posted @ 16:36...

Following the Army's longstanding tradition of not keeping Soldiers well-informed, I am stuck here at Patrol Base ______, having just heard that tomorrow's convoy back to the place where I live has been cancelled. Nobody bothered to tell me this, of course, before I came up here. That's okay. There are worse places to spend the next 36 hours. There's a dining facility here. There are toilets, there's a bed for me to sleep in, and of course, there are a few computers with Web connections.

Stepping outside here reminds me once again how close this place is to the local national population. The Muslim prayer chants emanate from the loudspeakers in the minerets. It sounds a lot like you'd hear in movies about the Middle East. I wish I could record a sample and put it here online. Or you could watch Team America: World Police, and wait for the part where they go to Cairo to gather intel about the terrorists. That's sorta what it sounds like (but without the "Durka-durka! Mohammed Jihad!").

Sometimes staying inside reminds me of the same thing: Standing just 5 feet from me are three Iraqi photocopier repair men. They're chattering in Arabic about, I assume, the best way to fix the ancient Canon.