These three conex boxes were the "command" area of ASP #5 (Ammuniton Supply Point) at what was called Khanjar. Ruled by General Krulak (a half decade before he was the Commandant of the Marine Corps) this base was loaded with supplies in various areas. Our ammo section was in the south west corner of a huge rectangle. To the north was basic supplies, a medical area, and the "mall."

From the Mall General Krulak coordinated supplies needed by various Marine forces, including strike force Ripper and Pappa Bear. The mall itself was a cluster of conex boxes aligned together and covered with plywood and sandbags. Each box was an office or department. I was there twice during the entire war. I was recruited to work in the ammo supply liason's section, but was denied by ASP #5's commander. I didn't have the experience to serve as well as the Marine that held the post, so it was for the best.

In the background you can see our head facilities.

ASP #5 (Khanjar) February 1991.

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A very dead Iraqi tank. For some reason Saddam thought burying his tanks in various locations would serve him well. Sure, if you had thousands that could act as sentries and be mobile too. As they were, they made great targets. They "glowed" to heat sensors and couldn't move when the munitions started dropping on them.

Kuwait March 1991.

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What is left of a Kuwaiti radio tower. It seemed anything of value was destroyed or stolen from this tiny country.

March 1991

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Cpl Villegas. Great guy, funny, smart. He got out of the Corps within a year of the war, married a beautiful woman, and settled down in Charlotte. I missed the ceremony by a matter of hours but did get to see the video (instant replay) at the after the reception get together.

In the background are 10K and 4K fork lifts and even a duece and a half (2.5 ton truck)

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

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And what about the damaged ammo, or ammo that would not survive the voyage back to the States? After inspection failure it was loaded up (carefully) and taken about 8 miles from ASP #3. There a hole was dug and under the watchful eyes of Marines trained to really break things, we filled a "blow pit."

Here you see Lcpl Cerqua climbing out after one of dozens of trips down into this miniature ammo supply point. Cerqua is a second-generation Marine. Dry witted and smart, he didn't put on that his father was a decorated Marine. In fact, his dad trained our First Sergeant way back in Vietnam. Hence the term "Cerqua-Trained" that we used way past its humor...

ASP #3 (Al Mishab) April 1991.

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We just kept bringing out more and more ammo, all carefully placed around and around a central core. It was a long hot duty, that few Marines liked to be assigned to. I had the fortune of only getting put on the crew once. I think I ticked off the other sergeants by actually helping carry ammo off the trucks. My stupid theory? If my men are working I should be too. (Not that I did work whenever they did. I fell asleep several times during night crew, and once during an "important meeting" of 10 sergeants.)

ASP #3 (Al Mishab) April 1991.

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After all the trucks were unloaded of their unserviceable ammo, line charges were laced across. Line charges were used to open up breaches in the Iraqi front lines. Launched like a rope tied to an arrow, these explosives laid out a snake of destruction. When ignited it took out any obstruction, soldier, or land mine around, opening a safe passage for tanks, trucks, and artillery.

Here the line charges were a simple and effective wick...

The vehicle in the background is one of the trucks from Germany. Great vehicles; too bad the instructions were all written in incomprehensible German...

ASP #3 (Al Mishab) April 1991.

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After the line charges were ignited you could feel the concussion of all that ammo exploding at once. This shot was from 3 miles away. Even 8 miles away the charges would rattle the roofing tiles of the chow hall. One particular explosion hit right at dinner time and we watched the tall roof flutter up and down like a mini tornado had come through the area.

ASP #3 (Al Mishab) April 1991.

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One of my favorite pictures, this polaroid shot is of several members of the night crew posing for one of my infamous "Kodak Moments." We are gathered around a Sea-Bee (naval engineer) built picnic table near a line of hootches (tents) at ASP #3 near Al Mishab, Saudi Arabia. Back row: Quinn, Cerqua, Artus, and Villegas. Front row: Colicioppo ("Oppo") and Gulnac. All corporals but Artus (a sergeant). These guys were the best, and funniest Jarheads I ever had the privilege of working with. Quinn was a take-no-prisoners laugh riot, who would do ANYTHING for a laugh--but also knew how to take care of his ammo. Cerqua, a second-generation Marine, had a dry wit and a sharp mind. Villegas could turn any day into a comedy session--or story hour--but he knew his ammo backwards and forwards. Oppo was the funniest man in country. A native New Yorker he had no problem turning every situation into its own private joke--brilliant guy. Gulnac, a little more reserved than the rest, but a great man--he could drive any fork any time, and picked up Ameslan like a first language.

May 1991, one of our last times together.

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ARAMCO, an American oil company in Saudi Arabia, had a large number of sequestered employees--Americans. After the war they held a barbeque for us. The cooked hamburger and hotdogs, provided soft drinks (because alcohol was forbidden) and even hosted a number of games.

They were very kind to our rowdy bunch and it was one of the best, most relaxing days we had had in months. (Except for the Sgt Lanier who sliced his foot on an artillery mount and was sent home...yeah it hurt, but he was SENT HOME!)

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

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Another shot of the ARAMCO party. They knew how to take care of a gaggle of hungry jarheads. Chips, cookies, hamburgers, hot dogs, candy, soda. They couldn't pass it out fast enough. As you can see there was a lack of "casual wear" among the Marines. You had a few desert uniforms, a lot of forest uniforms, and your PT (Physical Training) gear. Blue jeans and T-shirts? Not many.

I remember working up a major tan once I got to ASP#3. The war was over, and during the 12 hours off we got practically every day, there was letter writing, eating, and beach volleyball.

ASP #3 (Al Mishab) April 1991.

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Yeah--real beef! Not camel. Not dehydrated MRE "meat." Not even Spam (we had a pallet of it near the tool shed. I saw three cans disappear in three months).

The employees of ARAMCO stood in the hot desert and cooked over a hot barbeque to give us real hamburgers!

ASP #3 (Al Mishab) April 1991.

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Had I been using a real camera instead one of those disposable ones, this shot could have made the cover of Time or NewsWeek. "American Marine: Waiting in the Sand"

The sun was just coming up over Sgt. Banerjee's left elbow. Our shift was almost done and we would be getting breakfast. He's sitting on berm wall. These were U-shaped areas defined by tall mounds of sand (a relatively plentiful and cheap building material). The ammo could be stored in these "open warehouses" so many pallets tall and so many pallets deep. Certain ammunition stores were incompatible and had to be stored in separate areas. Mostly we stored them divided to preserve the most supply in case of accidental detonation or enemy attack.

Can I tell you more about Banerjee? Another smart Marine--maybe a bit too smart. He's a successful businessman now with a beautiful wife and son. We spent way too many hours in the cold desert heating MRE's and tring to figure out they whole strategy of war. And the religious debates! He kept me on my toes!!

ASP #3 (Al Mishab) April 1991.

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And what do you do after you win a war and your wife has a baby while you are gone?

You go to Disney World! Corporals Emminger show off their baby bunny, Brittany. Emminger could have been more proud of that sweet little girl, but we would have had to smack him...

Disney World Summer 1991.

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Here is the obligatory camel picture. It was mandatory everyone in country take at least one to show people.

Camels were not free range animals. Someone owned any one we saw. They were expensive, stinking animals. I got close to one diseased one and that was enough for me. I got closer to several of his cousins and let me tell you, the only way to eat camel meat is to cut it--if possible--stuff it in your mouth and draw as much nutrient out of it as possible. There was no chewing and little swallowing.... It tasted like beef, on a highway, with all the tender loving seasoning of ashphalt.

March 1991.

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Breakfast! Hot out of the metal container with a sprinkling of sand!!

Nothing says loving like a spoonful of rice and some mystery meat at 0600.

A Marine would drive a hummer (chow truck) around with breakfast "food" and plates all over the vast ASP (Ammunition Supply Point). By the time he covered the acres of sandy berms the temperature of the "food" was right around that of dorm pizza.

But it was still better than MREs (Meals Ready to Eat--also known as the three lies).

ASP #3 1991.

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Did I hate Saddam for setting fires to the oil fields? Well, it was a stupid move on his part, to be sure. But it was hardly the 10-year ecologic disaster the tree-huggers predicted. And it did show the world that he was no master tactician, just a ruthless thug.

Being so close to the fires, the smoke provided a bit of relief from the hot sun. I did hate the fact that the white Japanese cars the civilian inspectors used were spotted with pin prick sized oil stains. I figured I was breathing it too.

Those green conex boxes were used to store ammo and tools used by American, civilian inspectors. They went over each large round for tests to see if the unused, undamaged stuff was suitable for shipping back to the States. If the ammo did not pass, we destroyed it. Loudly. That cream colored structure behind the conex boxes was the quoinset building that was constructed to keep the civilians out of the oppressive Saudi sun. Everyone else could fry.

ASP #3 April or May 1991.

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Our wild dog at ASP (Ammunition Supply Point) #5. This is "Ammo." One day he was there, then he was gone. I don't think anyone ate him, he probably just found better food somewhere else. We also had an identical pup named "Dodic" which is DODIC--Department Of Defence Indentification Code--used for IDing ammo.

ASP #5 (Khanjar) February or March 1991.

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The gate into Kuwait. This is after the ground war was over and things were almost getting back to normal for that tiny country. As you can see there was a lot of damage to just about everything. The haze is from the oil fires.

March 1991.

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Actually the only "bathroom" I saw was in the last week in Saudi when we were housed in an officers' barracks near the coast awaiting our jet out of there. At the ASPs the bath was not usually near the head (toliet facilitie). In fact we tried to keep the head away from everything. That little shack was the all plywood construction, not too unlike a campground out house. Except you had a really nice 360 degree view. Hey you CANNOT pay for that kind of luxury. There were 3 to 6 "seats" sometimes even complete with American style toliet rims nailed to them.

What's burning? Well lets just say that there was no plumbing and no septic tank, just a hole and a cut up 55-gallon steel drum. Once it was at capacity, shall we say, our keeper of the gates of hell, Cpl Mobley, got to drag it out and away, add a little fuel and watch the concotion burn for hours. And hours. And hours.

Off in the distance you can see two of the special shelters built for the civilian ammo inspectors.

ASP #3, near Al Mishab, March or April 1991.

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