Embedded journalism from the front lines of
Afghanistan & Iraq ~ by Mike & Carlos Boettcher

We arrived at Apache late at night, and as with War Eagle, our view of the COP was obscured by darkness. I couldn’t see clearly out the window because of the backpack in my lap, but I caught a glimpse of an enormous building, and remembered that Apache was next door to a palace once occupied by one of Saddam’s wives. I hoped to get a better look at it in daylight, looking at the palaces was always an interesting experience; some of the decor was so gaudy it would have made Liberace blush, but there was no discounting the impressive scale to which he built his homes.

We unpacked with little difficulty, and made our way up a narrow concrete flight of steps, searching for anyone who could give us direction. We were used to this process, anywhere we went it seemed like we took out hosts by surprise,  which was no real burden to us. We managed to find the TOC (Tactical Operations Center), which was surprisingly close, and in short order we were led down another flight of stairs, into the basement, in search of beds for us to rack out in.

A door was opened and we got out first look at our home for the next few days, a dark, cellar-like room, the only lighting coming from the soft, unequal glow of computer monitors. It was a single large space divided into many smaller areas with the help of sheets, plywood, and careful placement of bunks; our bunks were located in a narrow strip between two larger areas, the forgotten corner of the basement. I knew it wasn’t the intention, but I felt a bit like an unwanted stepchild, sent to sleep between the radiators in the dark.

Though at this point I didn’t really care where I slept as long as it wasn’t wet, or scorching hot. The basement fulfilled both conditions admirably, although the air was swollen with the peculiar scent of too many men stacked into an unventilated room. I probably contributed a good portion of the smell though, after a day of traveling I could get pretty ripe. I scrambled up to the top bunk, and shucked off the top half of my uniform, crumpling it into a makeshift pillow. I lay back, and started to fall asleep.

I was woken after onlya  few minutes by a Captain who had come to meet us. His name was Cpt. Ingram, and he was the Attack Company XO (Executive Officer). He gave us a brief outline of what would be going on, and asked us a few questions. I nodded at what I hoped were the right points, to be honest I had barely been able to put together a word he said in my half-dazed state. I did gather that he had a plan, and at that moment, it was all I needed. I lay my head down and drifted off to sleep, excited to finally be at Apache.