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From Area 51 to poolside at Saddam's palace

Baghdad, April 3,
10:50 p.m.

Thanks to bad weather, engine problems and war-zone bureaucracy, it took us about 28 hours to get from Kuwait to Baghdad's Green Zone. We flew from a Kuwait air base informally known as Area 51 - a bleak and isolated stretch of desert - to the military side of Baghdad International Airport in a noisy, bouncing C-130.

Thunderstorms had turned Baghdad into a vast mudscape. The mud collects on the bottom of your shoes, making you 3 inches taller instantly. And it doesn't want to come off.

After about 12 hours at waterlogged Camp Striker, next to the airport, we caught the Rhino, which looks like a Winnebago made of lead plate. It left for the Green Zone in the pre-dawn, with Apache helicopters providing overhead security and armed Humvees leading the way. Any insurgents in the vicinity were apparently asleep.

The best part of today: We had dinner at the chow hall now operating at one of Saddam's old palaces.

The palace is a grandiose marvel of artisanship, pomposity and bad taste. Saddam's preferences in murals apparently ran to black stallions and ballistic missiles. He liked his ceilings high and inlaid with tile. His portrait still hangs in one of the great parlors, but it's covered in canvas.

Out back, the pool is a sparkling blue. You can take your dinner poolside and pretend you're dictator for a day. We had fish, peas and ice cream.

After dinner, photographer Michael Mulvey and I tried to board a helicopter flight to Forward Operating Base Kalsu, south of Baghdad, our next reporting spot. But all flights were full, so we'll try again tomorrow.

Until then, we'll get some sleep. We've managed to snag about three hours of sack time in the last 48.

Posted by Doug Swanson  at 1:47 PM (E-mail this entry)

In Baghdad, wearing a flak jacket and ... flip-flops?

We assembled ourselves in the early-morning hours at an airbase not listed on any civilian maps. Our day started early and ended late. It was like traveling through an airport yet altogether different. There is not a lot to look at on a C-130; there's no window seat, and the rumble of the plane is loud enough that we were issued earplugs. We encountered several delays, including weather and maintenance for the plane.

After we landed in Baghdad, I had to scramble in tight quarters to gather my gear. My legs were almost asleep from sitting in the narrow webbed seating. I hopped off the back of the plane and then realized I was carrying my flak jacket. Everyone had sat on theirs during transport since the area most likely to be hit in the air is quite obvious. Reality hits you pretty fast when you realize you are in the Green Zone without a flak jacket on. Guess what I did next?

There is a surreal sense of security because everything seems so secure.

But you do realize where you are.

The rains Sunday had left everything in a state of muck. We sloshed our way around Camp Striker, getting checked in. We were issued a cot for a couple of hours that felt like heaven. The weather turned cold, but it's really not worth complaining about.

Helicopter transports were made, so we prepared for the worst. That was another early-morning ride but on a armored bus known as the “Rhino.” This solid beast made of quarter-inch steel is the answer to safe transport into the Green Zone. It looks like an armored Winnebego. It only runs around dawn and in the black of night. A picture can be taken on the outside but no photos are allowed inside. All riders have to wear a vest and helmet. It is the answer to the IED.

Now having been up for the better part of a day, I tried to stay awake as we rumbled through the streets of Baghdad and made our way to the Green Zone. I found myself nodding off to sleep but consisently waking up as my top-heavy head bobbed about.

We arrived in a cold, wet parking lot, and we were picked up by public affairs. We began to make our way through the zig-zagged streets of the zone in an armored Chevy Suburban. After arriving at our temporary quarters, a shower was in order and I think I made it to bed about 6 a.m. Breakfast was being served at 6:30 a.m. but sleep sounded better than food at that moment.

A unique opportunity was presented at 9 a.m. The unique part was the official standing next to my bed telling me about it. With a short rest of three hours, I was notified that Condoleezza Rice would hold a news conference in a matter of minutes. Now I felt really good that I had taken a shower just hours before. My boots were trashed with mud from the previous day. So with little time to spare, I went for the shower flip-flops. They would have to do. I wonder if Condoleezza noticed?

Posted by Michael Mulvey  at 7:31 AM (E-mail this entry)