and then I was taken to the Etihad Airlines counter. Now, to see if there was a ticket waiting...

Thank God there was! The flight left at 1115, so after I collected my ticket and boarding pass, the MPs took me back to their holding area. I would be returned thirty minutes before then for boarding, but I couldn’t be allowed to wander around otherwise. That’s not to say I was in a lockup, because I wasn’t, but I was put on a chair in the MP office and told to read a newspaper. Fine by me. At 1045 we went back out to the terminal and went up to the boarding area, where I was escorted through the security checkpoints and delivered to the airplane. After that I became the airline’s responsibility.

It was about a three-hour flight from Baghdad to Abu Dhabi, so I got there a bit after 1400. Since my only luggage was my semi-empty gym bag, it wasn’t hard to get through Customs and Immigration.

It was truly bizarre. I had just left the world’s largest construction site and war zone, a place where everybody wanted to kill you. Now, I was seemingly a world away. The airport didn’t have bullet holes in it. There weren’t any sandbag revetments around. Instead of fleets of Humvees, there were fleets of taxis and limousines. There were women, and they weren’t wearing burqas. Most of all, it was clean. The place practically sparkled. I just stood there in the terminal as people moved past me and stared at everything.

After a few minutes just staring at things, I looked around and found a sign pointing towards the exit. That was where I headed next. Back in Baghdad I had been told to not get in a taxi without first negotiating the fare, in American dollars. Kelly had sent me a hundred bucks, all in twenties, in case I didn’t have the cash to get to the hotel, and I also had some cash I still had from when we deployed. I went over to the taxi station and a few minutes later I was in a taxi.

The destination was the Sheraton, but beyond that I knew nothing about Abu Dhabi. If I’d been smarter, I’d have stopped in one of the airport shops and bought a guidebook or something. The road signs were all in Arabic (well, to be fair, that’s what they spoke, so that was pretty reasonable) but Arabic lettering looks like something a four-year-old paints with their fingers. I just rode in the back of the taxi and looked around. The place was probably the newest and cleanest place I had ever seen. It certainly beat Baghdad all to hell, that was for sure. I paid the driver when we got to the hotel, and it seemed like a lot for what wasn’t much more than twenty-some minutes, but I really didn’t care. Money had become a little abstract to me in Anaconda Three, and at the rate I was seeing action and getting shot at, I probably wouldn’t be needing a whole lot more cash before the hajjis got lucky and scragged my ass.

The one thing I wasn’t sure of was whether a room had been reserved in my name or Kelly’s. In her last email she had told me she expected to arrive the day before I got in, but there hadn’t been much in the way of details. To be honest, the place looked phenomenally expensive. I was simply so glad to be somewhere other than Iraq that I’d be enthusiastic about a pup tent. I got in line and made my way to the desk, getting several odd looks at my lack of luggage. A very pretty and young lady was at the desk. “Welcome to the Abu Dhabi Sheraton, sir.”

“Thank you. I am supposed to have a reservation, but I’m not sure what name it’s under. Do you have a reservation for Graham Reaper?”

“Let me check on that, sir.” She typed into a computer console and after a minute, looked up and said, “No, sir, I’m sorry. Nothing under that name. You said there might be a different name?” She had a most apologetic look to her.

“Try Kelly O’Connor.”

She looked that up, and suddenly her face lit up. “Yes, sir. Ms. O’Connor checked in yesterday.”

“Great! That’s the one. If you just give me a key and point me in the right direction, I can find my way up.”

“Luggage?” I simply lifted my gym bag and showed it to her. “Let me call and check.” She picked up a phone.

I shrugged acceptance. I suppose it wasn’t a good policy to just hand out keys to hotel rooms without checking first. I only heard the desk clerk’s side of the conversation, except for a loud squeal when she informed Kelly a guest was here. A few seconds later she looked at me and smiled. “Ms. O’Connor said to stay right here, and she’ll be right down.”

“Thank you.”

She laughed. “It sounds like you haven’t seen each other in a long while.”

I nodded and smiled. “Not since last July. I’ve been a little busy, in a place not as nice as this one.”

“Well, welcome to the Sheraton and welcome to Abu Dhabi. If there is anything we can do for you, just let us know.”

“Thank you very much.” I moved out of the way so that she could assist the person behind me, but I didn’t go far.

It wasn’t long before one of the elevator doors opened and let out a red-headed whirlwind. She came running across the lobby, none too sedately, and almost launched herself into my arms. “Grim, Grim! I’ve missed you so much. You’re here, you’re here!” She was wrapped around me, crying into my shoulder. “You’re alive, you’re alive!”

I thought about making a smart-mouth comment about how the Iraqis couldn’t kill somebody as wonderful as the Grim Reaper but bit my tongue. That was the same thing Specialist Frank Oswald had said once, and later that afternoon an IED had taken out the Humvee he was riding in. Frank had gotten a ride home to Cucamonga by way of the fine folk in Mortuary Affairs at Dover Air Force Base. Ooops! Instead, I simply rubbed her back and hugged her. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s all right. I’m fine,” I told her.

Around us a few people stared, but nobody said anything. After a moment, I turned back to the reception counter and waited for the young lady there to finish with her current customer. When she was free, I asked, “Maybe I can get a key now.”

“Of course, sir.” She handed over a box of tissues to Kelly. “Would that be all right, Ms. O’Connor?”

Kelly wiped her eyes and nodded. “Yes, please. Oh my God, I must look like I’m crazy or something.”

“You look great. Don’t worry,” I told her. Kelly blew her nose and wiped her eyes, ending up with a handful of tissues. She wouldn’t let go of me, though, even to throw them away.

The clerk handed me a key card and I thanked her, and then Kelly led me back to the elevators. We detoured slightly towards a trash can, where she deposited the tissues. “I don’t want to let you go!” she told me.

“You need to calm down. We have seven days here and I plan to be with you the entire time,” I told her.

Kelly kept an arm around my waist the entire ride up to our floor, and we walked that way down the hall to our room. I let us in and followed her inside. Once there, she wrapped herself around me again. “I just want to hold you, Grim. I have missed you so much!” She began crying again, shaking with the sobs.

At that point I decided to make up for about six months of lost time. I pulled her over to the bed and we let nature take its course. Then it took its course a second time. And a third time. At that point I gasped out a subdued, “Wow!”

“I guess so!” she answered with a giggle. “Is this the plan for the entire time you’re here? Room service, three meals a day?”

“Wow!” I repeated.

“Okay, that counted as a wow. Think we can keep the wow going the rest of the week?”

“A man needs a goal.” I rolled over and smiled at her. “Twenty years from now, when we’re trying to fool around and keep the kids from catching us, are we going to still be able to do a wow?”

Kelly started laughing at that. “What are you going to do when you catch your kids trying to do wow?”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “My sons I’ll applaud. My daughters I will ground, right after I kill their boyfriends.”

“Like my father tried to kill you?” she giggled. “Oh, by the way, he says hello. Mom, too.”

I blinked at that. “Your father knows about this trip?”

“Grim, get real! You think my mother wouldn’t tell him I was flying halfway around the world? Where do you think I got the money for this? He might not like it, but he didn’t try to stop me. In fact, he was the one who told me about the Sheraton and Etihad Airlines. He’s been over here himself, on business.”

“Huh.” I thought for a second and asked, “So, how much do I owe him for this?”

“Grim!”

“Kelly, I need to pay my own way. Your father wouldn’t respect me if I didn’t. Not that I’m all that sure how much he respects me anyway. That’s a different topic, I suppose.”

Kelly laughed. “If I pay, does that make you my boy toy? I kind of like that idea!”

I snorted. “Considering my regular residence at the moment, boy toy sounds a whole lot better. A pup tent out on the lawn of this place would be an improvement.”

“Well, boy toy, I’ll let you know what you owe me. We can work out a rate for the wow you provide. Maybe you can earn a discount.”

I groaned and moved to spank her, but she rolled off the bed. “I need to take a shower, and then I want some dinner. For some reason, I’m starving!”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “I’ll wash your back.”

Kelly giggled some more and scampered into the bathroom. The shower was a large glass-enclosed cube, and two people weren’t anywhere near the limit to how many people could use it together. We cleaned up, eventually, and then dried off. I wrapped my towel around my waist and went out into the room. Before I had other things on my mind, but now I looked around. It wasn’t just a room, but a small suite, with a sitting/living room at the entrance, and a large bedroom to one side. One entire wall was glass and faced a beach. I just stood there looking out when Kelly’s voice turned me around. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I said that I brought you some clothing from home. I went to your house and brought you a bag.”

“Thank you! That’s great. I figured I would have to go out tomorrow and pick some stuff up. All I’ve been wearing for months now are beat-up ACUs.”

“A-C-whats?” she asked.

“ACUs. Army Combat Uniforms. It’s what the stylish soldier wears when fighting insurgents.”

“Oh.” She looked at me standing there in nothing but a towel, and she got quiet. “You’ve been hurt. Again!” she said, eyeing the scar on my left cheek.

“Not too bad. I’ll tell you over dinner, babe. It’s a long, long story. Come on, let’s get dressed. Where’s the clothes you brought me?”

I was able to find a pair of khakis, a dress shirt, and a sports coat. Kelly found a knee length dress and some heels. She was dressed more conservatively than I remembered, and I commented on it as we rode down the elevator. She blushed and said, “The guidebooks said that we needed to dress modestly. Even though it’s modern, Abu Dhabi is still Islamic, and you need to dress modestly. Dresses should be knee length, and should not be sleeveless or shoulder-baring, that sort of thing. I had to bring the PG-rated swimsuits.”