So I touched down in Baghdad an hour or so ago, thinking I was right on schedule to get my paperwork together and get my press ID. I called the press information center, and they thought I was flying to a different airport. I’m not exactly sure how that happened, because I was on the military plane they scheduled, but apparently that kind of mix-up happens. So now I’m sitting in an internet cafe (I can’t get the wireless on my laptop) waiting to call the press center back to see what I’m supposed to do next.

In the meantime, I have to say the C-130 I flew in on was an experience. Earplugs, bulletproof vest and helmet, lying on the seats made of one inch flat webbing. No window, no tray tables, minimal climate control. Enter through the rear bay door, and watch the landing gear go down through the little window.

I talked to another U.S. soldier who said he didn’t think there would be much of Iraq left if the U.S. leaves. That’s been the overwhelming opinion of the people I’ve talked to thus far. Not very encouraging, considering troops are scheduled to leave in one year.

OK, I’ve got to make a phone call or two to see if I’m sleeping in an airport or if I’ll find a bunk and some dinner. Wish me luck.

I’m one flight away from Iraq, and I’ve still got no idea what to expect or what I’ve gotten myself into. Today’s Stars and Stripes reported an Iraqi shot and killed two soldiers in Mosul. The Iraqi brought live rounds to a security training exercise — they were all supposedly on the same side.

I sat next to a contractor on the plane from London who was former military. He’s been over here two and a half years. He’s working in Basra now, he said, where things can be quiet for a long time but then get loud real fast. Around Thanksgiving, he said, insurgents shelled the base all the time. But he doesn’t wear a bulletproof vest, he said. He’s never more than a few seconds from a bunker, which is all the time he needs.

The National Guardsmen who run the shuttle from the airport said it’s nowhere near what it was — it used to be “the Wild West with explosives,” on of them said. Now it’s much more tame, but there still might be shelling.

I’m interested to see. It’s now Operation New Dawn, supposedly no longer war. I wonder if the soldiers in FOB Kalsu (I finally learned how to pronounce it: Kal-SU) feel that way. If I have to dive into a bunker to avoid getting blown up I think I’d call that war, but who knows if I’ll have to.

I’m surrounded by soldiers who I could ask, but I’m not supposed to engage in reporting without a Public Affairs Officer accompanying me. That’s why my photos stopped at the airport. I’m not sure what’s considered snapshots and what would be considered violating the embedding agreement. I’m playing it safe — there are a lot of guns around here!

…I’m in Kuwait.

I got to watch two sunrises yesterday — one in Massachusetts and one in the Middle East. From Boston to London I watched Avatar (for the first time — it’s not exactly a powerful experience on a four inch screen) and Salt, and I completely missed the day. By the time we landed in London it was 7 p.m. and completely dark.

I searched around for a power plug in Heathrow, which I found, but I nearly missed my flight because I was more worried about power than planes.

That was another six hour flight, not nearly as cush as the one from Boston. I spent it sleeping poorly and trying to watch the Town, about the place I’d left that morning.

I landed in Kuwait City at 6 a.m., 10 p.m. back home, and watched the sun rise over the haze. It wasn’t warm. I needed a sweater under my jacket as I waited for the shuttle to Ali Al Salem air base.

I missed the military check in station inside the airport, so I stood outside on the street corner where the locals said the shuttle stopped. I was out there about three hours before it arrived to pick up a half dozen soldiers and contractors on their way to the same place.

I sat next to a National Guardsman from Michigan who was part of the shuttle service. It was his first deployment, he said, but he thinks when U.S. soldiers leave the region is going to fall apart. Probably get overrun by Iran, he said. Even Kuwait would get overrun if the U.S. didn’t maintain a military presence.

We stopped at the military side of the Kuwait Airport to switch from the shuttles to a full sized bus. In the distance I could make out a huge fire, probably a half mile off or more. I asked the four men running the shuttles what it was. “Who knows,” one of them said. “Something’s always burning here.”

It was an hour ride on the bus to Ali Al Salem air base. A Chevy Suburban escorted it, and one uniformed soldier rode with us. “If we take on small arms fire I have a sidearm,” he told the nearly empty bus, “and I’ll be taking orders from my CC in the SUV.”

I do not understand all the military acronyms, but SUV I got. (Crew chief maybe — that was my guess.)

We didn’t take any small arms fire, but it was in my head the whole drive. It didn’t keep me from looking out the window, however, for almost the entire trip.

The bus was lined with dark blue curtains. I sat where they split and held them apart, watching the country slide by. Desolate. Burnt.

Trees lined the road, but otherwise is was sand to the horizon, split by fences. Plastic bags stuck in the trees and against the chain-link, like moths in a spiders web. High-tension wires crisscrossed the landscape. About halfway through the trip we passed a collection of tents, Bedouin style, on both sides of the road. Thousands of them. On one hill was a radio tower, surrounded by armaments and what looked like rocket launchers. The bus sped on.

At Ali Al Salem I checked in with the civilian authority, lined up my flight for the next morning and got a bunk in a tent with a dozen other men. No one seemed prepared for someone without a military or contractor ID, but the letters I got from USF– Iraq were good enough to clear that hurdle. I lined up my flight into Baghdad tomorrow, found my bed and flopped down. Two sunrises, eight time zones and 6,500 miles later, I was finally getting some sleep. It was one in the afternoon.

I’m officially on my way. I’ve left my house, so hopefully I’ve got everything I need. I grabbed a quick shot of myself, bulletproofed up with Mount Washington in the background, for NHPR. I have to admit, if I can make this happen in the long-term, coming home to northern New Hampshire while reporting from around the world, then I’ll have found the perfect lifestyle.

I’ve still got to get that soap, and I’ve got to make sure my luggage weighs less than 50 lbs., but otherwise I’m ready to go. And since I’ve left home for the last time before my feet hit sand I feel I’ve officially started the journey.

Now I just need to capture sound and shots along the way…

It may seem strange that I call this post “Last Night” even though it’s two nights before I leave, and probably four nights before I reach Baghdad. But it’s my last night in my house, my last night to get my things together. I am fully outfitted, I think, except I need to grab a bar of soap. That’s it. Other than that I’ve checked off every piece of equipment on my list. Some pieces I’ve checked off twice.

Redundancy seems to make sense when your going to be half a world away. Baghdad has an eight hour time difference, so maybe my posting will be a little close to when people expect it. I’ll be putting photos, videos, all sorts of material up. Hopefully it piques some interest.

I have two cameras, two microphones and two audio recorders. I’ve got extra socks, a sleeping bag, two puffy jackets (my friend Bryan who served during the war warned me it’s cold there this time of year) and a hat. I’ve got ballistic goggles and ballistic sunglasses, and a spoon and a fork.

I hope I’m ready. I’m as ready as I’m going to get. I’ve got to get a picture of myself tomorrow for NHPR, so they’ll have something to post to the mini-website. And then I’ve got to go to work for the day. It’ll likely be a long day, since it’s basically the day before the most intense vacation of my life.

I’ll keep things flowing to LPJ, as well as NHPR. If I haven’t posted here in 24 hours, look for it at NHPR. I’ll be shooting video, posting photos, making journal entries and uploading audio. It’s going to be multimedia, for certain, as it should be.

The news director at NHPR was looking at photos of FOB Kalsu, and he said it didn’t look like there’s a lot to do there. I said that means I’ll have plenty of time to work. His response: “With all that time on your hands, it better be good.”

I couldn’t agree more.

As you can see, I’ve got a bulletproof vest and helmet. The vest covers less of me than I would like it to, and the helmet is too big, but they should work. I have armor-piercing plates in the front and back of the vest, which make it weigh about 15 lbs. It certainly isn’t fast or light.

So I’ve been looking around at who I’ll be with when I first get there. I fly out to FOB (Forward Operating Base) Kalsu a few days after I get there, and that’s where I’ll spend the majority of my time. I’ll be with the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment, which has at least 13 New Hampshire soldiers. They are active duty, which means it isn’t quite the same as the units I had requested (one reserve, one national guard), but I certainly have no complaints.

I can’t say I look dashing in my outfit, but I’m glad it got here on time. I’m still waiting for a few more pieces of the puzzle, but I think overall I’m set. I’ve still got two days of work to get done at the Sun before I leave, but overall I’m pulling it all together.

NHPR is working to set up a little mini-website off their normal site so I can fully document my trip, with photos, stories and one-on-one interviews. It’s great to have their support, as well as the support of my coworkers in Conway.

Speaking of support, I received calls from a friend I haven’t heard from in six months today. He heard I was getting ready to ship out and he had to call. It’s funny what these sorts of events inspire in people.

And I have to say, I have the utmost respect for the people who do this for real. I’m going for a couple weeks to tell soldiers’ stories, but what do you say about the soldiers themselves, on a year long tour, with real concerns about getting shot or killed? My wife is going to be sad to see me leave until February. I can’t imagine what her reaction would be if it was until NEXT February.

So I’m preparing to leave with conflicting feelings of excitement and reverence. I hope to be able to connect people back home with those sacrifices, to help them better understand what soldiers and their families go through. I don’t even understand it yet, but I hope to be able to get it across.

Ok, so things are getting crazy. I’ve got budget committee meetings, and selectman meetings, and Leadership North Country and everything else with five days left to go. I got my ballistic goggles today, and my vest and helmet should be here on Wednesday. I admit I feel I’ve fallen a bit behind on LPJ in the last day or so, but that’s because I’m trying to get my time in with my wife while still preparing for my trip.

I’ll be heading to FOB Kaslu, south of Baghdad, for the first week, to hook up with New Hampshire soldiers. I laid out plans with the news director at NHPR today for the type of stories I’ll be sending back. It’s a little crazy now, but once I’m on the bus to catch a plane to catch another plane to go to an embassy to catch another plane to get an ID badge and ride on a helicopter it will all be back to normal. Except I’ll be in Iraq.

What is a soldier’s day like? What is modern deployment like? Is it what they expected? What are they doing? I’m ready to just ask the most basic questions, because for so many people back home it’s just so unimaginable. Hopefully I can bring some of that back.

I’ll have more, lots more, as I get there and get into this. Right now, I’m still trying to keep up with the hill I started running down. So far so good.