by Spc. Chris Chesak, B Co., Task Force 2-116 Armor

FOB WARRIOR, Iraq - I have never been a hot weather person, much preferring my winter sports, a foot of fresh powder and bundling up for snowy hikes. At the peak of the summer, I used to walk out of my Boise home in sandals and shorts and curse the 105 degree heat. Now I would welcome such 'cool' temperatures.

In Kirkuk it now routinely reaches 120 degrees, one day hitting 126. Although it's an overused analogy, the heat here truly feels like a sauna. When you step outside, it chokes your windpipe and hits you like a mallet to the chest.

It is a tough environment to work in, and an even tougher one to soldier in. Our uniforms cover us almost completely while our 35 pound body armor further restricts airflow to our chest and back. Add helmet, boots, ammunition, weapon, and a myriad of other gear and the weight in such heat becomes oppressive.

You do what you can, though. You freeze water bottles in our industrial-sized freezers, load coolers filled with water and ice into the Humvees, and you consume whatever liquids you can before, during and after patrols. You pray often the lethargic AC in your Humvee doesn't go on the fritz. You work out, when you can, very early in the morning or extremely late at night. You make use of our lukewarm pool as often as you can or otherwise stay inside our air-conditioned squad bays. You strip down your gear and clothing to just the barest of essentials.

I stopped wearing my t-shirt and underwear and now substitute long army socks for small, ankle-length running socks. I tie both my boots and the drawstring in my pants cuffs loosely in order to keep some air flowing in and out. We all open up the sleeve cuffs on our uniform blouses and even roll them up one single roll when we can get away with it.

We aren't allowed to roll up our sleeves completely as this leads to greater chance of sunburn and thus skin cancer. Besides, your skin needs the protection when you're working in and around the sun-baked metal of Humvees and machineguns. Most of us even wear gloves as well.

Guard duty on our small patrol base is perhaps the most difficult. While missions are usually just a few hours long, now scheduled for 'cooler' parts of the day, and in an air-conditioned Humvee, guard duty is a full eight hours spent in open concrete towers. For guard, I pull out all the stops, going so far as to lose my belt, take off my watch, and leave behind my wallet in order to better let the skin beneath it breath more. Many soldiers cart coolers with them from tower to tower.

But our most important tool in dealing with the heat is acceptance. It's extremely hot out, we wear armor, have to accomplish our missions, and whining won't help the situation. You ignore the sweat soaking your uniform or (for me) running onto your glasses, disregard the hot breezes that dry out your eyes, and try not to complain (much).

Occasionally, during a pause in a conversation with another soldier, I might say something like, "Hey, it's a little hot out today, huh?" He might reply, "Yeah, it's a little warm." And then we just get on with what we need to do. After all, the faster our work gets done, the faster we get to go back to our air-conditioned bays.

Recently, I celebrated the milestone of July 15. That day was my self-proclaimed 'Peak of Summer', the middle-most day of June, July, and August, and marked the apex of the summer heat hump. Everything now should, theoretically be getting cooler...theoretically.

Of course, while that's a nice thought, we still have a month and a half of temperatures near 120 degrees to get through and the body armor isn't getting any lighter. We'll continue to suck down our frozen water bottles, tote around our coolers, and continue - as always - to count the days until we are home again, blissfully chilled by another cool Idaho winter.