The post exchange, or PX, knows no wartime limits except blast walls.
Carpets from Iran go fast.

Petty Officer Corey Baughman stared with narrowed eyes at the objects on
the ground in front of him. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. He knelt down
and leaned in for a closer look. The Navy explosives ordnance expert had
a difficult choice to make, one that could haunt him for life if he
erred. Should he buy the striking carpet from Kazakhstan with blue
accents against an ochre background, or a rich, wine-colored one from
Turkey? These carpets could be expected to last 90 years with proper
care, the rug seller reminded Baughman as he struggled to decide. After
several more minutes of silent contemplation, and a small bit of
haggling, Baughman bought two Kazakh carpets, closing another deal in
one of the strangest shopping environments on Earth: the modern-day
military mall.

In the trailer next door, Alcon Moroney was selling Harley-Davidsons at
a rate of about 30 per week, based solely on pictures in a catalog.
Around the corner, Spc. Brian Andrews was sitting in the beauty salon
waiting for the clear polish to dry on his freshly pedicured feet. At
the jewelry store, Capt. Bill Wold was eyeing gold bracelets for his
wife.

Downtime is rare for troops in Iraq, but when missions slow down, troops
go shopping, and on-base shopping has come a long way since the first
PXs, or post exchanges, were established. No longer are troops limited
to browsing for rough-hewn underwear and socks at a single store. Now
retail centers and food courts are considered crucial to boosting
military morale, particularly in places such as Iraq, where every trip
into the city is rife with risk.

The result is an eclectic mix of retailers and their employees — usually
non-U.S. citizens looking to earn more money than they would back home —
catering to mainly twentysomething troops with little to do in their
free time but spend money. And spend they do, on everything from that
most American of motorcycles, the Harley, to ornate silk carpets from
Iran, which the U.S. government accuses of sending weapons to Iraq.

"It's really odd that you can go out during the day and people can be
shooting at you and trying to blow you up, and then you can come back
here and buy a plasma TV," said Baughman, who was shopping for rugs to
outfit his apartment in Sicily, Italy, where he is based. "It's
available, so people do it. It's probably better than spending all your
time sitting inside with a PlayStation."

Like the other stores in this corner of Camp Liberty, the Ahtamara rug
shop was granted a concession to operate by the Dallas-based Army and
Air Force Exchange Service, which oversees retail centers at U.S.
military outposts around the world. The shops are a reflection of troop
requests, said Lt. Col. Dean Thurmond, an AAFES spokesman. The goal is
to offer the men and women the comfort items they have back home in
hopes of making their deployment slightly less arduous, if only for a
few minutes at a time. He described one young soldier's first bite of a
Whopper at a Burger King in Baghdad as an example. "It's meat and a
bun," he said, "but for a brief moment, that soldier wasn't in Baghdad
anymore. He was home." Aesthetically, at least, these shopping areas are
anything but homey. Most resemble hastily erected trailer parks
surrounded by blast barriers and concertina wire.

Functional, not fancy

Ahtamara and the other stores occupy about a dozen simple white trailers
without elaborate signs or windows, so there is no hint of the treasures
inside. The red-white-and-blue labels outside each trailer identify them
only by what they sell. Ahtamara's says "Rug Shop." But drawing
customers is not a problem, because the trailers line a narrow walkway
hemmed in by concrete blast walls. Anyone walking to the beauty salon,
the T-shirt shop, the jewelry shop or the gift shop must pass the rug
shop, in addition to the motorcycle and car dealership next door.

Kamuran Sercan, one of Ahtamara's salesmen, said the U.S. war of words
with Iran had no effect on sales of his most expensive carpets, the silk
Persians from Iran. They are his best sellers, Sercan said as he ran his
fingers over the turquoise- and rose-colored flowers adorning one of the
rugs. He flipped the corner over to show the perfect hand stitching.

It took someone seven months to finish this carpet, a 2-by-3 gem so
beautiful, Sercan said, that it belonged on a wall, not a floor. The
price was $950, and by early afternoon he had sold at least one. "To be
honest, the Iranian ones are the best. They are the best in the world,"
Sercan said as he went from one pile of carpets to another, dragging his
favorites out for shoppers to view.

Sercan is typical of the vendors. He earns $1,200 a month, twice what he
would get for the same work back home in Turkey. He sends most of his
earnings to his family. It wasn't money that drew Moroney, the
motorcycle salesman, to Iraq. It was a yearning to see something other
than his native Ireland. The Exchange New Car Sales dealership where he
works is nothing more than a trailer with three desks, and walls
plastered with photographs of Harley-Davidsons and Ford and
DaimlerChrysler vehicles. "Most of the guys know more about these
vehicles than I do," Moroney said, speaking in a thick brogue. "I'd
worked in Ireland since I left college. I thought it was a bit of
excitement and a chance to see what's going on here. It has been
borderline exciting, but also a bit scary."

As he spoke, a tiny woman with a look of consternation on her sunburned
face burst in. She was Sgt. 1st Class Patricia Moore, and she was
checking on the fire-engine-red Harley-Davidson Dyna Super Glide that
she had ordered as a gift for her husband, who is also in the Army.
Moroney sent an e-mail to the supplier and assured Moore that the Harley
would be waiting for them back home in time for their May leave.

Buying a Harley, or any of the other vehicles offered by Exchange, is
pretty much like buying a pair of pants online. There are no tires to
kick, no engines to rev, no big stickers on windows to remind you of the
price. There are simply catalogs with photographs of appealing new
vehicles, ranging from the $80,000 Dodge Viper sports car to the
top-of-the-line Harley, a $20,000 Ultra Classic Electra Glide. The
shop's location, next to the AT&T call center, helps business. Most
customers come in, ask a few questions, then go next door and call home
to get a spouse's approval. "I'm going to mull it over and talk to the
old lady," one young soldier said.

Moroney is quick to tell drop-ins who just want to pick up a catalog
about the advantages he says Exchange offers them. They pay no taxes,
and with extra rebates and discounts offered to the military, they can
expect to pay 10% to 20% less than if they bought in the United States,
he says. Exchange even gives motorcycle buyers $250 to attend a safety
course. Buyers can select a delivery date to coincide with the end of
their deployment or their R&R.

Should a buyer die before taking possession, the deposit is returned to
the family, he said. Harleys are by far the most popular item and
outsell the cars, trucks and SUVs combined. "A lot of the guys here are
making extra money and not paying taxes, so it's a good opportunity for
them to buy something like this," Moroney said.

Kids in a candy shop?

Not everyone supports the idea of having big-ticket items for easy sale
to young and often vulnerable customers, many earning less than $2,000 a
month as enlisted soldiers with fewer than five years in the military.
While posted to Iraq, they don't pay federal taxes. They also get hazard
pay and, if married, family separation pay, all of which can give them a
false sense of financial security, said Wold, the Army captain shopping
for jewelry. But when they return to the United States and see those few
hundred extra dollars a month vanish, many find themselves burdened by
debt, he said.

The most vulnerable are the troops stationed in areas without decent
shopping. "They come through here and go on a spree because of the
selection," Wold said as he tried to choose a bracelet for his wife,
Aurora, in Fayetteville, N.C. He ran his fingers along a delicate gold
chain on the jeweler's glass counter and asked the price. The jeweler,
after weighing the bracelet on a tiny scale, told him $300. Sensing that
the price was too steep for his customer, he brought out a nearly
identical but less ornate one, for $215. "I'll take it," Wold said, and
handed over his debit card as the jeweler tucked the trinket into a
cotton-lined box.

funny i dont remember any shopping sprees while I was at camp corrigedor
in ramadi, or the COP by sadaam mosque, must only be at some of those
large bases where no fighting really happens and rock stars and other
celeb's come over to visit with the war torn soldiers who have it so
'tough' with their volley ball and swimming pools and fake ass PTSD.

ramadi, no joke, what a crazy freaking place. try to get there better be
flying (but thats no safe bet either) cause the roads will simply blow
you away, or was the constant ambushes, or mortar attackes two and three
times a day, on a base that was only 800 by 700 meters- no place to
hide, we're the guys who showed up about once every three months or so
to go see the an exray machine or something, always getting weird looks
from you dudes and dudets noses in the air like we were interupting your
tough scheduled day of sunbathing.

give me a break, shopping sprees? doesnt really show the real iraq, from
a combatants point of view anyway.


doc

1-506 look it up babe

you know doc combat MOS's only make up about 1/4 th of the troops
there.........
ohrahhhh!!!