The Compound

The Compound

When I hear the word ‘compound’, I think of a centralized base surrounded by barbed wire with guard towers and machine guns.  Yup.  That’s what it is.  The compound is about 200 yards off of the main road (?) , a single gravel, or should I say, granulated concrete lane descending towards the beach.  It temporarily stops at a concrete block wall with a sliding steel door.  Razor wire lines the top of the wall.  A man with a machine gun slides open the gate to let us in.  A paper is signed, introductions quickly made, and we drive on in. 

Jacksonville base began about two weeks after the earthquake.  It was an old ‘motel’ on the beach that disintegrated in the shake.  All was removed and leveled and SP built some temporary structures.  Six or seven tents on raised stands are our housing.  A couple of outdoor bathrooms are nearby; a cold water shower next to that.  Constantly running generators keep the power on, the tents fairly cool, and provide a constant drum; kind of like the background noise on the starship Enterprise.   The compound has a central meeting area that is under cover, a screened in area for meals, a kitchen and assorted buildings in various states of construction.  Equipment is parked in one corner, some in between the stacked shipping containers that make up the repair facility.

My quarters make up a quarter of one tent and are shared with an interesting man named Paul.  He is one year younger than I and is working in the construction arena on and off base.  Plywood walls separate the other ‘cubicles’ of the tent.  Paul and I will be sharing our sparse spot in December when the other base merges with this one.  It’ll be ……. Cozy. 

Plans are to expand the existing base to the east of here on the other side of ‘The Wall’.  That’s where I’ll be introduced to some of the equipment tomorrow.  In the morning its play time; in the afternoon I’m taking a ‘walkabout’ in the truck to see the immediate area. 

I’ve met Aaron, he is twenty and been here since august.  John is the camp director, a fine man 8 years my junior who likes to snorkel around the reefs near here.  I’ve met more  but the names elude me.  I think I’ll fit in; it’s the kind of place where the rubber meets the road; there is no Mr. Fix It to fix it but you.  It should be … interesting.