MEETUP LOCATION: City of Bellevue, WA. Specifically at the "Bellevue Downtown Park." The park has a gigantic circle area of grass. In that circle is one LARGE tree. Meet at the tree.
Theme: Khobar Towers.
The 1990s were a time of relative peace in the Middle East. America dominated the region, controlling the skies and maintaining a strong military presence. Many of us who served in the Gulf could earn a three-day pass and head somewhere fun—all you had to do was catch a ride across the desert for five hours. Which I did.
When I finally reached Khobar, there was only one way into the compound: through a maze of concrete barricades that led to a guard shack. Behind it stood a two-story bunker covered in green sandbags. “Older guys” manned M60 machine guns, calmly doing their thing.
I glanced over at my buddy driving, then looked out the window. The perimeter fence line was way too close to the barracks. Right then, a thought struck me hard:
“We could get blown up.”
I was barely 20 years old. I got lucky—but for years, I struggled with the guilt and the question: Could I have done something?
I know now that I could not.
Three years later, that fear became real. Nineteen Airmen lost their lives—just as I had imagined might happen to me.
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