Early in 1991, as the guy in charge of supply, food service, and the motor pool for an Army Medical company that had people scattered over several hundred miles of the Area of Operations (AO), my people and I needed to know where I was going on my weekly thousand-mile odyssey to deliver supplies, parts, and equipment. Being a support unit, we were on the low end of the priority scale where things like maps were concerned, and so I exercised my “field expedient” skills, stopped in a gas station in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, and bought every highway map they had to hand out to my platoon. When we examined the maps we noted that, where we had expected to see “Israel,” the map was marked “Palestine.” That was a different country, the Saudis had attitudes that differed from ours, and besides, at the time we had bigger fish to fry — namely, kicking some and taking some, which we did.
I…
