Iraq is a small country for American soldiers. They work, relax, and live on tiny Forward Operating Bases (FOB) with the same forty people in their platoon for a yearlong deployment. Most soldiers cover the same area of operation for the entire deployment, so even when they're off base they tend to go to the same places, see the same Iraqis, and do roughly the same thing. Approaching the halfway point in their deployment, many soldiers struggle with claustrophobia and boredom.

Feeling stuck has been a part of life for American soldiers since the troops began to settle in after the initial invasion. At a base near Balad, two soldiers who spent over half a year in Iraq decided they had enough. They put on their exercise clothes--the closest outfit they had to civilian clothes--stole an Iraqi civilian car that the American Army had impounded, and fled the base with one M-16 and one magazine. An American checkpoint stopped the two soldiers, who were now drunk, and took them back to base for punishment. The two were eventually charged with desertion of post and sentenced to a term of four to six years in a military prison.

Though few soldiers take such extreme actions, many continue to struggle with a feeling of confinement. Comparisons between base life and prison life are popular among soldiers. After watching "Oz," the HBO television series about life in a maximum-security prison, Private First Class Brian D'Arcangelo notices several similarities between the prison cafeteria and the base cafeteria. Other soldiers joke that they're not allowed to leave and surrounded by barriers topped with razor wire.

Limited recreational facilities force soldiers to find creative ways to lacerate the boredom. Small FOBs provide soldiers with a weight room and a telephone-internet center. Beyond these amenities soldiers must find their own after work entertainment. Sergeant Rob Ness, who worked in civil affairs, used his downtime to learn the ins and outs of the stock market. Using his personal savings and online trading services, he accrued substantial earnings during his yearlong stint in Iraq.

Unable to cultivate much of a social life on base, Ness, like many other soldiers, used the internet to make another kind of investment. With the proliferation of dating and social networking websites, soldiers find it easy to develop online relationships that can blossom into something more once they return to the United States. Generally soldiers launch two major online dating campaigns, one before their mid-tour leave, and another before they return home for good. Internet Casanovas often collect multiple photos of their online partners in provocative poses and daring lingerie.

Though many improvise these online relationships, after several failed attempts Ness developed a system. He started with an introductory e-mail. If the woman responded, he sent a second e-mail explaining that he was overseas participating in an "international humanitarian mission," but still interested in corresponding until his stateside return. Through this approach, Ness claimed to have found women interested in everything from an evening of dancing to much more.

As some single soldiers plot these future rendezvous, soldiers with a wife or girlfriend back home often battle a sense of regression and helplessness when relationship problems surface. With nothing to do but talk or type their way through problems, periodic eruptions often disturb the telephone-internet center. Others whisper nervously into the phone, trying to save their ailing relationship. Confined to a FOB in Iraq, soldiers have little else to do but worry.

Aside from attending to personal their personal affairs, FOBs offer soldiers little other entertainment. After a mission, roommates Private First Class D'Archangelo and Specialist Tony Chicoine try to find a movie to watch. Though they have a shelf packed with DVDs, they've already watched every movie at least once, probably twice, and often too many times to count. They've even gone through most of their neighbors' video collections. So they're deciding what movie they haven't watched so much that it's no longer entertaining.

Defying military stereotypes, the American Army forbids soldiers in Iraq from possessing porn. The logic holds that illicit materials might offend Iraqis. The internet center blocks questionable sites, and officers and sergeants can confiscate pornography.

This restriction, however, does not stop soldiers from finding pornographic films. Ironically, Iraqis supply most soldiers with their porn. Haji Shops, the soldiers' name for small stores on FOBs run by local Iraqis, generally have a not-so-secret smut stash. No one's quite sure where the Iraqis find it, though many theorize that they record it from satellite stations. While most of the porn is normal, heterosexual videos, occasionally soldiers complain of unwittingly purchasing gay, child, or fat themed pornography, adding to the mystery of the porn's origin.

Others try to remain active, hoping they won't have time to dwell on Iraq's restrictions. "I've never really experienced boredom. I've always got something to do," says Specialist Ryan O'Connor who stays busy with chores. After fumigating his room for bugs O'Connor sits down with the local Haji Shop owner to watch "Strip Tease," a soft selection from the not-so-secret stash, and have a soda while he waits for the fumes to clear.