Love, Brittney

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

September 11, 2001

I was in my second week of 10th grade, a boarding student at the Bahrain School (DODDS).


I came back to the dorm after school and saw some people watching a news station. Someone said something to me about a plane crash. I stopped for a moment to watch, then went to my room to drop my things off.

Someone came to my room and told me I needed to come see what was going on. I came back out, and joined the group of girls watching the news in the girls’ wing common area. It wasn’t until then that what was going on really became clear.

I was alone in boarding school, 15 years old and passportless. My family had taken it after they dropped me off, so they could renew my iqama. I was sitting there thinking – “I’m trapped. I’m without my family and I’m trapped – I can’t go anywhere, I don’t have my passport.” I honestly thought the world was ending. I thought this was it – WWIII. Christ was coming. It was over. War was imminent. And I am all alone, with no passport, one of the only white students (let alone American students) in the entire dorm. The border to Saudi will be shut down. I am all alone.

I left the tv and went to one of the 3 phone booths in the girls’ wing (this was before everyone had a cell phone. Not a single girl in my dorm that year had a cell phone – it wasn’t even a thought to own one yet).

I had to have credit to call Saudi on that big tan phone secured to the phone booth desk. My Dad answered, and while crying, I told him what was going on and how scared I was. He told me that nothing was wrong; it was no big deal, to man up and go study or something.

I hung up the phone and went back to the TV area. More girls were there now.

Mrs. Smith, the head dorm parent (The Dorm parents were a mix of British and Australian. There were 2 houses attached to the dorm – one on the boys’ wing, one on the girls’. Married dorm parents lived here, so they could be onsite at all times. The main door to their house was outside, but there was a back door where they could enter the dorm) gathered the American girls to go into her house to watch the news there, away from the crowd (this is just a complete guess – but I would say that year there were probably 100 girls in the boarding school. 95% Arab, 5% every other nationality. The boys’ side would have been very similar in numbers).

My Dad, deciding there maybe more to my frantic call than just a homesick 15 year old out on her own for the first time, went to the Bonas' house to watch the news there (we didn’t have any satellite connection at this point. After this – my Dad got us Orbit and we entered the world of TV).

I can remember watching all the footage, the people jumping out of the towers, and being so sick and just so afraid for America, afraid for the world.

I can remember after sitting outside school during lunch, listening to my CD’s – I’d replay Toby Keith’s “Angry American” and somehow feel close to America, my people, during this time.

Everyone was so upset by this, all the Arab, Pakistani, Indian students as well as the white ones. Someone did tell me some guys on the boys’ side cheered after the towers fell, but I can’t confirm that and I hope it’s not true.

Because I was at a DODDS school, it made things interesting. The Bahrain school catered to 3 main groups:

• Rich Bahraini kids (including Royalty)

• Dormies (Boarding students)

• Military kids

Because it is a DODDS school, where the military kids attended, that meant the school was guarded by the US Military at all times. There were fences around the school (including the Dorm) and to enter the school you had to go through security, which included full inspections of your car (including under the car inspections) and a bomb dog sniffing through the car, you and any belongings.

This was especially delightful after the weekend, when we returned to the Dorm on Friday night and were exhausted and bored after the 4+ hour bus ride. We had to sit through the outside check of the bus, and then we had to take all our belongings off and line them up. The military would then take the dogs up and down the line of all our luggage, backpacks and CD players. If you were lucky, you didn’t get drool all over your things.

The US patrolled even the inside of the school. Full uniform – machine gun, helmet, bullet proof vest – the whole nine yards.

The only US military guy stationed there I knew, Clayton (I should write a blog on him one day) wanted to guard the school, but they wouldn’t let him. I believe the official denial said something about him being way too hot. They only let older men guard the school and even they had to be on the uglier side of things.

So at a moment like this, the last place American soldiers are wanted is patrolling a school – so school was cancelled and we were all bused home (the majority of the Dormies were also Aramcons like me. The majority were from Dhahran, Abqaiq, Ras Tanura, Udhailiya and Jubail.) If we (dormies) stayed at school, the US still had to guard the school, so any time there was any disturbance school was cancelled and we were bussed home, to free up those soldiers for any other assignments.

We always knew when anything was going to happen in the Middle East, because school would suddenly be cancelled and we’d be bussed home with no warning, no explanation. You always knew something bad was going to happen when that happened.

After 9-11, school got cancelled a lot. When it wasn’t cancelled, we were sitting in the tennis courts.

Any time there was a bomb threat to the school, since it was a DODDS school, the US military had to call in reinforcements and secure the entire campus. Terrorists, students, people with too much time on their hands – all contributed to the insane amount of bomb threats we had in the ensuing 2 years I attended school there. While the military secured the entire school, campus and dorms (drooling dogs and guys going through each of our rooms – delightful!) we had to sit in the tennis courts. The entire school. Remember that the Middle East is hot and the dress code is very conservative. I can remember one day, I was in a sweater and long jeans, and we were stuck in the tennis courts for at least 3 hours. I was so hot I thought I was going to die. No water, no food – just intense sun and a lingering fear of what could happen.

The best was when someone would call in a bomb threat in the evening/night. Same precautions has to be carried out, only it was us Dormies who had to suffer. Multiple times we had to turn our assignments in a day late because we had been in the tennis courts all evening and into the night and couldn't get our home work done.

One day not long after 9-11(we’d returned back to school) I got up at my regular super early time to go to seminary. Seminary was taught for the 4 LDS students attending the Bahrain School in the school – which was convenient for me since I lived there. There were 3 LDS students in the boarding school; Emilie Shurtliff, Evan Witt and myself. The last student was Ian Wells, the son of Mrs. Wells who taught for the school (Mr. Wells did something else for the military and was also the Stake President). Emilie and I got to the door to enter the school and a soldier came running up to us. “School is cancelled!” he informed us. “You’ll be going home directly”. We asked why, and he “didn’t know” or “couldn’t say”.

I ran back to the dorm to joyously inform my groggy dormians who were just now starting to wake. They put us on back on the busses and off we went to Saudi.

It was that day or the next day, my Mom and I were driving onPeninsula, most likely on our way to the commissary, and we saw 5 fighter jets in formation go directly over our heads. I’ve never before or after seen that many jets or in that formation. I can’t prove it, but I’m fairly certain they were on their way to Iraq in what would be the start of the War in Iraq. The first bombs fell within hours of us seeing those jets.

I can still remember the feeling of watching them go over our heads, knowing the political tension, and just feeling that this was the beginning of something big.

Love,
Brittney

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