Day 173

Sunday in the Barracks at the hospital. Ah, sleep; let your waiting arms embrace me. A word of warning for the faint of heart and the faint of smell, the following information should not be taken lightly. If you have a weak stomach, I urge you, do not read on. I've warned you. If you continue reading it is at your own peril. I've got some seriously stinky farts. I guess my system became accustomed to the food in Iraq, because it isn't used to the food here in Germany. It's not that we weren't fed three times a day in Tallil, for there was plenty of food, but I'm not sure from where the food was shipped. Certainly it wasn't from the US or Europe. It's such a shock to my system to have real beef; real chicken; real sauces. Soda NOT from a can; milk not in a juice box. There are actually water fountains here. The first one I saw I just had to stop and stare for a minute. I didn't actually need a drink, but I just couldn't help myself.