Sandbags and Cigar Smoke

Last night, we experienced an unusual drop in temperature. It felt like it was in the high-eighties, which is pretty nice for this part of the world. More importantly, there was no wind, therefore, no dust and sand. Lately, we've been beset by massive humidity in the evening hours.

The winds, called shamals, normally blow in across thousands of miles of desert. Sometimes, however, they shift and come in from the Persian Gulf, resulting in incredibly high humidity. We usually know when it is occurring because the smell of salt water precedes the humidity by an hour or two. This has been happening for the last two or three nights. It makes life difficult since the lack of humidity is pretty much the only thing that makes the 110 to 130 degree temperatures even remotely tolerable.

Last night, though, we caught a break. The temperature dropped and the shamals took a break from bringing us her sands or her humidity.

I took full advantage to the situation. I grabbed a Perdomo Habano-Corojo from my secret stash (a Pelican 1060 Micro Case turned field expedient humidor) and headed outside. I found a quiet and isolated spot outside the Command Post tent and lit up. Hard times demand simple pleasures. Sitting on the ground and resting my back against a pile of sandbags while the hum of diesel generators provided "mood music" in the background, I forgot about Kuwait, Iraq, the war, and about being deployed. Instead, I enjoyed a smooth cigar and looked at the stars that peppered the night sky.

As I watched the exhaled smoke drift away, I dreamed of home. Helping the kids with homework, helping Andrea make dinner, enjoying a glass of red wine, starting graduate school, watching Law & Order with Andrea, and running past houses in my neighborhood instead of past guard towers and concrete bunkers.

I was reminded about the two great benefits of hardship: it makes it much easier to appreciate what you have and it takes very little to improve on your situation with simple pleasures.