[MilCom] Wichita Eagle 06-18-2006 Airmen are a world away from Wichita

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MCCONNELL TROOPS TOIL IN THE DESERT
Airmen are a world away from Wichita
BY TIM POTTER
The Wichita Eagle

Minutes before sunset at an air base in southwest Asia, it's still about 100
degrees. Staff Sgt. Sammy Hicks, from Wichita's McConnell Air Force Base,
moves methodically around a KC-135 he's preparing for another refueling
mission.

"It's nice right now," he says.

It typically gets up to 115 degrees. The shimmering acres of concrete on the
flight line can reach 150 degrees in the unrelenting sun.

Maintaining the air tankers isn't glorious work. But it's vital to the war
effort. The KC-135s and their crews allow other planes to remain for hours
over targets in war zones like Iraq and Afghanistan. Commanders won't
discuss the details.

Walled off from the outside world, past armed checkpoints, reinforced
fences, rows of razor-sharp concertina wire and concrete and metal vehicle
barriers, Hicks is one of about 100 McConnell airmen toiling at the desert
base.

It has grown from a tent town to a prefab, air-conditioned city serving
1,400 to 1,500 Air Force personnel 24 hours a day.

The landscape looks extraterrestrial: lunar-like, with gritty, off-white
sand stretching on and on, somehow supporting isolated clumps of scraggly
vegetation. It rains less than an inch a year.

The work here isn't just hard. It's part of a combat zone, where airmen
receive hostile-fire pay -- $225 more a month.

Their job in the sun

The people who work here must adapt not only to the oppressive heat. Many of
them are on the job 12 hours a day, six days a week, away from their
families for around four months.

When they arrive, stepping off the plane in midday heat is like stepping
into a hot dryer and closing the door. In the evening, the dry heat turns
humid, dampening the sand. It takes up to two weeks to get acclimated to the
conditions.

It's so hot on the flight line, crew members burn their hands if they touch
metal without wearing mechanic's gloves.

It's so hot that the temperature in a KC-135 cockpit can reach 130 degrees
or more when a plane sits closed for hours. Maintenance crews have to pump
cool air into the cockpits to keep electronic and electrical components from
overheating and shutting down.

The planes have to be closed to prevent damaging sand from blowing in during
sudden storms. Covers fit tightly over the 6-foot-tall, 6-foot-wide
jet-engine intakes.

Crew members can't wear hats to shield their heads from the harsh sun. A hat
can blow off and get sucked into a jet engine, causing costly repairs or
delays. Some maintenance crew members tie sweat rags to their heads. The
only shade is under the wings.

The prescription for staying hydrated is to drink a bottle of water per
hour. Water gets trucked out to the maintenance crews. There's bottled water
for the taking in every building.

Security clearly present

A person can't get to the planes or the people who fly and maintain them
without passing through layer after layer of security.

Fences topped by barbed wire stretch for miles. A continuous high wall of
reinforced concrete backs the fences. The concrete ribbon keeps people out
and prevents a view of operations behind the barriers.

Uniformed security forces armed with tripod-mounted heavy machine guns watch
from desert-tan Humvees. Guards man checkpoints, brightly illuminated at
night. They examine every vehicle, inside and underneath. Specially trained
dogs sniff for explosives.

Although it's not Iraq, although it hasn't been rattled by improvised bombs,
the base can never let down its guard, says Lt. Col. Lawrence Eichhorn,
permanently assigned to the base.

"We maintain the facility as if it were in Iraq," Eichhorn says.

Past attacks on other bases overseas have shown that Air Force personnel can
be killed even in the dormitories where they rest.

Although Eichhorn says the host nation that lets the Air Force stay on the
base "does a fantastic job" of helping to provide security, airmen venture
off the walled base only about once a month, under tightly controlled
conditions.

The families back in the States realize there are risks.

"My wife, she knows I'm pretty safe, but she still worries," says Staff Sgt.
John Heppner, one of about 10 McConnell airmen who just started a tour at
the base.

"My mom doesn't like it, but she understands it's what I signed up to do,"
says Heppner, 23, of Holland, Mich.

Aside from security concerns, work at the airstrip is inherently hazardous.
It presents many ways to lose a digit or a limb.

Crews work around tons of fuel. They climb 20-foot ladders. They maneuver
around hydraulic equipment under high pressure. They wear reflective belts
to keep from getting hit by vehicles.

Sometimes, they encounter poisonous snakes, wild dogs and huge rats.

As relief from the harsh conditions, the base offers creature comforts that
have recently been enhanced.

The airmen had been housed in air-conditioned tents. But the bone-dry tents
became fire hazards.

In the past month, the crews have moved into new prefab structures, sort of
like mobile homes stacked on top of another. The dorms still smell new.
Airmen sleep in bunk beds, two to four people per room, depending on how
many crews are rotating through.

It's like a dorm, with a bathroom with multiple stalls on each floor and a
shower room with individual shower stalls for privacy. The women have
built-in blow dryers.

Men and women sleep in separate dorms. But married couples get occasional
leave to be together, called "get-reacquainted time."

A recreational oasis

To compensate for the sacrifices, the Air Force has developed a recreational
town around the dorms.

There's a first-run movie theater that recently was showing "X-Men 3: The
Last Stand." Service members can check out DVDs, eat soft-serve ice cream in
the mess hall and work out in an air-conditioned weight room and cardio room
that rival facilities at any Wichita YMCA. Many of the airmen come back more
fit than when they left.

One room offers a bank of "morale computers" with Internet access so people
can e-mail home. Another provides phone booths for what the base refers to
as "morale calls." The airmen get two free 15-minute calls a week.

The rec town has plenty of wide, flat-screen television sets.

Still, it's not home.

"You can only eat chicken so many ways," one airman says.

One of the most popular spots is the wettest -- a large outdoor pool cooled
to a temperature of 78 to 80 degrees. It has to be closed at times so
workers can vacuum out the desert sand.

On a Sunday night, men and women relax in lawn chairs near the pool, where
speakers send out lyrics from David Bowie's "Space Oddity":

"Ground control to Major Tom.

"Ground control to Major Tom."

The sun has been down for about an hour, but their skin glistens with sweat.

They can walk a few yards to an outdoor bar stocked with at least 10 brands
of premium-label cold beer. The beer is another morale offering. But
consumption is rationed: no more than two beers in 24 hours.

At times, the place has its comforts.

But it's still a world away from Wichita.


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Reach Tim Potter at 316-268-6684 or tpotter at wichitaeagle.com.