Another night crew "Kodak Moment" This time Ssgt Santee, Cpl Brophy, Sgt Artus, Sgt. Ervin and Cpl Mitchell. Santee and Ervin were two of our few WM (women Marines). Several were very good at their jobs. A few were nearly suicidal.

As you can see there was a shortage of desert colored cammies, and next to no desert colored coats (I guess the designers though, "hmm, desert equals hot, no need for coats.") Everyone was a mix of sand and forest when we went through the cold months.

ASP #5 (Khanjar) January or February 1991.

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A "Kodak Moment" at ASP #3 at the washracks. Gulnac, in the cab, would drive the 10,000 pound fork around with enough ammo to take out a city block. Around the inspection area were several large pads of concrete where we hosed down the dirty, grimy 8-inch rounds.

Cpls Evans, Schell, and Maness helped with various jobs and duties, including banding, unbanding, sorting inventory, loading, and wishing we were all home.

From his vantage point, Gulnac could see alot, but still needed a ground guide. This is where my limited knowlege of American Sign Language (Ameslan) came in very handy. Gulnac picked it up like a master. One day the little fork needed to be hauled around, so a civilian inspector asked me to climb up the 10K and tell Gulnac to lift it up and carry it away. Rather than waste the energy, I signed to him:

"Gulnac? You Daddy fork?"

"Yeah, me Daddy fork."

"This baby fork?"I asked pointing to the fork lift in need of a ride.

"Yeah, OK that 'baby fork,'" he laughed.

"Daddy fork pick up baby. Put on truck. OK?"

"No big deal." He swooped in, dropped the forks and scooped up the "baby fork" and set it on the waiting truck.

The civilian almost dropped his dentures, that Gulnac could get this weird message in seconds from 20 feet away. He was the man!

ASP #3 (Al Mishab) April 1991.

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Mitchell and I after a long 12-hour day. We should be sleeping, instead we are goofing around with the camera, chips from home, and for some reason my Star Trek communicator pin. You can see we were getting pretty loopy. This was when we had enough hootches (tents) for everyone. Later, as the man power dwindled, we were moved into progressively more crowded digs, as tents were packed back up for the states. During my last month I was actually in a tent with a concrete pad floor--LUXURY! No scorpions, bugs, or the chip stealing kangaroo rats to deal with!

ASP #5 (Khanjar) February or March 1991.

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One of a hundred ammo areas of ASP #3 (Ammo Supply Point). A segregation area, this line was used for sorting and a low level inspection. Different grades or compatible ammo was stored in a berm in one of the dozens and dozens of acres. One thing the King of Saudi Arabia was able to give us was land! The storage of ammo was based on keeping stuff far away enough that if one area exploded it wouldn't take out the whole ASP. Fortunately the worst "accident" I saw here was when Quinn got a pallete of 8-inch projectiles dropped on a toe. 8-inch in diameter, these rounds weighed almost 80 pounds each and each pallet held 8 of them banded together. Quinn laughed as his boot filled with blood.

ASP #3 (Al Mishab) March, April, or May 1991.

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Cpl Emminger standing in front of a baby fork lift (4,000 pounder).

Great guy, his wife was pregnant when we were deployed. She was a WM (woman Marine) and had the baby girl before he got back. I had the honor of meeting Miss Brittany Emminger just a week before her Daddy did. Man, I cannot believe that "baby bunny" is now 10 years old!

ASP #3 (Al Mishab) April or May 1991.

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Here's a berm full of ammo destined for destruction. It was one of several berms, at one of 4 ASP's just for the Marines of the northern area. Multiple that for the Air Force, Army, and Navy and multiple that by the US, UK, French, and Arabians. There was a whole lot of ammo.

ASP #3 (Al Mishab) May 1991.

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Sgt Owen and a family of refugees. They were Arabian (not the higher class Saudi Arabian) and were looking for food and water. They came in a dusty station wagon and just drove right up to us since we were along a major "road" to Kuwait. They let me take a picture, as long as Mom stayed hidden behind Dad.

"Dad" didn't speak any more english than "George Boosh!" which he proclaimed hands high, and "Saddam!" spit on the ground. Yeah, we gave him water and some MREs.

ASP #5 (Khanjar) March 1991.

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A Corporal from Rome, Georgia displaying two captured Russian rifles. Sorry, Phil Donahue, the Russians, did in fact supply arms to the enemy...

A hummer behind displays the "A" Allies symbol. I had marked my sea bag with a similar symbol a year before but that "A" stood for Artus. I was styling before it was cool...

ASP #5 (Khanjar) March 1991.

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At the washracks at the civilian inspection area we have some captured Russian Ammo. Sorry, Phil Donahue, the Russians did supply the enemy with arms as well as tanks.

ASP #3 (Al Mishab) April or May 1991.

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This was our Bomb Shelter at ASP (Ammunition Supply Point) #3, near the Saudi City of Al Mishab, near the Kuwaiti border, along the Gulf. I'm guessing this is around April or May of 1991.

It also served as a chapel for a short period of time.

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