A former Marine returns to Iraq to get a grunt's-eye view of the fighting.
7800, 8 Nov 2006:
Camp Hurricane Point
It's sunset and I'm inside a SWA hut at Camp Hurricane Point in Ramadi. which was once a city of 300,000, although an unknown number have fled from the ongoing violence. Spoken as "Swah"-the acronym stands for South West Asia, although no one knows why-the plywood, Seabee-constructed edifices are protected by enormous wire baskets of sand called HESCO barriers.1 Green sandbags are stacked on the roof.
This particular SWA hut, the command post for Weapons Company, 1st Battalion, 6th Marines, is sectioned off with more plywood into a front room, armory, gear locker, and sleeping quarters. The front room functions as a parlor, dining room, and operations center. Radios bleep and squawk. Pictures of women wearing bikinis and come-hither smiles are pinned on the walls, Hooters girls beckoning the Marines to visit them when they get home.
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