Where's my bag?

Where's my bag?! So, when you get off the plane, they ask for the very youngest enlisted to volunteer to be baggage handlers. Of course, they are all thrilled to death after the 16+ hours of travel and all, so there is this huge stampede to handle the big heavy bags. Not really, they asked for 15, got 6, then 15 more stepped up after about 15 minutes. If I had had my gloves and coat, I would have helped, but it was too miserably cold to do without (the smart enlisted were much better prepared with winter gear than I was). Once we deplane, they wisk us away in a school bus for a short ride to center of the base. After an hour of checking in and getting a useless brief on how to navigate the base and what you will be doing until you are scheduled for your military rotator flight, you walk to the "luggage port of call." They dump everyone's bags there. It was kinda funny, but I couldn't help think to myself that this is one aspect of war that does not change - people got shit - a lot of it!