An Army of One it's not, and to fully understand what Hawai'i's soldiers go through in Iraq, it's necessary to understand the terms "high speed," "fobbit" and "poge."

The majority of U.S. service members do not leave the gates, or head "outside the wire" of the large, heavily fortified bases the United States maintains in Iraq — facilities akin to frontier outposts.

Except now they're sometimes called Forward Operating Bases, or FOBs. Those soldiers who perform missions outside the wire get to see the real Iraq, interact with people, drink chai tea, eat flatbread — and face occasional small-arms fire or roadside bomb attacks.

It's extra dangerous duty, and for those who regularly undertake it, a source of pride. For those who don't, going outside the wire has a thrill-seeker allure that most would like to experience at least a few times on a yearlong deployment.

Spending a year on a FOB or other base is dangerous enough. Militants almost daily target Logistical Support Area Anaconda north of Baghdad with mortars and rockets. They pop off a few rounds from a distance of several miles and then leave in a hurry before U.S. forces can pinpoint the firing location and respond.

There have been more than a half-dozen fatalities on base since the war began, and Air Force Senior Airman Brian Kolfage, a 2000 Kaimuki High School graduate, had his hand blown off and both of his legs were amputated after a mortar round landed near him on Sept. 11, 2004.

Still, the distinction of duties — and others that exist within the U.S. military hierarchy in Iraq — make for some interesting class struggles and points of view.

There's always a unit that's more "high speed" — military parlance for doing cooler things. The Hawai'i National Guard soldiers of the 1st Battalion, 487th Field Artillery, who provide base security in Kuwait, just wish they were in Iraq.

Many of the 2nd Battalion, 299th Infantry soldiers at Camp Victory near Baghdad International Airport who have base security jobs just wish they went outside the base more.

Those whose jobs take them off base see firsthand what Iraq is like. Those who don't go off base create a view based on what they hear and on interaction with Iraqis who work on base.

Higher yet on the soldiering pecking order are borderline special operators like the Air Force's Office of Special Investigation, interrogators who sometimes eschew helmets for ball caps in the field, wear T-shirts and khaki pants, and grow lamb-chop sideburns and sprout goatees.

On one mission outside Anaconda in July, a 100th Battalion, 442nd Infantry Humvee was passed on a dirt road by a speeding Air Force Humvee with an OSI agent hanging on in the back wearing an Iraqi scarf but no helmet.

Dangerous? Yes. Why do it? Because they can. And such plumage distinguishes them from regular, uniformed service members who perform less glamorous grunt work, like securing an intersection in a village.

In Afghanistan, U.S. Special Forces operating in the mountains grew foot-long beards and tooled around in white Toyota Hi-Lux pickup trucks, sometimes with Afghan guards manning a bed-mounted Soviet heavy machine gun in the back.

Matted hair, long beards and shabby clothing were the GQ look of Operation Enduring Freedom.

Those who regularly go off base in Iraq sometimes derisively refer to those who remain on base as fobbits, a derivation of FOB, and a play on hobbits.

Similarly, a poge is a "permanently on garrison" person. There is little face-to-face denigration of service members as such. Rather, the pejoratives are used mostly in private among buddies or squads. Usually, it's harmless competitiveness.

A soldier who is a clerk might expect to remain on base, but as a whole, perhaps 80 percent of the soldiers with the 29th Brigade Combat Team in Iraq spend all or most of their time on base.

It's not what many want, or expected, and some volunteer for a chance mission outside the wire.

Spc. Demitrius "Mitch" Monico, a 20-year-old from Kalihi who works in administrative operations at LSA Anaconda and worked at McDonald's back home, said before the deployment was over, he wanted to go on a patrol with his dad, Spc. Mel Monico, 43, who's with a military police platoon at the sprawling air base.

"So I have something to talk about," the younger Monico said. "Then I can come back and just share that special thing with my dad."

For Spc. Naomi Suzuki, 31, from Waikiki, who's part of the 29th Support Battalion and works on base with Iraqis making claims for damages, injury or death caused by U.S. forces, it's a chance to meet the local populace — but not in the way she'd like.

"I want to visit the villages. It's not enough interaction. What happened to playing with the kids and giving away things?" Suzuki said as she neared the halfway point on the yearlong deployment.

Being a woman brings extra barriers to outside duty because of prohibitions on combat duty. Women are allowed to serve in combat support units. They are not allowed in front-line units. Sometimes the lines blur.

Spc. Alexis Hernandez, 21, of Wahiawa, was not allowed to convoy up into Iraq from Kuwait at the start of the deployment. She flew in on a C-130.

"I fought that one," she said. "I got every kind of reason, from personal hygiene to females have a price on their head."

At about the halfway point of the deployment, the medic — who normally worked at the base's North gate treating Iraqis and U.S. soldiers — had volunteered to provide security on convoys, and had been on "presence" patrols.

"That's what we're trained to do. That's what I kind of got in my head — that that's what my job is all about," she said. "You get to see Iraq and what it's all about."

Reach William Cole at wcole@honoluluadvertiser.com.