An Essayby Jason Arment
I was on the tail end of the bullshit. I helped break down one of the last forward operating bases, as they were known in the early part of that war. The strategy was the same as the one employed at the beginning of the war in Afghanistan—move into the cities and set up bases. Toward the end of the war “megabases” or “fortresses” were in place. Camp Fallujah was one of these, a few kilometers northeast of the sprawl of Fallujah itself. It was a monstrosity outfitted with a helicopter pad and squads of marines patrolling the perimeter in constant vigil. The base was a labyrinth of twisting gravel roads that led deep into the oasis of friendly territory.