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
