As morning dawned Thursday a chill wind blew across huddled clusters of Altus troops. The 25-pound flak jackets and other assorted gear, which could make life unbearably hot at their destination, here provided some protection against the Oklahoma cold. As airmen waited to process through the deployment line, they inched forward at a painfully slow clip, each time shifting their bulky bags forward an inch at a time, much in the manner of holiday travelers enduring the security wait at the American Airlines counter at DFW.

In their midst was an Altus Times reporter and photographer. I was preparing to become an embedded member of the media in a manner that made more than one airman recall David Bloom, the NBC reporter who died earlier this year of a pulmonary embolism while accompanying the troops in Iraq.

But on this day, after the final gas mask and M-16 drills were completed, the airmen would pick up their belongings and go home instead of to hostile territory. This was a drill, one of three in 2003 at Altus Air Force Base. No Altus Times reporter would be going to the Middle East. Instead, I would participate in a drill that would mimic as closely as possible the deployments that are a part of American military life in times of war and of relative peace.

As in a real deployment, embedded media were given their dos and don'ts (all interviews are "on the record," no info released on troop strength and areas of deployment and, most importantly, carry your own bags). The airmen were also given a handout to prepare them to be accompanied by the media ("don't attempt to cover up embarrassing events by saying they're classified," be brief and don't use military jargon and "never lie to the media," good advice in any endeavor). In the media handout was information on how to locate next of kin, a form that sadly had to be put to use in Bloom's case.

Were this an actual deployment, Senior Airman Jason Gavin would be leaving behind a wife and a 2-month-old son. Gavin got back from Iraq just three months ago after five-and-a-half months overseas. "I'd like to be around," Gavin who saw enemy fire but never engaged in any combat, said, "but if I go, I have to go. That's what I came for."

Gavin is a member of a 13-man security force under the leadership of Tsgt. John Williams, a 19-year Air Force veteran who has seen action in the Gulf, Somalia and Kosovo. He explained how it is his crew's job to establish bases of operation for Air Force aircraft. The only combat they see is that necessary to establish and defend their base.

Sgt. Christopher Davis, who in five years has already been to Saudi Arabia, Baghdad and South America, says that 13-man crews are often sent overseas on short notice, that crewmembers have learned to keep a 30-day supply of personal items packed just in case.

Davis arrived at the Baghdad Airport soon after that city's fall. In the early days of the occupation of Iraq, Davis recalls three-hour lines for 15 minutes on a computer to e-mail family back home.

After a couple of hours in the elements with Williams' crew, the line moved inside the mobility center, a warehouse with towering shelves of gas masks, boots, gloves and various other acoutrements. Soon after entering the building, a question about the filing of proper paperwork for embedding a reporter caused a 15-minute holdup.

Further down the line, Williams said that "hurry up and wait" is not a new military concept. Gavin wishes aloud that bathrooms would be placed along the deployment line, a problem that may be in the process of being fixed. A $900,000 renovation on the mobility center has already begun. After about 45-minutes inside, the first destination is reached, the desk where sacks are tagged and dropped into huge crates to be loaded onto the plane.

As Williams' crew heads through the deployment line, Legal Services personnel insist that deployed troops leave behind a will and appoint someone with power of attorney. The legal ramifications of going overseas don't all have to do with what may happen overseas. Mundane matters, such as renewing vehicle registrations and filing taxes must be taken care of. And serving in the armed forces overseas doesn't mean you can't be sued at home. "It happens," said the sergeant in charge. Airmen also receive a green, business-card sized piece of paper on which are written some of the laws of armed conflict. Some I'd heard of -- do not feign surrender, do not shoot at parachuting pilots, treat POWs humanely. Some surprised me -- rank distinctions of POWs are to be maintained.

The staff of the finance department ensures airmen know about the benefits that come with being sent to a combat zone -- hostile-fire pay, rough-conditions pay and tax exemptions.

One of the stops on the deployment line brings the airman to Chaplain Eric Whitmore, a minister ordained by the Texas Baptist Convention. Whitmore recounts in a sonorous voice that he was once a reporter with Air Force TV News before entering the chaplaincy. While most people think a chaplain's main job is to organize church services, Whitmore says his main duty is seeing to it that personnel have the freedom to practice whatever religion they choose while overseas. Whitmore's assistant, Danielle Burrell, is not a fellow cleric, but instead more of a bodyguard. Chaplains, Whitmore explains, do not carry weapons, so when serving in a dangerous area, Burrell could come in quite handy.

At the end of the line comes the check of vaccination records. The specific vaccinations needed for each country is classified. Had I truly been going overseas, I would have had a preliminary medical consultation and, I assume, a lot of shots since I haven't had any vaccination since a tetanus shot after stepping on a nail at age 13.

At the end of the line, after a lot of standing comes a lot of sitting and some intermittent briefing. One of the presentations, from a program called Air Force Aid, reminds airmen that their spouses can join the "Hearts Apart" program. Among other things, Hearts Apart pays for a weekly excursion for dinner and a movie, an evening bowling or some other pastime. Free calling is available to spouses on Tuesdays and Thursdays, as are free oil changes and routine auto maintenance. Before the return home, airmen are encouraged to attend "reunion briefings."

"When you get back from the field you're going to want some time for yourself," says Tsgt. Nate Covington of the Family Support unit. "Your spouse is going to want to give you the kids and take some time for themselves."

Airmen then are told to dress to MOPP 2, a command that has men and women pulling on boots and charcoal-impregnated camo, which along with a Kevlar flak jacket causes the temperature to rise a bit.

It actually rises 10 degrees inside according to Airman Cherre Nestelroad, who teaches classes about field gear. In 120-degree desert heat, Nestelroad says, servicemen often have to spend 50 minutes in the shade to recover from 10 minutes spent in the sun.

But the gear actually feels good in the 40-degree cool outside, where airmen take part in the last three parts of the exercise, drills in unexploded ordinance detection, M-16 rifle fire and buddy care.

The buddy care drill is a series of questions testing your ability to staunch the bleeding or render other first aid to a fellow airman.

On the other side of the field, unexploded bombs (UXO in military parlance) lie strewn. SSgt. Eric Mueller tests airmen on how far to stay from UXO (75 feet) and what to do (cordon the area, call the ordnance unit with a description and location and stay there until they arrive).

Finally came the gas mask drill. Actually the familiar plastic breathing apparatuses are now called chemical masks to cover the wide variety of substances they can protect against. Some 17 journalists have died covering the war in Iraq. According to my photographer, had the chemical attack been real, I would have been number 18. Airmen are trained to don the mask and have it functional in nine seconds. I took perhaps twice that long before successfully getting the tell-tale Darth Vader sound that indicates air is being breathed through the filter.

At the end of the day, I go, not to Baghdad, but back to the vehicle of my escort to turn in my helmet and flak jacket. Many of the airmen who accompanied me through the line are relieved to be able to go home to their families, but some are still anxious for their first deployment.

"I joined the Air Force to see the world," said SSgt. Erica Cooper, a medic from Arkansas. "I've gone from Sheppard to Altus. I guess I've seen all of Texhoma."