NEAR FALLUJAH, Iraq, Nov. 14 -- The truck roared up in a blizzard of white dust, its wheels spinning in the fine powder that covered the fenced-in lot known around here as the "BLAHA." The driver was in a hurry. The drivers were always in a hurry, and the Marines running the lot knew that without asking.
A forklift operator began moving stacks of 155mm artillery rounds onto the truck. A short distance away, Lance Cpl. Jorg Lozano and Pvt. Timothy Haney each grabbed a 112-pound box of mortar shells and hoisted it onto a stack of wooden crates. They walked so fast that the dust kicked up by their boots covered them like a swarm of bees.
Above, Lance Cpl. Jorg Lozano, 19, of Laredo, Tex., stacks 112-pound boxes of mortar shells at the BLAHA, or Basic Load Ammo Holding Area. At left, a sign reminds troops to bring back their empty ammunition cans. "Sometimes it's so busy we have to load the ammo by hand," Lozano said.
(Photos Jackie Spinner -- The Washington Post)
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"Sometimes it's so busy we have to load the ammo by hand," said Lozano, 19, of Laredo, Tex. "But I know I keep the blood flowing."
"What makes the blood flow, Lozano?" asked Cpl. Johnathon Castille, 21, of Lafayette, La., drilling the junior Marine.
"Ammo," Lozano replied. "Ammo, ammo," Haney said, chiming in, until the only sound in the yard was the two Marines chanting "ammo, ammo."
Since the battle of Fallujah started one week ago, few places at this main Marine outpost near the city have been as busy as the BLAHA, an Army acronym borrowed by the Marines that stands for "Basic Load Ammo Holding Area." When the artillery batteries need canon and mortar shells or the troops on the front line need flares and grenades, this is the place their supply groups come for ammunition.
Because of the large scale of the offensive operation, the ammo crews have been working nearly nonstop, trying to fill orders for U.S. and Iraqi security forces who continued Sunday to battle the last insurgent holdouts.
Most hours of the day and night, trucks line up, sometimes six to eight deep, waiting for ammo. The six Marines on duty rush around counting crates and boxes of mortar shells, smoke grenades and tank rounds, filling the orders and then loading them onto supply trucks.
"It's a big frigging ballet of forklifts," said 1st Lt. Ben Chase, 25, of New York City, a logistics officer for the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force Combat Service Support Battalion. Chase carried a tattered, green cloth-covered notebook with his favorite song lyrics scribbled on the back. "Fortified, Live, Reppin'. N.Y. Till I Die," one read. "One of us equals many of us. Disrespect one of us, you'll see plenty of us," read another.
"Everyone misses home out here," Chase said. "That's the worst thing. I can handle just about anything, but I miss New York City."
Lozano scurried by with his own notebook.
"Who's coming in?" Castille called after him.
"Twenty-fourth MEU," Lozano answered, referring to the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit.
"How much they picking up?"
