A soldier writes about serving in dry Iraq. One of the funnier pieces we've read recently. Link. Excerpt:
Winston Churchill said the Royal Navy promised nothing to its enlistees but “rum, sodomy, and the lash. ” . . .
In the US military, sodomy and the lash are mostly history, unless you're stationed at Abu Ghraib. But for the thousands of US soldiers in Iraq and Kuwait, gone too is the consolation of hot rum – or cold vodka, or whatever other cocktail the 120-degree desert heat might demand. Rather than being doled out in rations as a meager thanks for their defense of country, booze is strictly verboten, and for US soldiers all over Mesopotamia a sip of liquor is a first step to a court-martial.
I work on a dry military base in Iraq as a civilian supporting the military, and I can report that prohibition has made criminals of us all. We smuggle, we sell, we steal, we get smashed. We cache alcohol around bases like so many weapons of mass destruction. And at night, we nurse our illegal beers while watching the flashes of firefights and air assaults in the distance. When mortars land nearby, we reach for the next round and toast to the fact that we're still around to have something to toast to, clean underwear be damned.
