The Midnight Hour

(Originally published in the New York Times select on March 26, 2006 - link)

Last week I discovered the Camp Falluja junkyard. It was glorious.

SSgt Williamson finds a kevlar. Gunny Johns and
Cpl Morris continue digging for treasure.

As our HMMWV turned the corner and I caught my first glimpse of this vast expanse I heard the playing of “Hallelujah” and saw a radiant white light shine down from heaven upon the scores of deadlined vehicles, discarded parts and general detritus that filled the place. It was a sight to make any gearhead shed a tear. Gunny cursed out loud in excitement from the seat behind me. We had found our Mecca.

The junkyard covers at least 25 acres.

While my paycheck is currently earned by moonlighting as a professional warrior, I will always be an engineer at heart. There’s just something about having to dig through piles of other people’s rubbish to discover a nugget of gold that excites the thrifty engineer within.

My SNCOIC (staff non-commissioned officer in charge, second in charge of my team) is a gearhead much like myself. We both spent our high school days (his much earlier than mine) scouring junkyards in our hometowns for parts to boost the performance of our cars, to sell for profit, or to just build something cool. We both quickly agreed that while we were ecstatic about the find, we wished it was located at home where we could put it to use on our personal projects. We then agreed — even more quickly — that our wives would be quite happy that it was not at home, but here in Falluja, preventing us from filling our garages with tons of metallic goodies.

We came there with an agenda — to look for a specific piece for the turret of our HMMWV. We found it in one of the first mounds we perused. One of my marines pulled the HMMWV up to our position and lifted the heavy steel apparatus onto the bed. With our primary goal achieved, anything we could find beyond that would be icing on the cake.

Looking inside an overturned hard shell for an unarmored HMMWV we discovered a 1,000-watt DC-AC power inverter. Score! We haven’t tested it yet, but if it works it will find a home in a lucky HMMWV, or maybe be used as a spare in case another inverter breaks. We found lots of storage containers: metal, wooden, and plastic. Someone had dumped a mass of metal-lined plastic vats that are normally used for serving hot chow in the field. I wanted to turn them into weapons cleaning vats, but couldn’t think of a place to procure solvent. I found many other things that I didn’t have an immediate use for, but marked in my brain for a future trip. Next time I will bring my G.P.S. and make a log of where each particular goody is located.

Halfway through the trip we started to find even more interesting items such as a kevlar helmet (no doubt some marine got a thorough chewing-out for losing it), a light grey beret that one of my marines decided to wear for the remainder of our trip, and plenty of UXO (unexploded ordnance). It’s generally considered dangerous stuff, as you can never tell if it’s really a dud or if it’s just biding it’s time waiting for the right gust of wind to set it off. Before we deployed we got a UXO brief that scared the bejesus out of me. The E.O.D. (explosive ordnance disposal) guys give you the brief, and they include plenty of graphic pictures of what can happen when you play with UXO. It’s not pretty. I’m a big fan of all my appendages, so my marines and I follow the rule that if you don’t know what it is, don’t pick it up.

Unexploded ordnance. These particular pieces of
UXO look to be artillery shells. Fun!

We encountered many shades of gray during our treasure hunt, such as an expended AT-4 anti-tank rocket launcher that I had to move to get to a prize. I got training on the AT-4 during T.B.S. (The Basic School, introductory officer training), so I made sure to steer clear of the devices that armed and fired the weapon, and I kept myself away from both the back-blast and business ends of the weapon. When I picked it up to move it I quickly realized it was empty, and was relieved. I went on to spy small mortar rounds, medium and heavy artillery rounds, and an immense number of 120-millimeter mortar storage canisters (which are harmless). We also found about 500 miniature chem lights (glow sticks), which have a multitude of uses, and two gypsy racks for the rear of our HMMWVs to store fuel and spare tires in.

Expended Anti-tank (AT-4) rocket.

During our excursion I also came upon tons of HMMWV doors, hoods, and panels. In one section of the junkyard there were scores of old, canvas doors apparently dumped in favor of the armored type. We also found armored doors, sometimes with significant small arms scarring. I was delighted to see that the panels had always done their job — the bullets had never been allowed to enter the cab. One deadlined civilian truck was not so lucky. Bullet holes strafed the windshield, but amazingly left most of the glass intact. I don’t think the occupant was very happy with the results.

Nice tread on those brand new tires…

Before we left I managed to snag another rolling chair for our workplace. We are desperately short on those, and they keep breaking every day. Just last week I was sitting in one and without warning — THWACK! — I was on my back on the floor. Someone grasped my hand and tried to lift me back upright, but ended up dragging the chair across the floor with me in it. Finally I executed a backwards roll to get out of the predicament. I am sitting in the junkyard chair now, and it’s certainly better than nothing.

The Camp Falluja junkyard is quite an expansive place, and it is definitely going to take more than one trip to fully appreciate all its recyclable glory. As we pulled back into work I could hear the theme from “Sanford and Son” playing in my head. If only we had been driving a red clunker instead of an olive drab HMMWV. Red Foxx would have been proud.

Corporal Morris’ Ghetto Beret. What is this, the French Foreign Legion?