Back at it Again

Thanks for Facebook's near daily reminders of things that happened in the past, I have the pleasure of reliving many of my favorite memories from my time in Afghanistan.  It only seems appropriate that I am reliving them from a room at the Navy Lodge in Gulfport, MS - my home for the past 2.5 months.  I am being deployed again.

In late 2016, I learned that I had been selected for promotion to Lieutenant Commander, the 4th level of Officer (O4) in the US Navy.  I wouldn't actually get to assume the title and get promoted for 10 months.  As time went on, it became clear that my promotion put me into a new category of eligibility: the Navy needed O4s to fill Individual Augment (IA) positions.  Even though the Seabees aren't doing quite as much over seas as we used to - there are no more Regiments or Battalions running around Afghanistan - there is still a need for the technical knowledge and expertise that CEC officers bring to the table.  That need is filled by IAs, typically supporting the Army, where you get orders for about a year and go off and do whatever job they needed you to do.

With my deployment to Afghanistan becoming more ancient history by the day, the need for IAs ever increasing, and my newfound promotion - it was clear that I was near the top of the list for an involuntary year-long vacation to somewhere miserable.  Add to all of this a relatively new job with the State Department, and my pending marriage, and there was a decision to be made.

Anna and I talked in depth - I had spent almost 10 years in the Navy, the proverbial half-way point before I could pull a retirement.  With a looming deployment on the horizon waiting to rear its head, what should I - what should we - do?  I wasn't willing to give up a year or 15 months, it was too much, and I didn't want to be attached to the Army or some other service.  It seemed like it was time to get out of the Navy.

Then an old Navy friend called.  They were getting deployed, they needed an O3 or O4, they needed me, and it was only 6-9 months.  In what seemed like a matter of hours, my name was in front of the Commanding Officer of the Battalion, a man that I actually worked with back in Afghanistan.  He wanted me on the deployment with his team.  I got the formal call confirming my orders were official in August, the day before my promotion ceremony.

I reported to Active Duty the first weekend in November and spent a week in Norfolk, VA doing all the monotonous paperwork and sitting through monotone briefings about things that had no real bearing on me.  Then on to Gulfport, where this story started.  I will be here for a total of 3 months doing training, preparing my mission and my team, and getting all the basic skills necessary for this deployment.

Gulfport is the "other" Seabee base - Naval Construction Battalion Center Gulfport, as it's officially called.  The unit I got hooked up with is Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 22, a reserve Battalion, but they're not actually the ones deploying.  NMCB 11, an active duty Battalion, is.  NMCB 22 is tasked with supporting various components of the NMCB 11 mission.  And unlike my previous deployment where we all went downrange together, this deployment has us spread across the globe.

I will be heading a team of Seabees supporting US and local forces in north and west Africa.  Who exactly I am working with or for, and where exactly I am working, will not be a topic of discussion on this blog.  Unlike last time where I was a part of the machine, filling a role in someone else's mission - I am the Officer in Charge (OIC) - this is my mission, my team, and my responsibility.  It's a huge honor, and as terrifying as it sounds.  Everything that happens will be mine to own - the good and the bad.

I pray - and work hard to plan - that it's only good.

Bagram Air Field

Being in Bagram is like being at home in San Diego and being in Kandahar on my last deployment at the same time.

On the one hand, I wake up, go to the gym, go to work, have lunch, go home, watch TV or surf the web, and go to sleep.  It's just like any other day in San Diego.  On the other hand, all my clothes are turning the color of moon dust, my home is a bunk bed in a large tent, and my work day is 12-13 hours long.

Bagram is a large base, allegedly the same size or bigger than Kandahar.  It is defined by two primary north-south landmarks - Route Disney, named after an Army Specialist that was killed on base in an accident in 2002.  The other landmark is the runway.  Disney is far busier than any road on KAF - it is a paved two lane road that is constantly buzzing with civilian vehicles, heavy equipment, tactical vehicles, and in the mornings it is shut down for runners.  The runway, by contrast, is far less busy than KAF - only a few planes seem to take off, not the constant roar of departing jets and helicopters I grew used to at KAF.

There are multiple bazaars here, open 5 days a week, though they're all much smaller than the one at Kandahar.  I am thinking about buying some gems, I met someone here that seems to know what they're doing, and think I may be able to get some at a low price and find a use for them back home or sell them off

So far we have kept our inspections primarily to the north-west side of the base, looking at hangars, hospitals, bathrooms, housing, offices, MWR facilities, and more.  Eventually we will inspect the east side of the base, including the infamous Bagram prison - I'm not exactly looking forward to that one.  Our inspections have turned up a good number of issues, ranging from simple maintenance and housekeeping to full out life safety concerns.

Part of the issue as I see it is that no one really cares.  Think about it - our military gets sent out here for 6-12 months, leaving all that they love behind.  Everyone volunteers, but no one really WANTS to be here for that long.  So you're not really here, you're just here until you can go home, and so you count the days.  The lights may not work right, the smoke detector may need a new battery - are you going to fix it, put forth some sort of effort to improve the one thing you're waiting to leave?  No... you just deal, cope with the problem, or eliminate it with a swift kick.  There is no sense of ownership, no pride in it.  So really, even if we could find every problem in every building, wave a magic wand, and make them disappear - it would only be a matter of time until things were back to the way they are now.  I suppose it's like a rental car - you drive it harder than you ever would your own car, sometimes you get one just to put the wear and abuse on someone else's vehicle.  Maybe if the military folks occupying these buildings had to check them out and check them back in, and paid some type of penalty for destroying them, we'd find the facilities in better condition.  But until then, this will just be a temporary hurdle for every man and woman waiting to get back to the life they left behind.

So we meet again... again.

Let me clean out the cobwebs and dust off the ol' Blog.  Despite my previous breakup with Kandahar and my promise to never return, I now find myself in a far too familiar setting of sand, heat, unlimited beigeness, and general suck.  That's right - I'm back in Afghanistan; Bagram this time.  But let's not get ahead of ourselves...

For reasons yet unknown, the Department of Defense, Office of the Inspector General decided to perform an inspection of numerous facilities located at Kandahar Air Field, Bagram Air Field, and within Kabul.  The intent was to identify electrical issues and fire/life safety issues, and to put those identified issues into some sort of a report that, in all likelihood, won't be used for much - US forces are leaving Afghanistan in 2014, right?  (Please note - the previous sentance is rife with sarcasm and should be read as such.)  Anywho, DoD IG doesn't actually have the resources to execute the inspection, only the money and authority to have someone else execute it.  Through the meddling of numerous government agencies and countless emails, I was selected as one of the engineers to support this mission, and assigned to the Bagram portion.

The biggest difference in this whole thing is that I am here as a Civil Servant, and not as a Naval Officer.  That comes with its pluses and its minuses.  On the plus side, I can wear whatever I want, don't have a military chain of command to report to, and can grow out my facial hair - my beard has gotten pretty epic by the way.  On the down side, I feel like a dumb civilian wandering around a combat zone, I have no weapon (despite my numerous efforts to get one), and I don't have the opportunity to earn the various perks that come from being military.

I flew from the US via United, much nicer than the chartered DC-10 we had last time.  From Dulles to Dubai to Doha, all on United Economy Plus, which was worth every penny.  Once in Doha I was able to meet up with the rest of my team, most of whom were on the same flight, little known to us.  A short drive later and we made it to Al Udeid Air Base and started the check in process.  It was after 0100 by the time we finished, but having heard that they had a bar on base I was compelled to check it out.  They have it easy out there at Al Udeid - don't let anyone tell you otherwise.  We were up by 0400 (I was regretting the decision to go have a drink at the bar instead of sleeping) and off to the terminal to wait for our flight, get our gear issue, and fly off into the wild blue yonder.

My team consists of 11 civilians, and I am the only one that is currently in the military, one of three that has ever been in the military, and one of four that had ever been to Afghanistan - the other three were on the inspection of Kandahar.  As such, I have been trying to help everyone figure out the less obvious parts of life - how to set up your helmet, how to wear your flak vest, what various TLAs and terms mean, etc.  I didn't appreciate how difficult this would be for someone doing it outside of the military until now.

So we got our gear and much to my chagrin boarded another C-130 for another long, bumpy, and thermally extreme journey to Afghanistan. Joy.

Bagram is in some ways very much like Kandahar, and in others totally different.  It's still hot, though not quite as hot.  It's still austere, though definitely a little more improved.  It's windier and as such dustier, not something I missed.  There are trees here, and animals - bugs aplenty and enough birds to actually hear them singing in those aforementioned trees.  The food is better here, but there are far fewer planes taking off and flying about which makes for a significantly more boring skyline.  My living arrangements pale in comparison, but at the same time there's no Poo Pond so that's a definite plus.  Totally different and still the same.

We have started the process of inspecting buildings here, and in general they are pure crap.  The array of fire, life safety, and overt electrical violations are mind boggling.  It's not surprising that people have been getting injured or killed, and not surprising that we've been called out to address it.  Hopefully we can make at least a little difference.

Retrospect

It seems like only yesterday that I wrote "more to come soon" and then disappeared into the maelstrom of "normal" life. Soon has come and gone and my time deployed is but a distant memory, faded in such a way that it may very well have just been a movie I saw, yet the experience has indelibly changed me.

The superficial effects were shed quite quickly - I got used to sleeping in on weekends, picking out my own clothing, choosing what I wanted to do with my day, talking to people in full sentences instead of abbreviated to-the-point military speak, etc. Once the many outward signs of my deployment were shed, it was all too easy to get sucked back into the life I had before I left.

I quickly learned that, while the unyielding intensity of my deployment wore me to the core, it was a simple and reliable type of stress. I had one job; one focus. I did not have to worry about overflowing toilets, electric bills, changing the oil in my car, cooking, laundry, social schedules, or anything other than my one job. All of those tasks belonged to someone else - their one job. Now, those tasks all belong to me. As strange as it was, the simplest of daily tasks wore at me more than any rocket attack or 16 hour day. This is what I refer to as the maelstrom of "normal" life.

But, how quickly the human mind adapts. As I got used to putting on shoes instead of boots every morning and grabbing my cell phone instead of my M9 pistol, I got used to the "new" old life too. And so, with time, that part of me faded away. I remember it with vivid clarity, but it lives in part of my mind that I don't frequent. Were I to try, I could still taste the moon dust in the air and the stench of the burn pits and poop-pond... but I don't try, and those memories are content to remain in the wings, out of my active conscience.

With every rule, however, there are the exceptions. Those memories that transcend "memory" and become more a part of you than anything else. For example - prior to my deployment, I was always a cautious and perhaps borderline suspicious individual; always keeping an eye on the shady looking hoodlum across the street, sitting with my back to the wall in restaurants. Since returning, I have noticed my hypervigilance even more. It does not consume me nor is it a cause for concern, but it is a definite effect of my deployment. I am highly cautious, highly aware, always observing the people and environment around me.

In the same vain is my apparent hard-wired response to the specific tone and frequency of the Kandahar Airfield rocket-attack alarm. Whether it is the sound of an electric motor spinning up at just the right speed or the local power plant testing an alarm, there have been times where my ears have heard the tell-tale sound of incoming fire and my adrenaline has begun to careen through my veins before my mind can take control of the situation. I believe that this has been permanently ingrained on my mental circuitry, part of my primal fight-or-flight mechanism. I don't know if I'll ever be able to hear that noise without my heart skipping a beat.

So what does this all mean? To the causal reader, it might sound like the experience was all together horrible, and in some ways you would be right. I believe that those who chose to join the military are by and in large different than most - not for the better or for worse, but just different. I would never suggest that the average person undergo a deployment to a combat zone. I can say that for me, it was an overall beneficial experience.

Not a day goes by that I don't somehow reference an experience from my deployment, whether it be to remind myself that things can always be worse, or that things always seem worse when you're in them. Perhaps it's an anecdote about daily life during deployment or the job I was sent to do. No matter what, my time in Afghanistan, as well as the time preparing for and returning from, has given me a rare perspective that cannot be taught in any school or learned on any other job. And it has given me a sense of pride and accomplishment. I walk with my head a little higher, my chest a little fuller, and my self-confidence a little stronger.

I know what I have been through, and that I came out stronger than I went in. I know that I have an amazing network of family and friends who will stand by me to see me through even the darkest of days. I know that, even when I am at my wit's end, I have the will power and fortitude to carry on. I know that I have been and I have done and that is good enough. And I know that, if ever asked, I would gladly do it again.

Thank you all for your love and support.

Home!

I am home and in my bed in San Diego and all is right with the world. Now to unpack my bags and get things back to normal...

More to come, but just wanted to let everyone know the good news.

So we meet again...

Kuwait - last time I was here it was, as I described it, like having your face in front of a hair dryer on turbo overdrive while someone threw sand at you... That, combined with the fact that I was only at the beginning of my journey, made for a less than stellar impression of the place.

Now, some six months later, I am back. The weather is much milder, and the sand is either less prevalent, or I have just become accustomed to it. Any way you slice it, Kuwait is a much better place. All that, combined with the fact that I am on my way home, and things are looking up. My bed seems comfortable, and I have turned in my weapons so I don't have to worry about that.

I will say, to that point, that not having a pistol or rifle with me 24/7 is going to take a lot of getting used to. I feel naked and have panicked at least a few times thinking that I have lost it, and I only turned it in an hour ago. I imagine re-learning how to be a normal human being will take some time...

I will be here for a few days doing "Warrior Transition", where they supposedly help us with the whole re-learning process. I have heard it is not the greatest use of time, but if it's a wicket between me and home, then I am more than happy to do whatever they ask!

Gone!

I'm hesitant to say it but this should be my last post from Afghanistan. Next stop - Kuwait, where I get to spend two fun filled days learning about PTSD and why I shouldn't beat my wife.

The past few days have been incredibly boring, as my relief has assumed control of the job and there wasn't much for me to do. The open bay barracks is always noisy, and the bed has springs that collapse sideways under the lightest loads. In short - not the best place to hang out. I hear I will have even fewer productive things to do it Kuwait, so I imagine it will be terribly mind numbing. But before I complain too much, it's the final step in my process to return home.

Saturday evening I should be getting off a plane and greeted by my parents and friends. It stands to be one of the best Saturdays in a LONG time...