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This story is about
the Kuwaiti Navy and Coast Guard. Something that you
have to know about the Kuwaiti Navy and CG is that
there are only three things that they are afraid of.
The Ocean. The Dark. And each other. When I was told
that I was being sent out to act as a liaison
officer for NSW assets in the Persian Gulf. Man, I
thought I had hit the big time. Like my years of
experience were not only being recognized but also
rewarded. Little did I know. they just needed a form
of maritime referee to keep our guys from getting
shot up by friendlies. But what is it that they say
about friendly fire? Basically the job was for one
of our guys to ride on each of the Kuwaiti boats
with a radio and a GPS and watch the Radar. We would
look at course and speed of contacts and then come
up on the radio and say “hey you this is me. Are you
around this lat long? Going this fast? On this
course?” When the answer was affirmed then we would
tell the Kuwaitis to “STOP POINTING YOUR FUCKING
GUNS IN THAT DIRECTION!” It went on all night but
the operation was a success because we kept those
dipshits gainfully employed doing nothing long
enough for our guys to get some real work done.
We were living at Ras
Al Kwaliah which already had a reputation because a
week before GW-1 a group of Iraqis came over for a
“Grip and Grin” to their base.. Not only were they
given a tour they were allowed to take pictures and
notes. Needless to say they showed up a week later
in the form of an amphibious assault on Prayer Day
of all days. Being that it was a prayer day there
was a skeleton crew aboard. It was a pretty easy
takeover. Story is that they came ashore and asked
who was in charge and when the CDO said, “I’m in
charge” they killed him. Pretty much set the tone
for the rest of the day. Then they just walked into
admin, got the command roster and recalled everyone.
Genius! But remember this is second hand information
told to me by Kuwaiti Navy Officers who in my humble
opinion are kings of bullshit. Very tough leaders
when sitting with a bunch of Americans but honestly
as far as leadership goes, these guys couldn’t lead
a band of fags to a dick suckin party. This base was
a sore spot in their history because the enemy had
played the ultimate Okey doke on them so when you
came aboard in those days you needed to know the
secret handshake. They didn’t even give slack to
their American protectors. That would have been a
good thing to tell us before we got there.
Unfortunately our American representative there was
about one hundred and fifty years old and still a
LCDR. He listened to marching band music and would
start humming loudly to his favorite selection… in
the middle of a brief. He had strange little
figurines in his office and held entire
conversations with himself. He had about as good a
job as he was ever going to get and was completely
insane. During the long unintelligible rambling of
our first meeting he never told us that the gate
guards would fuckin shoot you until you died from it
if you didn’t first stop your vehicle turn off the
lights and hold your hands out the window with your
ID cards showing. Thanks Grandpa. We survived but
having a Kuwaiti screw his rifle barrel into my ear
yelling in Arabic (I hadn’t been to language school
yet) really reallllllly pissed me off.
We continued to ride
the boats and after a while out of sheer boredom
found our way over to the gym where there were
stacks and of unused workout equipment covered in
dust and cigarette butts. There was a basketball
court that they used to play indoor soccer. I was
impressed we finally found something they could do
well besides sleep, smoke and fondle each other. It
got hot and some of the guys were removing their
shirts. Immediately I noticed a majority of these
guys had some serious scars to their upper bodies.
Long curving scars from their chests straight across
and some with them starting at their chest and
crossing down to their abdomen. As little respect as
I had for these guys I did have to bring myself back
to the realization that these guys are from the
Middle East. War is something very familiar to them.
Rather than look away I asked a few of them.
Assuming that these were battle wounds I asked. So
where were you when you were shot. The one looked
back at me puzzled. “I was not shot Mr. Steve.”
“No?” I said. “That’s a pretty big scar. And he has
one. And he has one too. These aren’t scars from the
invasion of Kuwait?” I asked. “No Mr. Steve” they
said together. “These are from our machine guns”.
“The machine guns?” I yelled.” What Machine guns?
The ;50s?”… At this point I know that anyone that is
reading this that is a Boatguy is already thinking
the same thing right? They’re not timing their
fuckin 50’s. I pulled out a headspace and a timing
key that I always kept in my pocket, held it up in
the air and said. “Do any of you know what this is?”
Not a sound. I told them that they needed to
headspace and time their 50’s or more of them are
going to get blown up. They told me that Allah would
time their weapons. Ok. Can’t argue with that.
The next day we are
out and I’m on the flying bridge of the Sambuk a
Kuwaiti Patrol boat and we are heading toward the
K.A.A. I’ve got a plugger in my lap and three radios
in my ear and I’m playing referee duty again. I’m in
between the two 50 cal gunners about one foot on
either side of me. I guess they saw a bump in the
ocean and I heard both of them simultaneously rack a
round in the chamber. All I could think about were
the guys in the Gym the day before and their
exploding machine guns. I un-assed that flying
bridge quick.
This operation went on a few days
longer and I guess it was successful. I was on the
sidelines baby-sitting Kuwaitis and keeping them
busy while our guys went and did real work. We had
some down time so we headed to Camp Doha to check
out their PX. They had Gatorade and sunflower seeds
and Copenhagen, everything a Boat guy needs. It was
about an hour drive from Ras Al Kwualiah up the
seventh ring road. About half way there I can hear
Chris Moore talking to himself in the back of the
Suburban, Joe Riffey is driving. I turn around to
see what he is babbling about and I see that he has
a video camera and is doing his own narration. He
turns the camera on me and says “and here is Steve.
Tell us what you think Steve.”
Ok. You gotta stay with me on this
part… In 1993 I was in Jordan for a big exercise. It
was us and the Jordanian Navy and Jordanian Army and
we were all staying together in tents at the Navy
Base. One night I was standing watch around our
little part of the camp and unfortunately I was
wearing night vision because on that night I got a
full night vision view of just how far two Arabs
will take a game of “grab ass”… without getting too
graphic. Everyone has heard the stories I’m just
sorry I had to see it. The next day I was told to go
into town with a Jordanian Army Sgt. and get gas for
the fuel bladders. This guy spoke pretty good
English and on the way to town we talked and he
seemed pretty squared away as well as in a
leadership position so I decided to ask him. (Big
mistake) what the hell was wrong with his people and
why the hell did he let his guys run around at night
playing pin the tail on the new guy?? HE BECAME
ENRAGED!! He glared at me and said. ”Mr. Steve. If
we find a man who is a homosex all the men take him
to the high building and we throw him off!! Then all
the man take a stone and put it to his head until he
die from it!! Because we don’t like a goddamn
HOMOSEX MAN!!” I sat back and was thinking. Ok hot
shot. Whatever. And couldn’t help but think of that
line.. Thou doth protest too much. Ya know?
Ok. So now were back in the
Suburban going to Camp Doha, Chris has the camera in
my face and I say, ”Mr. Chris.. If we find a man
that is Homosex all the men take him to the high
building and throw him off. Then all the men put a
stone to his head until he die from it!! Because we
don’t like a HOMOSEX MAN!!” I followed it up by
giving my personal opinion… We all got a big laugh
out of my impersonation and went to Camp Doha got
our Scooby snacks and hauled ass back to Ras Al
Kwualia. We new the secret handshake at this point
and smoothed right into the base. It was prayer day
so it was a pretty mellow afternoon. Chris decided
to take a walk down toward the water with his camera
in hand. He was narrating and shooting video but
damn those Kuwaitis still weren’t over getting their
ass handed to them seven years earlier by alleged
“friends”, The base security folks converged on poor
Chris and wanted to know what he was doing with a
camera. After a little discussion they said that it
would be ok if they were able to view the footage he
had so far just to ensure that he was a “friend of
Kuwait.” If everything was cool, he could have his
camera back. Chris said. “No problem”. So they took
the camera and Chris came back to the barracks and
told us what happened. He said. “There’s nothing on
there to worry about. Oh shit. Except for Steve
doing his impression of HOMOSEX MAN!!” Next thing I
know I’m talking to a Chief who started out by
saying. “Look.. You may have to leave the country.
Quickly”… Apparently the upper echelon of the
Kuwaiti Navy Base didn’t appreciate my humor. |
