True, in Iraq they don’t make you sit for hours in your helicopter waiting for take off like a big airliner might, but things can get inconvenient or even interfere with military operations. It was five years ago during the invasion that the march of U.S. troops toward Baghdad was briefly suspended for dust storms. Tonight we can tell from the unusual silence around the capital that the helicopters that support troops on the ground have been grounded for hours.
One of the similarities between interruptions in helicopter travel here and airline travel in the United States is that passengers rarely know what’s going on–though it seems somewhat more excusable in a war. Last night NEWSWEEK colleague Silvia Spring and an Iraqi photographer were headed to embed with a Marine unit in western Iraq. Their “show time,” the military equivalent of a check in time, was 9:30 p.m. (flights usually leave an hour or two later). She was skeptical they would make it out. When they arrived to the helicopter landing zone inside the Green Zone–an expansive pavement with a few hangers and a trailer for a check-in office–it was the quietest she’d ever seen. The benches outside, usually packed with soldiers and their gear, were empty, and the small indoor office and waiting area were also quiet. The white board used for tracking flights was wiped clean of schedules, and scrawled across it was “ALL FLIGHTS ON WEATHER HOLD.” They were told that they wouldn’t know for sure that their delayed flight was canceled until 4 a.m.
It was time to settle in for some satellite television. Appropriately, a cop movie called “Murphy’s Law” came on. At least it had Arabic subtitles so our photographer could follow along. The desk manager told Spring, “If it was an Army flight, I’d tell you to go home right now . . . But with the Marines, you never know.” One of the three soldiers still hoping for flights had already taken the only US Weekly in the pile of old magazines, leaving a September issue of NEWSWEEK. At 12:30, the desk manager put “Casino Royale” in the DVD player. Just after 2 a.m., salvation came in the form of a new weather warning that would almost surely ground all flights the following day as well. She could at least come back to the bureau for some sleep.
I was in a similar jam at an Army base in the Iraqi north last week. Soldiers on patrol were keeping track on their radios for whether they could count on helicopters to keep an eye on their routes or evacuate them if injured. I heard about other reporters in limbo at various bases or, for those at air bases, being wait-listed on airplane flights that were also getting packed with stranded would-be helicopter fliers. Some were waiting days. My flight out was in doubt.
Two generals, including Maj. Gen. Kevin Bergner, a senior Army spokesman, came to visit the small base. They ended up getting grounded for the evening. That meant I had to give up my guest trailer for them and move into a small wood shack with a bed and some piles of boxes – and a good heater, fortunately. But it was all worth it. In the morning I was able to hitch a ride with Bergner back to Baghdad, who had extra seats (they were talking about bumping someone for my other route out). On arrival, the landing pad was crowded with soldiers and contractors trying to score a flight amid a short break in the weather.
