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Sustaining Sanity in Iraq: The Deployment Primer

By Major Jason A. Bryan, 101st Sustainment Brigade
Published: Jun. 26, 2006

June total at week’s end: 1,250 km, leaving me with 350 km to achieve the 1,600 km (1,000 mile) goal. With five days remaining in June (roughly 19 circuits), this is going to be tight.

I’ll provide the final report for June next week; unless I didn’t make it, then you’ll never hear from me again.

The intramural softball league is killing my distance numbers, with three game nights a week, right in the middle of prime riding time (twilight). Oddly enough, work has no impact on my miles-- the daily 12 hour inferno aligns pleasantly with my air conditioned staff job. The primary reason I continue to play is to protect my lieutenant from being assaulted by the rest of the team. He’s the Venus de Milo of the outfield and he couldn’t even hit pitching from the Atlanta Braves bullpen. I fear he’d be drawn and quartered with bicycles and bungee cords if I missed a game. We’ve moved him to catcher and encourage him to just kick the ball back to the pitcher.

Summer is officially here and it feels like someone forgot to close the door to the gates of hell. My rides start with two bottles of cold water and by the time I’m done, anything left feels like bath water.

If you’ve ever opened an oven, imagine that gust in your face all day long. Picture a tiny version of yourself pedaling over the crust of baking lasagna… that’s what the mid-day chow race feels like.

You can’t accurately associate this heat with a number. But for the record, temperatures will range between 115 and 120 degrees this week, with a perpetual 15 knot wind. I don’t know exactly what a “knot” is, but 15 of them at 120 degrees feels like that guy at the end of “Raiders of the Lost Ark”... you know, when his face melts off...

It feels like the sun is screaming at you… like having concert speakers blaring Iron Maiden in your face every time you step outside.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter.

There’s nothing but Van Halen piping through the office today; I just crossed the “5150” km mark for the deployment. Tonight’s dessert… pound cake.

Based on the overwhelming feedback from cyclists preparing for deployment, I prepared some thoughts to consider as you ramp up for Iraq… OIF V through XII… hopefully the practical benefit of this document will expire quickly and we’ll all be focusing on club rides soon.

I got the idea to bring my bike because I was fortunate enough to visit the camp a few months prior to deployment. If you aren’t sure if your camp is bike conducive, contact the unit you’re replacing and get a heads up from them. If you have no contact in theater, let me know where you think you’re going and I can do some research and perhaps link you up with a “sponsor” to answer your location specific questions.

You will want a bike; even if you don’t think you will have the time to log a lot of miles. No matter what your job is, you will have to eat and the bike will help you get there.

For starters, it is critical to have a good bike shop to resource when you’re so far away from home. I didn’t know any local bike shops when I got to Tennessee and quickly got to know Sam at the Bicycle Center of Clarksville. He took great care of me throughout the year. My steady “go-to” guy for bike help is Todd at Adventure Cycling in Oakwood, Georgia. When we lived in California, Todd even hooked me up with a bike to ride during my vacation back home. He was an essential resource for the family and provided expert advice and gear to help me out throughout the deployment. The unsung heroes of the cycling world are the guys in bike shops across America, helping out knuckleheads like me.

The bike. If you’re reading VeloNews.com, I’m not going to teach you one thing about a bike. But in terms of bikes and Iraq, don’t assume you can just buy a bike from a redeploying Soldier. There are about 500 bikes on my camp and maybe two with quick release wheels and Shimano components. The average bike weighs about 40 pounds and costs about $80. Bring your own, with a list all the component specs so you can order replacement parts if necessary.

Tires. One story I don’t have is a trek across the camp from a flat. The only inconvenient flat all year was at the chow hall. I gave the tube a quick shot of air and scooted home, then removed a two inch metal shard. Too easy. I can’t say enough about my Continental Travel Contact tires. They are semi-slicks with a Kevlar bead and they have been terrific. Others I know that upgraded to the Travel Contacts ended their flat woes immediately. 95% of the tubes I used this year were given away to replace tubes because of cheap tires.

Helmet. Some of you clandestine “three letter agency” folks may not have to wear helmets in Iraq, but wearing a helmet beats a visit to the Combat Support Hospital in Baghdad for stitches. Style points aside, you will really appreciate decent ventilation in the blistering heat, so bring a good one. Most people here wear helmets that look like Styrofoam coolers on their heads. I catch plenty of hell about my red and white Ghisallo, it’s just not “army” enough for some. You may want to go with a more conservative “earth tone” to keep the sergeant major off your back.

Head lights and tail lights. On today’s garrison-style camp, “light discipline” means reflective belts and illumination. Lighting is obvious, but you will be surprised at how short the days are between November and March—the lights aren’t for “night riding” so much as they are for getting to breakfast and dinner.

Fenders. Believe it or not, it rains a lot between November and March in Iraq. You will frequently have to grind your way through four to six inches of “Belgian toothpaste.” It will cake to your brakes and fill your chain until it skips. There are two types of mud created from the silt: pudding and peanut butter. You’ll be denied access to the conference room for the commander’s morning update if you’re covered in chocolate pudding, so be sure to get a fender long enough to cover the rooster tail from your back tire. I biked all year, regardless of the weather, even donning the Gore-Tex suit on a few occasions. People will think you’re nuts, but biking was a logical solution for me. Your only other options during the rainy season are to walk in the rain or ride a packed shuttle bus. Yuck.

Rack. You will appreciate having a bike rack when you see others trying to lug their laundry or mail on their handlebars and you’re stuff is neatly strapped behind you. Don’t forget bungee cords. Note: Do not attempt to haul laundry and a bowl of tuna fish salad together on your rack. I still have cats licking my bike after that incident.

Pump. The item you hope you hope never need. I keep a little CO2 pump in my seat bag, but after the feedback from sharing my dog story with the world, I guess you’ll want to bring a frame pump. My “old school” friend Glenn had about a 30 inch long pump-- from the Nelson Vails collection-- strapped to his ’85 Merckx. I bet that would be perfect for warding off dogs. It was probably made of steel and covered with lead based paint.

Tools. A floor pump is an absolute must. Make sure it takes both Presta and Schrader valves regardless of what tubes you prefer. You will automatically be designated “tire guy” and will need to fill both types of valves—at all hours of the night. I also recommend you bring a chain cleaner, (see Fenders section regarding mud). A spoke wrench is important; I probably replaced 15 spokes over the course of the year. Beyond that, bring whatever tools your mechanical skills will support. I have a cheap little $80 tool set and repair stand from Performance that pretty much took care of my needs, although I used “Course of Action 1: Do Nothing” for most of my bike problems. In hindsight, I probably would have picked up a how-to bike repair book like “Zinn”… unless you want to whine to the world on VeloNews.com, but ignorance will only get you so far.

Extras. To avoid challenges shipping chain lube, degreaser, and bearing grease, bring a year’s supply of Class III with you. You may need to load up your HAZMAT with your motor pool, although I didn’t. Bring replacement spokes, especially if you have sexy wheels. I was lucky because my wheels used generic spokes found on junk bikes. Bring a spare chain. I mentioned earlier that I broke one.

And finally, should you bring a trainer? That totally depends on your living conditions. I’m fortunate enough to live alone, but if you have a roommate, your quarters will be too tight for a trainer. Most of the workout facilities have very good spin bikes-- LeMond gems that are great through the winter. I got started spinning and yoga-ing during the dreadful cold months to stay in shape. I even brought my good shoes and Look pedals to spin and enjoyed the feel of my road bike back home.

As for yoga, no more “sun salutations” for me… The sun sucks.