ONE OUT OF THREE (AIN'T BAD)
I hit a milestone today - I'm 1/3 of the way through the first leg of my deployment.
The time between when I arrived and when I leave next June for R&R is 278 days, and I'm in the midst of my 93rd.
In many ways, it feels like I haven't been here that long. I don't feel as integrated here as I did at this point during my Iraq deployment, in large part because the resources were not in place when I arrived here. In Iraq, I replaced a colleague who'd done all the hard work to set things up for everyone that came after him - including me.
Here, I'm paving the way, defining my role in this theater, and striving to set up the infrastructure (particularly the office). It's a lot of hard work, though I'm not complaining - I'd rather be doing this than anything else. I will have a much longer deployment than my predecessor had in Iraq, and I've every expectation of building this up to a comparable level by the time I hand the reins off to someone else.
R&R = Rest & Relaxation
AH-CHOO!
I’ve never lived in a trailer home, or spent significant time in one (except in Iraq, I suppose), but my neighbor/coworker tells me what we’re living in is a lot like that. It has fake wood paneling and walls that you could put your fist through, and plenty of cracks at the seams where cold air and, presumably, insects sneak in.
The small building is bisected by a wall and I live on one side, and one of the guys I work with lives on the other. We each have a door to the outside and the whole building rattles when either of us leaves or returns.
I usually can’t hear anything going on in my neighbor’s space, though I commonly have the television on (AFN News) for background noise. When he has people over I can hear the muffled buzzing of voices, but generally can’t make out what they’re saying (not that I care to).
I’ve heard him snoring a few times, and I’m sure he hears the same from my side. I never hear his television, and he says he never hears mine, though I used to hear my previous neighbor’s radio when he had it placed right up against the separating wall; I don’t have a radio. I can hear his phone ringing, and I suppose he can hear mine, but phones don’t ring all that often over here and often we're calling each other anyhow.
I think it's important to keep that separation between our living areas. Privacy is something that is very rare in theater, and we're lucky to have what little slice of it we do.I just sneezed and my neighbor shouted through the wall “God bless you!”
I shouted back, “You’re breaking the 4th wall!”
AFN = American Forces NetworkWHAT YOU’RE HEARING ARE “GOOD EXPLOSIONS”
The aerial gunnery range is now hot.
This announcement comes every few days, when one of the EOD unit disposes of munitions and explosives, often confiscated enemy supplies. This is followed by one large explosion that shakes the Earth enough for everyone on post to feel it.
THANKSGIVING
This is the most significant holiday I’ve been in theater for.
In Iraq I celebrated Easter and the 4th of July, as well as a few smaller holidays, but nothing to rival Thanksgiving or – soon – Christmas and New Year’s. For the most part, it does not feel like Thanksgiving. For one thing, we still have to work. Most soldiers are given time off after lunch, but the war moves on most of us remain busy with emails, reports, and other responsibilities.
And, of course, there’s a distinct lack of my family in Afghanistan – something that Thanksgiving in the States usually involves.
But it’s not a day like every other, and we do enjoy some degree of frivolity, a break from the usual grind. I spend most of the morning running errands with two new colleagues of mine, showing them around the base and getting them in-processed and issued passes.
I settle for a late lunch, meeting up with some of my Army colleagues around 1300. We go to a DFAC that I don’t normally eat at because it’s on the other side of post from where I live, but it’s the one closest to the BDE we fall under and it’s where the majority of my coworkers work and live.
The military has a tradition on Thanksgiving that many from the command will serve the food to the rest of the unit – in our case, the BDE CDR, CSM, BTN CDR, and a few other LTCs and MAJs work the serving line and wish us a happy holiday as they dole out the grub. I find it charming, and they must be enjoying it as well as they serve much longer than the 30 minutes I’d heard they’d be working.
I had considered taking such a trip from Iraq last year, but could not find the free time, and I suspect it will be the same during my stay here, though I’d like the opportunity to explore a new country. I may have another way to do that, however, as my job may take me to Qatar in the course of the next year.
After he leaves, I walk around the DFAC taking pictures of some of the decorations. Many soldiers are doing the same, and I offer to take pictures of them if they want. A couple of Egyptian soldiers take me up on it, asking me to stand in with them at one point, and I reflect how alien this holiday must be for them and for all of the other foreign troops and workers.
DFAC = Dining FACility
BDE = Brigade
BDE CDR = Brigade Commander
CSM = Command Sergeant Major
BTN CDR = Battalion Commander
LTC = Lieutenant Colonel
MAJ = Major
SGT = Sergeant
R&R = Rest and Relaxation
BAF = Bagram Air Field
FAMILIAR DINNER CONVERSATION
(20NOV2008)
To compound the problem, the programs they use are partly in Dari (with Pashto, one of the two major Afghan languages), and partly in English. Being illiterate in every language doesn’t particularly put you in a prime position to learn two quickly, and it’s been a struggle for the US forces trying to train the ANA.
KIA = Kabul International Airport
BAF = Bagram Air Field
ANA = Afghan National Army
NO SHOWER FOR YOU
(17NOV2008)
VISITORS FROM HOME
(11-16NOV2008)
The 3 short missions I’ve gone on have all been in support of a specific initiative to install data collection devices on Army vehicles. Though I am no mechanic, I can drill holes, grind metal, and remove armor from a vehicle if you just tell me where (and sometimes how). I am also willing to work very long hours without food or sleep, a necessity on these missions. We work on vehicles when the units don’t need them, but since needs can arise at a moment’s notice, we work around the clock to ensure that we won’t interfere with the soldiers’ more important work.
Without a vehicle now, we walk the couple of miles back to our rooms, stopping at the DFAC to get some food to go. We’d have preferred to have eaten in, but security won’t let us carry bags into the building so one of my colleagues waits outside while the other two of us indiscriminately pile food into the styrofoam containers, not really caring at this point what we’re going to be eating.
CRC = CONUS Replacement Center
CONUS = CONtinental United States
OIF = Operation Iraqi Freedom
OEF = Operation Enduring Freedom
APOD = Arial Port of Debarkation
MRAP = Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle
COPs = Command OutPost
BAF = Bagram Air Field
MWR = Morale Welfare and Recreation
MP = Military Police
DFAC = Dining FACility
KTR = Contractor
A WEEK OF DRY STEAK CELEBRATIONS
We’re being spoiled at the DFAC, or at least we’re experiencing what passes for it here.
USMC = United States Marine Corps
BUT WHO'S COUNTING?
One of the first things I received from my colleagues when I arrived in Iraq last year was an Excel file titled “Freedom”. I input my deployment start and end dates, and the spreadsheet reports how many weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds I’d been deployed – and how many of each I had left before I redeployed home.
R&R = Rest and Relaxation
FIRST WARNING
BAF = Bagram Air Field
A SMALLER WORLD AT WAR
My grandfather (on my mother’s side) served in WWII and my grandmother recently told the family about a record she had received from him during that time. It’s a recording he’d made just for her, a letter of sorts, that had no doubt taken weeks to make it across the ocean to her from Europe.
DFAC = Dining FACility
ELECTION DAY(S)
Election Day for me starts well before the first polls opened in the States, owing to the time difference and the fact that I have trouble sleeping sometimes. I'm up early and working mostly because I have things to do, but partly because I'm very curious how the day and night will go, and how it will all turn out.
I go through my day, with the news on in the background, waiting impatiently for the first results to come in. It progresses slowly through the afternoon, past dinner and into my bed-time. I watch most of the news from my bed, drifting in and out of sleep as the map of my country changes colors and Wolf Blitzer interviews holograms.
I'm awake when the election is called at 0830 Wednesday morning my time, and Barack Obama is our President-elect. It is hard to ignore that Republicans took a tremendous hit in this election, due in large part to the recent economic woes, but also to the sustained and persistent arguments against the ongoing war in Iraq.
I continue to watch the news, to see the reactions of pundits on both sides of the outcome, and by the emotional reaction of so many regular citizens. I'm struck by something a CNN reporter comments on; she reflects on how our peaceful transfer of power every 4 or 8 years stands in stark contrast to the often violent struggles for authority and control in many parts of the world.
Parts of the world like Afghanistan, for example.
I recognize that I'm in a fairly unique place during the election, geographically speaking. I believe Obama's victory will be one of those "where you were when-?" moments for my generation, like the Challenger explosion and, of course, 9/11. Being a part of something bigger than myself, and a part of history, is one reason I volunteered to deploy to Iraq last year, and to Afghanistan a few months ago. It will give me stories to tell my grandkids (though, my Mom is quick to point out it's hard to have grandkids if you keep deploying and don't settle down).
Unlike those in the States who go to bed after the election is called, or who stay up partying to celebrate or commiserate, I start my day and get to work.
I receive a number of emails from friends during the day, asking me how I, the troops, and others out here feel about the election. I feel some are fishing for a specific reaction, as if their own disappointment or elation will be justified by the warfighter who doesn't want a Commander-in-Chief lacking military experience, or by the trigger-puller who just wants to come home.
The truth is, the reaction to Obama's victory is very muted here, and conversations I have with my colleagues and the troops I interact with are mixed. Many are happy, many are disappointed. Most seem unfazed. It doesn't change our day-to-day life, at least not until Obama is sworn in in late January, and likely not even then.
Both candidates advocated focusing military attention on Afghanistan, and we've never been targeted for troop withdrawals. Indeed, thousands of Marines and a new Army BDE will be on the ground here within a few months, and that wasn't going to change regardless of who won the election.
Troops in Iraq will experience many more changes, of course, especially if Obama is able to follow through on his desire for combat troops to pull out within 16 months of his taking office. It will reduce the number of units in rotation, and hopefully serve to give soldiers more time between deployments, and this relief will of course trickle down to units deploying to Afghanistan as well.
The prevailing attitude here is one of wait-and-see. The waiting part we all have down to a science.
BDE = Brigade
TIME CHANGES AND SNOW-CAPPED MOUNTAINS
The US "fell back" this morning, turning their clocks back an hour to mark the end of daylight savings time. Afghanistan does not observe this practice, and so we find ourselves suddenly 9.5 hours ahead of the US East Coast (that extra half hour causes a lot of heartache). NFL games will start at 2230 tonight, and the last "Sunday game" will finish after I'm up and starting my day Monday morning.
I was in Iraq last year when the US clocks moved forward in the Spring, and the GOI did change theirs as well, but not on the same day. We received an email the day of the proposed change saying the clocks would move ahead the following morning. Our IT folks made sure the computer clocks changed, and everyone who got the email (which wasn't everyone) set their personal clocks and watches as well.
And then the GOI changed their mind. And didn't tell anyone.
They decided not to adjust their clocks just yet, but rather to wait a few days. When they finally decided it was time, they again didn't notify anyone until after the fact and so many US forces and commands (my unit included) found out a day or so later. There were a lot of missed meetings and appointments in those confusing days, and the GOI's inability to change their clocks without causing major hassles did not instill in us much confidence that they were ready to run their country.
Perhaps they've gotten that - and lots of other things - straightened out since I left in October 2007. I don't know.
I walk out of my room this afternoon to see a soldier standing on the bunker outside my door taking pictures of something distant over the roofs of the little buildings we live in (called B-huts). I see several other soldiers and civilians doing the same thing further down the line of bunkers, and I ask what I'm missing. She points to the mountains, "Snow."
Sure enough, it's the first time we've seen snow on the mountains that surround BAF. It's a particularly clear day, probably due to the rain I got caught in last night, and the mountains stand out distinctly. The Hindu Kush Mountains are a series of parallel ranges here, and it's the second row of peaks that are sporting the white caps.
I can see why people like living where mountains are always visible, as I've enjoyed the sights of these every day. I grew up on the ocean and always enjoyed the accessibility of something so enormous, powerful, and beautiful. (My mother just sent me a digital photograph she took of the beach near where I grew up, and it's now my screen saver.) I can't get to my mountains, though; I won't be hiking or skiing or otherwise enjoying them but for a nice view and photograph.
I'm told we're to get snow here at BAF at some point, though it's not been nearly cold enough for that yet. I enjoy the changing seasons, something I did not experience in Iraq where from March to October (when I was deployed) it was hot. It rained once the first week I was there, and once the last week, but in between it was dry and scorching, and the skies were blue and clear. Not a drop of rain for 6 months, and literally weeks between spotting even a rogue cloud.
I'll enjoy the snow when it comes, and I'll enjoy next summer when it comes, especially as I'll be returning home for R&R next June.
GOI = Government of Iraq
BAF = Bagram Air Field
R&R = Rest and Relaxation
OKAY, I DESERVED THAT
My "good day all around" wraps up with my locking myself out of my room for the first time. In the rain.
Luckily Alex has a spare key to my room, and I to his, but it's nonetheless a bother for both of us, and a wet one at that. As so many of us here say sarcastically, 'another day in paradise.'
FUN WITH INTERPRETERS & A GOOD DAY ALL AROUND
My brief with the BDE CDR goes very well – he thanks me for a productive meeting as I’m walking out – and I’m glad to have it behind me. It goes long but finishes up by 1315. As usual, such briefings create other work – questions that need to be answered, tasks to be completed – and I find myself suddenly busy, but that too is an desirable condition. Time moves more quickly here when I’m busy.
As I’m leaving, I have a brief conversation with a MAJ I work with. He reminds me of a meeting we had with some other colleagues and refers to it as ‘last night’. I question him on that, thinking certainly that was several days ago – Tuesday, wasn’t it? He tells me it was after the VTC, which was last night. Time plays tricks on you. The similarity of one day to another makes them hard to distinguish.
I return to my hooch and send some follow-up emails from my briefing, and am glad to report that it went well. A bit later, as I’m leaving my room to walk up to the PX, I see two LNs standing outside my door looking away from me toward where the Kiwi forces live and stage their vehicles for missions. I see that they’re watching two Kiwi soldiers seeming to attend to two other wounded soldiers lying prone on the gravel. The LNs turn to look at me questioningly and one of them asks, “Training?”
I nod and say “Yes. See how one’s holding a clipboard? Plus, they wouldn’t bring their wounded here. The hospital is just down the street.” They accept this and point out that the blood doesn’t look real, either. Their English is very good for LNs and I ask if they’re interpreters. They acknowledge they are. I have a lot of respect for the LN interpreters. It’s a very dangerous and largely thankless job, but very important to the international forces.
As another interpreter walks out of their quarters and comes toward us, one of the LNs I’m speaking to smiles at me and holds one finger up in front of his mouth. As the newcomer notices the Kiwis he gets a concerned look on his face. His friend shoots him a sad and serious look and says something in Pashto, but makes a motion as if the soldiers are dead. The new guy looks at me pleadingly and I just nod somberly, trying not to laugh. I walk away before I see the conclusion, as I’m sure I won’t be able to keep a straight face. The new guy looks absolutely mortified as I leave.
The day gets even better when I find the PX has deodorant one the shelves. They have been out of stock for at least two weeks and though I’d rationed my deodorant carefully I had finally run out a couple of days ago. They only let me buy two sticks, but I’m glad to have it. I’ll come back over the next few days and stock up. These are some of the lessons you learn being over here.
I return to my room and am working at my computer when my colleague, Alex, knocks on my door to drop off two packages. We check the mail every few days and will pick up each other’s whenever we can. My father and sister each sent care packages that arrived today, and it seems only fitting that I receive them on such an already fruitful day.
BDE CDR = Brigade Commander
MAJ = Major
PX = Post Exchange
LN = Local National