Dodge City

Movin’ On Up…

When I first got to Baghdad, I was living in a place called “Tent City” – a dreary, depressing collection of long, green tents. There are actual beds in these tents, though they’re really poor quality, with smelly, rumpled mattresses. It reminds me of my time living in a crumbling, 65-year-old non-airconditioned dorm at Texas A&M, where our mattresses had tags on them, reading: “Property of the Texas Department of Corrections.”

You know you’re in Texas if your college students are getting hand-me-downs from your prisons.

But I digress…

Tent City

Tent City is filled with large gravel-like rocks, which makes walking difficult, at times, but which I hear is a much better alternative to sand once the Iraqi rainy season arrives. Other parts of Camp Victory, such as the areas around Saddam’s old Bath Party buildings, have sidewalks.

Tent City is basically a temporary refuge until the soldier in question can secure more permanent berthing. Unfortunately, the walkways inside most of that berthing are not all that much better.

Fortunately, all the while I was gone on emergency leave, my name slowly climbed up the waiting list for permanent housing. So, shortly after my arrival back in Baghdad, I got the news that I was approved to move into…a trailer!

Dodge City

People get very creative with their names over here. And basically, whoever gets here first gets to name things, and they basically stay that way forever. Thus, the wide variety of names of bases. There’s the obvious patriotic ones – Victory, Liberty. And then there are some that probably don’t help us in the PR department when translated into Arabic, like Camp Slayer. Not sure if it’s named after a person or a bad 1980s hair band, but either way, it’s not the best of names.

Highway routes across the country have their own names, which avoids using Iraqi road names, confuses possible enemies, and allows for a ton of creativity. In one area, the routes are named after football teams: Route Packers. Route Titans, etc. In another region, they’re named after beers. Route Bud Light. Route Strohs, Route Amstel. In yet another part of the country, the earliest troops seemed to name them after their girlfriends: Route Amy, Route Vanessa. Route Shaniqua. (And no, I’m not kidding).

Here on Victory, the massive permanent housing at least got a cool name, which in a way, kind of fits: Dodge City.

It’s just like the old west town that inspired the name. People strut around, with pistols slung on their hips, or rifles over their shoulders. The streets are wide, dusty, and full of potholes. And the Filipino women at the laundry drop-off sometimes wear body armor as they chat in Tagalog.

O.K., so maybe that didn’t happen in the old west, but you get my point. Dodge City fits, in a way that "Boardwalk" or "Highland Park" wouldn't.

Downtown Dodge City North. My home.

O.K., O.K., I admit it’s not much to look at. But in a nice, sweltering, stifling, rock tripping, uncomfortable, hacking-up-dust-hairballs-all-day-long kind of way, it’s got it's own subtle charms.

It even has all the amenities: shower trailers, latrine trailers. All hidden behind massive concrete walls. It’s a good thing there aren’t any Germans with spraypaint and sledgehammers around, because I’d never get any sleep if there were.

Like Tent City, there are rocks everywhere, but because it’s a much larger place, most of the ground is still sand. Still, big mounds of dirt are pre-positioned everywhere, so they can be spread out as needed once all of this sand turns into soup.

Dodge City North has one big landmark, a 30-40 foot something that I call the “Termite Mound.” A relic of Saddam’s time, I have not the faintest idea what this building was, or what purpose it had. About the closest I can guess is, it’s some kind of massive bird house.

Whatever it was, it is an architectural disaster so immense that it alone – forget about Weapons of Mass Destruction – justified the U.S. invasion of Iraq and the destruction of Saddam’s regime. I mean, look at this thing. Can a person who will authorize construction of something so hideous be entrusted with the lives, welfare and taste of 25 million Iraqis?

Of course, now that I think about it, the same thing could be said of the Austin City Hall, and nobody’s rolling into that town with a bunch of tanks, guns and airplanes, shooting the place up. Although I must admit, the idea is strangely tantalizing to this particular Aggie.

The one thing good to say about this building is that someone before me has stamped it with a sign of true culture, which hopefully will survive and endure past our departure and leave the Iraqis with something to add to their museums:

A subtle hint of culture amidst the chaos, dust and backwardness of Baghdad:

Within Dodge City North – and Dodge City South is about the same, just no termite mound – the trailers are aligned in precise rows, perfectly arranged so that not a single one of them – or not mine at least – is within a minute’s walk of a latrine. Getting up to go at night can be an annoyance. Trudging through loose rocks in your flip-flops makes it worse. Having stray bullets land on your doorstep (as they did to a friend of mine) when the Iraqi soccer team wins a match can be even more tedious. And sometimes, when the base is on higher alert, you’re supposed to put on your body armor for the trip.

With all those headaches, I think I could make a killing by selling chamber pots.

Row of trailers in Dodge City.
Note the BBQ grill on the left.

My own particular trailer is nothing special. There are three rooms, each with separate doors. Each room is about 13x13, has two beds, and two wardrobes. Otherwise, there is nothing in them.

At the moment, I have no roommate, so I get the trailer to myself. Normally, I’d prefer to have company, but since I mostly work at night, and usually sleep in the late afternoon and evening, it’s probably a good thing.

I went to the base exchange and bought myself a folding chair, and found a small, fold-up computer table. With those little additions, I’m happy. Some folks go all out, and have carpet, televisions, lamps and other amenities. But as I spend almost all of my time working or sleeping, I don’t really see what the point would be.


It’s not much, but it works, and I’m not complaining. I’ve lived in better, but I’ve also lived in worse. It’s just one of those things one has to accept over here. After all, I didn’t expect to live in a palace.

…But as it turns out, I do get to at least work in one.

But I’ll save that story for next time.