Watching Nickelodeon. The cable company interrupted things to tell us. Weird-ass company.
Well, I meant January 15th, 1991, when it ceased to be “Desert Shield” and became “Desert Storm”.
Well, for me it started when my on-again, off-again boyfriend called me from OCS to tell me his commander had called him to come home.
Of course, his commander was just being melodramatic; they didn’t ship out for some months later, and never got beyond some training in Norway or somewhere before the thing was over. But at the time, it was happening, and it was real.
I was in the second grade. I remember making cards in class to send to the soldiers overseas. I don’t remember when I first heard about it.
I didn’t have a clue what was going on. I just knew Saddam Hussein was the “bad guy.” And I remember knowing something about oil. Anyway, as a result of my becoming aquainted with such an overarching enemy to the US at such a young age, I got Hussein confused with Hitler for years afterwards. Hey, they were both bad guys, and had names starting with H…
I was walking to my friend’s apartment to get stoned. I got there and he’s watching his shitty little B&W television and telling me we were bombing Baghdad, and I didn’t believe him at first.
I was in my room playing chess with my brother when my parents walked in from the living room, where our only TV was, to tell us that the war had started. I was eight years old at the time.
I dunno. I was five years old. Probably playing around. I do remember seeing it on TV, but I don’t remember when it started.
I feel old…
I was buying a magazine at Harvard Square News when the announcement came over the kiosk’s little TV set.
I was in a friend’s room in the Navy barracks on what was then Homestead AFB. A few of us had planned on going to see Godfather III that night.
We’re talking about January 1991, right?
(If my 11 year old memory serves, George Bush gave an ultimatum effective to January 11, 1991. However, Desert Storm was actually held off until January 15.)
In any event, I remember the day vividly. I was in bed with a severely lacerated right foot. (Earlier that week, my older brother locked me outside the house; in response, I kicked a hole through the door. (The glass door. :eek: )) My family were sitting in my dark bedroom with me when the news came in.
I was at Sizzler.
I was in a Chinese restaurant at the time. I hi-fived my wife, because I was glad to see it start, and that POed the waitress, who had a relative in Saudi Arabia that worked for an oil company.
I was in the community room/lounge of my junior college. Everyone was standing around, watching the TV. I remember looking around and thinking “I will never forget this moment”.
I was about 15 miles south of the Saudi Arabian - Kuwaiti border, sleeping in my sleeping bag at the 2nd Marine Division Headquarters, rifle and pistol in the bag with me, gas mask pouch as a pillow. I heard what sounded like a swarm of B-52s in my sleeping bag with me. The sky was filled with planes headed north. I felt sorry for the sons-a-bitches who were going to hear that sound next, and went back to sleep. We were going to have a few long days ahead.
I was at home, making spaghetti. I’d just put it in the colander and was shaking out the water over the sink when the announcement came on TV that the war had started. My husband was on the USS Theodore Roosevelt in the Persian Gulf at the time, so after I ate I watched television and wrote to him about what we were hearing back in the US. For the next several months he was lucky if he got 4 hours of sleep a night, and some of that was stretched out on his desk in the Strike Ops office.
I was working on an oil rig in Norway when the planes started dropping bombs. I flew home maybe two days later and the flight had maybe 5 or 6 people on it. Weird. Good service, though.
I was finishing up at the office. My assistant and I were heading for a an awards banquet.
Worst. Banquet. Ever.
I was coming out of the subway in Kew Gardens going to visit my three day old nephew when I heard it on my walkman. When I got to his family’s home, my sister was crying because she felt a war would put a bad spin on her baby’s first few days of life, but it really didn’t.
I was living in Australia and was at the mall shopping with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. It was a very weird time to be an American overseas, particularly as I was 15 and not really up on politics and didn’t really understand it.