2010

Happy New Year!! Not to let the location ruin things, I spent the past few days making a Times Square style ball - constructed out of two back-to-back hard hats and over 500 left over Christmas lights. Just before midnight I strung it to the flag pole and raised it to the top. A group of us joined for cigars, near beer, and plastic champagne flutes with sparkling apple cider. As the countdown began, I lowered the ball to the ground. Not quite perfect, but it was quite nice. With the plastic hats and party horns and glowing orb and fake champagne, everyone found it a little easier to get into the season.



I concluded the night with the traditional and almost mandatory sharing of the Beef Stick. Perhaps not the pomp and circumstance of previous New Year's Parties, but it's still an important part of what makes the New Year so great. The beef stick tradition now spans both coasts of the United States and has infiltrated Afghanistan. For those who have no idea what I'm talking about - well... I'm sorry.

I will not wax poetically about how 2009 was full of changes and how 2010 is going to be a great year... I just wish you all a wonderful and Happy New Year!

Winter is uppon us!

Another journey out and about Afghanistan today, this time into the mountains on a last minute trip of opportunity. The flight was like any other, up until we got near the FOB, when we started to notice a definite change in temperature. This was confirmed by a change in the landscape from the all-too-common dusty brown to an immaculate white. At that point, things took a turn for the worse - we were essentially flying directly into a blizzard.

As I'm sure we all recall, only a few months ago I was complaining about how hot it was... Well my friends, it is now far too cold. The helicopter is not very water tight, and not very air tight, and the heater and heated seats seemed to be broken. As quarter sized flakes of wet snow pounded against the side of the helicopter, we were left a confined, cold, and wet mess.

After we finally landed in poor visibility and beating snow, Chief and I made our rounds through the project sites and did what we could to solve problems and answer questions. We may have found a solution to save the government a few hundred thousand dollars on two projects, so that's a good day there!

Come departure time, it was still snowing although not as heavily. We had all agreed that trying to complete the second leg of our trip was foolish and that we should head back to KAF. However, about 5 minutes after take off, the helicopter banked sharply to the left and I knew that KAF was not in my immediate future - we were heading back the way we came.

After re-landing the plan was to wait 90 minutes and reassess. This allowed more time to stand around in the snow, and work to solve more of the world's problems. Luckily we did manage to make it out on that try and I am safely (and warmly) back at KAF. Once again, I am reminded why San Diego is my home...

December 25th, 2009

December 25th by all accounts is Christmas, though I've come to find that Christmas is not a date on a calendar, but more so a series of events and activities done in the company of family and friends. As you may have guessed, few of those are found in Afghanistan... So, to an extent, it doesn't feel like Christmas here at all. I worked on Christmas Eve and will no doubt work on Christmas Day. Part of this stems from the amount of work we have to get done here, and part of it has to do with staying busy lest I spend too much time thinking about all the things I'd rather be doing with my Christmas...

But, before anyone gets the crazy notion that all hope is lost and my life has become a desolate wasteland of monotonous work and misery, let me say it is not so! The true generosity of friends and strangers, and the camaraderie of my fellow Seabees has salvaged the holiday and made the best of it.

For one, I can say that starting around late November we started to receive a steady stream of Christmas related care packages. Various groups, including the office of Qualcom (where my boss works for his civilian career), the San Diego Fire Department (where one of the OPS Cheifs works or his civilian career), and the Blue Star Moms of Marin (where my mother volunteers with other mothers of deployed troops) have sent each person in my entire office a stocking filled with various things ranging from MatchBox cars to candy to random treats. Our walls are strewn with these stockings, all a testament to the fact that it is Christmas here in Afghanistan, and people back home care about us.

Furthermore, each person in my office has received at least a few boxes - some many more. Boxes filled with home baked cookies or cakes, snacks, cards from home, photos, gifts, you name it. I have said before that getting packages makes it feel like Christmas - well, getting Christmas packages is even better. Even something as simple as a Christmas card makes the work day brighter. Family, friends, and even complete strangers have sent things to support us, and every little bit makes things feel more like home. I have received cards or packages from family, old co-workers, friends of my parents, family members of co-workers, friends at home, friends from afar, random 3rd grade classrooms, you name it. No matter where they're from, they each help to make things a little more special.

So yes, I will wake up tomorrow morning and do my regular routine (I do get to sleep in...) and put on my uniform and holster my pistol and stroll to work... I will not gather around a tree with my parents to drink mimosas and open presents in front of the fire, admiring all the beautifully wrapped boxes under an expertly dressed tree... I might eat some of the various baked goods we have in the office, not the traditional Eggs Benedict I always look forward to. It will be different, there's no doubt about that... But as much as things change, we always find ways to see the similarities...

This is my bed tonight - you'll note two things. 1 - I have some battery powered Christmas lights strung over my bed, as festive as can be. 2- I no longer have to sleep under my sleeping bag for warmth, due to two awesome gifts from my mom. (An advantage to not having a "real" Christmas is getting to open gifts early, there's no big event to wait for). A heated mattress pad and flannel sheets - my mother is the best!

Today was the command Christmas Party, we had a great spread of food from the galley and a slew of baked goods people put out from their care packages. Here you see my Chief and I enjoying some egg nog (which is not nearly as good without the booze) at our desks. Sure, it was Christmas party time, but there was still work to be done. You'll notice one of the stockings hung on the wall to the left, and a kick-ass digital picture frame on the wall behind me. Many thanks to B&E!

After work (my regularly scheduled Thursday night meeting was moved up from 1900 to 1600, so I got out around 1800 and left work around 1845) my roommate, Doc Schelzig, and I decided to take some time outside to enjoy a cigar and a near-beer. I know a year from now I'll remember sitting on a bench in dusty Kandahar chatting about life with him. I hope I can remember it from some place nicer though.

From my latest trip outside the wire, I decided to bring some humor and joy to the day. This Santa means business!

So as you can see, even though Christmas in Kandahar is vastly different than anything I've ever experienced before (or hope to experience again), it still has some of the flavor and flair of the season. I hope everyone else has a wonderful, more traditional Christmas. If you are around family, friends, or loved ones - make sure to give them a hug and let them know you appreciate them. That's probably the thing I will miss most about this Christmas... So mom and dad - I love you and appreciate everything you've done to support me. I'll be home soon.

The Unseen Costs of War

All too often we focus on the direct costs of a conflict - how many dollars per day does it take to run the war? Without a doubt the cost is astronomical, but considering all the parts in motion it's not totally unreasonable. But what of the other costs, those non-monetary costs?

Sure, we all know that families endure hardship with loved ones gone. Whether it is a son or daughter, a husband, wife, father, or mother - there is some felt loss to all those who knew the deployed individual. I will even go so far to assume that in some cases, especially marriages, the impact may be even further felt when the garbage disposal goes berserk and the husband isn't there to fix it, or the kids have a crap day and mom isn't home to say those magical motherly words that seem to make it all better. These are the costs that those who know and care about us must pay, often without choice or vote in the matter.

But there are other costs that are far less obvious. Recently, someone close to me here in Afghanistan had someone very close to them pass away unexpectedly. Being 10,000 miles away doesn't make the loss any less painful; it does make it significantly more difficult to take in and process. There is no chance to go pay final respects, to be among family and friends in whom to seek strength to get through. Furthermore, there is no break, no relief, no space to go be alone with your thoughts, to clear your head, to comprehend and digest the impact this may have. The operational mission does not slow down, the requirements do not waiver, and the daily stress does not step aside or show compassion for your loss. One must soldier on, regardless of the internal cost it will inevitably have.

There is the option for emergency leave to travel home, but even that is not much of an option in itself. In only the most extreme cases is emergency leave granted, and it may take 4 or 5 days until you're home which is often too long. Furthermore, it forces one to chose between themselves and what they're experiencing emotionally, and their mission and comrades who will undoubtedly be forced to pickup the workload during their departure.

It is not only in the instance of death that deployment takes its toll, but in so many facets of life. How do you return to a young child who doesn't remember who you are? How do you tell your pregnant wife you're sorry you couldn't be there during the most difficult times of her labor, or even missing the birth of your child all together? Weddings, birthdays, promotions, celebrations... Deaths, losses, trials, tragedies... We miss them all, and all the emails and video chats in the world can't get them back.

I imagine the hardest part of all is knowing that you cannot simply pick up where you left off because no one is there anymore. Life itself continues to soldier on, even if you wish it hadn't.

A General's Perspective

A while back I wrote about the US role in this conflict, to include our interaction with NATO. Some of it had to deal with the world's opinion of the US, and some of it about Afghanistan and our role here. Retired Army General Barry McCaffrey, an adjunct professor of International Affairs at West Point, wrote what I believe to be the best summary of this conflict I have seen. If you have even the slightest thought or opinion about the war in Afghanistan - which I assume as a reader of this blog you might - I highly suggest reading the report. It is not very long, does not require a glossary of military terms and abbreviations, and is as clear cut and straight forward as could be. Reading his assessment has given some perspective to this conflict and the future of Afghanistan, as well as echoing the sentiments I have written about prior. Below are a few bullets I pulled from the report as items I thought most accurate and present in my experience (emphasis added to stress my thoughts on his points). If you've got the time and motivation,it can be found here.

• There is precious little support for the Afghan operation among the American people. 66% say it is not worth fighting for.
• The Afghan’s are generally extremely grateful for US and international presence. US/NATO forces have a 60%+ favorability rating in the polls.

What the above two points tell me is that there is more support for this war from the Afghanis than from the US. That's a terrible shame in my opinion, that even though we're making things harder for the people right now by getting caught up in the cross-fire, they would still rather keep us here, yet people back home would rather have us out.

• The Taliban now have a serious presence in 160 Districts of 364--- up from 30 Districts in 2003. They have a Shadow Government at Province level and most Districts throughout the country. Insurgent attacks have increased 60% in less than a year. In July alone they employed 828 IED attacks against friendly forces. We should expect 5,700 IED attacks in total by year’s end 2009. We must guard against tactical arrogance by US and Allied ground combat forces.

It's very easy to think that because our enemy lives in mud huts and fights with technology decades behind ours that they are inferrior. While I do believe that we are the better soldiers, the gap is not very wide. Where we train to fight for months or years, our enemy trains their entire life. They are not a force to be trivialized, they are smart and calculating and very good at what they do.

• Twice in recent months we have seen battalion sized units of Taliban fighters conduct highly successful (not-withstanding catastrophic losses by the attacking insurgents) complex attacks employing surprise, reconnaissance, fire support, maneuver, and enormous courage in an attempt to over run isolated US units. This is not Iraq.
• The current US force level of 68,000 troops will increase per order of President Obama on 2 December by as many as 33,000 additional troops. The Allies may well provide an additional 7000+ reinforcements. However, only the courageous Brit’s will have both robust ROE and an aggressive ground-air-logistics-SOF combat capability. The Canadians and the Dutch will withdraw. The political support in Germany for their Bundeswehr (extremely weak capabilities because of very restrictive ROE) is on the verge of collapse. The French are extremely capable but in the field in small numbers.

The General holds back even fewer punches than I did. How is it that we are sending 30,000 troops and the entire NATO contribution to match will be less than a quarter?

• Afghanistan and Iraq are an immensely costly war running in excess of $377 million a day in FY10 Constant dollars. (WWII was $622 million per day.).
• There is no inevitability to history. We are neither the Brit’s nor the Soviets.
• Our focus must now not be on an exit strategy -- but effective execution of the political, economic, and military measures required to achieve our purpose.

This may not open any eyes or change any opinions, but reading the thoughts of someone who clearly knows what they are talking about, has been there, and has seen it first hand is more meaningful to me than all the talking heads and media spin a news network could muster.

On rain, rivalries, and realizations

Just returned from another trip out and about Afghanistan - it's definitely getting cold out there! We had a pretty serious rain storm come through (as did most of the US it seems) and the temperature has plummeted since. On the plus side, the dust is down and the skies are beautifully clear. On the down side it's cold and wet and moon dust makes moon mud.

This is the lake that was just outside my hooch. Our office had a number of large puddles inside of it due to poor weatherproofing - also awesome.

I've gained another piece of valuable knowledge when it comes to traveling. This is my first trip receiving any sort of safety brief before we boarded - this time flying with the Canadians. The gentleman asked if anyone had not flown on a CH-47 Chinook before and a few people raised their hands. He then stated "If the helicopter crashes, get out and get very far away..." then pointed out that there were doors located fore and aft and the windows could be used as escape hatches as well, although they're only about 1' in diameter so I'm not sure how anyone can get out wearing the gear we have to wear. In any event - I thought that was an excellent safety brief and now know that, in the event of a crash (not "unscheduled landing" like the airlines call it), I should get out of the helicopter and far away - who knew.

While at my destination, I also had another observation of how this place has impacted me. It was night and very dark due to restrictions on light use after dark. I happened to look up and see a spot of light streaking across the sky with a bright tail. My instant thought was that it was an incoming rocket, and I tried to estimate where it might land and how long until impact. Only after it burned out and I never heard a boom did I realize that it was a shooting star. So much for child-like wonder and amazement...

But, before anyone thinks that I've lost all of my imagination and appreciation for the absurd and exciting - I have to provide some levity. The photo below is of the USFOR-A building. USFOR-A is the head of US Forces - Afghanistan, and is run by the Army. I have many a meeting in this building talking about all kinds of things. Now, the fact that it was built by Navy Seabees and is called the Marvin G. Shields building after the only Seabee Medal of Honor recipient is one thing. But the other night we took it to a whole new level!

I'm pretty sure they still haven't figured out how they're going to get us back, or even how to get it down...

I think that's all for now. A few people are out of my office and stuck at one of the FOBs, making me the highest ranking person in the office... this means more meetings and phone calls and responsibility and pressure, which all results in my being more tired tonight than usual. Two more months and a few days and I'll have a real bed with real blankets in a real building with real walls and so many other things - I am looking forward to it more than you could possibly know.

NATO's big brother, the USA...

I'll start this off by noting that the following is a random diatribe of no real basis or motivation, and I've been writing it for the past two or three weeks. Just some things I have observed, and not meant as anything more than that. With that disclaimer, my thoughts on the interaction of the United States in a NATO war.

Despite this being an international war fought by the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, I fully believe that the United States is the primary influence and power involved, with NATO support. This is not based off some purely Ameri-centric view point that we are somehow the better country, more noble, more just, or more powerful than anyone else. Instead, it is based off pure observations here in Afghanistan.

For one, KAF is a NATO base in Canadian battlespace. As such, you would expect a heavy Canadian and international influence, and you would not be mistaken - there are numerous compounds for the British, Dutch, Romanians, etc. There is a hockey rink at the middle of the boardwalk, built by the Canadians, and a large indoor soccer (football) field built by the British. But where there are not compounds, those areas that are not distinctly dedicated to a specific nation - the rest of the area is widely considered American. The major roads throughout KAF have names like All American Blvd and Screaming Eagle Rd, the majority of the new construction here on KAF is being done by the Americans, and mostly for American troops. The US has a massive presence at this base, far larger than any other country.

At the political level it is also readily apparent. When President Obama announced that he was delaying his answer on a troop surge until he had a withdrawl plan, it was only a matter of minutes before other major nations started to announce that they were also looking at a withdrawl plan. I have no doubt that the two are very closely related, especially considering that since then the US has decided to send 30,000 more troops and close behind were NATO nations with their offers of support. If the US had chosen to leave, would everyone have followed suit? I'm not sure, but I do know that much of the world watches the US to see what our next step will be, and they base their actions on that.

What does any of this really mean? Probably not much more than the electrons it's written on. However, it is always interesting to note that the United States seems to be a polarizing and magnifying country. Rarely do those things that we do as a nation go un-noticed, rarely do they illicit only mild emotions and responses. For better or for worse, people both condemn outright those things that we do and also harold them as spectacular achievements in whatever specific area.

I've never had a sibling, but I can only imagine that there would have been situations in my life where I would watch a big brother to wait and see what he did. If he jumped into a lake, no matter how cold I thought it was, I would probably jump in too. If he said "no way, that's crazy", I'd likely avoid it. Is America the "big brother" to the rest of the world? Even that term ilicits images and fears of phone tapping and CIA sneakery.

So, like I said - there was no point to this other than to write out the thoughts in my head, inspiried by the actions and realities of the world I find myself in out here. With tens of thousands of troops at the doorstep of Afghanistan, ready to fight, it's up to my team to make sure they have a place to sleep and eat and find comfort - not a small task, but as noble as any I can think of.

What is there to be Thankful for in Afghanistan?

Thanksgiving has come and gone and we are almost in December. The start of a new month brings significant joy as it means we're that much closer to returning to those we love and care about. That much closer to leaving all of this behind and returning to some degree of normalcy. I'm sure that returning will bring with it as much confusion and adjustment as when I left, but that's another thought for another time.

Thanksgiving here was nice, but mostly like any other day. We had a half day off, which allowed me the time to go to the gym before heading into work. Our command reserved a tent at one of the American chow halls so we could all dine together. The meal options were fairly traditional, although the pomp and circumstance of putting out the fine silverware and carving the turkey and lounging around with full bellies was definitely lost. Oh, there was turkey - pre sliced in a pan beneath a sneeze-guard. There were glazed yams and green beans and ham and pecan pie and all those things you would expect, but vastly different than anyone would remember from life at home. Paper plates, plastic forks, and hair nets have never before been a part of my traditional Thanksgiving, and I honestly hope they never are again. To further reinforce the fact that I was not at a regular Thanksgiving, I had to eat quickly and leave early to make it to a meeting - the war does not stop for Thanksgiving and neither do those that support it.

Overall the food was pretty good, but Thanksgiving is one of those days built up in the mind where "pretty good" just doesn't cut it. No turkey will ever be as good as Mom's turkey, no pie ever as delicious. To eat this meal almost felt like a mockery of what it was actually supposed to be - although at its core, the message was still the same. I sat on a wooden bench in a vinyl tent eating my Thanksgiving meal with what can only be equated to my family here. It was a time to come together and enjoy a little slice of life different from the norm. For that, I was thankful. It has also served to lend a great deal of perspective on what I had come to take for granted as "normal life" back home.

Before dinner, I took a number of the guys from my office out to the smoke pit to enjoy a cigar (Thank you to the Zent family!) and asked all the guys about traditions they shared back home. A risky topic, as thoughts of home can sometimes invoke strong emotions on either side of the spectrum. My Chief shared that this type of Thanksgiving had become the norm for him. He had spent a total of one Thanksgiving with his family in the past fourteen years, the rest being spent deployed to ungodly locations or simply stationed too far from home to return. If that doesn't make one sit down and think about things in their own life...

So what is there to be thankful for in Afghanistan? The fact that I'm only here for 6 months, the fact that I'm still in one piece and mostly no worse for the wear. The fact that I have friends and family to return to back home. The fact that, as hard as it may be, I am learning a lot out here, and not all of it exclusive to the military. As much as I'd rather be home, I'm thankful that I'm here. This is an experience not often afforded to people, and there is no doubt in my mind that I will come out a better person because of it. And next year, wherever I may be on Thanksgiving, I will remember my time here and be thankful that countless other men and women are sitting on wooden benches eating mere visages of a Thanksgiving meal some place far from home.

In other news, I have completed my Fire Administration class and started Chemistry. I received extremely good reviews from my students at the conclusion of their last class, but I am not so confident about this one. Teaching chemistry in Afghanistan without chemicals or a lab will be a feat in and of itself. The students do not have text books, and I do not have an instructors guide. This course may be the end of me... Work continues to be grueling and intense, I rarely leave the office before 2200 and have not been making it to the gym as much as before. Gary Sinise came to KAF with his LT Dan Band and performed quite a few songs for a USO concert, it was a great break from normal life here. I also receive two boxes full of goodies from my co-workers back in San Diego; it was a very nice gesture and brightened the mood in the office. A photo of us is below - and yes, that is a Beer magazine in my hands. I will be buying a subscription when I get back!

Hazardous Duty Pay

I'm not sure what of tonight's events will make it to the news, nor what I'm allowed to share, but whatever anyone hears about the goings on in the area - I'm OK.


**** UPDATE ****
Apparently US media doesn't care too much because no US troops were involved, but I was referencing this story: http://www.roumanie.com/romania-news-1001987.html I think this was the closest I've been to an impact since I've been here. Still doing great though, and there's no reason to be concerned about me, even though I know my saying that doesn't help. Over half way until I get to go home!

Quick Update

It's been a long while since I updated. All is well, I am safe and in good spirits. A little sick, but with the rapid weather change we've experienced over the week, it's to be expected. It's now into the 30s during the evenings and up to the 60s or 70s during the day.

Work is the same - still busy as could be. I was optimistic when this all started that once we got our feet beneath us and figured things out, it would slow down. Not so much. It feels like we're just as hectic as when we got here, only now I know more of what I'm doing than I did before.

Classes are good, teaching is definitely a new experience to say the least. Having spent so much of my life actually in school, the fact that I'm now on the other side of the desk is unique. Grading papers and being the one spilling red ink all over the place - I feel a little guilty, like I shouldn't be doing this because I was so recently on the receiving end. The course is almost over and it will be time for the final exam and then Chemistry - I'm not sure how I'm going to teach chemistry without chemicals or a lab or anything like that, but there's only one way to find out!

Anyway, all is well here, tomorrow marks 90 days in Afghanistan, and our "over the hump" party is on the 21st. I think we're more than half way overall, but it's definitely depressing to know we've been here so long and have just as much time to suffer through. Everyone I've talked to who has been through deployments before says that the mid-point is always rough, but that things pick up pace and I'll be home before I know it. I'm not sure if I believe that, but I am looking forward to my return trip!

Professor Me

By and in large the effort of this blog has been intended to focus more on what life out here is like and less on me. It has never been my goal to wax on and on about myself, focusing more on the goal of making people feel the experience almost as though it were their own. This post will not be like that.

I have been busy the past week and a half working on a side project that came out of nowhere and makes next to no sense overall. I am now officially a college professor.

Yes - you read that right.

What the hell am I talking about? How did this come about? What has this world come to? I'm glad you asked.

About a week and a half ago, a KAF-ALL email (an email sent to all US service members on KAF) was sent out asking for help with something. I deleted it, but my boss read it and forwarded it to me thinking it would be a good opportunity. It was sent by a representative of the Central Texas College - they have a program here teaching vocational skills (criminal justice, EMT training, etc) and they needed an instructor. The surprising part that just seems uncanny is that they needed a professor for their Fire Prevention Technologies class. They were looking for someone to fill in for their previous instructor who found greener pastures and left KAF. Their requirements were someone with an associates degree in a related field and 5 years experience.

I called and told the gentleman that I had a BS in Fire Protection Engineering, over 4 years experience, and was a licensed FPE - did that qualify? I guess so, because the guy sounded impressed, so I asked my command if it was OK to do it and met with the guy to get some more information. It's a paid position, but my command said that I have to donate the income (minus taxes and any expenses if I buy some books etc) to a noble cause, yet to be determined.

So they hired me and tonight I taught my first class. Coming in mid-term was tough, especially because the previous instructor had no lesson plan, kept no records, and overall sucked at making my life easier. Having no idea what they had learned and where they were, I didn't prepare anything. The class we are in right now is a class about management in the fire service and the operational side of a fire department - something I know exactly ZILCH about. Luckily one of the chapters they hadn't covered was about the fire prevention side of the department. That I could talk about and I think I did a decent job.

Oh - did I mention that my class has 7 students and 4 of them were out for various reasons. Teaching in a combat zone does not bode too well for high attendance. I also had an interesting moment during my introduction / orientation while going over the standard stuff - "Bathrooms are down stairs, no tobacco use in the building, exits are here and here, and in the event of a rocket attack we'll execute the following procedures..." Never had an instructor tell me THAT back at UMD.

So this semester is slated to end around Thanksgiving and the next class is Fire Chemistry. We meet 3 hours a night, 3 times a week, although my Thursday classes are cut short by my need to go attend a painful 2+ hour meeting with the big-wigs. Depending on how the rest of this course does to my sanity, health, and regular work load - maybe I'll teach the next one. I know I'd be ALL over that class, and have already asked if I can do labs, to include the gratuitous burning of whatever I can find - in the name of science, of course!

So there you have it - I am now a college professor. Teaching things about fire. In Afghanistan. My life is a strange, strange thing.

A Traveler's Guide

This past week I have been quite busy with traveling. Went to two of my FOBs on two different days via two different types of aircraft flown by two different nations. All this traveling made me realize that the average traveler probably knows very little about traveling via military means, and it is my duty to educate. Thus I give you all: A Traveler's Guide to Getting Around in Afghanistan!

The CH-47 Chinook helicopter is by far the Cadillac of the skies. A roomy aircraft with seating for at least 30, it can also hold substantial amounts of cargo and can sling-load larger items like howitzers and HMMWVs (Hum-Vees). The seating is cargo net style, suspended from the interior walls of the aircraft; you sit shoulder to shoulder facing a mirror image row of passengers on the other side. Passengers and cargo occupy the same space, so keep your fingers crossed that the load-master did his space calculations right!

When traveling in the CH-47, one should be very cautious when entering. This bird has two massive main rotors powered by two extremely powerful engines. These engines are located at the rear of the aircraft and produce a substantial exhaust at a temperature around that of the sun. As a major design flaw, you enter the helicopter from the back. When approaching, it is best to be low, quick, and at a perfectly straight line directly to the door. Veer off to one side or the other and you'll know you're off course when your face starts to melt. The CH-47 has two or three gunners depending on the situation. One located on the left and right sides of the helicopter towards the very front, and one sitting on the tail gate at the very rear. All are armed with the M240H machine gun.

The UH-60 Blackhawk is the minivan of the air. An every day troop hauling vehicle, it is the most common vehcile for most flight. With a max troop capacity of 11, you are wedged in like cargo. 4 people sit in the back facing forward with another 4 in front of them facing the rear. So close to each other that your knee caps become well acquainted. 3 sit more forward, with only slightly more room. Cargo space is non existent, so when a passenger decides to bring a large plastic trunk, a large framed backpack, and a small ruck sack - your knees and laps become the only place to store them. Suffice it to say that my trip back today was anything but enjoyable as the inability to move my legs combined with the large box pressing on top of them halted any blood from flowing to my lower extremities. The UH-60 has two gunners on either side of the aircraft towards the front. They are armed with the M240H machine gun.

For those looking for a little flare, the UH-1 Griffin "Huey" helicopter is as close to a convertible as you'll get. Fast, nimble, and compact, they are often found providing air support to the CH-47. Opportunity to ride one is rare, so hop on if you get the chance! As a passenger, expect to ride fully tactical with your legs dangling out the door as you zip across the sky. It's rare to have more than one passenger on board, so the odds of you getting a headset to listen in as you fly are great. Most Griffins are manned by two gunners on either side of the aircraft armed with the M-134 mini gun. Don't be fooled by the name - the mini gun is capable of raining down lead at the rate of 4,000 round per minute.

The Dutch are by far the craziest pilots, flying tactically all the time. My video from a while back was with the Dutch. The Canadians are next down on the list of adrenaline rushes, flying low and fast, but normally in a straight line at a fairly constant altitude. This last trip, we happened to fly during a sand storm. If you do not like the sensation of being tossed about like a leaf in a hurricane, I suggest you avoid traveling during the sand-storm season. Which happens to be forever in Afghanistan. Finally, the Americans are shockingly the most docile of pilots , although you may have to wait upwards of 4 hours before your flight takes off.

Finally, the only other means of transport I can speak to - the MRAP. As noted before, the Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle is uncomfortable, slow, and has zilch by way of creature comfort. Traveling on the ground is the only way to get a good view of what life in Afghanistan is like - too bad the MRAP has very few windows. Take it from me - stay in the air.

I hope you have found this educational, if not totally boring and oddly non sequitur compared to my normal postings. I guess the fact that I've been traveling quite a bit recently has me in a Frommer's / Lonely Planet kind of mood. On the personal side, thank you to everyone who has sent packages lately - I'm extremely blessed and lucky and it makes life out here a little easier every day. On a humorous note, I am now the undefeated, undisputed champion of near-beer pong in Afghanistan. For those who know me, the fact that I have brought this game to this country should come as no surprise. To the rest of my readership, I can only hope you understand.

Happy Halloween!

A Comedy of Errors

A comedy of errors is rarely comedic, which begs the question of why we call it such. Before the thespians in my readership take off to write strongly worded emails chastising my ignorance - yes, it is comedy in the Shakespearean sense, ease up on the coffee. It still isn't funny to be in a comedy of errors, although hearing about others does seem to provide levity. As such, I hope you all find the following far more entertaining than I did.

A few days ago I had another trip planned to one of my small distant bases. Our official flight time was 2200 and we had to be at the flight line early. We got there around 2030 to check in and proceeded to stand around. Standing on a flight line, you realize how much hills, trees, buildings, and even micro-terrain help to minimize the wind. One realizes this even quicker after the sun has set and it's chilly out. Especially after standing outside for 3 hours. The astute reader will find that 3 hours after 2030 is after the flight was to leave, and they would be correct. Schedules in Afghanistan are about as good as the paper they're written on. Considering that schedules are all classified secret, they aren't often printed, so there goes the whole paper concept. Translation - they ain't worth squat.

I tried to go sit inside the building that the air control folks were in. It was large, had plenty of seats and couches and even a TV, plus it was heated. Apparently it was not for use by passengers though, so the big warm room sat unused as I sat on a plastic stool in the cold night.

Shortly after midnight we were told to haul our gear over to one of two waiting CH-47 Chinook helicopters. Turns out that was the wrong one and we hauled our gear to the other one. Of course, that one was full of cargo as it had just landed, and instantly all the passengers became indentured servants. Large boxes of helicopter rotors are heavy and awkward to say the least.

After we all got the boxes off and we climbed on and strapped our gear down, we were all told to cram as far as possible to the front. The crew proceeded to load in boxes and pallets of who-knows-what, one at a time. Some 45 minutes later, we finally took off. I would have noticed how cold it was, but we landed about 30 seconds later at the FARP (Forward Arming & Refueling Point).

At the FARP, we were all told to get off the helicopter. Fueling is a dangerous process as they leave the helicopter running. Because of the cargo, we all had to climb out the emergency hatch which was less than graceful considering the large tactical vest and weapons etc. There is nowhere to wait for the helicopter to refuel other than out in the open, and because the engines never turn off, neither do the rotors. The down-wash from a CH-47 is quite noticeable, especially because it has two very large main rotors. So now we are all huddled outside in the pitch black getting battered by the freezing wind of a Chinook helicopter's rotors. Fantastic.

About 15 minutes later the fueling was complete and we climbed back in through the escape hatch even less gracefully than before; it was time to take off. This is the part where I knew the flight would not be fun. The Chinook has two doors on either side near the front for the gunners to protect the aircraft. These doors obviously have to be open for the gunners to do their jobs, which means plenty of wind gets in. At night in mid/late October at altitude - Afghanistan is a chilly place. I take back everything I said about it being incredibly hot. What a change!

On the up side, I knew we would be flying at night and thought to check out a pair of night vision goggles (NVGs) from the armory. In true military fashion, they had the goggles but not the mount or any way to wear them, so I had to hold them. Thankfully they actually worked and I got to watch the mountains pass by as we flew. Without the goggles you can't see squat as we fly completely blacked out.

The flight was about 45 minutes, making it around 0145 / 0200 by the time we landed. We then had to exit again through the escape hatch and wait again in the cold rotor wash for the cargo to be off loaded so we could get our bags. Off loading was much quicker than on loading as they just pushed it out the back of the helicopter as the pilot slowly pulled forward. After we gathered our gear and the helicopter took off, we were again in total darkness. Most of the outlying FOBs have a very strict no white light rule, and as there was next to no moon, it was hard to see more than a few feet.

Luckily, my trusty NVGs came in handy again (and people made fun of me for asking for them...) However, after powering them up, I was even more confused than before. I will take this opportunity to say that I am very disappointed about something: Hollywood and Sillicon Valley have lied to me AGAIN. Every computer game and movie where a guy turns on NVGs, they make a nifty little powering-up noise. Mine did nothing of the sorts, which made me feel just a little less cool.

In any event - after looking around I had NO idea where we were. I gave the goggles to my Chief and he looked around for a second and then proclaimed that we were at a different base far from where we were supposed to be. Not good. After another look, I saw a building in the distance I recognized and realized that we landed at a different place than the last time we were there - so at least we were on the right base, but not really sure where. However, it was now after 0200 and we were supposed to land around 2245. There was no-one there and we all figured they thought the flight was canceled. We had no idea where we were supposed to go. Luckily, someone showed up and picked us up and took us to our tent. A good turn of fate, however short lived it would turn out to be.

The tent had very nice wooden floors and a forced-air heating system and luxury cots. It may sound like a contradiction but if you read my last post about small beds, at least this cot was about 6'6" long and wider than most other ones. As it was toasty warm, I crawled onto my cot and just used my sleeping bag as a blanket. By the time we got settled and everything was worked out it was 0300.

Around 0400 or so, the heater broke. The fan on the other hand did not. The forced air heating system became a forced air system, pumping in the air from outside. As the FOB we were at was located well above 7,000 feet elevation, the air was VERY cold (below freezing), which in turn meant that the tent was very cold (damn near freezing). I quickly discovered that laying on a thin piece of fabric suspended in the air does NOT provide much warmth to ones unprotected back, and I managed to crawl into the sleeping bag for another 3 hours until we had to be up and ready to go.

The rest of the day went off fairly well, we only got the vehicle stuck in a mountain of moon dust one time. I wasn't driving. They had to get a dozer to pull us out; we were so stuck the pickup truck couldn't even tug us out. Luckily the flight home was far less dramatic.

So there's a little taste of life in Afghanistan... it's cold and dusty and the pace is either full speed ahead or dead stop. As much as I may complain though, I like it here. I like it back home better though.

Some Observations

It's been just over 2 months now. Since my arrival, I have been keeping little observations here and there of strange things that pop into my mind and don't seem to leave until I write them down. Nothing of particular interest, not an update per say, just some random tidbits from the life of a deployed Seabee. As for me - this week has been as hectic as any. I'm not getting much sleep, only on account of my inability to actually fall (and stay) asleep. Work was particularly frustrating with people who have no clue what my job is telling me how to do it or questioning decisions I have made based on only half information. Some people.... It's starting to get quite chilly here at night, although the days still manage to warm to the mid 70s. In any event, time to head to work for my Sunday off, then hit the gym, back to work, then some training and classes. Excitement abounds.

Observations:

• The military is biased against tall people. I see it like the hot dog and bun conundrum - hot dog packages come in quantities different than bun packaging, and hot dogs are inevitably 10% smaller than the bun. In my case, the bed I have to sleep in is 6'4" long exactly, and the mattress is probably 6'1" long. If I lay completely flat, my feet hang off the end of the bed and touch the metal of the bed frame on one end. On the other end, my pillow slowly sinking into the gap between the mattress and the headboard, my head touches metal again. Every bed I have ever slept in that was provided by the military has the exact same dimensions. I'm convinced the military has it out for tall people. Don't even get me started on cots...



• Driving a car becomes a novelty after a few weeks of not having one. Then having to drive a steeringwheel-on-the-right, stick shift with the left hand truck - yeah, that's strange.



• Using a toilet with the ability to flush becomes almost foreign when you primary option for facilities is a port-o-john.



• Drinking in excess of 5 litres of water in a single day, and not exploding at the gills, is a shockingly apt method for showing yourself just how much you sweat out here.



• Humans have the incredible ability to adapt to any situation... You'd think rocket attacks a VBIEDs would keep a guy up at night, but not so much.



• I carry a weapon and ammunition on me 24/7. I'm surrounded by more fire power than I've ever seen in my entire life. My command has access to hundreds of thousands of rounds of ammunition. All this, yet I shoot more frequently in San Diego than I have here. Turns out I traveled 10,000 miles to the middle of a war zone to not shoot a weapon.



• The mind is a crazy place - I have now convinced myself that some terrorist is going to put pit vipers or camel spiders inside the urinal portion of the port-o-let. Every time I have to use one after dark and I don't have my flashlight on me, I just know something terrible is going to happen. I've been safe, so far... but I'm convinced it's going to happen.



• Not to tie into the previous thought, but I am an overly paranoid person. Perhaps paranoid isn't the best term, but I am cautious and observant of those things which I do and how they could be used against me. Without thinking, I recognize patterns in my daily activities such as always walking home the same path, always using the same bathroom stall, doing certain activities at the same time every day, etc. I notice these things and then intentionally change them to keep me from becoming predictable. To the same extent, whenever I am in any setting where sitting down is required, I try my best to have a chair against a wall or at least sit facing the door - not that I think anyone is going to come busting in guns blazing while I'm eating dinner, but if something were to happen I'd like to already be in a position where I can do something about it. Maybe it makes me strange or a little bit mental, but I look at it as a means of being prepared. Same reason I keep a few MREs and water in my Jeep, same reason I always carry a pocket knife, same reason I do a lot of things I do - it's better to be prepared than surprised.

Well that's all for now - hope all is well back home and with each of you. Halloween is approaching, I hope costumes have been picked and parties planned. This year I will be dressing up a soldier - original, right? Or maybe I'll dress up as a civilian - that'd be a change!

Another Night in Afghanistan

My wall just shook again from the shock wave of something blowing up in the distance. The speakers throughout KAF told me in heavy English accent that there would be training fires tonight. That was 45 minutes ago. None the less, it doesn't really bother me anymore. I will say that it is nothing like what one would expect from watching the movies. There are no flashes on the horizon, at least none that I can see... I always expected the sky to light up in a brilliant white flash with every blast, but Hollywood has lead me astray yet again.

We are almost at the 2 month mark. 4 more, and it seems like such a distant goal. I think the hardest part about being here, especially now, is being away from friends and loved ones. I could deal with the conditions and the work schedule and the danger and unpleasantness of this place far easier if I had people around me I cared about. Don't get me wrong, I care about my fellow sailors and would do most anything to help them out and to make sure things are going well for them - but they are not friends. I am friendly with quite a few of my fellow officers, but we do not hang out, we do not talk about personal things, we do not share with each other on a level much deeper than acquaintances. Despite having people all around, working in an office with some 10 other guys, living in a room with 3 roommates - there's still a very strange sense of isolation. I have yet to let go of my life back in San Diego, and I'm curious if that's not part of the problem. I'm not truly living here, and I'm definitely not living back home, so there in lies the disconnect.

With the technologies around us, it is both a blessing and a curse. I can write this blog and communicate with people almost at will. I can email my family and call my friends and it is almost like I'm back home. But on the flip side, it is a constant reminder of what cannot be. It reminds me of a time I toured the prison at Alcatraz. On the audio tour, one of the former inmates recalled being imprisoned there, watching San Francisco in the distance, listening to the sounds of people going about their lives and enjoying their freedom. It was a reminder of what was left behind, what was so close and yet impossible to achieve. To the same extent, the updates on Facebook, the emails and phone calls - they all remind me of a life that is on hold for me and still moving for everyone else.

It is not my intent to whine or complain - those who know me even slightly will know that is not my nature. I only intend to catalog those experiences and emotions that I encounter along my journey. I know it is temporary, I know things will get better, and I know that in a few months it will seem like none of this really matters... but promises of better times are a seemingly small consilation.

King of the Road...

Spent the last few days traveling. Went to one of my FOBs for a night and it was all one hell of an experience. I am the first (and likely last) member of my command to travel anywhere via ground convoy. Let's just say that riding in the back of an MRAP (Mine Resistant, Ambush Protected) vehicle is a lot different than riding in a Blackhawk or really any helicopter. Can't say I'm anxious to ever ride on another convoy, but it was a new experience and definitely a way to see Afghanistan up close and in person. 100% adrenaline the entire time, too.

Sorry for the poor quality of the video, but it's me in full tactical gear inside the noisy and bouncing MRAP. You can see the turret gunner in the background spinning back and forth as he scans his sector.


Being at the FOB for a night, I'm glad I'm normally at KAF. They have it good there, sleeping in RLBs (relocatable buildings) which are basically small conex boxes with a door and window, stacked together to form a building. The rooms are incredibly small, maybe 8' by 12', and you stick 2 or more people in there and it's really not pleasant. The base I was at has some 155mm Howitzers (really big long range artillery) that they chose to shoot off in the middle of the night - sleeping inside a thin metal box does not mix well with large shock waves from outgoing rounds.

I managed to snag a flight home on a helicopter - what took me in the range of hours on the trip out took in the range of minutes to get back. Definitely the way to travel. Catching a flight out here is NOT like catching a flight back home - my dad would have a heart attack. You know it's time to get on your helicopter when you hear the sound of rotors getting louder as they come in for a landing. If you can make it from where you are to where they are before they offload cargo, fuel, and take off - and there's room - you've got yourself a ride! I also quickly learned to keep a note in my pocket when I travel. In big letters: "ARE YOU GOING TO KAF? IS THERE ROOM FOR ME?" If I get the thumbs up - it's go time!

I imagine that may be something to get over when I get back - if I show up to the airport with just a note asking if I can get on the next flight to wherever I want to go, I doubt I'll get very far. Then again, if I show up in a bullet proof vest strapped with weapons and ammo, probably won't get me very far, either.

Stranger Each Day

It has been pointed out that a few times in this blog I have used the phrase "...can only be described as a totally indescribable..." Well, this is another one of those posts.

Friday night I was invited out by a few friends here, to an International Dance Party hosted by the Dutch contingent here on KAF. I wasn't really quite sure what to expect, but considering that I have done ZILCH in the way of personal fun and relaxation, I figured it was time to go out. Work and sleep be damned!

I was meeting the rest there, which was fine other than not knowing where "there" was save for a faint concept. No matter, as once I was within 200 meters I could hear the bass penetrating the dusty Kandahar air. Like a homing pigeon, I headed towards its origins. A large tent, indistinct from all the other tents around KAF, baring the group of people standing out side and a sign above the door - DUTCH CORNER. This was the place.

The first part that started my head into the eventual spiral of utter confusion and sensory overload was the bouncer at the door. Like every bar and club in California, two guys stood at the door looking over the patrons as they came and went. Only, they were not checking IDs or collecting cover - no weapons allowed. Luckily I had been made aware of this and was prepared.

Upon entering the vestibule of the large vinyl tent with its wooden floor, I could hear the music blaring and see lights pouring out from around the corner. I was not ready for what lay inside.

Turning the corner, a full discotech / rave / dance party was in progress. A stage with two DJs mixing beats and keeping the party going. A dance floor packed to the gills with people of all nationalities dancing and letting loose, some on raised platforms showing off their moves. Bright colorful lights, strobes, glow sticks, black lights... In a place where the only colors you see are various shades of tan, walking into a room that looks like the jumbo box of Crayola crayons exploded is a bit of a shock. I felt like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz after the tornado. There were people walking around with bottles of beer, and a bar in the back with people bellied up to it. Come to find out the bar was selling near-beer, but from the bottles piled up on tables and clasped in hands - you wouldn't have known it.

It may be difficult to understand why I am taking the time to write all this. Bars and dancing and music are all things that seem so normal to most people. What you have to remember is that normal is a different beast out here. Carrying around weapons, running to bunkers during rocket attacks, shaking moon-dust out of your uniforms... that's normal out here. What I saw in that room Friday night was the furthest thing from normal you could possibly find out here. I didn't know what to do with myself, I spent a good 20 minutes just standing there looking about in a shocked state of awe; fascinated at the spectacle before me.

After linking up with my friends and choking down a near-beer (they're near palatable), and after the short-circuit in my brain cleared, life was good. I danced and laughed and enjoyed myself for hours - the first time I've had the chance in a long, long time. I met new people, drank a few near beers, and sweated my ass off in that tent. When it was finally time to leave, I stepped back into reality, with the dust and the tactical vehicles and the void of color as far as the eye could see.

A well needed break from this place, for all of us in that room. For one night, it was like we were home, surrounded by friends, not a care in the world. If you took out all the camouflage uniforms and added a few more girls, it could have been any bar or club in any city in the world. For a second, all this insanity that is around us didn't seem to matter anymore... And that second - well that was good enough.

Shout Out

The Afghanistan Effect

It's been a little while since I posted last, and for that I apologize. It is not for lack of desire to keep the postings up-to-date, but more so a feature of life here. Days have begun to run together, and the only reason I know what day of the week it is has more to do with what meetings I have that day than anything else.

So what's new then? Overall, it's been a pretty good week or so. Only been roused from my sleep by alarms once, so that's a plus. There was some gunfire and explosions the other night, so going to bed with that in the ear is always interesting. I'm not sure if they were training sounds or anger sounds, but based on the lack of knowing one way or the other, I'm led to believe it was training. Within the past week, we have had two more ramp ceremonies - well, we have had more than two, but two that stand out. They were for service men assigned to units subordinate to ours. While none of us in my unit knew any of the departed, it still brings a slightly more personal sting.

Strange as it may seem that I started that paragraph with an indication that this past week has been "good" based on what I wrote, that's pretty much how I feel. Perhaps it makes me callous, perhaps it makes me a less decent person - I'm not really sure. All I know is that personally, the past week has been overall good. I can only imagine how that must sound to people back home - I try to think how I would react to what I'm writing if I were still back home... But I'm not, and try as I may, I have a hard time imagining it.

This is life... This is what we do here. For the lack of any better term, I'll call it the Afghanistan Effect.

For fear of giving anyone the wrong impression - I'm actually in quite good spirits. I guess I'm just happy in an otherwise miserable place...

PT - Afghani Style

I think I am going to write a get-slim-quick book when I get back, based on my experiences here in Afghanistan. There are a number of advantages to these types of books. 1 - You need zero qualification, knowledge, or training to write the book. 2 - Your plan doesn't even really have to work, it just has to sound good. 3 - People are obsessed with this type of thing, so you're bound to make money.

My book will feature the Afghanistan Diet. I'm still working on the concept, but here are some of the pointers:

• Work 16 hours a day - it limits over eating because you hardly have time to eat, let alone over eat.
• PT for at least an hour a day, every day. You must PT in a gym that has minimal ventilation and where the ambient temperature is no less than 100*F inside. Bonus - part of that hour is spent inside the smaller cardio room attached to the gym, where it is easily 15* warmer and "humidity" (translation - the moisture content of the air based solely on sweat) is at least 80%.
• Wear boots everywhere you go - they're like ankle weights that you don't even know you're wearing!
• Walk everywhere - cars are for people more important than you, and who cares if the meeting you have is a mile away - get moving!
• At least once a week, put on 75lbs of gear and walk around outside for a while.
  
• Drink at least 6 liters of water a day. It'll flush out your system of all the bad stuff, and it'll keep you full so you're not so hungry. Bonus - if it's hot and dry out, you hardly have to urinate!
• Give up all forms of booze, totally and completely... this part may be hard if it's around you, so lock yourself away someplace where it's not allowed!
  

That's it for now. Thus far, the Afghan Diet has helped me lose 23lbs! Oorah being healthy!

Suck it, Six Flags!

Today... Today was a good day.

I took another trip to one of my FOBs which meant a ride in a CH47 Chinook piloted by the Dutch. The base was huge, much larger than anything I've ever been to prior (although smaller than KAF). Their DFAC (That's dining facility, remember? Try and keep up here.) was incredible. They had a full out Labor Day spread, with easily the best food I've had since leaving the US. I had a delicious cheddar burger with grilled mushrooms and onions and some spinach and tomato, plus Mac & Cheese and some steamed vegetables. I also broke my diet and had a piece of lemon cake. Granted, reading what I ate as I write it, doesn't sound too amazing... but trust me, compared to what I have been eating - it's top cuisine.

The trip back was definitely the exciting part. It's quite a long ride back to KAF, and I wanted a seat by the tail of the helicopter because the Chinooks fly with the tail gate open so the gunner can sit there and watch our 6. So I was hanging out back there with my little POV Video Camera recording our flight and then the assistant gunner also started filming some shots from his window of us flying pretty dang low. Then we got to some mountains that on the way out we flew over. This time - we flew through. We were low and fast - I'm talking rotor tips only 30-50 feet from the hill side, maybe 30-50 feet off the ground ourselves. And we were booking it, too. We'd change altitude rapidly, climbing hundreds of feet and then shooting back down within seconds. It was like the worlds most exciting, dangerous, military endorsed amusement park! I've included some of the video footage below - watch it and get lost in the moment; you can almost hear CCR yourself! (See, I tie a lot of things back into my posts for you loyal readers).



After getting back to the office, I found a surprise care package from my friend Moriel, which was a welcome gift indeed - cookies (delicious btw - thank you Mori), granola bars, magazines, and a barrel of monkeys!

On the down side - I've been getting crazy sick, coughing pretty much nonstop and unable to breathe through my nose. I left work early (1915, if you can call that early) to go home and try to get some rest. I hope to be asleep before much longer.

A somber moment in time

The below was stolen from a friend of mine out here, Mike Andrews. I've added and removed things to fit my experience, but I have to give credit where due.

We arrived early today at the Kilo ramp of the airfield and watched as a crowd gathered outside of the gate. A C-5 Hercules aircraft sat on the ramp with its cavernous rear entrance facing the terminal. There was an odd silence amongst the Army, Navy, Marine, Air Force, and international service members, broken occasionally by the roar of a jet engine or the harsh sound of helicopter blades as NATO troops left for operations. Today, however, was not about the living, it was a day to remember the fallen.

We fell into formation, two sets of four ranks of US troops stretching for well over 200 yards, in the sweltering heat of midday in Kandahar. The international armed forces fell in behind us, each by their country, but today we were all there for one reason: to honor our departed brethren. The sun reflected off of the tarmac, making it feel much hotter than the 95 degrees that was indicated on the thermometer mounted to the wall of the terminal. We stood in silence and watched as four Marines uncased the United States and Marine Corps flags and two ranks of Marines formed facing each other on either side of the extended ramp protruding from the rear of the aircraft awaiting its precious cargo.

“Ceremony, atten-HUT!”

The sound swept across the airfield like thunder as all of us in the US ranks snapped to attention. The echoing calls to attention in heavily accented English and many other languages followed as each element behind us locked to in turn.

“Left, face!”

The phalanx of warriors that we had become turned as if as one and marched smartly to fall in behind the Marines that were already standing sentry along the strip of runway that was now hallowed ground. As we covered in behind the Marines, I could tell this was not like the many other formations I had been part of. The look on the faces of those across from me - almost vacant, deep in thought and retrospect. I began to feel a tightening in my throat as the sweat from the noon sun rolled down my face.

“Parade, rest”

We all snapped from attention, and the Chaplin from our unit read a passage from Ecclesiastes and said a prayer. He then read the names of the fallen: a 19 year old Lance Corporal, survived only by his mother and a 21 year old Navy Corpsman survived by his estranged parents. The two that would have been considered boys in the US, fought and died as men in Afghanistan. So many experiences they never got to live, so many hopes and dreams dashed in an instant. All of that was replaced now by a cold metal case carefully wrapped in the flag of the country for which they loved and defended to the bitter end.

The command of attention rang out and bagpipes began to solemnly play the Marine Corps Hymn. We were given the order to present arms and almost in unison the entire group slowly raised their right hands to shield our eyes in a final sign of respect. As the twelve Marines carried two flag draped coffins down the ranks and into the belly of the plane, I fought back the urge to cry. The somber tones of a bugle sounded the first notes of Taps and I heard a groan, as if the aircraft was joining in, as the tail ramp slowly raised and the final journey of these two began. The explosive sound of the door crashing shut came as the final notes drifted across the runway. We dropped our salute after the flags were marched past us. The Marines left first, then our foreign allies and then we slowly marched from that place, no longer meant for mourning, but for the operation at hand. While time stood still for a moment that day, the war did not.

A sobering experience to say the least. I am glad I participated and paid my respects, but I don't know how many more of these I could weather before the reality of it all starts to take its tole. I know I will be back to pay my respects at another time for another fallen brother, but I wish so deeply that this opportunity would never present itself.

A Day in The Life…

I’ve been here long enough that I felt like trying to explain what, for the most part, could be construed as an “average” day in this anything but average place.

I wake up early, anywhere between 0500 and 0600 depending on the day. It is often frigid in my room, as the little Chigo air conditioner gained headway against the heat of the day through the cool of the night. The sun has already been awake far longer than I, but we have blocked its entry to our room with towels over the window. I slip on my shower shoes and step into the hallway to stumble my way to the bathroom; the already warm hallway feels nice. For reasons that escape me, the bathroom is kept at a temperature more suitable for the storing of meat, not the exiting of showers. But I shower at night, because in my mind there is no point to showering in the morning here.

Depending on how energetic I feel, and how wrinkled my uniform is, I might break out the super awesome iron I purchased here. Yes, it is odd for someone to get excited about an iron, but the one I have back home is older than I am (literally – a hand-me-down from the parents). While the basics of iron technology haven’t changed in the past 20 years, it’s still nice to have one that’s shiny and new and gets wrinkles out of clothing – the core tenant of any iron.

The chow hall (one of the 5 on base) is ridiculously close to my room. Ridiculous, only in its extreme proximity to me, and yet the surprisingly infrequency with which I visit it. Breakfast is a luxury that - at least for me - cannot be afforded. Perchance, if the stars align, I may make my way through the breakfast line with a take out plate to eat at my desk… but there’s a better chance of the Chargers winning the Super Bowl than that happening on a regular basis. Breakfast time is spent at my desk, drinking coffee and eating whatever ornamentally packaged “health” food happens to be sitting around. To that note: thank you to Anna for the baked goods, and to Mother for the healthy cereal bars – they have gotten me through many a morning.

By and large, my day is spent sitting in the back right corner of a decently sized windowless wooden room, staring at a computer monitor, fighting fires and getting work done. Our office is air conditioned as well, which is a good thing. The generator powering the building however, has been having issues, often leaving us to chose between functioning lights and computers or functioning air conditioning. The building, all of it looking much the same as my office – windowless plywood walls, ceilings, and doors – sits inside a much larger tent. In the heat of the afternoon, it can be in excess of 95* if the air conditioning goes out. We are all much happier when the generator is working.

My day is spent switching between two computers: the “low” side computer for unclassified work and the “high” side computer for the secret and classified information. With my Chief, a very intelligent and personable man, we are the single point of contact for all construction across five Forward Operating Bases (FOBs) and multiple smaller Combat Outposts (COPs). At any given time, either of us should be able to tell you what projects are going on at which FOB, to include who’s doing the work, how far along the project is, when it will be done, what issues it has, who the end user is, and what project that team will be moving on to after completion. Often, we are required to recite said information to those powers that be whom require it.

This work manifests itself in a number of ways. Two nights a week, every week, I have a meeting for one of my FOBs where all the key players sit around a huge plywood table and discuss the status of projects. I am by far the junior man, often sitting between O-5s and O-6s (O being for officer, the number being for their rank. I am an O-2 – side bar: I was recently promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade after spending two years as an Ensign. Better pay, slightly more respect, and progress…) I brief the first slide of the night, focusing specifically on the troop labor side of construction. Without belaboring the topic, there are three ways to do construction out here: Troops (Army, Air Force, or Navy Seabees!!!), Contracting (local or international companies that bid for construction jobs), and through a massive already established contract called LOGCAP. I deal mainly with the first, assigning US service members to do work for US bases.

Work also comes via email, phone call, and meetings and they all come in droves. With limited resources, multiple customers, and a “yesterday” deadline mentality we’re kept busy.

One of the highlights of my job is traveling out to visit my FOBs, getting me off KAF and outside the wire; a chance that very few of my shipmates get out here. For my FOBs we travel exclusively by helicopter, which for the adventurous side of me is incredibly awesome. The flights are uncomfortable and violent, an assault on the body. Occupants squeeze themselves in shoulder to shoulder, adorned in full combat attire and loaded for bear. Almost every time I’m in the helicopter I hear Fortunate Son by CCR or Flight of the Valkyries from Platoon in my head – it’s like clockwork. FOB visits are exhausting and hectic, trying to cram in as much project review and situational awareness before the sound of the rotors spinning up sends a shot of adrenaline through the veins. I haven’t been left behind yet, but it’s been damn close. As terrible as it sounds, I am ecstatic that it is part of my job.

Lunch is another one of those many luxuries that the operational tempo of my day doesn't lend itself to on a regular basis. My predecessor left a plethora of tuna packages, a staple of mid afternoon hunger abatement. My stomach has shrunk considerably since being here, to a point where I fear I may never again become the veritable garbage disposal I once was.

Another part of my day is spent keeping abreast of the realities of war, reading the countless “Flag Status” emails directing whether the flag is at full or half mast; the subsequent “Ramp Ceremony” emails outlining the details of the fallen soldier’s last flight home; the daily Intel Summary reporting all of the combat events of the day and their human toll. It’s a sobering activity to say the least, but important to keep on top of.

Work normally wraps up around 1830 or 1900 when a group of us wander to one of the DFACs (Dining Facilities) nearby – unless it’s one of the nights I have my meetings, and then it’s off to do that. After chow it’s customary to come back to the office to check the emails and put out any last minute fires before securing for the day.

Back in the hooch (that’s military slang for room), I hop on my laptop to check in on my social networking and blog e-life. Depending on my energy level I’ll head out for a short run around the base or go to the gym to do some strength training. The condition of the air here is not conducive to physical activity, parching the mouth and lungs and replacing whatever was there with dust. But it’s a nice release from the day, some time just for me and the stars and my reflective yellow belt.

After showering and cooling down in the sub-arctic chill of the bathroom, it’s time for bed. I have learned to sleep fully clothed, including socks, with my tennis shoes unlaced and ready to go right by the bed. It was a quick lesson learned after stumbling around in the darkness following our first rocket attack. Worrying about where your pants are in the confusion and darkness should not be top priority in those moments.

As I crawl into my sleeping bag, perched atop my less than comfortable mattress, exhausted from the day, I go to sleep to the faithful hum of the little Chigo, my mechanical Sisyphus, toiling again to overcome the latent heat of the day. And I in my own way will return again tomorrow to push boulders up hills, only to watch new ones appear shortly thereafter.

Show & Tell

For this installment of "My Time in the Sand Box"... Pictures!

First, some photos from Kuwait. Despite being hotter than hell and thousands of miles from home, there was something familiar about this place...
But Kuwait wasn't all nice - on the way to the shooting range we drove past countless areas full of burnt out wreckage from the first gulf war years ago. You probably saw photos in Time Magazine or splashed across the news - the "Highway of Death" as it was called. Almost 20 years later, and it's still there.

Here are photos from my flight out to Afghanistan in an airforce C-130. If you've never flown in a C-130, which I have to imagine is the majority of my target audience, then you're not missing much.

As you can see, the conditions are cramped - you're either sleeping on top of the cargo, or are packed in like cargo yourself.
The plane is loud, it bumps around a lot, and you can't move much unless you manage to wiggle your way to the back of the plane and walk around all flight. The bathroom is more like a curtain in the back of the plane you stand behind, and the in-flight entertainment is watching everyone try to get comfortable. One note of interest was that I met a fellow Steelers fan who happened to be one of the crew, thus gaining me an invite into the cockpit to watch the world fly by.
The rest of the photos are from Afghanistan. This first photo was taken from the chopper flight I took to one of my FOBs - you'll note that there is in fact water in Afghanistan.
This may very well be the only body of water in all of Afghanistan, a reservoir used to supply irrigation to the low lying fields in the area. The mountains are everywhere and not the most hospitable of places, thus explaing why our forces are having such a tough time getting things done out there.

Next is a photo my Chief took of me looking over the FOB, getting a feel for the layout of the base. My trusty M-4 is just out of the frame of the picture, but the M-9 never leaves my side.
To either side of me you can see HESCO Bastions, which are basically giant metal baskets with fabric liners that you fill with sand to create what amounts to a really big sand bag. Stack a few together and you've got a damn good force protection wall. Behind me is a big bladder full of water, likely for construction purposes.

Here you can see that there is still time for humor out in the desert. You may have to click to the big size to see what's written on the gun turret atop the vehicle.

This is a type of MRAP (Mine Resistant Ambush Protected) vehicle, designed to help troops stay safer from IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices).

On base, another photo that made me chuckle... Even in a land of perceived chaos and lawlessness....
...your tactical up-armored Humvee can get a parking ticket.

As part of my diet plan to kick my Dad's butt in our weight loss competition - the Jared Diet - Afghanistan style!
Already down 16 pounds from the start of deployment... Be afraid pops, be very afraid.

When you're in Afghanistan, there's not a whole lot to do other than work and sleep. Not one to be without a project, I decided to better my life AND my living accommodations with the addition of one very awesome MacGyver-esque shelf.
Some plywood, a Leatherman, and some string - Presto! A shelf. You will also note my humble sleeping accommodations and the Air Conditioner that works its little heart out to keep our room tenable.

Moon dust is a term used around here to describe the material that covers most of the base. I can't call it sand, dirt, dust, or anything like that. Sometimes up to 2 feet thick, it gets everywhere and is simply impossible to deal with. I took a video to try and illustrate how thick it can be.

All that airborne detritus, into your lungs, equipment, eyes, offices; wherever there's a place for moon dust to go, it will be there.

And for those who think that military folk may not be the most culturally advanced, I'd like to point out that we're all big fans of geography!
New Jersey is only 9,000 miles away - that may explain the smell.

Finally, because I've been traveling a bit, it's only appropriate I show off my hot new ride.
The UH-60 Blackhawk. Flying in style! Taken from my bird looking back at our support bird, on our way out into the wild beige yonder.

Overall, things are good, work is starting to make a lot more sense, and the routine is becoming a little more familiar. Still always exhausted and running at 100mph, but that's a regular day around here. Thank you for the kind emails, comments, and care packages. I appreciate them greatly.