VIDEO: Newstalk ZB Political Editor Barry Soper outlines the trip to Camp Taji

Standing in his civilian, military-style fatigues, John key left us in no doubt about what he thought of Camp Taji, desolate, beige and Godforsaken were just a few of the adjectives that flowed from the silver tongue. The sort of place you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, something of an irony considering our worst enemy, Isis, surrounds the place and would like to occupy it.

In reality this 36 square kilometre piece of desert, 25 kilometres away from Baghdad, is a conglomeration of shipping container like accommodation blocks, sitting underneath and surrounded by what they call T slabs, which are giant pieces of reinforced concrete made to withstand any explosive device the enemy decides to hurl at them.

They surround everything and are painted with the desert dust. Driving around the camp is like negotiating a slalom course between the slabs, not a straight road in sight.

The only straight roads are outside Camp Taji and they’re too dangerous to drive on, no one is prepared to risk it, even the might of the United States won’t take a chance. No military vehicle’s prepared to drive the IED highways with all troop movements made by air which hampered the Prime Minister’s flag waving exercise to our troops in Taji.

His first attempt at flying from Baghdad was thwarted by a sandstorm, isolating the military compound. The RNZAF Hercules, which had waited patiently in the Iraqi capital for clearance, was forced to fly three hours back to Dubai, well that was the plan.

After two attempts at landing because of thick fog and running low on fuel, the 50 year old lumbering giant, thumped on to the runway five hours later.

Key held a briefing with the media, he was prepared to tough it out, even if it took a couple of days, to get into Taji. Twelve hours later and in the ANZAC spirit, an Australian Herc on a regular “milk run” offered us a lift and several hours later, after brief customs clearance stop in the Iraqi capital, the Taji runway invited touchdown.

The PM was clearly happy and the troops seemed happy enough to see him, even if one of them did confide that a flag change would be a travesty.

After a day of glad handing and mutual back scratching, the slalom course was being negotiated again, past a massive dump containing the remnants of the 2003 American invasion and not far from the Iraqi prison within the camp perimeter, incarcerating many of those who this fight is against.

The Americans, in the spirit of the coalition of the willing, laid on a couple of Chinook choppers to take the contingent to Baghdad and back to the again patiently waiting Hercules to fly them the safety of Dubai.

The chopper’s loading door was left gaping with a machine gunner, legs over the edge, scanning the countryside below, looking for snipers. With a couple of gunship Apache choppers flying shotgun, anyone who fired a weapon skyward, would be gone in a flash.
The rotors slowed, the tarmac rose up, and touchdown was complete. Once the dust had settled, the sign read, Welcome to Camp Taji. They were back where they started, once again, the sand won the day, only this time John Key was isolated.

So rather than a flying visit to the troops, he ended up hanging around like a bad smell, although given the number of soldiers he posed for pics with in the canteen on his forced layover, it seems the odour was something they were prepared to live with for a little bit longer.