Photo Essay: Above Al Anbar

I just returned from a seven month rotation in Iraq, or more like, over Iraq. I'm a United States Marine, and I work as a crew member aboard a CH-53D helicopter assigned to the "Ugly Angels" of Marine Heavy Helicopter Squadron 362. We were stationed in the Al Anbar Provence, which is best known by it's largest two cities, Fallujah and Ar Ramadi. Even though we did spend a good deal of time around these cities, my fondest memories are of the vast and sparsely populated western portion of this provence. Here in western Iraq, where temperatures routinely soar well above 110 degrees, Al Anbar is dry, dusty, and desolate; but from the air, I got a different perspective entirely. My view involved hanging off the ramp of a giant helicopter, crouched behind a .50 caliber machine gun, facing backwards. I never knew where we were going, but I always knew where we'd been. The majority of my flights were cargo runs that took us out over the vast emptiness of the desert near the border with Jordan and Syria; I'd often see guys walking out there all alone, without a house, or a truck, or anything for 20 miles in any direction. Never really could figure out what they where doing or where they were going, there was nothing out there. My favorite thing about heading out west was knowing that when we were done for the day and got to head home we had the possibility of seeing the Euphrates River. Being stationed in Hawaii, I treasured any site of water that I could find, almost like it was something to look forward to. Another neat thing about the Euphrates was how the towns sprung up around it in neat, organized tan grids fading into the desert only a few blocks away from the river. It was really amazing that even in a time of conflict you could still find moments of beauty.