Life aboard the platform is a culture shock - Navy News | News from Afghanistan & Iraq - Navy Times

Life aboard the platform is a culture shock

ABOARD AL BASRAH OIL TERMINAL IN THE PERSIAN GULF — Four months ago, when Cmdr. Richard Balzano arrived here, he could not rest his first night because he was sure the fumes from millions of barrels of pumping oil would kill him in his sleep.

That was just his first taste of the hazards on ABOT. Since then, he has discovered dangerous wiring, seriously weakened steel structures and rampant thievery by Iraqi oil company workers.

“Every single day, I am finding problems. The first day, I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “It is a walking nightmare. But we are light years ahead of where we were four months ago.”

Balzano, a reserve engineering duty officer with a dive and salvage specialty, is serving an individual augmentee tour as the platform commander. While an Iraqi oil company keeps the oil flowing to waiting supertankers, Balzano keeps the platform operable for the sailors and Coast Guardsmen protecting it. But that doesn’t mean it approaches the standards that are assumed in the U.S.

“We always walk around with eyes open and our heads on swivels,” said Construction Electrician 2nd Class (SCW/SS) James Robertson, a reserve Seabee who came to ABOT after working at a remote outpost near Rawah, Iraq. “It’s an industrial complex.”

Built in 1973 by a Texas oil infrastructure company, ABOT has become a steel-and-wire Frankenstein’s monster, with a mix of British, Russian and U.S. power systems and jury-rigging galore. For Balzano, it’s somewhat incredible given that this single, wobbly site — pumping 1 million barrels of oil per day — provides Iraq with more than 70 percent of its gross national product.

“It’s been an electrical nightmare,” he said. “This place would not be up and operable if we weren’t here. I am amazed at how important this place is and how little attention it gets.”

The steel-grate catwalks between platforms are warped and made of up of incongruous parts. Bullet holes from strafing aircraft during previous wars have perforated its supporting steel spine. Balzano and some Seabees will have to weld a sleeve over one particular growing crack, and do it while suspended 60 feet over shark-infested water.

“My No. 1 goal is to make it safe but not recapitalize [Iraq’s Southern Oil Company],” said Balzano, a triathlete who stays in shape by running a three-mile course around the catwalks and riding one of the stationary bikes procured through Morale, Welfare and Recreation.

For the sailors stationed here, it’s like a ship that stays put.

Master-at-Arms 1st Class Bobby Carbajal, a reservist from Fruitland, Idaho, came from guard duty at the Camp Bucca, Iraq, detention center. He said he likes it on ABOT.

“It’s just a steel island. I have no complaints about this place,” he said. “I have Internet. I have food. I have air conditioning. There’s sun and water. Only thing missing is the sand.”

Besides improving the tactical operations center, living area and open-air gym, along with beefing up the electrical supply for the U.S. mission, Balzano had toilet huts installed for the oil company workers who he said previously used the platform rails as their freestyle head. But he’s seen improvements to the older platform to the north, the Khawr Al Amaya Oil Terminal, go to waste.

“It’s already destroyed,” he said. “They burned up two generators.”

And when he needs the cooperation of the Iraqi oil company workers, he must resort to incentivized cajoling.

“I have to bribe them with cakes and tools if I want them to start the crane,” he said. “It’s ‘Junkyard Wars’ out here.”

While Balzano was speaking to a reporter, two Iraqi oil company workers walked past toward their berthing area carrying a wall locker belonging to a different company, its logo stamped on the door.

Balzano stopped them, asked them what they were doing and looked to see if the locker was empty, which it was. The Iraqis were caught, and even though Balzano threw up his hands and told the two, “You can have it,” they hung their heads and carried it back to where they’d lifted it.

Two non-Iraqi workers, whose locker had just been stolen and returned, came by. When Balzano explained the incident, they nodded knowingly, smiled and said, “Ali Baba.”