In the intricacies of the bureaucracy of the Saudi Government, there are several interesting "Catch 22" clauses that cause "us infidels" an undue amount of seemingly unnecessary grief. As I explained in earlier Tail (as in Camel Tails as in the NOTE above) this current group of instructors (Dave Willis, myself and six other gentlemen operating on a private training contract) is operating on a "three month at a time visa" until such time that a new contract can be agreed upon to take those of us in the "unwashed" category into the "fold" of the more (in some ways) desirable "Block Visas" that are good for the duration of the contract (whew, that was a long sentence!). This means that we must exit the country every three months and renew our "visitors visas" before we can return. This process is a mixed blessing, for while everyone enjoys a break with the air fare paid for the company, one does not want to spend an inordinate amount of time back in the States, as anything over 35 days means that you are gonna' owe Uncle Sam a pretty fair chunk of change in income tax! It's not that I begrudge my marvelous and efficient government any funds that they are much more capable than I of dispensing to the betterment of mankind (not to mention getting reelected), but still... Since we are sitting out this initial contract at something less than the going rate, I'd like to retain the better part of it to justify the insanity of staying in this sandpit instead of enjoying the mountains, lakes and rivers of my native Idaho. Boiled down to the "nitty gritty", legally avoiding taxes is an expensive proposition. The only saving grace of this arrangement is being able to spend the money on one's self instead of having our brilliant Congress spend it on "the home for homeless pussy cats" or some other damn fool project! I realize that this is probably a biased and unfair viewpoint, but I suppose reality causes a jaundiced outlook over the observations of many years. Enough of the preliminaries. The background is just to better set the stage for the following narration and to give you a feel for how we came to be in a position to observe the following events. In order to have people "on the ground" while the Great Visa Renewal was taking place, we were split into two groups. The first group departed leaving five of us here. Jimmie Dorsey was dispatched to Riyadh, leaving myself, Bill Sweeney, Jon Ashbrook, and Carlos Paul to hold down the fort (with the able guidance of Uncle Dave Willis and Steve Jones who are part of the permanent establishment).

     Those of us remaining behind to mind the store until Skip Hartnett, Chuck Julian and "The Hand" (members of our "infidel" instructional crew) return had planned to use this breather to bring all the paperwork up to date, update lesson plans, make modifications of current courses, plan future courses (assuming the advent of a "follow on" contract), pick up a few "goodies" for the folks back home and to be perfectly honest, do a little constructive "screwing off"! Alas, such was not to be the case. Several days into the paperwork, we were attracted by the sound of heavy equipment moving on to the range complex. This, we were informed was arriving to start work on the "grenade range" (shudder). No sooner than the influx of equipment, than we find the Air Defense Force "snails" down "rat f++king" the contractor's small trailer they have moved into place to act as an office while they build this death trap! Carlos (Carlos Paul, yet another "infidel instructor") found himself alone to deal with this situation. Never being at a loss for words, he takes our interpreter, Abdul Rahman and heads for the C. P. of the fabled Unit 2 of the ADF (ADF stands for the Saudi Air Defense Force). Unit 2 is sorta' co-located with us out at the range site, and technically owns the range itself, even though it is run under the auspices of the ADFI (Air Defense Force Institute). The Commanding Officer of this outfit is a very large (in circumference), very black ADF colonel by the name of Sultan, who looks for all the world like a miniature "Edie Amin". Carlos barges in w/interpreter and demands to have the "stuff" returned immediately. The colonel (who speaks excellent English) agrees and all seems well. Within the next two days, however, we are informed that Unit 2 is to arrive at the range the following Saturday (Saudi Monday) to start their semi-annual weapons "requalification"... uh oh...

     To appreciate this situation, you have to realize that in the U. S. Marine Corps, requalification generally assumes that you have qualified before (hence the "re" qualification), not necessarily true over here! What they really have in mind is a big FAM Firing (familiarization firing) session. We've heard about this evolution! Whenever Unit 2 decides to "requalify", everything that is currently going on comes to a screeching halt! If you are in the middle of a Basic Weapons Course, Armorer's Course or Firearms Instructors Course, all things stop, period! The Colonel has about 2000 (yep!, 2000) troops to requalify (or whatever you wish to call it). Now the Colonel doesn't really want any Infidel help with the requalification itself, what he wants is Infidel "step and fetch it" assistance. It is to our advantage to be there during the entire evolution to prevent the range from going into a "self destruct" mode. Left to their own devices, they have been known to "break out" the machine guns and anything else in their inventory (hopefully not the Hawk Missile Batteries!) and attempt to reduce the range to rubble. Dave tells me that he has had to go get the concrete blocks and any other item(s) not tied down away from them to keep them from reducing them to concrete powder (assuming they can hit them, of course!). All of this takes place with absolutely "zero" thought as to whether they will produce ricochets, etc., etc. Altogether a dangerous practice, even if it didn't destroy the range in the process. Safety is not one of their "biggies" (unless performed by an infidel, of course!). This insanity is to go on for about two weeks, on until all 2000 troops have re demonstrated their ability to keep the Kingdom safe for Islam. Then, the ADFI gets their turn (oh joy!).

     Dawns the big day! We have been informed that they intend to get an early start and want the Mosque open for prayer at 0500! Yep, they have a Mosque at the range, I understand that the Mosque is the very first building built when construction starts for a new range site... having watched the safety violations committed during this jewel, I can certainly understand the priority of construction! Wanting everything to go well (especially during the first day, AND considering that they haven't signed the "Follow on Contract" yet!), we haul our posteriors out of the rack at 0400 and head for the range. The Saudi's being always well prepared, already have the important things going. Tea has been made and is being served to the officers by a civilian employee who appears to be some sort of TCN (Third Country National) with black trousers, a white shirt and a silver tray! The Mosque has been opened, prayer has been held and these guys have gotten "right" with Allah (a very wise thing to do in light of what we observed later!). We have two ranges set up. Range 2 (mainly a pistol and sub machinegun range), has been laid out at 25m to accommodate the officers and security personnel with the MP-5 and the Browning Pistol. Range 3 (usually utilized for rifles out to a range of 300m) has been laid out in accordance with their instructions at a distance of 100m to accommodate the G-3 Rifles. Steve Jones (another one of our instructors, a former Navy SEAL) has given us directions that our good target frames are not to be used, but that we are to use the older and narrower target frames that they have already shot to doll rags in previous range sessions. Targets ready to go, tea consumed and prayer held, it is time to commence fire... and the fun began.

     After sitting in the office for awhile and consuming several cups of very strong coffee to wake up, the sound of gunfire coming from the range attracts everyone's attention. Carlos has been detailed to keep "Edie Amin" company while we attempt to get a few things accomplished in the safety of the admin building. The sound of gunfire attracts me after a few minutes, and I give in to my curiosity... I head to Range 3.

     Well ensconced in the bleachers in the rear of Range 3 is "Edie" and Carlos. The Colonel immediately pointed out that the targets were beginning to fall out of the frames (due in some part to the rather stiff breeze that had come up, but mainly because the stalwarts of the range detail were completing the job of hosing down the target frames (being unable to hit the target itself). In truth, the darned things are collapsing on a rather regular basis and it's plain to see that the Colonel is convinced that the Infidels have supplied him with inferior gear. I try to explain that our other frames are all in for repair and that we have a very small quantity of repair frames available. Carlos gets me aside and tells me that "Edie" has already informed him that this is his range and that he can take it away from us anytime he wishes! This obviously does not bode well. A little hustle and a few new target frames settle his stomach down to the point that he is no longer threatening "Range Removal" and is beginning to relax somewhat. He now demands two of the TCN Range Workers to act as laborers in the event he needs anything done. Now this is difficult to promise, 'cause these guys work for another company that just happens to be owned by a Prince. I'm reasonably sure that the Prince would have little or no sense of humor with "Edie" hijacking a couple of his people! We eventually convince him that these guys aren't ours to give and things settle down again, well, sorta' anyway.

     If we now focus our attention on the pistol range, a fresh wave of cold chills will run down your spine. When a string of fire is over, if they've finished out their magazine, well and good, if they haven't, they just lay their cocked and loaded weapon down pointing down range on the little concrete curb just to the rear of the firing line and go down to check targets! You've got to be kidding!! Oh my word!!...

     The next brave soul to go check the firing line is Jon Ashbrook. Fifteen minutes later he comes in considerably "whiter" than his suntan would normally indicate. As he is passing the firing line, they are now shooting the MP-5 (submachine gun)... some of them any way! Three of them are down pasting their targets, while the shooters 5 targets away are firing their "sub guns" full auto with little or no notice of the shooters down range!? DEAR ALLAH!

     Over on the Rifle Range, the G-3 shooters are continuing to "skip" their bullets into the targets with the frames continuing to collapse on a regular basis! At first I thought this might be a new firing technique, utilizing the rocks etc. as secondary projectiles to conserve ammunition. A closer look revealed that most of them were shooting with their helmets sliding down over their eyes, or worse yet, just closing their eyes and banging away without regard to where the rounds were going. At this point, it might be well to explain that most of these "shooters" were NOT graduates of the Basic Infidel Shooting Course, and we had nothing to do with this debacle! (honest!). Finally, Day 1 mercifully ends with no casualties (if you don't count our frayed nerves, that is). The Colonel announces as he leaves that he wants the VIP lounge open no later than 0630 the next morning so that he and the General can come in and relax! The GENERAL, oh boy, now what?

     As requested the lounge is dutifully opened and sure enough, come 0700, "Edie" Baby is in relaxing, but no sign on the general... thank goodness. We continue to hide in "defilade" in the office as much as possible, considering the number of rounds downrange, when one of our number is looking out of the office into the parking lot announces, "hey guys, come here and get a load of THIS! What is ensuing in the parking lot is not for the tender! There are two troops in a car apparently gratifying one another in a manner that even yet, "Slick Willie's" preferences not withstanding, is considered to be a no-no under our UCMJ! They have a name for it, but if this "Tail" is to retain it's "G" rating, it will have to be left to the imagination. Suffice it to say, it appeared to be very tender (hee, hee)! I'm not sure whether their regulations require that such things be taken care of between relays, or if you must be finished firing for the day, might be interesting to check it out, wouldn't want anything "untoward" happening on this range!... Hummm... At about 1100, one of the young troops came into the office asking for a set of hearing protectors (ear muffs) for the General, as he had finally arrived and wanted to shoot. Needless to say the requested muffs were produced and delivered. Watching the General shoot was an inspiration! First of all he tugs on a pair of gloves (one wouldn't want to injure one's hands, of course!). He then places his left foot on the little curb on the firing line (for balance, of course) and holds out his hand for a magazine to be placed in it. Upon receiving the magazine, he inserts it in the magazine well, and miracle of miracles, manages to get it loaded and pointed downrange! He then gently grasps his right wrist with his left hand and squares away at the target. Rounds fly, smoke billows forth from the muzzle and suddenly it's all over, the General has finished! Straining to see the mighty gaping hole in the center of the black proves fruitless... I can't see a dad gummed thing. A much closer inspection of the target reveals that I have done him an injustice, he went clean!! Clean off the target!! I mean there ain't a scratch on the damned thing. Now at this point I don't know what to say, cause my Momma tole' me if you can't say somethin' nice, don't say nothin' at all. Suddenly it comes to me, I'm gonna' compliment the general on his supply economy, i.e., getting a maximum usage out of the target faces. The General mercifully saves me from the "foot beating rack", by explaining that only firing twice a year just isn't enough to keep in practice... you know, I just gotta' agree...

     A new day dawns bringing with it the anticipation of new and even more exciting adventures. We are now several days into this exercise of disassembling loaded cartridges into empty brass and powder smoke with (so far) "0" casualties! This in itself strikes me as only slightly less miraculous than the "virgin birth", so I have started to relax a bit. About mid-morning, Colonel Sultan comes into the Admin Building with the General in tow. Normal niceties are observed and the Colonel and the General repair to the VIP Lounge. We stuck our head(s) in for a second just to see if they needed anything when they are both observed going into the Head (naval terminology for the toilet/washroom, etc.). Now this is a very small facility and they stayed in there for at least 10 minutes together... Hummm... (Yes, we did time them, and considered standing outside to greet them with a big smile as they came out... The desire for self-preservation prevailed however and we discretely left one guy to check the time they emerged!). Perhaps those guys in the parking lot are the graduates of some special course?? It sure had to be crowded in that Head, I'd love to know who was holding what and for whom...