I don't know if it's more quiet here lately or if they're turning up the loudspeakers at the mosques. I hadn't heard the call to prayer since I had been here and then I heard it loud and clear on Christmas Eve of all days. I can't think of many things more eerie than walking alone at night and hearing that sound above everything else.
Sometimes you get detached from the reality of this place when you're going about your normal workday routine. If you don't leave base then you kind of forget where you actually are and how close you are to real life. The base seems relatively safe when you're walking around all day, but it only takes a voice from a loudspeaker or a few rounds of indirect fire to remind you that you're not as safe as you thought. I think some of it has to do with the T-wall blindness. Not being able to see past a few hundred meters will alter your view of things a bit. I don't even know what my reaction to seeing the horizon again will be. What was Columbus' reaction to seeing land after months at sea? Probably not the same, but it will be a trip. Too early to start counting yet.
*The title to this post is a reference to a funny story about a tank that was told to me by an old Cav scout I used to work with. He could have gotten out after he lost parts of both feet to an IED, but instead he's probably the best NCO I've ever met. This one is for you Jim, I'm glad one of us is home for Christmas.*
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