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Arrival

21 May 2006    

     The day I was to leave for Fort Sill was a tough one.  I now know what a heavy heart feels like.  You sigh just to get air, and anything, and I do mean anything, can bring you close to tears. Things had been going pretty smoothly up to this point, but my imminent departure made it very hard all morning. Knowing I would not see my wife, kids, dogs, home, etc for 13 months was eating away at me. I woke up at 6:30 AM, and had to leave by 9:00 AM. Once I ate I had two hours to kill, and they dragged on and on.  Jancy and I took my dogs for a final walk.  I did ridiculously mundane things like cutting the dog’s nails and cleaning up the bathroom. It was all pretty depressing, and we ended up leaving about 15 minutes early, because I couldn’t stand it anymore.  Getting out of the house helped, because I wasn’t constantly reminded of the things I loved and would be missing.

     Having been in the military as long as I have, I know better than to just show up at your destination unannounced.  I’d been in communication with the folks at Fort Sill, and had been told that I would be met at the baggage pick-up point at Will Rogers International Airport in Oklahoma City.  They wouldn’t miss me, and I would have no trouble finding them.  Really. Trust us.

     Having got to Oklahoma City without incident, I was ready to apply some of that trust. I went down to get my bags, all five of them including my weapons case, and as I was acquiring them, I did indeed see someone in uniform and figured he’d be coming over soon, and all would be well. Instead, as I loaded my last bag on a luggage cart, I looked up and saw him disappearing out the main door.  So pushing my cart at dangerous speeds, making little old ladies dive for safety, I rushed after him.  I just knew they were all loading up on a bus, preparing to leave me, and that would happen over my dead body (or maybe the dead body of an innocent pedestrian I ran over). 

     Much to my delight (you are picking up on my sarcasm, right? I’m not being too subtle), I was told that the bus was full, and I would get to wait another 90 minutes for the next bus.

     “You’re kidding me,” I said to the Lieutenant. Actually, I am kidding. My language was a tad more colorful than that. Much more than a tad. But in the end I had an excellent opportunity to explore the airport, while pushing a cart filled to the brim with bags, and a weapon that I could not leave unattended. Needless to say, I chose to find a seat and guard my bags. When the bus finally did show up, I was able to load the bags, but was told we had to wait another 90 minutes for some late arrivals before we left.  I was beginning to see a pattern here. There’s that foreshadowing thing again.

     Since I no longer had to guard my bags, I could explore the airport!  Ten minutes later I had finished my exploration. Once you have come through the gate, there is nothing of interest; only one very small newsstand and one pathetic snack shop.  Purgatory is being stranded at Will Rogers International Airport in Oklahoma City.

     The bus ride from the airport to Fort Sill took 90 minutes. Eastern Oklahoma actually has trees and some small hills. It was not the flat wasteland I expected. Fort Sill looks quite nice. Since most of the Afghanistan-bound folks were training at Camp Shelby in Mississippi, which would be much more humid, I was happy to be here, happy being a very relative term.  Most of the approximately 80 people being trained were part of weapons inspections teams that would be heading to Iraq. Seventeen were folks thrown in at the last minute going all over the place, a few to Afghanistan, but none to Kabul.  All of the members of the team I would be working with in Kabul were training together, except me.  So I was missing out on all that bonding. But I was also missing out on all that wanting-to-strangle-someone stuff too. 

     The folks at Shelby also had a big open barracks they all shared, while I was surprised to see that I had a room that I shared with just one other person, Major D.  Although I didn’t know it, he would turn out to be a great room mate and a decent guy.  Initially, however, I was struck by his lack of humor.  It turns out that he has a great sense of humor, but it is so dry that you need to water the plants after he leaves the room.

      I spent the night unpacking, showering, and at 10 my roomie wanted to sleep. So I pulled out my new laptop (what a great thing to have) and watched a couple of episodes of Hogan’s Heroes to wind down. This would become one of my rituals, helping me to maintain equilibrium.  Rituals are important; they provide comfort in times of stress. Since stress and I would be getting to know each other too well, my complete set of Hogan’s Heroes, Season One, would be my little escape.

     My other little ritual would involve trying to sleep without falling out of bed.  The cleverly designed mattress support system ensured that if I moved too far away from the wall, the mattress would start listing to port and we’d capsize.  While I’m sure I could have found a way to fix this (explosives springs quickly to mind) I never did.  I simply scooted near the wall, and managed to sleep, this despite the fact that even if I didn’t fall out of the bed, it was still like sleeping at the bottom of a bowl. There was no support at all. 

     That’s all for today. Tune in next time when they let me play with guns.

Training Begins - Slowly

22 May -

     My first day at Fort Sill was a whole lot of nothing. Literally. Some of our leaders had meetings to get things set up (one might think things were already set up. One might be wrong).  The rest of us enjoyed the comforts that only dorm life has to offer.  I took my laptop outside and wandered around until I found a spot where I could pick up a wireless connection.  It was almost impossible to read the screen in the sunlight, but I managed to fire off the first of my daily e-mails which have become these articles. I have to thank Capt Dan Hunter for telling me to bring a lap top. Little did I know just how valuable this single item would become. Later in the day we went to the PX, and I was happy to find season two of Hogan’s Heroes on DVD, so my nightly ritual of watching a show before bed should be able to continue throughout training. 

     I discovered there were only two washers and two dryers for the 80 of us. This should be fun.  I will have to be cunning to get to them before the masses descend this weekend, arms loaded with dirty clothes.  So begins the survival of the fittest, or in this case, the cleanest.

23 May –

    The day dawned hot and promised to bake us thoroughly to a crackly crunch.  We in the Air Force have enough sense to roll our long sleeves up when it’s hot, but we aren’t allowed to do this on an Army base. Yes, it’s true, no matter how hot it is, all soldiers have their sleeves down.  So even though it is in the nineties (but it’s a dry heat) we must wear long sleeves, ensuring that heat stroke would come sooner rather than later. Egad! 

     We were issued our weapons and body armor, and off we went to chow and then to the firing range.  Today we had to "zero" our M-16s (semi-automatic rifles dating back to the Vietnam war).  To do this, we fired a clip of three shots (there are 30 of us doing this at a time) then go out to the targets, draw a triangle between the three hits, and do it again.  This process takes about 10 minutes. Once you've got two groups within 4 centimeters, you can adjust your sights. Wearing body armor throws off your sights considerably, so even though my weapon was zeroed before I left, I had to make significant adjustments.  It took me six clips (18 shots) to zero my weapon. I am only one of two officers with both the M-16 and M-9 pistol, so they envied me getting to shoot.  They did not envy me later on when I had to lug it around everywhere.
    This may sound fun, but it was hot and very windy, which meant all the moisture was sucked from your body pretty quickly. Also, body armor is hot and heavy, and we shot from fox holes, so watching me jump out from a fox hole with armor on was quite a sight, I'm sure.  Picture a turtle rolling around on its back, trying to flip over.

     To add to the pleasure, over half of us were not issued armor or helmets, even though we were supposed to get them issued before we hit the ranges. Oops, the Army dropped the ball. So I had to wear another guy’s sweaty helmet and armor when he was finished. Oh joy!
    I finished shooting around 1100, and ate an MRE (Meal Ready to Eat) the modern version of field rations. I had a delightful spicy paste penne, or something like that. The magic heating package worked well, and even though everyone looks at me like I’m a mutant when I say it, I like most of the MREs. The LT next to me turned her nose up at everything, so I got some of her food too. First rule here is eat until stuffed, because you don't know when you'll eat again. After doing just that, I waddled around looking for shady spots to sit and wait for the truly inept (sorry, weapons-challenged) to finish zeroing weapons. There were about 60 that had to zero M-16s, and you don't leave until you succeed. By 2 PM we were down to the last 10, and the rest of us watched in apathy, knowing we'd be there forever. (A side note, eight of the ten were female; I merely mention this as a point of interest, nothing more). Some of the folks fired for three hours trying to zero the weapon. Finally, at approximately 3 PM, they had all finished. Many of us suspected that the instructors just passed them because they were about to pass out from the heat.  Finally, now we can go back, right?  Wrong, but thanks for playing. Seems the buses are on a fixed schedule, so they will not come early. Another 60 minutes in the sun. Arrgghh! Must control fist of death.
      In the evening we were accosted by Army troops who didn’t like the fact we were using their wireless network.  I honestly didn’t know we were.  I’d had about two days experience using wireless, so I was just happy to make a connection. However, in the interest of paying for services used, I worked out a deal with them to pay for a hub, server, or whatever it was, to let us hook up.  Having an internet connection was more important to me than anything, so I wasn’t about to lose it.
    Did I mention our room is at the end of the hall by the dorm exit, so we have not one but two fire doors that slam all the time?  Our sleep is usually disturbed by the eager troops that insist on running at 5 in the morning, may the fleas of a thousand camels infest their armpits. However, I notice that after yesterday's marathon session at the firing range, I did not hear a single door slam before I woke up. Either they are no longer enthusiastic, or I was unconscious. My bed should be registered with the FBI as a lethal weapon, and if we made POWs sleep on them we'd be charged with war crimes. Oh how I miss a real box spring and mattress.

The Fine Art of Shouting "HUA"

24 May
     This morning we spent the morning filling out one piece of paper.  In reality it only took one hour, but through a scheduling process that can only be described as mystifying, if not criminal, we had to spend the entire morning at this building because the buses can't be switched at the last minute.  Why anyone thought we would need the whole morning for this is beyond me.  We also discovered that the Army likes to set their air conditioners at around 85 degrees.  Delightful!
     As I mentioned earlier, most of our group is going to Iraq, and will be part of multiple teams that investigate IEDs (improvised explosive devices). Its like CSI:Baghdad, watch us on Monday nights at 9.  Those of us not in this team have been put in our own group. We have been called "The Strays," "The Others," and “Team BOHICA” (bend over, here it comes again). Pardon my crudeness, I merely report the facts, no editorializing here. We finally received the name Team Delta; clever since the CSI: Baghdad guys are Alpha Bravo and Charlie. Amazing it took three days to come up with this.

     Major D has starting exhibiting that dry humor I mentioned earlier. He spent today saying “HUA” at every opportunity, which is the Army’s expression for enthusiastic acknowledgment. For instance, when an Army instructor says something, he expects us to all yell “HUA.” For instance:

Instructor: “This is an M-16, and it will become your best friend.”  He pauses, and we all look blankly at him, waiting for sentence number two. He in turn looks expectantly at us, and says, in a questioning tone, “HUA?” Ahh, the light comes on, and a few of us say, “HUA” so we can get on with the instruction.  This little charade would be played out over and over again during the next three weeks.  And yes, some of these instructors say it after almost every sentence. Would I kid you? When Air Force personnel say it, it sounds snide and sarcastic, which indeed is our intent. 

      But I digress. Maj D decided it would be funny to say it non-stop. At least, I think he was trying to be funny.  He never smiled when doing it, so he could have been insane. 

    After lunch we headed out to the firing range.  This time the plan required careful planning and coordination, which of course meant it would fail miserably. One bus was supposed to go to the pistol range, the other to the M-16 range. I even asked my driver if this bus went to the M-9 range. Yes I was assured, though clearly the driver had no idea what I meant and was just being agreeable.  Twenty minutes later we arrived at the wrong range, and after much wringing of hands, we all loaded back on the bus and drove for another 35 minutes (Fort Sill is HUGE, and has ranges all over the place).  Since we arrived late, I settled in for a four-hour wait before I would shoot.

    All ranges have a set of bleachers where we can sit while waiting. However, they are inside of giant aluminum sheds, with only the front wall missing, so you can watch your friends shoot. However, there is no breeze inside of these, so though shady, they are quite hot.  I found a spot outside of the shed in the shade to enjoy the ever-present breezes.  I finally shot at 8 PM in the evening, so the weather was pleasant. This is a good thing, as I was fully armored.

     When we shoot, we must wear body armor and a helmet. We also wear elbow and knee pads.  Everything is both heavy and cumbersome.  It is affectionately know as “Battle Rattle.”  Anyhow, even while wearing battle rattle, and shooting at pop-up targets, I had the highest score of all 80 of us with the pistol. Insert smug satisfaction here. The pistol range was in an area that looked like the Serengeti Plain in Africa. There were high barren hills all around, and short, stubby trees spaced around us. It was quite nice.

     At 8:30 PM we headed off. Back to the dorm, right?  Wrong.  We went back to the range we went to originally, this time for night firing. We all got to shoot the M-16 with tracers, which are shells that leave a fiery trail and allow you to see them in the dark.  It was an awesome sight, and the only really enjoyable part of the training so far. Oooh, pretty lights.

25 May

     I got to sleep around midnight, actually slept well, then got up to shave and was greeted by two long lines in the hall.  Someone said something to me, but I had no clue what he was saying; he tried again; I was still clueless (I swear he either had marbles in his mouth, or was trying to speak Swedish), and finally others yelled out “pee test” and “golden flow.” Ahh, the surprise drug test, what a way to start the day.  Like any of us could get drugs here, even if we wanted too.  I guess my urine was drug free, as no one arrested me.

    We finally got back out to the firing range for another day of roasting. Today I shot the M-16 for qualification. It was pop-up targets again, but at long range. I am an excellent shot, but I don’t have quick reflexes, so I’d get to roast a little extra today. You needed 23 hits out of 40, and the first time through I came close, but not close enough. The second time I thought I would get it, and my gun jammed. On the third try my clip of 20 only had 10 bullets in it, and I finally made it on the fourth try. 

    Army foxholes are cement, built on a mound, and have no shade at all. I was in full battle rattle and was getting seriously dehydrated by the fourth round of this.  Clearly Army soldiers are put through this so they can have their brains fried and become more malleable. Yes, master.

    We did actually get off by 2 PM, and were allowed to wear civvies the rest of the day, Ahh, shorts and a T-shirt.  I was told we would never get to wear civilian clothes here, and we would wear PT (Physical Training) gear during off-hours, so I bought 5 PT shirts and 5 PT shorts. But when I get here, I was told we couldn’t wear PT clothes unless we are doing PT (which we never do).  So I have three civilian T-shirts and one pair of shorts for the duration. I am singularly unimpressed by the planning (and I use the term so loosely it actually means something else entirely) that went into this joint Army-Air Force training. 

A Bloody Mess

17 Aug – Kabul, Afghanistan

     Don't be thrown off by the dates; I am updating this blog daily, but I've been recording my adventures for three months via e-mails to my family and friends.  I'll incorporate these into this blog and hopefully get it caught up to the present within a few weeks.  On to my adventures at Fort Sill.

26 May - Fort Sill

     This morning we went to a new firing range to fire machine guns. There was a time when that would have excited me. Now it just means more time frying in the sun wearing battle rattle. We pulled up to the range, and got off, and there were no instructors in sight. Guess what? Yes, we were taken to the wrong range again.  One bus drove off before we could stop it, but we nabbed the second one, and filled it up and found the right range.  This one was totally barren, with only a porto-potty. NO SHADE!  Kill me know, please.  Once again I got to sit for three hours in full gear roasting in the sun. I did manage to find some shade next to a truck for part of the time.  Firing the machine guns was a relief, because it meant I could get out of the sun soon.  (Note: Yes, I am a wimp, I admit it. I’m too old to be doing this, and I didn’t join the Army. There was a reason for that.)

     The day at the range did have some excitement. We had to open boxes of ammo, and one of our eager sergeants pulled out a huge knife, cut a box open, and managed on the follow-through to drive the knife 3 to 4 inches straight into his leg. He spent the rest of his time at Fort Sill on crutches, and had to endure a great deal of ribbing.  As an act of charity, I will refrain from mentioning his name.  He has suffered enough.

27 May

     Today we learned land navigation.   We were divided up into teams of 4 or 5, with a compass and our map. Our map only told us distance and direction, and we had to try to find our way by pacing off the distances and heading in the right direction using our compass.  This might have been easier had our particular course not taken us through every patch of scrubby, thick, poison-ivy infested foliage in the state of Oklahoma.  Normally you should be able to pace off 100 yards, and have someone direct you left or right until you were in the right spot, and the rest of the group would join you.  However, this would actually require you to be able to see them 100 yards away.  With some of the woods we went through, we were lucky to pace off 10 yards. 

     However, the entire trip wasn’t made through the man-eating jungle. Along the way we also crossed beautiful rugged hills and jagged rocks, avoiding herds of cacti.  In the middle of all this I saw the most amazing turquoise and bright yellow lizard. Absolutely stunning.  On the whole, an enjoyable day.  The last I would have for a long, long time.

28-29 May

     After barely a week here, we got two days off for Memorial Day weekend.  Of course, we didn’t actually get to do anything or go anywhere.  It would have been better to do some more training.  Instead, these would be our only two days off for the entire four weeks of training.  We did have a barbeque on the 29^th, but for me, it wasn’t something to look forward to, as I am not socially-oriented (I have been called, not without some merit, a hermit).   I was good and went out.  After getting my luke-warm burger and soda, I sat down on the bleachers.  On one side some guys were discussing the merits of the local strip joints.  Apparently one featured Bridget the Midget and a girl in a wheel-chair who was a stripper injured in a car wreck, and they used her for the show so she could stay employed.  I may not have all the details right on this, as I just picked up bits and pieces of the conversation, as on the other side of me were two noisy, over-active children, as kids usually are.  The fun-meter was pegged, and I was remembering fondly how much fun the firing ranges were. 

1 June (Yes, I’m skipping days. We want to get to Afghanistan soon)

     Combat Life Saving (CLS) class was taught in the education building.  This glorious building has three boons that are akin to striking gold.

1. It has real air conditioning. The classroom is actually cool. And there was much rejoicing
2. It is a five-minute walk from our dorm.  Since we have to get everywhere by bus, we are slaves to their schedule. Let me illustrate: the buses pick us up at 4:30 from CLS and take us to chow by 4:40. Well, the chow hall doesn’t open until 5:00, so you get to stand in line for 20 minutes.  If you are willing to skip chow, you can walk over to Godfather’s Pizza, get a mini pizza, and go to the dorm, eat, and change before those who went to chow have even gotten in the chow hall!  Well worth the $3.30 to buy a pizza (chow is free at the chow hall). The same holds true at lunch. You can spend 90 minutes going to chow in the hot, stuffy, chow hall, or skip lunch, go back to your room, nap, read, or cruise the internet, then back to class. Ahhh, life is good (how far I have sunk to be rejoicing over such things).
3. The education building has a very large computer lab with at least 40 computers just ready for us to hop on during class breaks. A quick check of the e-mails or making sure the air force paid me, and then back to class. 

     The highlight of CLS is getting “stuck.” This is the term we use for those who act as victims so we can learn to place an IV into someone’s arm.  First we put in a catheter, then must quickly attach the IV tube to the catheter.  Something I did not realize is that when the doctors draw blood, they actually stick a small rubber tube in your vein.  There is a needle inside the tube used for the initial insertion, then the tube is pushed in, and the needle withdrawn. This tube, along with an attachment that allows them to screw on the IV, is the catheter. Once it is inserted, blood will come out, so you need to get the IV on quickly.  I was the victim first. 

     Maj D put the rubber strap on my arm to make the veins bulge, and inserted the catheter. Did I mention he tried this twice yesterday on someone else, and failed both times?  Boy was I excited at this prospect.  Anyhow, he got the IV set up, after letting a good bit of blood run down my arm (we rest our arms on pee pads to soak up all the blood).  However, the IV wouldn’t drain into my arm! So he was told to remove the IV and try again. Blood gushes out and my arm is all warm and wet. No, I’m not looking, I’m a wimp, remember?  The instuctor asks me if I drink a lot.  A lot of what???  Water? Booze?  He is puzzled, and they don’t know what to do.  Suddenly I realize that the rubber strap is still on my arm. I tell them to take it off, and duh, my blood starts flowing again.  I hope there is no damage due to loss of circulation. My arm feels funky.  Now the IV is working, and I look at the bloody mess that is my arm. I think I’ve lost a cup or two of blood (it could be less, but is sure looked like a cup or two).  People are asking me how I feel (fine, thanks).  The IV replaces my lost fluids, but my left arm is covered in blood, and the pee pad has soaked up a lot more!  I tell Maj D that he will figure prominently in my memoirs, and so he has. 

The Joys of Convoy Training

2 June

     The day started off with breakfast followed by a 90 minute video on what to do if taken prisoner or hostage. Cheery stuff.  My morale was soaring.  In the afternoon I got a small pox vaccination.  I have to keep it covered for 10 days with a bandaid, and make sure no one and nothing touches the spot, to avoid spreading the virus.  It will blister up, fill with pus, and eventually scab over. Yay! It is also supposed to itch for several days.  In rare cases you grow a third arm.  In a couple of days I start anti-malaria medications.  I have to take a pill once a week all the time I am over there.  The side effects include bad dreams, depression, and in extreme cases, suicidal tendencies; just what I need to be taking while here at Camp Sunshine.  It is apparently powerful stuff and must be taken with caution. It can also cause liver damage with long-term use.  I’m already feeling suicidal, just from reading the small novel that is the warning booklet.  This is what your soldiers go through.  If the enemy doesn’t kill us, the drugs will.

3 June

     Today began the first of four days of convoy training.  We were in full battle rattle, and heading out to an open field where we spent the morning undergoing training.  Guess what? Standing in the hot sun in full armor listening to lectures is painful. Not only that, we have to hold our weapon the whole time with both hands. You can’t sling it over your shoulder. It has to be pointed at the ground at all times. When you eat, it has to be in your lap.  We will refrain from discussing the joys of using a porta-potty with a machine gun. At no time the entire day could we take off our body armor, but we could take our helmets off in the break area.  By noon I had a brain-piercing headache from the helmet.  I took Excedrine at lunch (which was an MRE) and managed to survive the day.  In the afternoon we did our first practice run. Our team has 23 people in 5 Humvees. I was the assistant convoy commander, in vehicle 5.  We had been learning different ways to quickly move the vehicles into defensive formations, and dismounting and taking up firing positions.  Well, now we got to put it into practice.

     Our first incident had the commander’s vehicle being hit by an IDE (improvised explosive device).  We then lost radio contact with him.  At this point I was absolutely in my element. Seriously.  I eat this stuff up with a big spoon.  I radioed all vehicles that we had lost contact, and I took command.  I order defensive positions, deployed the troops, and ran up to the commander’s (Maj D, by the way) vehicle and asked if his radio was out. Turns out he was still deciding what to do, and had not responded to our radio calls.  I had jumped the gun a bit, but the Army instructors we pleased that I took quick action. They don’t care so much what you do, as long as you take decisive action. This is great. Should’ve joined the Army! Well, we mounted up, and our next incident had the commander taking a bullet, and this time I had lots more to do. Turns out I was the only one with first aid training, other than the major, in our group. So we quickly formed up, I delegated defense to the LT, had our Chief call in the medivac, and I administered first aid, ordered a landing zone set up, and had to help carry the major’s stretcher, as the women I had assigned couldn’t lift him (again, I refrain from editorializing, I merely  present the facts).  On the whole it went very well, and I was in my element. 

     Of course, as I waited with my gun aiming outward, looking for enemies, I was also imaging this in Afghanistan.  Very sobering, as I looked for someone trying to kill me. OK, I guess I’m glad I’m not in the Army.  I want my back porch with my ice tea.  I am really too old for all this.

4 June

     Another fine day on the convoy course.  We actually had some haze in the morning, so the temps were not too bad.  I had a terrible pain in my right shoulder from the body armor, and wasn’t in the mood to be in the Army today. Bad Army, go away and let me sleep.  One of the Senior Master Sergeants, who is almost as old as I, asked if I was OK.

     “No, I am too old for this. I want to go home.” Succinctness is my trademark.

     Since we are the leftover folks who aren’t part of CSI Baghdad, we go last all the time.  Sort of like the Island of Misfit Toys from Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.  At some point we will mutiny I suspect.  We didn’t go out on our convoy until 1130, and by then it was nice and hot.  Turns out our hummers don’t have AC, and we can’t role the windows down.  Can you even imagine the heat? Several times I told the instructor I was calling a safety, and opened the door or rolled down the window.  I can only handle so much stupidity, and I’ve exceeded my annual quota.  Even though you’d think it would kill us (no, I mean it, really kill us, like “We are gathered here to today to bury Doug” kill us.  Imagine leaving your dog in the car, windows rolled up, when it is 95 degrees. You’d get arrested, and the dog would be dead).  We did this for three hours, though we did get out occasionally.  Apparently no one has died from this abuse.  By the second hour we were allowed to roll the window down two inches. Someone write my congressman.  Two more days of this and my brain will have melted and run out my ears, if I don’t die from heat stroke.  Tomorrow we get to be out there all day and also do a night run.  We’ll be back at midnight. Kill me now.

     The only good thing was that today was Sunday, so the chow hall closes at 5 PM, so they had to let us go at 3:30.  But the torturers will have us for two more days. 

     “Ve haff vays of making you talk, Capt Traversa. Two more hours in zee hummer, vindows UP!” (evil laughs and maniacal hand-wringing)

     Despite the fun I am having, I think about the poor saps at Camp Shelby Mississippi, where I was supposed to go.  2 months of this, in very high humidity.  They have my deepest condolences. At least it is pretty dry here. At least I think it is. I really don’t trust my senses anymore.  Why is that dragon sitting on my bed?

We’ve Got Ourselves a Convoy

5 and 6 June

     Today was the third day of convoy training, and I approached it with a sense of dread.  Not because of the training, which was highly valuable, but because of the heat and the length of the day. We would report at about 0800, and stay late so we could do a night convoy.  I knew (and would have bet large sums of money on this) that the day would involve lots of waiting and lots of time soaking up the sun.  Of course, it was a suckers bet, and I had to be satisfied knowing that I had cracked the code.  Army training is always painful, even when the topic is interesting.  Now if it had been a cool Autumn day, this would have been a lot better, but it wasn’t.

     We did three convoy runs. Maj D was the convoy commander (CC) and I was the assistant convoy commander (ACC).  Each mission started with a briefing to the two of us, and then we briefed the team of about 20 people (the number changes slightly with each run.  We sat in bleachers around the “sandbox,” an area with the routes laid out in sand, with 5 toy hummers we used to discuss our plans.  It is a good setup, with the tiny, almost insignificant problem that is HAD NO SHADE.  Naturally we were in full battle rattle, baking like lobsters in our shells, and we had to feign interest while each of us was thinking “Hurry up so we can get in the shade.”  The sessions were good, but soooo hot.  After this we checked out our vehicles, and prepared to move, but this usually involved a wait of 1 or 2 hours.  Did I mention how hot it was? 

     We did have two big awnings where we had shade and could take off our helmets. The good Major, in an act of leadership I rarely see in the military, defied the Army and told us to take off the body armor while we were waiting.  What a saint.  May he make general!  He actually put his neck out for his troops. Wow!

      The runs were made with blanks in the guns.  So at one point in each run we actually got out to shoot at targets on a range.  Oops, did I say we?  I mean others.  Seems the CC, ACC, and drivers don’t get to shoot.  Why?  Who knows?  Army stuff.  Guess the officers aren’t supposed to carry M-16s.  Of course, we both did, but never got to fire them.  Another delight about the course was that you had to have your weapon on you at all times.  I think I mentioned that in the last chapter. Well, by the end of the day I was hoping to never see that gun again.  It got in the way at all times, and just added more weight to everything else I was carrying.  Did I mention it was really, really hot?

     After our second convoy run, we were in for another treat. Treats were coming fast and furious now.  We all got to clean up shells from the road we had just fired on.  We walked a couple of hundred yards picking up all the shells we had just fired.  Not only ours, but all four team’s worth.  One other team was tasked to help, so Convoys 3 and 4 cleaned up.  Keep track, guess who gets to do this more than any other team? 

     When we got back, we dove into our second MRE of the day.  I find the MREs to be pretty good. I also started using the pack of pseudo Gatorade to make a small drink with my meals.  All our water is lukewarm, so anything that makes it better is much appreciated.  Once the sun set the first night run started out.  We were supposed to be finished by 1030.  Want to bet?  The line at Vegas was 10000-1, and still there were no takers.  Well, when 1030 rolled around, I think Convoy 4 might have been sitting in vehicles waiting to go.  I can’t remember. At this point at least 25% of my brain had run out my ears, and the rest was just sloshing around keeping basic motor functions going.

     I did get to wear night vision goggles, and when all the headlights are out, it is very cool indeed.  Everything is various shades of green, and you can see very clearly. I enjoyed playing with those, since I would not be doing any shooting for the third time. 

     After our little night fire session, we got yet another treat.  It was like Christmas!  We were going to clean up shells in the dark!  We were coming back the next day, and could pick them up more efficiently in sunlight, but nooooo.  Either the goblins come out at night and steal the highly valuable brass shells, or the Army enjoys tormenting us.  I’ll go out on a limb and guess the second.  So off we went with flashlights, and the hummers side-by-side behind us with their headlights on.  We gave it a good effort, and finally finshed.  Convoy 2 assisted this time. For those keeping score:

     Picking up shells:

     Convoy 4 – 2

     Convoy 3 – 1

     Convoy 2 – 1

     Convoy 1 – 0

     We were really starting to hate Convoy 1.  They went first all the time, came back and sat in the shade and ate lunch.  Curse them.

     Once we got back to camp, we had to sort the shells. There were two different sizes. There were also links, which hooked the bullets together for the machine guns.  We picked all those up too, and there were two sizes of those too.  One of our senior NCOs started arguing with an Army NCO about how stupid this was, since they would all be melted down. The answer was that the Army did many stupid things.  Surprisingly from, coming from an Army NCO.  I pointed out that no one was actually checking, and if we mixed big links and little links in the same box, NO ONE would care.  I was right, and I had broken the code. We got done a lot faster after that.  Gotcha, Army scoundrels.

     Well, we had had so many treats, we didn’t want to leave at 1:30 in the morning when all the crap (and I use the word loosely) was done.  Our buses had been replaced by a tractor trailer truck pulling a huge trailer for carrying passengers.  It was an interesting design, with the equally interesting features of no leg room and no air conditioning. Fortunately, it was dark, as I couldn’t imagine what this would have been like during the day.  Little did I know.

     I guess I got to bed about 2 AM, for a 6:30 AM wake up.  I did think to snap a photo of myself.  I was sure the effect would be terrifying, and I was right.  You can see it in the photo album.  Make sure there are no small children or people with heart conditions around when you look at it.  This disclaimer absolves me from any blame should someone have a heart attack.

     As you may imagine, I was up with a spring to my step for day four of convoy training. If you can imagine that, you have quite an imagination indeed. 

     We were firing real bullets today, at least some of us were. I took a book along this time. Good thing too, as we sat around in our hummers a lot this morning, since Convoy 3 fired first.  We did our thing, and drove back to camp. That’s right, we didn’t have to pick up brass!  In fact, we got back to camp, cleaned up our vehicles, and sat in the shade eating lunch, just like Convoy 1.  Our other Major said, “So this is what it’s like to be Convoy 1.”  We all smiled, as we thought about them picking up brass in the blistering heat.  Vengeance is a dish best served hot, say around 100 degress. BWUHAWHAW.

     We all had nice naps in the shade after eating, and finally Convoy 1 returned.  They looked roasted.  I almost felt sorry for them.  Almost.  They staggered in, opened their MREs, and then someone came in and said we had to be at the bleachers in 10 minutes. GLORIOUS! They were going through exactly what we had been going through. There is justice in the universe.

     We had a big briefing, in the sun of course, where we were supposed to discuss what had gone well, and what hadn’t. The moment someone mentioned they did not get maps, an Army NCO said we were not to tell them how to improve their training; we were only to discuss our roles.  No one was interested in this. We were beat, exhausted, melting, and couldn’t critique the Army. Thanks a lot, you were great, can we go home now? Unfortunately, many folks had “just a few words,” and about 45 minutes later we were finished.  Yay! We get to get on an air conditioned bus and go home.

     I’m sure you saw it coming. The bus did not have air conditioning. Seems the Army had just leased 11 old buses to help move trainees around.  The driver said this one had a million miles on it. I thought he was just joking, but no, it really did have a million miles on it.  So we headed home in a sauna, with the slowest driver on the base, and for the first time ever, we hit a train.  And no, not any train, but one crawling along at about 5 miles per hour.  The mood was getting ugly, and a riot could easily have broken out.  I had my arm slightly elevated, holding on to the seat in front of me, and sweat kept running down my arm and pooling at my elbow. What a perfect end to the day.  Never have I been so eager to go to a third-world nation as I am now!  Afghanistan has got to be paradise compared to this.

So Many Exciting Ways to Die

7 Jun 06

     Today we spent the entire day in a classroom. Oh Frabjous Day, Callooh, Callay, he chortled in his joy!  (from The Jaberwock, by Lewis Carroll – a little poetry for you).  Even though the room was at it’s usual 85 degrees or so, it felt like heaven after 4 days on convoy duty.  Sadly, our two glorious days inside were reduced to only one.  We are supposed to be outside the next 5 days.  The news on the radio said it would be 100 tomorrow, and 104 on Saturday.  Yes, that is sobbing you hear, my sobbing. 

     Class was all about Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs) and Vehicle Borne IEDS (VBIEDs) and other creative ways we might die.  We watched videos of these bombs going off.  Not only that, but the enemy sells these videos and makes them available on their websites.  The soundtracks for these videos are hymns being sung as they blow up our vehicles.  They shout Allah Akbar a lot too, which means “God be praised.”  Pretty nauseating, but plenty do it on our side too, as though God needs us to do God’s killing. Why do humans love to kill in God’s name?  God is quite capable of killing anyone He, She, It, or They wish to kill.  Don’t get me going on the whole killing for religion thing.

     My arm is still numb from the blood letting, so I went to the ER to back sure it wasn’t a reaction to the small pox vaccination (which is pussing up nicely, and itching with a vengeance).  Frankly, I’m surprised at the equanimity with which I face each day.  I’ve been beaten into submission, and nothing fazes me.  Well, other than breaking down in tears when I heard we had five straight days in the sun coming up.  Other than that I’m fine.  But I digress.  The doc said that it was almost certainly due to the tourniquet being left on my arm too long, and I probably have a pinched nerve or something.  Normally she’d have me come back in two weeks, and then they have tests they can run.  However, since I am about to leave, I’ll go back in Monday and see if there is improvement, and what we can do. 

     I also took the first of my weekly anti-malaria pills. I am supposed to have some wild dreams, and maybe become psychotic.  Not that anyone would notice.  If you don’t hear from me, they’ve got me in a padded room.

 

8 June

     First and foremost, you must understand it is very, very hot here.  The forecast for the next 4 days is 103, 105, 103, 105.  My mind reels at such numbers, what little of my mind is left anyway.  Anyone who says, “But it’s a dry heat,” will be shot. We will not tolerate such comments.  Clear?  An oven is also a dry heat.  Do you sit in yours? OK, if it were big enough, would you sit in it?  I think not.

     Today we saw in person what we learned about in the classroom yesterday – all the creative and painful ways we could die.  All morning we hiked around, pretending we were in hummers, and reacted to the sighting of various IEDs.  It was a dry run, if you will, very dry since it is so bloody hot here!  At least these instructors were more humane. Instead of filling the water truck with luke warm water, they actually filled it with ice. For that alone they get to go to whatever heaven they believe in.  But wait, there’s more. They also conducted their lectures in the shade, and even let us do the dry run on shaded trails.  What saints.  We even got a 90 minute lunch break in the shade.  I actually took a nap.  Not too bad.  In the afternoon we did ground searches, trying to spot IEDs before they killed us.  This time we were in the sun the whole time, but it was still better than being in the hummers.  Sadly, we’d all be dead many times over.  It would be funny, except we’d really be dead, many times over.  I wonder how all the young troops feel as they hike around learning how they can die.   At least I’ve had a good long life already, and I’m not going to Iraq.  Furthermore, ANYTHING can be a bomb.  Every piece of garbage can conceal something.  It seems a hopeless task.  Did I mention we’d all be dead?

     My anti-malarial drug may be producing some mild depression, or I just may be tired and depressed because of today’s lesson. I was feeling pretty low by the end of the day.  I had some pretty vivid dreams, but all innocuous.  None of the weird, scary dreams some get.  But it was interesting, since I can’t remember having a dream here at all until last night, so I do think the drugs had some effect. 

     Looks like we will not have another day off. Still hard to get anything nailed down, but the rumors are more weapons training all weekend, close quarters fighting this time. We shall see.  We have a graduation on the parade ground Tuesday morning, in the nice hot sun. They couldn’t even let us graduate in the shade!  After graduation, they actually have classes set up for the rest of the day.  Wednesday we clean and pack, and Thursday we leave.  Many of the folks here go to another base for more training until 3 Aug.  Lucky them.  I’ll be glad to get to Afghanistan. The temps are cooler, and the clock on my year starts running when I get there.  Can’t wait to see what dreams I have tonight.

9 June

     I awoke refreshed (if by that I mean worn out and dreading another day) after vivid but mundane dreams about convoy duty.  I was really hoping for something a bit more bizarre from my drugs, but alas not.  Today we were going to look for IEDs while in a convoy.  We had two large, World War II vintage trucks with benches in the back for the troops to sit in.  The bed was open, with no cover.  The bed was metal, as were the benches.  We also had a variety of hummers (two with AC!) and smaller vehicles, all with shade.  Guess where I got to sit for both runs?  Right, the air conditioned hummer! No, wait, that was someone else’s life.  I sat in the open truck.  Yay!  The exercise itself really seemed to be one of the weakest of this entire training.  We had about 8 vehicles in the convoy, but unless you were in the first two, you didn’t see much.  When we encountered something, we stopped the vehicles, some dismounted, and we all looked into the woods, searching for other bombs or enemy troops.  The morning run wasn’t too bad, heat-wise, but by the afternoon run we all decided that we would all dismount and go into the woods to set up our defenses, rather than stay in the truck and fry.  Only a couple of folks really got any training out of this, and to top it all off, in a real convoy the trucks are zipping down the roads, and you aren’t going to see anything before you blow up.  Once again, a cheery day, watching smoke grenades go off.  Twice they were right next to my truck.  Yes, I’d be severely wounded at best.

     When we weren’t on runs, we were resting in the shade.  We took our M-16s apart and cleaned them.  I finally feel comfortable taking it apart and reassembling it.  I needed to do it a few times, but now have it down pat. 

    Today was Jancy’s birthday, and I surprised her with roses I ordered over the internet. I sent them to her office, so she could show off for the other ladies. She said I did good. She even cried.

The Very Hot Light at the End of the Tunnel

10 June

     Another day of fun in the sun. Today we got to really fire weapons again, both the M-9 and the M-16.  Instead of getting blown up by IDEs, we got to deal the damage.  But as is always the case with shooting at the range, most of the time is spent waiting around.  This time we had the added benefit of being treated like children.  Anytime we walked the grueling 50 yards to the porto johns, we had to take a “battle buddy.”  This was also true if we went to get water from the water buffalo (a large trailer designed to haul water).  We also had to park our three vans facing in the same direction, and we had to line up our backpacks in neat rows.  We had entered the anal zone.  After about an hour of this nonsense we ignored most of it, and life was good.  I had a nice spot under a tree with a breeze.  Well, actually more like 30 mph winds, with a temp of 103.  Ahh, paradise.  Shooting went well, though my left arm was very numb from lifting the gun barrel all day.  I’m pretty sure it’s a pinched nerve, but who knows what they can do about it?  Surely nothing in three days.  What a pain. 

     The next two days we pretend we are at a forward operating base (FOB) and get to use all our newly acquired skills.  We really don’t know what is coming, probably more of the same.  At least we don’t have to camp out.  My only solace is coming back here, showering, and hopping on the computer.  People are really starting to get on my nerves.  Don’t know if it’s the drugs I’m on.  Most folks here are fine, don’t get me wrong, and some are even friendly.  But I just don’t fit in with the drinkers, which accounts for most everyone.  They don’t talk about anything remotely interesting to me, and I don’t want to drink anyhow.  Not that it matters, as I won’t see any of them again, as I am the only one going to Kabul.

     I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s 105 degrees of light.

11 June 2006

     Today we went to a simulated Forward Operating Base (FOB).  However, we got there late because our bus was 30 minutes late taking us to breakfast.  A promising start. After breakfast, our driver headed in the wrong direction, and only intervention by one of our folks got him turned around.  That probably lost us another 15 minutes.  When we arrived, we came to a tent city, which looked like a good simulation of a bare base in Iraq or Afghanistan.  We first went into an un-air conditioned classroom to get a few briefings.  We were all falling asleep, so the instructor let off an explosive device to wake us up.  You need to know that even though the Army policy is no drinking of alcohol if you have class the next day, that rule is completely ignored here.  Every night a boat load of beer is purchased, and a large group sits in the bleachers next to the dorm and drinks. It’s amazing anyone is able to function the next day.  But they do.  Anyhow, back to training.  I can’t go into details, because I’m sure it is classified.  We learned how to search individuals, vehicles, and set up check points.  Most of this was done, of course, in the blistering sun.  My arm was so sore from lifting the M-16 yesterday, I only took a pistol today.  I think the body armor is pinching a nerve too, as I have a hot spot on my shoulder that is killing me.  I see the doc tomorrow.  Doubt they can do anything to help, but I’m going to get it documented.  At least after tomorrow I’ll have a couple of days when I don’t have to wear the armor.  Maybe I can recover.  The thought of wearing this stuff for a year fills me with dread. I will be a cripple.  I found out that there is only one person here who may be older than I am.  All the others with some seniority are younger, though one is only a year behind me. 

     When we got back I had a special treat. A few of us got in a van and went to Walmart!  Yahoo! I have not been off this base since I arrived three weeks ago.  This will probably be the last time I see any stores for over a year. How poignant.  We also hit a Starbucks and Taco Bell, then back to our hovels.  Luckily, I have a wireless connection tonight, so I can sit in my bed and cruise the internet.

     For those who don’t know, I am a big soccer fan, and the World Cup is going on now. I am saddened to be missing all the games, and will miss the USA tomorrow in their first game.  Very sad indeed. 

12 Jun 06

     Today was the last day at the FOB, and the last day of Battle Rattle.  At least till I wear it for real.  I had a doctor’s appointment at 1120 for my arm, so I would miss some of the heat.  That broke my heart, as you might imagine.  The class was interesting; it dealt with combat within the base, and we learned assault and covering fire if the base was attacked. Of course, it was another blistering day, and I had long ago lost the will to live. I was pretty much in Zombie Mode, just trying to survive. I keep looking around for the necromancer who raised me from the dead. He probably wants to use his new Zombie Army to conquer the world or something. I had not slept well for two nights, and my arm and shoulder were really bugging me.  The fun meter is broken, and I am a shell of the man I once was.

     I finally left for the doctor’s, shedding my armor and relishing the air conditioning of the van.  Turns out the doc I saw last time was out, so I got a civilian doctor. She was very helpful, and found a knot in my neck muscle which she believed was the culprit. She tried to work it out, which was quite painful, but had no success. Knowing that I was deploying in three days, she worked hard to get me into physical therapy immediately. However, it was noon and they were at lunch. Would I mind waiting for an hour, then they could set something up? Well . . . .

1. One more hour not in the sun
2. One hour in a comfy chair
3. One hour watching the second half of the USA World Cup game on the TV in the waiting room!!!!!

     Sure, I’ll be happy to wait.  I changed the channel eagerly to find the game and oops, we were down 2-0. Gadzooks. Its 1998 all over again, when we lost our first game 2-0 to Germany. Well, maybe we can come back. After a few minutes I realized that wouldn’t happen.  The team was beyond awful. I have never seen so many bad passes. Someone had drugged our boy’s water; that was the only explanation.  So I was able to watch our team stink up the joint. Yay!

     After that it was off to physical therapy. They strapped electrodes to by back and neck for electric pulse massage or something.  Again, everyone was very nice and helpful, and I was ready to go in minutes. The therapist showed me how to work the controls, and said I’d do it for 20 minutes. The stronger the current, the better, but he didn’t want me to be in pain.  Well, I cranked it up pretty high.  I was having muscle spasms from the current, but I only have three days before I leave, so it’s time for drastic measures. After 20 minutes my eyeballs were bouncing around and the room wouldn’t stop moving. Weeee, that was fun.  I’ll do it again the next two days, and hopefully I’ll be close to normal before I leave.  The knot in my neck is much better, but my arm is still numb. We’ll see what tomorrow has to offer.

     Tomorrow we have a sending off ceremony.  It is not a graduation ceremony, but a solemn formation where we are thanked for going to war, since some of us may not come home. This is NOT what I need to be hearing right now. I’m on Lamaril and in danger of suicidal thoughts; DO NOT need to be hearing about our impending death. DO NOT need to see our soccer team humiliate themselves. 

     I think everyone else is out getting blind drunk. I just noticed that I have the computer room all to myself. This is nice.  Being alone is something I really love right now, as it so seldom happens.  Probably won’t happen much in Afghanistan either. Sigh. I’ll be there in less than 7 days. Hard to believe.

Farewell to Fort Sill

13 June

     Today we had our sendoff ceremony.  It was actually very nice, though hot.  We all went out an hour early, formed up, practiced the few commands we’d need to carry out, and had a break.  Basically we just went back and forth between parade rest and attention a couple of times.  An Army Colonel spoke, thanking us for our service and wishing us the best, and our commander said thanks to the Army for the fine training we received.  Of course, the whole time we are at parade rest in the hot sun (but no battle rattle) with sweat running down our arms, legs, backs, etc.

     After lunch I had my second shock therapy session.  This time the electrodes were placed further down on my arm, and I cranked it up.  My arm would start spasming if I moved it at all.  Despite 20 minutes of this, I can’t say I see any improvement.  After that I had to rush over to another building to get my small pox vaccination checked out.  They need to ensure that you were really infected, otherwise you get jabbed again.  Fortunately, my scar was properly red and oozy, and they signed off on it.  How, you may ask, was I able to run around dong all this?   Maj D, bless his soul, lent me his rental car.  What a guy!

     I am also happy to report I caught parts of the France/Switzerland and Brazil/Croatia games. Saw good highlights of other games, so am finally able to feel a little in touch with the World cup.

     After my hospital trips, I had to rush back for our 2^nd cookout.  It was as much fun as the first, with the same emphasis on drinking, and the same soul-shredding music.  After the mandatory speeches, I was able to hitch a ride to the PX to get a haircut, nice and short to hold me for a while.  Came back to find an empty washing machine, and was able to do a final load of laundry.  Found out that all 15 of use non-CSI Baghdad members are getting bused to the airport at 3 or 4 AM.  Yippee.  From that point I will spend about 38 hours traveling, I think.  I’ll go back and do all necessary time-zone conversions, so you can all appreciate how lousy the trip is going to be. Not looking forward to this at all. 

     I’ve been incredibly depressed today, and I should be happy. I think the drugs are messing with my mind.  I take my next pill tomorrow. If this gets worse I will not take it anymore, and have to see what else the docs can come up with.  I can’t imagine having to live every day like this.  Now I can be more sympathetic towards those who suffer from depression.

14 June

     This has been a weird day.  I was monumentally depressed this morning, worse than when I left home last month.  Obviously, there was no reason to be depressed, other than these drugs.  What a lousy few days.  I rushed from breakfast to the hospital for my final electro shock treatment.  No improvement on the numbness, but otherwise I feel good. My arm actually felt sore, like I had been punched, so I toned it down today.  I do want to add that every person I dealt with at the hospital was incredibly helpful.  I was overwhelmed by their kindness and desire to help me as much as possible before I left.  Kudos to you all.

     After that we packed, cleaned rooms, and then went to chow and a briefing on the culture of Islam.  This was easily the WORST (and that is saying a lot) briefing I have ever been to.  This guy had zero knowledge of Arab culture.  Zero.  He called them Aay-Rabs, he read the slides to us, with his back to us most of the time.  He was almost illiterate, misprouncing many words and leaving out others, changing the actual meaning of lines based on his ineptitude.  He looked like one of my cadets when I was an ROTC instructor.  In fact, if he had given that briefing, he would have failed and I would have been working to boot him out.  It was an embarrassment to the Army and to us.  We were all trying not to laugh, it was that bad.  Unfortunately, this was the only training we received on Islam.

     After that it was back to packing and cleaning. By the way, by the time lunch hit, my depression was gone, and I was back to my chipper self (OK, chipper is not the word, but at least I no longer hated the world).

     So now I spend my last evening typing away, chatting with Taylor on instant messenger and listening to Irish rock.  I’ll go to bed early, as I have to get up at 3:15. I am in charge of 15 folks getting bused to Oklahoma City, to my favorite airport! Here’s the trip that lays ahead:

Depart base 4:00 AM

Depart Oklahoma City 9:18 AM

Depart Chicago 2:10 PM

Depart Baltimore Washington Int 8:30 PM

Depart Ramstein Germany (I was stationed there a few years ago) 12:15 Friday

Depart Turkey7:30 PM Friday

Arrive Manas AB in Kryghastan 4:10 AM Saturday morning.

     All times are local, but I should be traveling about 36 hours.  Now you know what your military goes through. And that’s just getting there.

My stay here was pretty hellish, but as I packed up, I found even here there were some good memories (good being a very relative term, when in Hell, good can mean just a lesser degree of pain).

-         I enjoyed chatting with my kids on instant messenger

-         My nightly Hogan’s Heroes

-         Going to chow in shorts and a T-shirt rather than a uniform. Sooo much nicer

-         Very nice folks at the hospital, who actually cared and tried to help

-         Old friends have started writing, as my daily e-mails spread out to cover the world

-         Playing Magic: the Gathering on line in the midst of this misery helped lift my spirits

-         All the support from Papillon 911 and Pom Posse folks

-         The few phone calls I get to make home to talk to Jancy and Ryan

-         Regular e-mails from my family and my parents

     Phase two begins tomorrow. A bit scary, as I finally head off to a country at war. I’ve never done that before. 

Fort Sill in the Rearview Mirror

15 June

     I am officially free of Fort Sill.  May I never return! It was bad enough that I had to get up at 3:15, but the idiot in the room above me was banging around all night, packing I assume.  Heaven forbid she would have packed during the day.  So with far too little sleep I staggered around doing my final packing and carried my six bags outside.  15 of us left on the bus, but many more came out to say goodbye, which was very nice.  I slept fitfully on the way to the airport, spent 45 minutes in the check-in line, paid $295 for excess baggage  (reimbursable from the government) and now sit at a table in the airport, waiting another two hours for my flight.  I saw on the TV that the weather is going to cool down into the eighties all week, with rain.  We would have loved to have some of that while we were there! 

Chicago –

     I’m using some of my 2 hours of precious battery time while I wait to board here in Chicago.  I was lucky enough to eat lunch at a Fox Sports Bar, and sat across from an English fellow while we watched England play Trinidad and Tobago.  It was a nice break between flights, even though the portion of the game I saw was pretty dull.  I’ve also had a few people thank me for serving in the military, and one pilot wanted to buy me lunch.  He lived just a few miles from where United 93 crashed on 9-11.  The trip here was uneventful, though I was in an odd seat.  The plane was a small jet, with single seats down the left side, and two on the right. I was in the first row, and there was just the one seat on the left; the right was galley/storage area.  Pretty nice, except the curvature of the hull knocked out half my leg room.  I literally could not put both feet flat on the ground in front of me.  What a delightful design.  I managed to sleep during most of the two-hour flight, though my left arm was REALLY numb after leaning on it the whole trip while I slept. 

     The airport in Chicago has huge, glass ceilings, which insures that lots of sunlight (and thus heat) comes in, making it a very warm place.  Further, I had to hike many miles (or so it seemed) through the airport.  Despite the enormous size of the place, I could not find anywhere to plug my laptop in.  Clever how they hid all the power outlets.

Baltimore –

     I really hate flying. I know that is incredibly safe, but in those rare instances where something goes wrong, you get to think about your impending death for several minutes on the way down.  This usually bugs me for a few minutes, then I get distracted by how hot, uncomfortable, or hungry I am.  Still, I do hate it, and would never fly again if I had a choice.  When I got to Baltimore, a porter met me with a big cart to hall all my bags to the Air Mobility Command terminal.  It was nice not having to wonder how I would move six bags across the airport.  The airport here is much nicer than Chicago. It is very clean and new looking, with lots of room for us to spread out.  Sadly, they had us sequestered behind the international gate, and just like Oklahoma City, once we were through the gate, there was nothing in the way of stores, other than a small newsstand and a fast food of some sort. 

     I settled in for another wait, this time to board what is affectionately known as the cattle car.  This is a regular chartered  flight used to move military personnel to overseas bases.  The bad thing about these flights are that they are filled with families flying overseas for a three-year assignment in England, Germany, the Azores, Spain, or Turkey.  Families mean kids, especially small, tired, cranky, bratty kids.   This was the part I was dreading the most.

Ramstein Air Base, Germany –

     The flight over the pond was long and dull.  I watched “Two for the Money,” and was glad I didn’t have to pay for it.  Attempts to sleep were ruined by screaming brats.  A little chloroform would have been useful.  Here, kid, breathe deeply.   Fortunately, most of the families get off in Germany.  The next two legs should be brat free.  Maybe I can get some sleep. I had been traveling for 25 hours at this point.  I’d had little sleep, and had a Subway sandwich for breakfast.  That was the only thing available at the terminal. 

16 June

Incirlik Air Base, Turkey -

After a four-hour flight, with very few kids (some families were apparently moving to Turkey), we arrived at Incirlik Air Base, Turkey.  I had heard that it was very hot there, but after my month at Fort Bliss, Incirlik seemed pretty nice.  We spent an hour in the terminal, during which I was able to recharge my battery (found an American outlet) and bought a peach iced tea that we used to get when we lived in Germany.  Watched Jeopardy on Armed Forces Network (the US TV station for overseas military).  Nothing cosmic, but nice to get off the plane.  I have found at this point, I have no fear of flying at all.  I’m just ready to get it over with.  Let’s go pilot, move it.  I was able to sleep most of this leg, so am feeling better.  The plane was no longer full, so I was able to get a window seat and lean against my pillows to sleep. On to Kyrgyzstan

I Invade the Soviet Union

     After leaving Turkey, we flew for another 5 hours, during which time I watched a movie I had never heard of about an illegal alien in LA who gets a shot at playing pro soccer for Newcastle United in England.  Interesting because there were cameos by a few famous soccer players, and it showed some of the aspects of making it in the pros. The story was predictable, but painless.  I watched half of Fun with Dick and Jane, and decided a little more sleep would be better.  Finally we were arrived at our destination, Kyrgyzstan, part of the former Soviet Union!  We now have a small air base located there.  Amazing when you think about it, a US base on former Soviet soil.  I would never have believed it when I joined the Air Force.  The Berlin Wall was still up when I joined!

     We pulled in next to a large cargo plane from Georgia (the country next to Russia, not the state) and were bused into the base, which is heavily fortified.  We’re not in Kansas anymore.  At least here we don’t have to wear battle rattle, though we do have to carry our guns everywhere. That gets old.

     We arrived at 4 AM, and were greeted by 4 or 5 Colonels who each shook the hand of everyone who got off the plane.  That was a nice touch.  We were taken to a large tent where we received our briefings, which were pretty vague.  Seems they have a shortage of planes right now flying into Afghanistan, so we might be here a few days.  NOT what I wanted to hear.  All our bags were going to be unloaded right there, and we had to haul them to our rooms (which were actually tents, about 7 bunks crammed into a tent).  It is pretty tight in there.  After an eternity hauling one heavy bag to the tent, with gun slung over my shoulder, after another, all my stuff had been moved.  Where’s that friendly porter from Baltimore when you need him? 

     I also hooked up with SMSgt Ed Smith, whom I knew in Germany.  I helped him move his stuff, and we’ve teamed up since.  We took turns watching each other’s weapons while the other showered, and we explored the base on foot, easy to do as it isn’t that big.  There is a nice series of hard structures (buildings) for the permanent party to live in, but the 100+ of us who arrived last night are all in tents reminiscent of M*A*S*H. 

     I will admit, I wondered around with a dopey grin on my face all morning.  I was standing on former Soviet soil!  I was using Russia toilet paper! (which is light brown and reminds me of crape paper). There were towering snow-capped mountains to the north, and the weather was fantastic!  While I was watching the weapons, a beautiful bird the likes of which I’ve never seen hung around and serenaded me.  It was all pretty amazing.

     The chow hall was run by locals, who look to be a mix of oriental and eastern European ethnicities.  The water was not drinkable (potable), so bottled water was standard. The food was not very good, with soggy toaster waffles and nasty cold eggs. The coffee was good though.  I get a kick out of seeing so much stuff written in Russian, like the soap bottles, cleaning supplies, etc. 

     I checked in with the guys who run the flights out of here, and supposedly I was scheduled to depart the next morning (Sunday).  Seems today was Saturday. My internal clock was been so screwed up, I was almost back in synch with the local time. At least I felt that way until after lunch, when exhaustion took a firm hold, beat me in th head a few times, and said “Go take a nap.”  Ed and I had hoped to stay up all day and get acclimated to the local time, but I wasn’t going to make it.  If I sat down anywhere, I’d fall asleep. So I headed off to my tent to pass out.  Ed was going to see if he could work some magic and get us a real room, as opposed to the tent.  I hit the bunk, and was out cold.

     I was awakened by Ed shaking my foot.  He had procured a two-man room, and we needed to get our stuff moved.  Bless you Ed, I hope you make Chief.  Never had I been so happy to move my 20 tons of baggage around.  It was a great dorm room, with AC and nice bunks.  So I’d sleep in comfort that night. Magnificent.  We had a shower room, latrine, and laundry room on our floor.  We were talking luxury. 

      This had been an interesting day.  I’m pretty sure this used to be a Soviet base, but most of the buildings (or tents) were added by us.  There is no grass on base, just an endless sea of large rounded rocks between 1 and 2 inches in diameter.  They must be easy to come by here. Anyhow, there isn’t much effort wasted on landscaping. 

     I was able to get an hour of wireless connection at the internet café on base. It was a slow connection, but I was able to chat on line with Jancy, Ryan, and Taylor.  The café had lots of Soviet propaganda posters on sale, originals going back as far as WWII.  They were pricey, going for $100 or more in most cases.  We also went to a small bizarre they have here every three weeks or so.  The locals come in and sell stuff.  The local crafts and art remind me of the Mongols, which makes sense based on our location.  Russian versions of current US movies were available.  Probably pirated, and presumably with English versions available.  Can’t see many of us wanting to buy Russian videos. There were also a few craft stores on base run by locals, and that was interesting.  Ed and I both  had air legs, where the ground seems to move under your feet, due to being in the air for so long.  This would plague me for over two weeks. 

     The chow hall here paled compared to the one at Fort Sill.  The drinks are all canned, and not cold at all.  The chicken nuggets were vile, the egg roll limp and soggy, the French Fries hard and bland.  I certainly hope it’s better in Kabul.  It will be a different contractor, I’m sure, so there is hope.   

The Really, Honest to Goodness, Last Leg of the Trip

18 June

     What a day!  It began at 0400 in the morning, when Ed and I got up to go to base operations to sign in for the morning flight.  On military flight you don’t get reservations, everyone whowants a ride must show up at the same time, and then they tell you who will get on that plane.  We had priority, so were able to get on.  We had to drag all our bags about 300 yards to the pallet build-up area, where they put all our bags on pallets (thus the name).  Then we settled in for a few more hours of waiting.  Since I had mastered the skill of waiting at Fort Sill, this was a piece of cake.

     I must mention here that Ed saved me lots of misery by getting a room. We slept great, and had access to showers and latrines right there in our hall.  Never have such simple things seemed so wonderful.  I’m sure I would have been exhausted if I had had to sleep in the tent. 

     The drive out to the runway was fascinating because we saw things we didn’t see in the dark when we came in, like all the old Soviet-era buildings.  Despite the decay, there was a certain charm (unlike Afghanistan, but more on that later).  Unfortunately, I have no photos of this.

     We boarded a C-17, an impressive plane, designed to haul cargo, but in this case configured to haul passengers.  The interior is easily 20 feet high, and for the first time on a flight ever in my life, I had plenty of leg room.  Delightful.

     The C-17 is designed to land and take off from short runways, so it can climb fast and decelerate quickly too.  This made for an exciting landing, too exciting in fact, as twice I thought we had actually touched down, based on the roughness of the flight, and then off we lurched again. Finally we landed, but I kept waiting for the lurch that signified we were still in the air.  But I had been fooled again, and were hand really landed  at Bagram AB in Afghanistan.  We got out, and looked around at the mountains and the glaring sunlight, with a flightline full of planes and helicopters. It was, as Darth Vader might say, IMPRESSIVE (hissing), MOST IMPRESSIVE.  But I wasn’t home yet.  I still had to travel about an hour to Camp Phoenix in Kabul.

     We were herded into a room, provided various forms to fill out, given a short briefing, and released to get our bags.  Hopefully someone would be out there looking for me.  If you believe this, you haven’t been reading my articles for long, have you? Not only was no one there, the cell phone number I had for my sponsor did not seem to work either.  I went out to look for my bags, but they had not arrived yet.  I went back in, tried again to make calls, which didn’t work, and so on, much as a yo-yo might do.  Finally my bags arrived, and I found someone who knew the secret trick to dialing a cell phone (dial 88 first).  I was finally able to contact my sponsor, who informed me that there was a lieutenant looking for me who would get me to Kabul.  So back out I went.  Yes, it was very hot.  Thanks for asking.

     A poor sergeant was out there, with no clue how to get to Kabul, and no idea what unit he was going to.  He had no sponsor, and while I felt sorry for him, it was nice to know others were in the same boat.  I helped him out the best I could, and found out there was a flight at 0300 he could catch.  When the lieutenant showed up, it turned out to be an Army lieutenant in full battle rattle with two fully armored Hummers. Turns out I’m going back in a convoy, just like I was in during all the training I had at Fort Sill. Sadly, we had no room for the sergeant, but I did see him a few days later in Kabul, so he made it and found his unit. On went my armor and helmet, and I loaded my weapon, with a bullet in the chamber.  This was for keeps now. To add to the excitement, we would have to take an alternate route that would take two hours.  The main route was too dangerous. Oh, goody.

     We finally formed up and headed out the gate.  Immediately I was in another world.  I felt like I had stepped into a National Geographic photo spread of the world’s most desolate places.  The thing that struck me was how filthy everything was.  True, the country had been at war forever, and there was rubble everywhere, as well as a few burned out tanks, but there was also litter everywhere.  Civic pride was clearly not an issue here.  Further, I doubt any of the towns we passed through had electricity.  I saw no electrical wires, though I did see some towers being built.

     There was so much crap along the road that looking for IDEs was a waste of time.  If they want to bomb you, it will be very easy.  There don’t seem to be any rules for driving. Cutting across the median and going the wrong way is popular.  I saw that a lot.  A truck literally side-swiped us, knocking the drivers mirror forward.  AMAZING.  I was very glad to be in a Hummer.

     After an hour or so we hit Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan.  What a dump.  Most building are mud brick. Litter is everywhere. There are virtually no trees. You can see the city climbing up the sides of the mountains, but there was nothing beautiful anywhere.  It is a city of many shades of brown, with the occasional tan thrown in for good measure.  Although I finally saw signs of electricity, the buildings were primitive.  Further, there were no traffic lights at all.  Most side roads were rutted dirt roads at best.  Everything was depressing.  I felt very sorry for these people, and can’t imagine how hard it will be to rebuild this country.

Home Sweet Home

18 June

       Camp Phoenix, my home for the next year, looks nothing like a military base from the road.  When we turned in to the gate, I had no idea we were in front of a military installation.  Phoenix used to be a Russian facility, and now we lease it from them.  I’m sure we pay an exorbitant amount.  The camp is basically a huge town of plywood cabins, each about 40 x 24 feet, located right in the city.  Each cabin is about 10 feet from the next one, so you can imagine the setting.  Latrines are showers are in separate trailers about 40 yards away (at least from our hut).  We have a tiny gym, a running track, and that’s about it.  Good thing we work lots, since there is nothing to do here.

     Our hut is built out of plywood, and will hold 7 eventually.  We build the interior walls ourselves, laying out the rooms as we wish.  At least it has AC.  I’ll bet it’s pretty cold in the winter.  Right now my hut mates are Lt Colonel Linton, Major Rogers, and Captain Toomer.  They are all very nice, and the Lt Col is a neat nick with an incredibly dry sense of humor.  Think Monk (the detective on TV, not the guys in robes) combined with Felix Unger. Still, I can’t complain about living in a clean hut.

     My internal clock is still all screwed up.  I went to bed at 1000, but woke up at 2 AM, and decided to do some writing, as I couldn’t get back to sleep.  I hope to get internet all set up tomorrow in my room ($35 a month) and make inroads getting in-processed and settled here.  It is going to be a long year. 

19 June

     Today would take my adventure to a new level.  First of all, we received word that I might go to a different job which could entail me moving to what they call the safe houses.  These are a few houses rented by the Army in the middle of town, guarded by Afghanis!  Further, to get to Camp Eggers, you had to get in a minivan driven by an Afghani!  You had to wear battle rattle on these trips, so if you wanted to go eat, go to the gym, go do anything pretty much, you had to catch a shuttle, risk certain death, and carry that blasted armor everywhere.  To save you the suspense, they decided to keep me right here in my beloved plywood house. Yay!  I got the internet hooked up tonight too, so things are looking up.

     After breakfast we went to my new office, which is located on an ANA (Afgahn National Army) Base called Logistics Command.  This was the first of many bases I would visit.  It is actually a very tiny base (VERY tiny, say ten functioning buildings and a gate with a guard), and we occupy a brand new building still having finishing touches put on it.  It is the nicest building I’ve seen so far, and we work in it!  (Later I would learn to despise this place, but I’ll keep you in suspense for now.  I share an office with Senior Master Sergeant White, a transporter.  Together we will work on getting a vehicle maintenance capability in place for Central Movement Authority, a military organization just down the road being stood up to drive trucks and move supplies, currently done by Jingle Trucks.  These are privately owned trucks painted in an amazing array of scenes, in bold, vivid colors.  See my photo Album of jingle trucks on my Blog.  Imagine the sort of artwork you would see in India. Anyhow, the morning was spent doing my new job, then we headed off for lunch at the Kabul International Airport at the NATO dining facility.  NATO currently provides peacekeepers throughout Afghanistan.  While we ate lunch I saw troops from at least 15 different countries, each in their own distinctive camouflage uniform. There doesn’t seem to be a consensus on what design hides you the best, but is was very colorful and exciting.  The NATO troops have compounds up all around the airport, and supposedly have stores too, which we will need to visit. Everything is crowded, and the airport has old Russian aircraft parked all over. Again, I was like a little kid with my face pressed against the window.  This was too cool. 

     I need to pause here and explain that over here we have conex buildings, which are essentially metal cubes with a door. They can be attached together to make buildings or dorms and are found everywhere.  The NATO troops are housed in rows of conexes all over the airport.  They go out on patrols all over the city as peacekeepers. You’ll hear more about the ubiquitous conexes later.

     After lunch I went to Camp Eggers to in-process.  Camp Eggers is in the middle of Kabul, but consists of a lot of buildings that we either bought or leased from someone.  It is tiny and is a maze of paths leading to all sorts of old buildings.  Conexes were placed in every available empty space.  It was just one more surreal experience.  It is also the only place where I have seen grass.  Parking is outside the compound in guarded parking areas, then you walk a couple of blocks in battle rattle to the base.  It is an odd feeling, as you are walking along with civilians and even soldiers from other countries that have no armor and no weapons.

     That evening I was able to get Internet hooked up in my room.  It runs very slowly, and is comparable to dial-up.  Still, it is better than nothing.  I was able to sleep through the night and seem to finally have adjusted to my new time zone.  We are eight and a half hours later than Eastern Standard Time.

     Meals have been pretty good here, and I just discovered that they have lemon Snapple Ice Tea!  I also found a sandwich bar hidden in a back room.  There are probably other goodies to be discovered. We had two more guys move into our hut, Captains Morton and Templeton, so we are maxed out at six.  I hope.  I guess they could make us use bunkbeds.

Check Ride

23 August

Just a reminder, I am posting my letters from two months ago, and will slowly catch up to the present.  I’ve been playing around with the links on my blog, so now you can check out some of my favorite web comics.  They help me to keep a link back to my former life, when I lived in a country where I could leave home without armor and weapons.  Ahh, the good old days.  But now, back two months to . . .

20 June

     So far each day is another amazing adventure.  This has hardly seemed like work at all, though that will change soon enough, I suspect.  Right now I am getting to visit all the places I will be working with during the next year.  We went out to the Kabul Military Training Center (KMTC), which is where the new soldiers train.  It is a former Taliban training location and was hit by cruise missiles when the war started.  Large chunks of it are still destroyed.  There is a NATO contingent there that conducts training; different countries conduct different types of training.  The French conduct officer training, and only with my iron will can I stop from making French jokes here.  Must . . be . . strong.  No jokes about surrendering.  Ahhh, the pain. 

    We had a great lunch, and after our meeting there, we went out and toured a graveyard of destroyed tanks and artillery.  Don’t know how many are from our war, and how many from the Soviet war, but it was an impressive site.  Photos are of course available in my photo album.

     On the way back I got to do the driving, my first experience with Kabul traffic.  The driving test in Afghanistan consists of the following:

1.  Do you have a car?

2.  Can you turn it on?

3.  Does your foot reach the pedals?

If so, you pass.

     We drive in SUVs, and even though we are technically driving on roads, it is much more like off-roading.  Cars swerve all over the place, and pedestrians and bikes are always in the way.  Utter chaos.  Despite the utter nuttiness of the situation, people manage to avoid hitting each other, and my check ride went fine.  I’ve already settled into the routine of the morning commute, although we do it in full battle rattle with weapons loaded.  It is amusing when you think about it; we’re off to the office, armed to the teeth.

     I was happy to learn that no one has died from an IED in Kabul.  We’ve had more people die from traffic accidents, because we drive so aggressively, than from IEDs.  Hopefully we’ll manage to keep the zero fatality record intact for another year.

     By the time we got back to LOG Command, the day was almost over.  We were told we would need to take a different route because of a suspicious package along the road.  The gate guards were trying to tell us not to go, but even hand signals in Dari (the local language) make absolutely no sense.  Finally we got word that the French had checked it out, and traffic was moving.  So finally I saw the French do something other than surrender (ohh, I got careless and a joke slipped out. Sorry)

     I found my way home successfully (the entrances to all bases are completely unmarked, so you need to know where to look).  The evening was uneventful.  I explored the base and found the tiny library of donated books, the video library, the TV room, and the computer room.  I was actually able to watch some soccer in the TV room, Germany beating Equador, so now I know where to go when the US plays on Thursday.

     My room, or rather corner of the hut, is about 12’ by 8’.  One of these days I’ll put up a wall for privacy, but for now I’ve hung my poncho up as a divider.  The photo album will have pictures of my room as it evolves.

     It is hard to describe how strange life is here.  I feel like I’m on another planet.  The smells are all different, not bad, just different and unlike anything I’ve ever encountered.  The people here live in a state that few in the states can imagine.  Jingle trucks are works of art, probably more important than homes, or even families, to their owners.  A fine layer of dust covers everything. The floors of our office building are cement, and mopping the floors only rearranges the patterns of dirt on the ground.  We go everywhere prepared for combat.  I go into the PX with a pistol on my hip and an M-16 slung over my shoulder.  It’s like the wild west.  Poverty hammers almost everyone, and military vehicles from many countries roam the streets trying to keep order, while we try to build a viable Afghan army from scratch.  It would be nice if our national leaders, and by that I mean all of them, regardless of party, could spend a year like we do.  It really opens your eyes to what is involved in nation building.

Texas without Traffic Lights

24 Aug 06 - (I've added more links, this time to some animal rescue groups I work with, or at least I did work with, until I was deployed.  One of my passions is fostering homeless dogs until they are adopted.  So if you have an interest in helping, check out these links.  Now back two months to our story . . .)

21 June

     Today I, along with three other newcomers, went to Camp Eggers (that’s the one like a giant maze) to do more in-processing.  What should have been a simple process was turned into a grueling all-day affair, and we still aren’t finished.  Let me explain.  When you in-process at an Air Force Base, they make appointments for you, and when you show up, you and many others will hear briefings from all offices that need you to fill out forms, turn in items, or whatever else may be needed.  It is efficient and logical.  But here, you are given a useless map (mapping this maze would be a challenge, I admit) and sent off on your own.  One briefing needed could be given by only one person on the planet, and we were told alternately that he was at lunch, at PT, on leave, or away for the day.  We never did see him (I found him a week later, and he told me he had nothing to brief, and signed off on my sheet).  Another visit required us to go from one building to another as we were misled again and again as to the correct location.  A final briefing never occurred at all, though we were there at the right time.  This can all be easily explained, but it would involve casting aspersions, and I never do that. 

     You may remember that there was a bad wreck here in May where a Hummer hit a line of traffic, and several people died, resulting in riots throughout Kabul.  We have been warned over and over not to drive like morons.  In Iraq drivers are trained to speed to avoid attacks and ambushes.  Many who have been to Iraq use the same approach, and indeed were taught to do this.  However, the threat here is different, so we can drive like normal people (whatever normal is here).  I got in more driving experience, and can now find my way around pretty well.  Can you imagine an entire country, as big as Texas, with no traffic lights?  Welcome to my world.

22 June

     Today we went over to the Central Movement Agency, which would ultimately become our home, and I finally saw the vehicle repair shop the ANA was using.  Check out the Central Movement Agency photo album, and you can see how dismal it is.  I also met many Afghan soldiers, most of which I’ll be working with over the next year.  We all sat around and waited for a US General to come visit, and by the time that was over with, the day was shot.  Not much to write about today.

23 June

     Today is Friday, which is the one day off a week the Afghan Army gets, so it’s our day off too.  It is also bazaar day, and the Afghans set up a flea market just outside the fence. The main products are blankets, scarves, rugs, jewelry, old weapons, and pirated DVDs (which are legal in a country where laws are pretty rare period, and laws dealing with piracy aren’t even on the radar scope).  There are no traffic laws, and everyone has weapons.  An illegal copy of X-Men III is not a big issue for the government.  I did buy a nice shoulder harness for my pistol.  It is much easier to use than the holster I was using, which required a belt and was then strapped around the leg.  It may look pretty cool on TV, but try wearing one with PT shorts.   

     It also started to get very hot, probably in the mid 90s today.  Fortunately, I was able to be in PTs all day. It would have been a good day to camp out in the room with the computer, except that our power kept going off.  Seems they are doing work on the electrical system, so we have periods each afternoon when they shut it off. Even worse, the internet goes out when this happens too, so running on batteries isn’t an option. 

     Let’s see, I’ve been here five days, and I’m jaded already.  The Twilight Zone is now normal to me.  I am happy to say that nights are quiet, I sleep great, my roomies are all quiet, and I may survive this year.  I did receive confirmation that I will get two weeks of leave in Dec or Jan, so I will make the painful trip home for the holidays, I hope.  The travel days don’t count against my two weeks either, so the whole thing could be over three weeks easy.

24 Jun

     Another trip into the Twilight Zone today.  It started off with a two-mile run at our track.  It winds around the cement-like dirt that passes for our athletic fields.  We have sand volleyball, a soccer field that looks lethal, and a softball field.  There is no grass, and Hummers are parked all over the place.  The sun rising on the guard towers and the barbed wire atop the walls is lovely.

     We went over to our vehicle maintenance shop to meet with the Afghans.  We took two interpreters with us, but when we got there, all the Afghan officers were missing.  I had a long talk with one of the interpreters, and he told me about all he has experienced.  He spoke perfect English, and yet has never left the country, and has hardly ever left Kabul.  Life under the Taliban was horrible, as you might expect, and he is delighted that we and NATO are there trying to rebuild the country.  It will be a very slow process however, and he doesn’t expect to see huge changes quickly, but he delights in the freedom he now has.  His description of normal Muslims in contrast to the Taliban could be the description of Christian fundamentalists vs moderates.  They interpret their scriptures differently, but the fundamentalists had the guns, and the desire to make everyone do it their way, which went on for 4-5 years.  Piety at gunpoint. 

     I met one of the Afghan Colonels today, Col Raheim.  He carries prayer beads everywhere, and you can see them going back and forth through his fingers incessantly.  We exchanged pleasantries, and he invited us for chai.  “Chai” is simply the word for “tea” here, not a type of tea, as it is in the states.  Even though all their new buildings have screens on the windows, they don’t close the doors, so there were flies everywhere.  Instead of chai, we were served some kind of veggie soup in a mug, a can of Pepsi, and homemade bread (quite good).  I wonder what I’ll be consuming over the next year, and am certain I face a far greater threat to my life from the food than from bullets or bombs. (since writing this I have revised my views, not that the food is safer, but that the bombs and bullets are more likely; more on that in coming installments).

     During our meal Col Raheim suddenly got excited, and they ushered a midget into the room.  They all got very excited, and acted as though they had just brought in a talking horse, or a pile of gold, or the cure for cancer.  They looked at us expectantly, wanting us to react with amazement, I'm sure.  We smiled politely and chatted with him.  He lives on the base, I think, like a mascot (again, looking back two months later, I clearly lost something in the translation; I have never seen him again, so I am pretty certain he does not, in fact, live on the base). He was perfectly proportioned, and looked like a completely normal 30 year old man, but half the height.  It reminded me of the visions from the old show “Twin Peaks” with the giant and the midget.  Awkward. 

Pick a Rank, any Rank

26 June

     Our internet connection at work is very slow, and makes doing any work online very painful..  It can take five minutes to open a simple e-mail.  In fact, to say that we have internect connectivity is an exaggeration.  We have internet sporadiocity (don’t bother looking it up, I just invented it).  The sad part of this is that it would only get worse.       

    Today we went to CMA and tried to do some business.  I met the Commander (Col Rasoul) and Deputy Commander (Col Kabir), and we had tea and nuts.  Afterwards they invited us to lunch, and we ate in their chow hall (see the CMA photo album for pictures of this exciting event).  I harbor a secret (though not any more) fear that eating all this Afghan food will probably kill me.  We had lamb, rice, bread, and watermelon.  I passed on the meat.  We know it is not kept in sanitary conditions.  It is usually left where flies can have a party on it.  In rare instances, they actually build small communities, set up governments, and breed the next generation before the meat is cooked and served.  Yummy.  The bread and rice were delicious, and I don’t want to know what the flies do to it.  Ignorance is bliss.  I dared not drink the water, but they finally brought us some Coke at the end of the meal. 

     You may have noticed I’ve already mentioned three Colonels at CMA.  Many of the Afghan officers had high ranks in previous armies, and there have been several different armies.  Now that the Afghan National Army (ANA) had been reorganized, many of these officers have been demoted, and some are now NCOs.  Since no one likes being demoted, even if its due to a massive reorganization of your army, many officers still wear their old ranks.  So Col Kabir and Col Raheim are really Lieutenant Colonels.  Colonel Atabar, whom you will meet shortly, is really a Major now.  But I will call them by their old ranks since they did earn it.

     The other thing you have undoubtedly noticed are my references to flies.  They are everywhere.  If they were mosquitoes, we’d all be dead, drained of every last drop of blood.  As it is, we merely have to worry about all the strange and exotic diseases they carry.  Unless the Afghans decide to start closing the doors (and just to peak ahead a bit, they don’t), only the onset of winter will spare us their presence.

     When I got back, Doug Templeton, my neighbor in the hut, had built his wall to his room, which has inspired me to begin thinking about the possibility of putting a wall up for my room.      

27 June

     Today we spent the entire morning over at the CMA at the vehicle maintenance shop.  We have been assigned ten people who will hopefully remain there so we can train them and get the shop up and running.  Things are crazy here.  Only some of the guys wear rank, and none of them seem very sure what rank they really are.  I later found out that the soldiers who bothered to wear rank had to buy the rank themselves, and they bought it at a bazaar.  Odds are they just purchased what was available.   We had a good visit with them, doing introductions all around, and they seem eager to get their shop up and running.  One of them even speaks English. 

     In the afternoon we went to find one of the many depots scattered around Kabul.  We drove over roads in even worse shape than the axel-breakers we usually drive over, and we eventually found our way to what we thought was the right place.  However, we discovered after being let on, that we were actually on a Turkish base. Oh well, more adventures for us.  Cue the Indiana Jones music.  We did finally find the right place, but after all this build up, I have nothing exciting to report about it.

    In the short time I’ve been here I have seen troops from almost every European country there is.  Today I saw guys from Estonia (did you know they wear the same uniforms we do?  Neither did I) Portugal, and Ireland.  The UN and NATO are everywhere around here, trying to rebuild this country. I feel for the Afghans, and although I’ve always known we have it very good in the USA, I understand even more how fortunate we are. A major US city would blow the minds of these folks.

28 June

     We spent a good portion of the day driving around. We had an appointment at Eggers, got caught in a massive traffic jam, got stood up for our meeting, came back to our shop for a bit, then back in the car for lunch, back to the office for a few hours, oops, lost the internet, hey its back on, oops lost power, why even try? Went home, ate, and spent the evening on the computer. For the first time in a long time, we did not have a power outage. We’ve had long outages since I’ve been here, due to maintenace on old breakers.  The day ended with an uninspiring dinner.  The year ahead seems bleak.  At least no one has tried to blow me up.  Yet.

Ending on a Good Note

29 June

     Today we went out to an ANA (Afghan National Army) depot, which is actually run by contractors, and will be until the ANA is self-sufficient.  It was yet another stop in my tour of Kabul military facilities.  After that we went to CMA and had to supervise a delivery of fuel.  This was actually interesting, as I tried to figure out how much fuel went where, and was working with a ANA Colonel (I learned later it was Col Atabar, Chief of Logistics) with no interpreter.  Afterwards he invited us up to tea.  This time we started off with fruit drinks in the foil packets so common in the states, and the ubiquitous plate of nuts and raisins, followed by chai.  I also tasted a “snake,” a vegetable that boys sell along the road (see my photo album).  These things really do feel like a snake; they are very warm, soft, and pliable. You rip a section off and eat it, skin and all. Tastes a lot like a dried out cucumber (though I have never actually eaten a dried out cucumber, I am very certain it would taste just like this).  It also turns out that the Colonel is a big soccer fan, and stayed up all night watching the World Cup the other night, and then could not concentrate during work the next day.  He thinks Brazil will win it all, and would have none of my theory that Germany would win due to home-field advantage.  We also talked about his life.  He fled the country and went to India (Hindustan) when the Taliban took over. Some of his family still lives there, though his wife and boys are here in Kabul.  Many of the Afghans are also separated from their families as we all try to rebuild this country, so it’s not just us suffering.  There is an actual sense of camaraderie here.

     My new boss, Maj Apple, sat down with me and the two Senior Master Sergeants in CMA to discuss how he wanted to run things.  He also invited the Afghan CMA Commander, Col Rasoul, so he could see how we did business, and to try to show him how we trust the NCOs, which Afghans don’t.  I’ve been promoted/moved from Vehicle maintenance to deputy senior mentor of CMA.  He and I will focus on working with the Colonels in CMA, while SMSgt White will handle the maintenance shop, which he did anyway.  Maj Apple seems to be a good guy, and Col Rasoul seemed very thankful to be invited to our meeting, and expressed thanks for the USA helping to rebuild his country. He said if we leave, chaos will come, and the terrorists will come back.  It feels good to be helping these folks out. They are genuinely eager to learn, and really are the cutting edge of any hope this country has. Things are so primitive here, only the work of the UN, NATO, and the USA give this poor country any hope.

     In the evening I went over to the “library” to see what they had.  It is a hut with bookshelves and donated books.  I’m not sure anyone actually runs it.  I took it upon myself to sort out the science fiction books, so I went through all the shelves collecting the SF books, and put them all in one place.  I easily doubled the size of the SF section by doing this, and even found a few books that looked interesting.  However as seems to be the case all too often, I found an interesting book only to find it was # 2 or #3 in a series, and it is unlikely that the others will ever show up.  Still, there is plenty to read, along with the 10 books I brought along (just finished the third).  Between writing my journal, DVDs, and books, I have not been bored yet.  Not saying things are fun, but I do keep busy.

30 June

     This has been a very good day. Hard to believe, but even over here good things happen. Let me count the ways

     1.  Over here, Thursday and Friday make up the weekend.  Thursday is a workday, but the Afghans are usually off by noon.  Friday is their holy day, so no one is working, and we all get the day off.  So far Friday is my one day off per week.  We have a self-help shop here, where you can do wood working, etc, but it was always closed on Fridays, which did me no good.  However, for the first time, the shop was open on a Friday, and I decided to build a wall for my “room.”  I started about 0900, and finished at about 1730. The shop is nothing to get excited about.  The saw horses are falling apart, and there is not much room.  Fortunately, not many were there, and I was able to get a spot.  I ended up needing three big pieces of plywood, and 10 long 2 x 4s.  The shop is over a quarter mile from our hut, and there is exactly one hand cart (dolly) to move your stuff.  I ended up making three trips hauling stuff back to the room.  I’ve taken some photos to show the construction process, which are in the photo album “My Cell.”  I now have a bigger (though still tiny) desk, and the chair takes up what little room there is.  Still, it is much nicer.  I have more quiet, and can work on the computer comfortably now in my room.

     2.  We finally got cable TV in our room.  We get 7 Armed forces Network TV channels. For those not familiar with it, AFN shows a lot of older shows, sports, news, and newer shows are shown a few months after the season gets started in the states.  For instance, House just showed it’s last episode in the states the week after I left.  It is about halfway through the season here.  If you are curious what our selection looks like, check out this web site:

http://myafn.dodmedia.osd.mil/tv/schedule/index.asp

I have a small TV on my desk next to my laptop.  In fact, I am enjoying the Germany/Argentina soccer game as I type.  Life is good. 

     3.  Even better, the first show I saw when our cable came on was The Daily Show.  Back in the states my nightly ritual was watching The Daily Show and The Colbert Report on Comedy Central.  I am delighted to find I can now do the same thing here. 

     4.  For three days in a row we haven’t had a power outage.  Maybe things are finally fixed.

     5.  Friday night is Steak and Potato night.  Well, the potato was half cooked, and the steak average, but still better than the normal fare.

     6.  I found a humorous book at the library, P.J. O’Rourke’s All the Trouble in the World.  I read it at my meals, and am enjoying it immensely.

     7.  June has ended, and there is something psychologically satisfying about moving on to another month.

A Hint of Rain

27 Aug 2006

If you are new to my blog, don’t be thrown off by the dates.  I update everyday, but the entries are dated from two months ago.  This is because I am editing old e-mails into a more presentable form for a mass audience.  Check out the archives for the earliest postings.  Most importantly, if you enjoy the blog, please pass around the address to others.  Thanks. And now we return you to . . . .

1 July 2006

     Today I witnessed something unusual (it is true that almost everyday I witness something unusual, so I guess it would be unusual if I didn’t witness something unusual).  It got cloudy today!  I actually saw gray clouds, and could almost imagine rain coming, “imagine” being the operative word.  Alas, it did not rain, but it was nice to see a small change.  Normally we have a hazy smog much like Los Angeles back in the 70s.  There is a thick combination of dust and pollution that hides the sky and the mountains around us.  I long for clear blue skies or a good rain.  Another thing we all crave is ice.  The only ice we have here is not drinkable, so we count on our pathetic refrigerators in the cafeteria to give us cold drinks.  Sometimes they are cool, but rarely cold.  My life is an endless stream of lukewarm bottled water.  Delicious.

     Work was another example of taking a day to do something that should take 10 minutes.  I was given the task to write a letter of justification to get some vehicles.  That was the extent of it.  It was like pulling teeth to get more information.  I finally tracked down a guy who could give me a sample letter.  As he finally pulled it up on his computer, the power went out in our building, as it does with a comical regularity.  Turns out that the wiring is all wrong, and we even had a small fire in the breaker box today.  Every day is an adventure.  At least we had flushing toilets today.  Yesterday they were backed up, and the Afghans put something in the toilets that was either highly toxic or susceptible to exploding.  The restrooms were locked for our safety.  We haven’t had running water for two days either, not that you can drink it, but at least we can wash our hands (when the toilets are working).  Still, it could be worse.  I could be living in a tent with mortar rounds falling.  That happens to guys in the south.  Anyhow, by the end of the day I was able to e-mail the letter to my boss, as we amazingly had both electricity and e-mail connectivity at the same time. 

2 July 2006

     Today I did my first “mentoring.”  I was to try to find out tactfully why so many of the ANA do not wear rank.  We also needed to acquire fuel for all the trucks in CMA.  So I took along TSgt Kennedy, who has not experienced doing business Afghan style, and off we went to see Col Atabar, the Chief of Logistics.  He’s the one who is a big soccer fan, so we have something to chat about.  As usual, we had “tea” first, which this time was a fruit drink and watermelon.  We chatted about soccer (remember, all this is through an interpreter) and eventually talked business. We needed to go out and look at some trucks, but he kept making me eat more watermelon.

“What, you don’t like?”

“Yes, its great, I just had breakfast.” 

“Eat some more, we need to make you fat.”

“Watermelon doesn’t make you fat.”

“OK, tomorrow I bring in food to make you fat.”

I am a dead man.

     Anyhow, I actually spent the entire morning leading the “mentoring” sessions, rather than watching.  Now I am armed and dangerous.  I take lots of notes, as the Afghans want all sorts of stuff, especially nice office furniture, rugs, AC, desks, etc.  I feel like Santa Claus.  So, Col Atabar, have you been naughty or nice?

     After lunch we drove about 40 minutes to a very nice Afghan Army base (OK, very nice by their standards) with a contracted vehicle maintenance facility which is very nice by any standard.  Though an interesting trip, with lots of scenic views of mountains, the roads were of medieval quality, designed to compress our spines.  It didn’t help that our driver had his shades on, and he missed two speed bumps (well, he missed spotting them, he didn’t miss hitting them).  Somehow we survived, and rolled back to the office at 3PM.  I was actually able to write my daily report, get on the internet, and send it, all with the AC working and the toilets working. For one glorious hour it felt like I was in a real office. Then we lost the internet.  Sigh.

     The guys in the hut are addicted to Tiger Woods Golf on the X box. They sit in our “den” playing it every waking moment.  I try not to make too much noise as I go by. Don’t want to disturb their swings.

3 July 2006

     As far as I know, we won’t be getting the 4^th of July off.  I say “as far as I know,” because information flows slowly, as does everything else.  This morning we had our two hours on internet, and after that things ground to a halt.  I did not make it over to the ANA side of the house, as I was supposed to go with my boss, Maj Apple, and discuss organizational structure.  That would have been a long and painful meeting, but much needed.  Instead, he got called into a different two-hour meeting, and soon after that we headed off for our two-hour lunch trip.  Following that, I came back to our office, and Maj Apple promptly blamed me (in jest) for the internet being down.  Not only that, but the new desk top computer I finally got won’t allow me to log on.  So we sat and shot the breeze until his second long painful meeting at 3 PM.  Turns out he is a big fan of Battlestar Galatica, Red Dwarf, Monty Python, Firefly, Dr Who, and Star Trek, so we had lots to talk about.  Amazingly, he has not seen Black Adder, so we will have to remedy that eventually (I realize that many of you have no idea what I am taking about when I mention these shows. Sorry, my family knows what I am talking about, and the rest of you should immediately rent the appropriate DVDs and educate yourself).  During this time I also shredded lots of old documents that our predecessors kindly left for us.  In case you are wondering, no, they did not think they might be useful, they were just lazy and left the work to us.  Since we can’t use our computers most of the day, I decided to shred instead.  At least I can do something useful.

     Another Kafkaesque aspect to our lives here is that our new building is woefully underpowered, so our CE troop figured out that if we turn off all the lights (and he made sure this happened by flipping the appropriate breakers) we can usually avoid power outages.  It also helps that he has shut off the AC in some rooms (though not ours; he is smart, and knows who writes his evaluations).  So while we were talking science fiction, the Major and I were sitting in the gloom of a partially lit room, wondering how we were supposed to get ANY work done in this madhouse. 

     On the plus side, it actually rained for about 30 minutes today.  Everyone paused to watch the marvel of water falling from the sky.  One of the Afghan workers motioned for me to go outside and enjoy it.  “It is good,” he said.  So for a brief moment the air smelled fresh, and the ground was wet.

     I make a point of driving at least one stretch everyday.  It’s good to keep sharp, since we play chicken with on-coming traffic all the time.  I am convinced that the only reason we don’t see more wrecks along the road is that the roads are in such bad shape, you can’t go very fast for very long (not if you want to keep your shocks intact).  I’ve also discovered through days, nay weeks, of experience that our vehicle has the acceleration of a crippled snail on a greasy, up-hill slope in a steady downpour.  That is to say, if we are ever chased by insurgents, we’d make better time if we got out and ran.  I have slowly turned my tiny room into a place where I can achieve a state of, if not contentment, at least not suicidal despair.  I was able to hook my laptop up and play some on-line gaming as I used to do at Fort Sill, and was also able to chat with my kids on-line.  I think I’ve got it where I can come home, eat, and spend the evenings in peaceful solitude.  No, I don’t want to socialize; I do that all day.  What I want is TO BE ALONE.  The absolute only place I can get any solitude is in my 12 x 8 cell, er, room.  I think my hut mates have hit that point too, as they sit staring at their video golf course, no doubt trying to remember what grass and a cool breeze feels like.  I too can vaguely remember playing golf with my dad before deploying.  That won’t be happening here.  I doubt this country has a golf course.

     Remember that old Star Trek episode where aliens kidnap Kirk because they want to get germs from him to start killing off some of their people, because they are so overcrowded.  You could see people milling around, tightly packed, looking grim. Welcome to Camp Phoenix.  The cement on the ground is so old that in many places it has disintegrated and been reduced to the component pebbles that were used to make it, if that makes any sense. 

     I saw an Afghan school bus today. Twenty boys in their blue school shirts climbed up on a dump truck and headed off for class.  I wonder what the mortality rate is for school commutes.

Snow Days

4 July 06

     Last night, after I sent off my daily gram, we had more rain, and I even saw a rainbow afterward.  For a short time the air was fresh and the haze lifted.  Nice while it lasted. Today is a day off for all of us.  In the morning we had a change of command ceremony. Camp Phoenix, where I live, is run by Army National Guard Units.  We’ve had a change-over going on since I got here, so we’ve had lots of extra people.  The Florida unit is going home, so each day we see groups heading out.  Sigh.  One day that will be us.  An Oregon unit is taking over, and the ceremony was held outside, but fortunately I was watching from the shade.  An Afghan military band played the national anthems of both countries.  The Afghan anthem was first, and sounded really awful.  I wasn’t sure if it was the music or the performers.  Once they attempted to play ours, I knew it was the later. It was as bad a rendition of the Star Spangled Banner as I have ever heard.  Well, at least they came and played for us, and we appreciated the effort.  The speeches were twice as long as normal, because they were translated into Dari, the language the Afghans speak around here.  The rest of the day was squandered playing games on the computer.  I got a calendar from my wife in a care package, so now I can better organize my mind.  It is so hard keeping track of what day of the week it is.  If my watch didn’t tell me, I wouldn’t know.  Everything is off here.  Jancy also sent me season one of Boston Legal, so I can see William Shatner hamming it up.  What a great role for him. 

5 Jul 06

     Turns out a couple of bombs went off yesterday, and more today.  Because of that, the base was locked down.  We were actually in our vehicles and headed towards the gate when we were turned back and told the roads were closed.  Many of our folks had already gone to work, but my group ended up staying, a snow day if you will, but schools were closed on account of bombs, not bad weather.  You have to joke about this, or you’d just worry all the time.  Our formerly peaceful city has now become a major target of insurgents, or so it seems.  As long as I’m on the base, I’m pretty safe.  Driving around town is another matter.  This is why I get imminent danger pay.

     On top of all this, the Army shut down the internet.  Rumor has it that one of the soldiers based here died, and they shut it down until the family could be notified.  I can’t confirm that the Army does this, but I was without internet most of the day.  It really is like a snow day, except people are trying to kill you.  Fun.  Even weirder, I’m not feeling any apprehension.  I’ll be careful, but I have yet to be really afraid.   There really isn’t a thing you can do to protect yourself from one of these bombs; if it gets you, it gets you.  You take what precautions you can, but since rubble is everywhere, it’s hard to look for IEDs.

     In our down time we have all started playing Tiger Woods Golf, which is quite enjoyable.  We are all hooked.  It also has a neat feature where you can design the golfer to look like anyone, so we all tried to make one look like ourselves.  It was fun and a little eerie watching a replica of myself playing golf, and even weirder doing well at it. 

     Nothing is easy here; simply going anywhere is a major logistical operation.  You never travel alone, and always wear armor and carry a weapon.  You can’t just pop out to Eggers or run out to CMA.  Others are always involved.  You cannot imagine how much I miss being able to hop in my car, by myself, and drive somewhere without having to wear armor and carry a gun.

6 July 06

     Another snow day today.  We finally got the internet back, and I am sending this out ASAP.  We are all safe, but people are dying in Kabul, one dead, 40 + wounded so far from 4 explosions, all Afghans.  My heart goes out to these people.

7 July 06

     Yesterday was a snow day as I mentioned, so we played some more golf, and I worked on the computer.  I also did some more work in my room, cutting, sanding, and putting up two more shelves, as well as fashioning a door for my cabinet that I can lock. Unfortunately, the truck bringing in hardware, like hinges, for the self-help store was turned away due to the current situation.  I suspect our mail has been stopped too.  Other than that, an uneventful day. Today was our regularly scheduled day off, it being Friday, and was also bazaar day. That makes four days on base, for those keeping count.  It also marks my twentieth day here, the big 2-0.  Only 345 to go!

I bought an Afghan blanket to use as a door for my cell, er room. I drape it over the open doorway. A lot easier than actually building a door, though one day I may try that. 

     Fridays are also the days I take my anti-malarial drugs. Yes, I’m taking them again. Seems you’ll get court-martialed if you don’t, and you catch malaria.  The depression has not hit again, at least not noticeably, so it’s not a biggie.  We also get to stop during the winter, when the mosquitoes are all frozen.

     One thing I miss (as though there were only one) is being able to use real bathroom, one which has more than a stall half the size you’d find at McDonalds.  Not sure why, but there is an obsession with hyper-tiny toilet stalls, essentially the same size as a porto-potty.  Every now and then in an out-of the way place, we actually find an almost normal-sized bathroom. These get marked on our mental map of camp treasures, and whenever possible we visit these blessed places of toilets-with-elbow room.  The best one, for the record, is at the gym (note the gym only has one, which brings up other questions, like “Why?”)  In this gargantuan stall, you could actually turn around while wearing a pack without hitting anything. Not that you’d actually wear a pack in there, but the spaciousness makes me giddy.

     The other problem is that the toilet seats are made of a very thin, easily breakable plastic.  Further, none of them are attached firmly at all, so you if ever have the misfortune of actually having to sit on one, and we all do, far too often, you usually side to the side and risk injury.  All in all, a far too exciting experience. One likes ones potty breaks to be serene.

Down with the Flu

I've been hit with a very nasty flu, and was hospitalized for a day. I am recovering, and will hopefully post agin tomorrow, assuming I recover.

The Inscrutable Afghan Toilet

8 Jul

     The last couple of days I spent a great deal of time trying to buy a calendar.  You’d think something so basic would be easy, but nooo, not here.  First of all, the PX doesn’t carry any now.   Maybe once we get near 2007 they will.  So I tried ordering a Pomeranian calendar through Amazon.  A lesser man might be embarrassed to admit he would order such a thing.  Perhaps Pit Bulls or German Shepards, but not Poms.  I however, am secure in my masculinity, and have no problem admitting I like Poms.  And by the way, they are a fearless (to the point of stupidity) dog.  But I digress.

     The first person I ordered from wrote back and said she wouldn’t send to an APO address.  So I tried again.  Of course, the internet is crawling along, so this really does take a long time.  I finally find a second one, but this time I write the person first, and he says he will ship here.  Great, I place the order.  The next day he writes back and is sorry, but he doesn’t have one after all, but offers me two of what he does have for the price of one, so I settle for Duschunds and lighthouses.  I do suggest that if he had any 2006 calendars he’d like to write off he could send them to us.  So he’s sending all he has left. (Note:  about two weeks later we received 30 or 40 calendars, plus some books and CDs)

     Today we had an early dismissal due to snow (remember, this is my euphemism for bombs).  We came back to our office from the shop to get folks for lunch, and everyone was heading out.  Guess a snow storm was coming.  So we got the afternoon off again.  I could write a lot about weather forecasting around here, but really shouldn’t.  But life is never dull. Before we were sent home, we had a long meeting with my soccer buddy Col Atabar.  We discussed their electrical problems, and we learned that among their many fixes is a quarter-mile long extension cord they run from a neighboring police station to provide electricity for a few offices when their generators can’t provide power.  Can’t go into much more detail, but it was pretty amazing.  We also spent a lot of time discussing fueling up all their vehicles, and improving the way they distribute gasoline. We are truly into nation building here.

     I also met another dog today. The British stopped in at camp to eat, and they had a bomb-sniffing dog, a spaniel of some sort, who allowed me to pet him. He was not very friendly, but it’s always nice to see another dog.

9 Jul

     Today there was no sign of snow, so we were able to work all day.  What an unusual experience.  Well, I use the term guardedly, as it is now 2 PM, I have finished my daily report, and as usual we have no internet.  So whether or not I have managed to work all day I’ll leave up to you, gentle reader.  I was given my very own project to work; seems the civilian drivers for CMA have not been paid in three months (or four, or two, depending on the telling of the story).  So I met with several folks, both US and Afghan, and this is apparently a hot topic at CMA, because all I had to do was ask the questions and off they flew into gyrating expositions in Dari (their language) of the situation.  I had to listen to it several times, and reassure them that I would try to fix the problem.  Everyone was appreciative, but seemed skeptical (as best I could tell).  So I have an Afghan Col who assures me he will get 40 job applications filled out for the drivers, then we can get them into the system, and then get them paid.  I’ll be eager to see how quickly he gets them done. 

     I’m also helping out with fuels issues, and am learning a lot about fueling trucks as well as generators.  Of course, I’m learning a lot about how NOT to do it too.

     I had a chat with one of new interpreters, Hamid.  Seems he was in Pakistan for 10 years, and missed out on all the Taliban lunacy.  He was not optimistic about his country’s recovery, and said as soon as the Americans left, he was leaving too.  Without us, he doesn’t think they stand a chance.

     I was able to check out the NATO PXs at the airport. There is a German, Italian, and British PX, plus a couple others I’m not sure about.  It was interesting to look through them. It’s a shame that the NATO folks can put up some nice PXs with good selection, while the American PXs are shabby, dismal affairs.  They station troops here for a year, and they can’t even give them a decent store.

     I have more funny toilet stories for you too. An Afghan toilet is merely a porcelain hole in the floor, with two spots to place your feet.  I am not sure how they do their business, but it must involve completely removing their pants, otherwise the logistics of doing a high-altitude bomb run without hitting your pants eludes me.  Further, the Afghans insist on standing while using our toilets too. But they don’t stand over our toilet, they stand on the seat, which resulted in one broken seat at our offices.  Someone had to build two large wooden boxes to place on each side of the toilet so they could stand over the toilet and bomb away, without destroying an endless procession of toilet seats.  See The Afghanistan photo album for a picture.

     I just hit my three-week anniversary here.  The remaining 49 can't go by fast enough.

Chai Ambush

11 July

     Not a very eventful day, at least in the sense of having anything witty to say.  But I’ll try.  I attended a meeting with lots of colonels and even a general at the Afghan equivalent of the Pentagon, or at least the offices and officers that would be in the Pentagon.  Need I add that there is a HUGE difference in the two?  We arrived early, and were standing in the foyer, which was dismal even by Afghan standards.  Doors were left open, flies were buzzing around, and the cement floors were still wet from the daily hosing down.  As we stood there, a kindly looking Afghan general invited us to tea.  I kid you not when I say that every time we go into an Afghan building, we are invited to tea by everyone we meet.  We’ve learned to say no, lest we die from chai intoxication.  Really, back at CMA I think they make a point of ambushing us after we’ve had chai with one person, and they ask us to drink with them too.  Down the hall we run, accosted but teapot welding soldiers.  “Please, have some chai,” they beg, determined not to take “No” for an answer.

     But back to this story.  Since we had 30 minutes to wait, and no waiting rooms, we accepted.  I was with my boss, Maj Apple, a name, by the way, the Afghans think this is hilarious, being named after a fruit.  Afghans don’t use fruit as a surname.  Their word for Apple is “sib” so they call him Maj Sib and all laugh.  When you’ve been at war for your whole life, you look for humor wherever you can find it.  Anyhow, I assumed Maj Apple knew this general, but he had never seen him before.  So we sat in his office and drank chai, without ever saying a word to the man until we left and thanked him.  The chai was very good, and we even had sugar cubes.  Our interpreter informed us that the tea was good because it was made with good water (as opposed to the stuff we usually drink, which will probably kill me).

     The meeting itself was held in the another general’s office, and about 25 of us were squeezed in for a comfy 90 minute chat about all sorts of stuff I can’t repeat, lest I be forced to kill you.  But there was an air conditioner here!  Not that it could hold up against the body heat of all of us, but it would have been worse without it.  After that, back to the office, where I was finally able to get my desk top computer to work! Amazing!  We even had internet, at least for an hour.  Then it went out again.  I also discovered that the electricity to our building is cut off after we leave each day, which explains why the water in the refrigerator is never cold.  Still, I could be living in a tent and getting shot at, so life here is a (relative) paradise. 

12 July 2006

     Today we had a meeting at Camp Phoenix, so a few of us did not go into work in the morning.  Instead I worked on my computer in my room, which was much more productive than actually trying to work in my office.  After the meeting, I went in and got on the classified computer, again something I can only do here at Phoenix, rather than at work.  I was interrupted by a call from Maj Apple.  Everyone had to come home from work; call my men and get them home.  Maj Apple has the misfortune of living at Eggers (the maze base), so I had accountability of all the Phoenix men.  Yippee, another snow day!  So I goofed off, playing on the computer, cleaning my cell, and doing the daily runs for food and checking the PX in the forlorn hope that something interesting may have appeared on the shelves.  Alas, no.  But the exciting news is the approaching cold front. Supposedly tomorrow afternoon strong winds will hit, preceding a front which will drop the highs to 78, and the lows in the upper 50s!  Magnificent.  Oh Weather Channel, you’d better not be teasing me.

     I mentioned our camp dog, and some have asked about him.  His name is Cherry, and since this is an Army base, I’m sure it’s meant to be crude.  If I lost you there, feel happy to be lost.  He is your typical dingy white Lab/hound mix, with tan droopy ears.  He spends most of his time sleeping, and although he allows me to scratch his ears, he’s not very friendly.  He is of course the object of attention of many of us dog lovers, so he has learned to tolerate us, and will occasionally even take a treat.  He gets fed from the kitchen, so he’s pretty picky now.  Supposedly there is a retired bomb dog, German Sheppard, around somewhere too, but I’ve never seen it.

13 July 2006

     Today’s assignment was to research a change in a contract for the size of the gate leading into CMA.  Amongst other things I was measuring the width of trucks in our fleet, and hunting down contractors to find out how to make the change.  I also worked issues for paying the Afghan civilians.  Every day is something new.  The cold front did come through, and the day was much cooler than usual; I would estimate about 80 degrees.  The evening was cool enough that I used my PT jacket for the first time.  I spent a good deal of time outside just enjoying the hint of fall. Of course, in a couple of days we will be back to summer, but it is a very nice change.  Since Thursday afternoon is the weekend here, we went home about 2 PM, which was also nice.   

  In the “Afghanistan” photo album there is a photo called “End of the Day.”  The following paragraph refers to it.  We always drive around in armor, and the nice thing about the armor is that you can hang all sorts of stuff on it. First of all, note how easily I carry my helmet around, just clip it on the vest.  You will note that I have an ID hanging around my neck.  This functions as our wallet; you can out money, credit cards, and keys in it.  It is useful because when we are home, we wear PT clothes, which don’t have pockets, so we always have something around our necks. The black straps belong to the weapon holder I wear. My pistol is behind the helmet, and you can see two clips under my left arm. The black case has my Wiley X sun glasses/eye protectors, needed in the increasingly windy and thus sand-in-the-eyes condition I find myself in more and more.  And in the background you can see home.  Always nice to get back in one piece.

A Pirated Pirate Movie

14 July 2006

     Today was our day off.  Drew bought a pirate copy of Pirates of the Caribbean II.  It was filmed in a theater, people kept blocking the camera, the sound was bad, the colors faded, and we realized that about 30 minutes were missing right in the middle.  Still, what else did I have to do?  Ah, the irony of watching a pirated video about pirates.  We said “ARRRGGHHH” a lot prior to watching it.  We moaned “AAAHHHHH” a lot afterwards.  The rest of my day was pretty sorry.  We lost internet again, so I cut up my WWII bomber calendar and hung the pictures all over the wall, as I was sick of looking at plywood.  The previous occupant entertained himself by throwing darts at the wall, so the entire wall was covered with holes.  Now it looks better.  I also got two more boxes of calendars and CDs from the guy who was sending me all his 2006 calendars.  Now I have a dachshund calendar for work, and a Schnauzer one for my room.  The fact that I am sharing this shows how dismal my llife is.

     Cherry, the camp dog, actually came when I whistled for him last night.  Amazing.  He loved sniffing my sneakers; probably could still smell my dogs’ scent.  Anyhow, it was nice to have him respond.  Speaking of dogs, yesterday I told Hamid, who has sort of become my personal interpreter, that I had five dogs at home.  He looked at me as though I had said I liked to eat dirt or liked to bathe in gasoline.  You could see the gears turning in his head.

     “Do you feed them?” he asked.

     “Of course.  Otherwise they would die.”  We both laughed.  I can only assume he meant do I let them go out and find their own food.

     “Why do you have dogs?  Why spend the money?”

     In a nation as poor as Afghanistan, that is not an unreasonable question.  Spending money on a dog is not an option for most of these people, even if they could buy the cheapest Walmart dog food and never go to the vet.

     “They are loving, they play with you, and they love to lick you and sit on your lap.”

     I could tell from his expression that this had as much appeal as eating cockroaches. The added incentive of playing fetch did not seem to impress him either.  We come from two different worlds.  How do I tell him that I devote so much energy to saving dogs, when folks over here struggle just to survive?  He’d think I was as crazy as someone who lived with five dirty animals.  It’s best to let sleeping dogs lie, as it were.

     One of the rescue group ladies thanked me because what we are doing over here is especially important for women.  This is so true.  When the Taliban ruled, women were not allowed to go to school, and they all wore burqas, the full body covering.  Now you can see the school girls lined up on the streets going to school, all wearing their black shirts and pants and white scarves.  The boys uniform seems to be a bright blue shirt. They laugh and play, and all hitch rides to get to class.  Although you see many women still in Burqas, it is now their family’s choice, not imposed by law.  There are different ethnic groups here, and one group still makes their women wear them.  However, you can see about half the women are now showing their faces and hair.  It is good to see such a basic freedom in a country that was ruled by devils.  However, the democracy here is still very fragile, and will need our help, and NATOs, for many years I fear.  There is hope here, more so than Iraq, but we do need to stay the course.  Perhaps with a generation of educated citizens developing, they can survive as a free nation.  Despite all the good we are doing here, I’d still rather be home.  Sorry, just selfish that way.

15 July 2006

     Well, four weeks down, 48 more to go, and tomorrow July will be half over. Yay! I must find joy in every possible milestone.  I spent a good bit of time talking to the Colonels at CMA, working all sorts of issues.  I have become a trouble shooter for any issue that comes up at CMA, so I am learning all sorts of new things, like paying civilians and contracting changes to the buildings to getting ceiling fans, carpets, and refrigerators.  It does keep me busy.  Although I visit the shop once in a while, it really isn’t the focus of my job. 

     Hamid, my interpreter, actually belongs to another Captain, and can’t be permanently assigned to me.  Everyday we must check with her first to make sure she doesn’t need him.  Interpreters must be on call all day, but we don’t use them every minute.  So sometimes they sit around for several hours.  I do a pretty good job keeping Hamid busy, so he likes working for me.  So everyday he asks if I can get him transferred to me.  Right now I can’t, but as you work with a guy, he learns the job you are doing, and it makes it easier.  So we try to keep teams together.  Hopefully he will join me permanently.

    I am supposed to take my 4-day pass in the beginning of October.  However, the only place we can go on this pass is Bagram air Base, one hour away, or here.  I have no desire to go to Bagram and live in a tent for four days on my “vacation,” so I’ll be here.  Yippee!   

Dari in 1000 Easy Lessons

16 July

     Ah, another day in paradise, which started with my roomies waking me up at 0500 in the morning.  Well, actually just Lt Col M, whose voice is a bull horn, and he had no inclination to tone it down that early.  When I saw him at the end of the day I said, “Hey, Sir, how about the next time you get up early, you try not yelling across the hut.”  He said he was sorry, but I was just getting started.  “Hey, there’s something called whispering, it lets you talk without waking up everyone else in the hut.  I was feeling a bit guilty that you had to get up early, but not anymore, SINCE YOU GOT US ALL UP WITH YOU.” Maj Rogers joined in, and I think we made our point.

     The morning was spent working on getting ceiling fans in all the CMA buildings, and having a long talk with Col Atabar about how things are running.  There are a lot of organizational things that need to be worked out, so it will be a slow process to get this smoothed out. 

     Hamid told me he enjoyed working with me, since I keep him busy.  I laughed, and said, “Yes, that’s why they sent me here. I was told I was coming over because Hamid needed work.”  I also said he was a pretty good guy, even if he didn’t like dogs.

     In the afternoon Maj Apple, Hamid and I went to the logistics “Pentagon” again for another two-hour meeting.  Maj Apple wanted to use Hamid for some reason, so I told him we’d be going to a big meeting with lots of Colonels and Generals.  After sitting through a two-hour meeting, we got up to leave.

Hamid – “Are we leaving?”

Me – “Yes”

Hamid – “But we didn’t say anything”

Me – “Welcome to my world”

Hamid – “But why do we come to a meeting if we don’t say anything?”

Me – “Don’t go there”

     We explained the joys of being at meetings just in case a question got asked that we might be able to answer.  Oh well, it beat sitting in the interpreter room doing nothing. But not by much.

     When I got back Maj Rogers and I played a quick 18 holes at St Andrews in Scotland, home of golf.  Despite shooting a 59, with three Eagles and 9 or 10 birdies, I now know how scary that course can be, with sand traps that swallow you whole.  I do think we need to set the difficulty up a notch.

     I saw Cherry outside the Chow Hall, and an Army Major opened up two Otis Spunkmeyer Banana Muffins and set them on the ground in front of Cherry.  Cherry didn’t move, and a few of us looked skeptically at the Major, but she assured us that Cherry loved these, but always took his time eating them.  Sure enough, after about 30 seconds he stirred, and slowly took one in his mouth.   His diet is probably awful, but by Afghan standards its pretty good.

18 Jul

     Each morning when I wake up, I find it harder to get out of bed.  The endless head-banging against the wall that is life here saps all motivation.  For instance, there are 17 people in our group, plus 5 interpreters, and 4 vehicles.  We work at two bases, CMA and Log Command. We also have many places we travel to, including Camp Eggers, 9 depots, ANA buildings, and more.  In order to travel, there must be two Air Force personnel in the car.  If you need to drop someone off somewhere, two of you have to take him, so the two of you can drive back.  Everyone in the vehicle must wear a seat belt. There are five seatbelts total.  All interpreters must go to lunch with you.  How do you get everyone across the river without the cannibals eating the missionaries, or the fox eating the hen? (OK, that may have been a bit too obscure; it refers to old brainteasers about getting folks across a river in a boat with limited seating capacity, with dire consequences if say the fox and hen, or two cannibals and one missionary are left alone together). 

     Once we do manage to get where we need to go, we turn on the computer in the vain hope that the internet will work. It no longer ever works, except for a fleeting minute or two.

     “You temptress, you floozy,” I yell at my computer, as it gets my hopes up, only to say “Not now, I have a headache.”

     Maj Apple, my boss and office mate, has a sense of humor almost as twisted as mine. If we were in third grade, and we sat in the back, we’d be in trouble all the time.  He loves to quote from “The Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” and we take turns describing how miserable we are.  Jokes fly around with lethal velocity, and I dare say we could easily be the Trapper John and Hawkeye of a new sit com. 

     We are trying to get offices over at CMA (this is the all-Afghan base, where the maintenance shop and motor pool is located).  We need to get internet set up over there, and then we will probably move over there full-time.  We can’t get any work done in our offices anyway, and it will cut down on travel difficulties. One might say we are going native.  And if we eat at the ANA chow hall, we can save even more time (though we will probably die in the process).  If you think I’m joking, just remember, they don’t have any freezers or refrigerators installed yet.  Yummy. I doubt I’ll ever learn to speak Dari. Hamid has started rolling his eyes at me when I try to pronounce words. “Good” for instance , would be pronounced Haupck (it sounds like “Ha” with a stangling sound at the end).  Imagine eating dinner while watching Seinfeld, and as you swallow, Kramer does something funny. You laugh and choke.  Congrats, you just said “good” in Dari.  Even better, they like to say “good, good” much as we say “uh huh” as someone is speaking to show we are listening.  So Hamid sound like he is laughing while he is listening, saying “ha, ha” periodically.  But when I point it out, he denies it and pretends he has no idea what I am talking about.  I think he is part of the big plot to drive me crazy.

     Today I passed my month point here.  I arrived at Camp Phoenix 18 June.  One more milestone down. 

Russian Music Videos and Ice Cold Snapples

19 July

     I was able to go to the barber for the first time here, which tells you just how short I had my hair cut before I left Fort Sill.  The barbers here appear to be two Russian women, who play Russian music videos in the shop.  I was treated to a woman in long flowing white robes singing with a chorus of Buddhist monks and American Indian Chiefs.  Despite the unusual visual effect, and the fact it was in Russian, it was quite beautiful.  In fact, the four or five songs ranged in styles from techno to new age to pop, and I enjoyed them all.  Russian singers manage to look beautiful without looking like, how shall we put this delicately, street walkers, as so many American stars seem to.  On top of it all, I got the best haircut I’ve ever had, all for only $6.50.  Considering they have an absolute monopoly on cutting hair, I was surprised it didn’t cost $10.

     At dinner I sat with my hut mates and heard tales of life at Camp Shelby, which is the training I almost went to in Mississippi.  I am quite certain that I got the better end of the deal going to Fort Sill.  They were there for two months, and it sounds like a lot of it was wasted time, and the other half was at least as painful, if not more so, than what I went through. 

20 July 2006

     I have been inspired to get started on my book/newspaper column.  I am going to check with some newspapers back home and see if I can't get my ramblings published somewhere.  So I have been writing for about 90 minutes, and am in danger of missing dinner. (Note: What I wrote now appears as the first entry in this blog, as well as the first article I wrote for the Tullahoma News). 

     My day was uneventful, as I worked on the layout of roads at the CMA and we had a Commander's Call where we were told how dangerous it is here, how we need to be vigilant, and how we would all carry our M-16s to work and back from now on. If I get attacked, the only thing I'll do with an M-16 is get tangled in the strap and trip over it trying to get out of the vehicle. These guns were not designed to be carried in vehicles. Tomorrow is bazaar day and our day off, which I will probably spend writing, as I am on a roll. Bring me that Pulitzer Prize now.

21 Jul

     I forgot to mention that something wonderful happened yesterday.  At lunch I was doing the usual ritual of trying to find a cold drink. This entails opening the cooler, and reaching into the very back, as those are usually the drinks that have been in the longest.  Well, I grabbed two lemon Snapples, which were stored on the top shelf this time, and they felt really cold, not cool but actually cold.  Dare I hope?  I sat down across from Maj Rogers and opened the can and took a drink.  Not only was this stuff cold, it was SLUSHY!!! Liquid Heaven! 

     “Major, this stuff is slushy!”

     His eyes got big, and with an intensity akin to being told I had just discovered gold, he asked, “Where did you get that?” and poof, he was gone, much like the road runner right after he goes “Beep, Beep.”

     We both enjoyed the coldest, most delicious drinks imaginable (yes, our lives are really that sad).  But even better is the fact that at dinner, it happened again.  Seems I have found the magic spot, the coldest spot in the coldest refrigerator.  Now I can stick Snapples in the back there and hopefully keep getting cold drinks.

22 July

     Got stood up today. I was supposed to go with Col Raheim to various offices around Kabul to get the paperwork signed off for all the CMA civilians, so they could finally get paid.  However, I had the foresight to call him first, even though we had an appointment at 0830. Sure enough, he was in a meeting, and would come over to our building at 0930. As of 1030, he is still a no show, and now he’s not answering his phone either.  So my morning was largely a waste. Still, one more day passes, whether I accomplish anything or not.

     I did discover another interesting fact to share with you.  Over here at the Logistics Command base, where our dysfunctional office is located, there are several very new, very large buildings to house the Afghan Logistics Command personnel.  Architectural design is not a new science, it’s been around a few years, but still the folks here managed to forget to put bathrooms in every single building. The only building that has them is ours.  And as you know, ours don’t work half the time.  Our folks who go up there to work with the Afghans have to walk about a quarter mile to use the restroom.  This can make for an interesting sight if someone has to go urgently. 

     Where do the Afghans go?  I’m not sure, and I’m sure I probably don’t want to know.

     Looks like the Tullahoma News, our local paper, is interested in giving me a column.  Woo, woo, fame and fortune here I come.

     I am in a new car pool now, at least for a little while.  I ride with Maj Rogers (one of my golfing buddies) and MSgt Russell, who among other things had the difficult job of getting us office supplies. It is much harder than you would think.  Anyhow, I now ride in a genuine ANA vehicle, an LTV (light tactical vehicle).  Only three can ride in it because half the back seat is taken up by a large radio rack. No, there isn’t actually a radio in the rack, but its nice to know we have a rack just in case.  There is also a gun mount on the top of the cab, in case anyone wants to ride in the back and man the gun, which we don’t actually have either.

The Afghan Darwin Award

23 July 2006

     I am happy to report that I did further investigation on the bathroom problem in the Log Command buildings, and there are actually two small buildings about 100 yards from the main buildings that are their latrines.  Don’t know why they didn’t incorporate bathrooms into the main buildings, and rest assured I will find out.  It eats at my soul, and I won’t be able to rest until I know!

     Today we played a miserable game of musical cars again.  Getting people around is becoming a comedy.  By the time I got back to work after lunch, it was 2 pm and the power was out.  I left at 3:30 to catch my ride back, and going out for the afternoon was largely a waste of time.  Can you hear my head smashing against the desk?

     We also had a bit of a heat wave hit.  Broke 100 today, and for the first time ever, it was humid.  Not Tennessee humid, but certainly Oklahoma humid. It felt like Fort Sill.  Not a lot of fun. 

     We’ve all been watching the British open the last four days.  It comes on in the evenings here, so we use our highly evolved golf skills from Tiger Woods 2006 to discuss the finer points of the game.  I say, surely a 7 iron would have been a better choice, ey what?  Looks like Tiger is pulling away.  Since I’ve been playing his video game, I sorta have to root for him.

     Cherry let me pet him tonight, and I fed him some apple.  Baby steps.  Many people have had dog treats sent over for him, and someone sent me a sample pack.  Please don’t bother, Cherry won’t touch dog food or treats.  He is too spoiled  for that.

24 July 2006

     I was hit up on the way to the PX to do a hometown video clip.  You’ve probably seen them on TV, where someone says hi to family and friends.  Well, you get one take, and time to prep, so I winged it.  Got a plug in for Pap 911 and Pom Posse too, your very first TV commercials!   

     Today was yet anther day of musical car as we tried to move people around. I spend as much time figuring out who goes in which car when as I do on my job (or so it seems). 

     My project today was supervising the delivery of tea pots, water pitchers, trays, and a few other items to the dinning facility (or DFAC, get it?).  My pal Col Atabar was giving the contractor fits.  He would not accept these items saying that they were poor quality, and he wanted better stuff.  So I got to do a little research into the contracting world.  I discovered that the contract was written poorly, and the guy who wrote it was back in the states.  The chairs were described thus: chair, four legs.  One can only imagine what a mess this could have been.  As it was, I told a very unhappy Col Atabar that he would have to accept these, as they met the contractual requirement

Teapot, 3 liters

Tray, nickel

Pitcher, aluminum with cups (how many? How big? Who knows)

     This is our money, by the way, and this is how tax dollars get wasted.

     I’ve included a photo of the gang trying out the four chairs they could pick from.  We were having so much fun (Col Atabar accused the contractor, Moussad, of bribing the contracting officer) that I had to take a photo.  Col Atabar examined each chair with the scrutiny of a diamond cutter about to cut something the size of the Hope Diamond.  I should have known better than to expect them to actually choose.  They asked to keep them over night. I imagine every officer will try them out before they decide.  Atabar tried to get me to pick, but I told him that was his job. 

     Hamid and I spent a half hour at lunch discussing the USA, our history and geography, the Civil War, and Papillon 911.  I showed him the website and explained who dog rescue works.  He politely shook his head and said it sounded crazy.  He said I should spend money on people, then they might do something nice for me later.  Ahh, now we see the gears turning.  He also said I should have more kids rather than dogs.  They can do things for you.  I explained that I had three, and they cost a lot more money than dogs do.  I tried again to explain that dogs really do love their people, but I might as well have been saying that I enjoyed sticking needles in my eyes.  Ah well.

     I have also attached the Afghan Darwin Award Winner (people who do stupid things, die, and thus strengthen the gene pool).  In this case, the winner didn’t actually die, but he was sure trying.  A conex was lifted off a truck, then the truck drives away and the conex is lowered (check out the photos in the Afghanistan album).  The crane you see in the photo is indeed over the electrical wires, and in fact almost tore them off.  The guy on the conex attached the metal wires from the crane to the conex.  We were all watching, waiting for him to get electrocuted.  Unbelievable.  However, they succeeded, and he broke his leg jumping off afterward (just kidding).   

Guns and Roses

25 July 2006

     Maj Rogers asked me at the last minute this morning to accompany him to a large Afghan Army base on the other side of town.  We have to travel in pairs, and his NCO had diarrhea.  I know that sounds lame, but remember, we were going to an Afghan base on the other side of town.  Remember also what an Afghan toilet actually is.  Now imagine your dismay faced with an attack of the trots and only an Afghan toilet between you and soiled pants.  I guess I’ll cut him a little slack.  Besides, it’s a chance to see more of beautiful Afghanistan.  Ever better, I got to drive our Afghan truck for the first time.   It is just a souped up Ford Ranger, but the Afghan guards always get a kick out of seeing us in it.  Today one asked why we were in it, and Maj Rogers said we stole it, and I said we were joining the ANA.  Some humor gets across the language barrier just fine.

     The 201^st Corps is probably the best equipped of the 5 Afghan Corps, since it defends the capital.  This was a real combat unit, commanded by a two-star General (or, more accurately, a two-blob General, as I could not make out what those things on his shoulders were supposed to be).  Not that what I wear is any better.  I have a little logistics badge with an eagle clutching lightning bolts and a bomb, or keys.  I sure can’t tell by looking at it.  I’m sure the Afghans think I have a blob on my chest too.

     Well, we were going in to see the General himself, and I was sure he would be a Patton-like figure.  We sat in his waiting room for a while, enjoying one of the three Afghan air conditioners in the city.  Finally all the big wigs arrived, and the meeting included a two-star, two one-stars, and a host of Colonels.  We headed into the inner sanctum, the office of the Commander of the finest combat unit in Afghanistan.  Surely there would be swords hanging on the walls, maybe even heads!  Battle plans, war trophies, flags, all sorts of cool stuff. I got up and entered . . .

     . . . and somehow ended up in a bridal shop.  There were towering flower arrangements everywhere.  The couches and chairs all had wooden arms and legs, carved into flowers and painted too.  Obviously there had been a rip in the space-time continuum, or my malaria drugs had finally fried my brains.  There was no way this was the office of the top military commander in the country.   I closed my eyes, clicked my heels three times, and wished I was back in Kansas, or at least in reality (OK, I made that up, literary license, but the rest is all true).  However, weird as it was, and weird seems pretty normal around here, I was indeed in his office. Great, old Blood-and-Guts really wants to be a florist.  At least he didn’t trot out a midget, as Col Raheim had done. Though maybe that would have been better.

     I can’t really talk about the meeting or its purpose, but I was mainly there as a driver, so it was dull.  But as I told the Major afterwards when he thanked me for filling in, it makes another day go by, and that’s the most important thing.  I’ve had to drag guys around to my meetings too; part of the fun of living here.

     Inside this Afghan base is a smaller NATO base, and we ate at their chow hall.  It has a reputation as a great place to eat.  For a chow hall, it was very nice, and I had Chinese food, which I never get here; a little bland, but a nice change.  On the way back, over roads that loosened our fillings and compressed our spines, I determined that the suspension on a Ford Ranger pales compared to a nice big SUV.  The Major had learned about a little-know NATO Commissary/BX near the airport, so we decided to check it out.

     I knew something was afoot when the store guard would not let our interpreter in the store. He said no locals were allowed in. Hmmm. I wonder what’s in here.  We talked to the manager, who finally agreed to allow him in, but he couldn’t buy anything.  Well, once we got in, the clouds parted, the angels sang, and the trumps sounded.  Here was a store that actually looked like a store.  There were aisles of food, and even frozen meat.  There were also aisles of all sorts of household stuff, clothes, electronics, that we can’t get at our BXs.  But at one end was a HUGE collection of alcohol, and not just beer.  This was the stuff that would get Afghans thrown in jail, and was the stuff NATO troops probably buy in huge quantities, since they are stuck here in a country where there is literally nothing to do.  Funny, I saw what sure looked like an Afghan man with a shopping cart full, and I do mean piled-up-past-the-top full.  Hmmm again.

     By this time my day was full of good stuff to write about, and it was only 2 PM.  Back to the office for an hour of not-getting-on-the-internet, and it was back in the spiffy Rat Patrol Truck and home.  Dinner was uninspiring again.  I can hardly bring myself to go to chow.  Last night the spaghetti noodles were over-cooked and mushy.  Tonight the chicken was as dry as the desert we drive through every day.  And what they have done to Pizzas is too obscene to described.  I shudder uncontrollably when I think about it.

Sitting Ducks and Sleeping Colonels

27 July 2006

     In a thoughtful mood today, though I do have some funny stories too.  I’ll be thoughtful first.  Last night I went to my first drive-in movie.  On Wednesdays and Fridays Camp Phoenix shows a fairly new movie on the side of the fire dept building. The side is indeed white, mostly flat, but does have a few seems in it which make it less than ideal for movies.  Still, they were showing “V for Vendetta,” which I’ve heard good things about, so I got my lawn chair and headed out (an essential piece of equipment here is the collapsible lawn chair, the type parents use at soccer games).  Start times are not specific, and they usually show a cartoon first, which I didn’t want to watch, so I  guessed badly and missed the beginning.  Don’t think I missed much, and I could piece it together pretty well.  It was a very thought-provoking movie, dealing with terrorism, fascism, and corrupt governments.  It was brilliantly filmed.  The girl from Star Wars I – III, whose name I can’t remember (I have since been informed that it was Natalie Portman), redeemed herself with a great performance, and the poor guy who played the whole movie in a mask was great too.  The visual images were fantastic. Two thumbs up.  There is a great line from the movie too.

“The people should not be afraid of the government, the government should be afraid of the people.”

     When you consider how many brilliant people this country produces, how many towering geniuses, how many great leaders in business, sports, academia, etc, why is it that our country has produced a governmental system where the most important attributes for getting elected are money and political connections? We have the power to change it, peacefully, and we don’t.  How sad.

     Enough on politics.  It has slowly dawned on us (and by us I mean my fellow captains) that there is something fishy going on here. There are three basic groups of folks here.

1.  Those who go out escorting convoys.  They ride in Hummers, armed to the teeth.   They plan everything to the tiniest detail. 

2.  Those who work on one of the bases, and never go anywhere.

3.  Those who commute in unarmored vehicles.

Guess which group I fall in? 

     We have concluded that we are such massive sitting ducks that one of us will get hit.  We just hope it’s someone else.  Yet, everything is so weirdly normal that no one seems to worry about it.  But each time I roll in the gate, I am grateful to have lived another day.  You learn to appreciate the strangest things.  I love my writing, and each evening I spend a couple of hours writing my book, and sending e-mails.  I really don’t know the numbers of folks who travel around as much as we do, but there aren’t a lot.  Bombs are going off almost daily now, and we don’t even blink.  Maybe today one of us buys it.  I wonder how much of this makes it back home in the news.  Much better to discuss what some meaningless airhead star said about a topic they don’t even understand, or which celebrity couple is getting a divorce.

     Don’t worry though, I don’t think I’m going to die.  We all think it won’t happen to us.  This entire country is one ambush site after another.  Remember those narrow canyons in the old western movies? The ones perfect for ambushes?  The ones only an idiot would go down?  We are the idiots, but not by choice.  A twelve year old could take us out. 

     So each night I relish whatever little joy I can, whether it be a TV show, a game on line, a book, or my writing.  Each night I mark a day off my calendar and wonder why humans are so determined to kill each other.  Of course, I have a gun in my hand each day, and am quite ready to use it.  Isn’t life grand?

     Well, I did promise a bit of humor.  Today I spent with Maj Rogers again. This time he brought over the General that we took out to the Army base the other day.  His name is Gen Hauck (yes, you need to make a choking sound), he is in charge of Operations for Logistics Command, and we really don’t know what he does.  Maj Rogers is trying to figure out a role for him.  I guess what happened is that the US Army set up the organizational structure, and plugged guys in, and then handed it to us.  Go Air Force.  To say we were flying by the seat of our pants would be giving too much structure to what I see each day.  Hopefully in a year we will be able to build something here. 

     By the way, as we walked up to our building (which will be without electricity for three days at least, don’t ask) we were told we were all heading back to base.  Then as we mounted up, we were told we weren’t going after all.  I assume another bomb went off.  Who even knows any more?

     So we headed over to CMA, Hamid happy that I was back and keeping him busy.  We did all sorts of odds and ends around CMA, and talked a lot.  He lives in town with Mom and two brothers.  He commutes about an hour each way, using the Afghan taxis to get around.  He would love to immigrate to the USA.  He hates it here, and I can’t blame him.  All the electricity gets shut off around 10 PM, so they have no fans at night (and it goes without saying there is no AC ever).  Of course there are the bombs, and the religious fascists who want to reinstate the morality police, so they can beat people into conformity.  This place is just one step from going right back to hell, and it is only the coalition forces that keep this from happening.  I do feel that here I am really making a difference in many lives, and may be helping to save an entire nation, in my own small way.  So sitting in my air-conditioned hut, typing on my computer with internet access, I think of Hamid, commuting an hour without armor, hoping his taxi doesn’t get hit, so he can hang on to his hope of a better life.  I really should quit complaining, my life is so vastly better than so many people’s. 

     By the way, I told Hamid that he will be famous, as he is in my book (though I will not put photos of him in my blog, to protect him; there are those who would like to kill interpreters). That seemed to please him.  He says to say hi to each of you.  If any of you know where he can get a sponsor and a job, so he can immigrate, let me know.  I don’t know the first thing about it, but I am going to research it.  He says he doesn’t care what the job is, he’ll do anything, and he means it, believe me.

     The highlight of the day was our lunch. Maj Rogers and I, along with our interpreters, ate with the general and the CMA colonels.  The table we were sitting at was two metal desks pushed together, with a tablecloth. There was no leg room, as the sides of the desks were solid.  Yet the lunch was very nice.  I just didn’t think about hygiene, and enjoyed it.  We had lamb kabob wrapped in warm, pita-like bread, delicious rice, bread, melons, a soup with a nice layer of grease that I did not eat, and even a home-made salsa-like substance.  It was fantastic.  After all the chow hall foods, my taste buds awoke from their stupor and danced a jig.  They even had small dishes with a red and a black pepper spread out side-by-side.  I put some on my rice, and the taste buds stopped dancing and looked for a pool to dive into.  I was full afterwards, and life was good.  After the food, we talked more business, and finally left.

     Prior to lunch, we had to wait for almost an hour in the colonel’s office while dinner was cooked.  During this time, Col Rasoul fell asleep.  In his defense, he was up at two AM getting a convoy ready.  Col Atabar (who I have discovered was the sort who would dip girls’ pigtails in inkwells, if Afghan girls went to school with boys, wore their hair in pigtails, and they actually had inkwells) taps me and has a mischievous grin on his face. He wants me to take a photo of Col Rasoul sleeping (see the CMA photo album).  Gen Hauck thinks this is a great idea, so I do, and Atabar uses his cell phone to take photos too.  Everyone is laughing, and the Col wakes up.  He takes it well, and I enjoy seeing everyone having a good time. 

     After dinner, we are asked about our body armor, how heavy is it, etc.  Gen Hauck tries on a set, and I offer mine to Atabar and Hamid, but they pass.  I would too, as it is pretty nasty around the neck area.  Ring around the collar times 1000.  There is a photo of Gen Hauk in armor in the CMA photo album.  Well, that was quite a bunch of writing. Tomorrow will probably be sparse, as it is my day off.  One more mark on the calendar, and I should live through tomorrow, as I am not going anywhere. 

     I’ve been pretty useful to Maj Apple.  I told him I’m like a good butler, like Jeeves, which led to a discussion of P.G. Wodehouse.  So now he calls me Jeeves, which I take as a massive compliment, as anyone who knows Jeeves understands.  And if you don’t, go get one of the many Jeeves books by PG Wodehouse.  Now.  Read it. You WILL like it. I promise.

Heart-Breaking Dreams and Dr Ruth

Heart-Breaking Dreams and Dr Ruth

28 Jul

     Great news, my first column in the Tullahoma News should appear this Sunday!  It is supposed to run weekly initially, and maybe got to twice a week later.  My clever plan to get on the Daily Show is under way.  I’m going to look into getting a web site too.  Here’s the link for the Tullahoma News:

http://www.tullahomanews.com

     I’m going to see if they have black hair dye at the PX.  Hamid, who is 27, is starting to gray just a bit, and he hates it.  He wanted to know if I could get him some hair dye, as it is not available in town.  It’s the least I can do for him.  He has also told me that he is not going to get married, as it will make immigrating to the USA harder.  Poor guy.  It really is hard to imagine what goes on in his life, though sometimes I get a good look.  For instance, yesterday while we were waiting for lunch to get cooked, we started talking about how people may not live by their religious tenants.  For instance, even though Islam prohibits alcohol, many Muslims drink (secretly).  A few weeks ago I write that beer was legal here.  Well, turns out that what Hamid meant was non-alcoholic beer.  As best as I can tell, it is illegal to sell alcohol here, and Islam forbids you to drink it. However, it comes in somehow, and many folks have it.

     Hamid started peppering me with questions about drinking.  I rarely drink at all, and when I do it’s a glass of wine, and I have never been drunk, so I am hardly an expert on alcohol.  I tried to explain that there is drinking and there is getting drunk, as well as what a hangover is.  I suspect that Hamid has never had a drink, though I did not ask him outright.  After a few more questions, he floored me by asking, “When a man and his wife are in bed, I have heard that wine can help.  Is this true?”

     OK, would someone like to take that one?  Anyone?  I pulled my jaw off the floor and thought how best to answer this one. I explained that it might help some people, as it can relax them if they are nervous about being in bed (we never use the “S” word).  Good grief, I’m not Dr. Ruth.  But the more I think about it, he’s probably never been with a woman, and he’s not going to get married until he can immigrate.  His life just gets better and better.

     This morning I spoke with an Army captain at breakfast.  She is a Civil Affairs Officer, which means she is supposed to work on relations with the locals, find out what areas are safe, and which are not.  Turns out she gets less support than we do.  I won’t go into details, but in some ways her life is more dangerous than ours.  She is an office of one, so to go anywhere she needs to round up two vehicles and three people just to go anywhere to do her job.  Her husband died a few years ago (I think in combat) and she had two boys to raise.  So once again I learn that I have it pretty good.  Perspective is a wonderful thing.

     As for my day off, I ate breakfast and sat in my room until 4:30.  I did a lot of editing of my old letters for the newspaper, played on the computer, and watched Syriana, a movie that bored me and got shut off about 30 minutes in.  Cooney won an Academy Award for this?

     One final thought, and a true story, in every detail.  Last night I had such a vivid dream I would have sworn it was real.  I was home for Christmas Leave and was standing in the kitchen with Jancy, and I hugged her, and our checks pressed together.  I told her how I had felt the pillow against my face so many times wishing it was her, and how nice it was that it was finally real.  Then I woke up.  It was my pillow. You can’t imagine how much that ruined the morning. 

29 July 2006

     Today I spent an hour going over in painstaking detail the process that CMA must use to get their troops pay when they travel on convoys.  Hamid and I went over it with Col Rasoul (the CMA Commander) and every time I thought we had it clear, it changed.  It was very frustrating.  I’m doing this because, once again, the troops aren’t getting paid.  Since I am Jeeves, I have been called on to fix it.  I wonder how much butlers get paid.

     Major Rogers and I took three interpreters to lunch, Hamid, Hamid, and Hate.  My Hamid is pronounced “Ah - mid” while the other is “Ah - meed”, while Hate is a shortened version of something I can’t remember.  I asked them who they thought were the more likely targets for the insurgents, US or ANA soldiers.  Hate thought ANA, as the insurgents don’t want the Army to grow in size.  He also said there is a $30,000 bounty for interpreters to be shot. 

     We found another PX on the way home.  I’ve passed it every day, and had no idea what it was.  Of course, it is behind a wall, with a gate and guards, but still, how do these guys make money?  Anyhow, this one was a bit bigger, and had more food items.  The prices were in Euros, and were high.  But again, it was fun to see a new place.  I could almost imagine I was in civilization again, instead of an armed camp. 

     At my office, we had no AC all day, and of course, no internet.  Trying to get work done there is ridiculous. I told Hamid that one of my friends (Whitney Philpot, who adopted Steve the one-eyed puppy from us) was going to send him black hair dye, and he asked how much would it cost. I said it was a gift, and he was very surprised and thankful. 

     In the evening I sorted through some boxes of books that were sent to the library through the Books for Soldiers Program. A man was mailing out books from his dead father’s collection to troops. I made sure all the science fiction was put in the right section, and wrote him a thank you note.  My friend Matthew also sent a box, so the collection has grown quite a bit.

     We had a pretty big dust storm today.  It was like an overcast day, except it was all dust.  You could not see any of the surrounding mountains. At night the breeze was almost cool.  The hut is a lot cooler tonight.  It normally feels like an oven.

     Every day I wear full body armor and carry both a Baretta and an M-16.  Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would ever be in this situation.  I look forward to the day I don’t have  to wear armor when I go for a drive, or carry a weapon when I got out the door.

A Massive Post, As I Try to Catch up to the Present Day

9 Aug 2006

     Slowly my posts are catching up to present day.  I intend to post several articles today to try to catch up.  Friday a suicide car bomber hit a US convoy, destroying an armored Hummer and killing two US Air Force personnel (so I have been told, the newspapers still say soldiers), and 16 Afghans.  I later heard 3 US civilians were killed.  I did not know any of the people killed, but I’ve been on that route many times.  The grim reality of the danger we are in here hits harder each day.  On Saturday someone from Camp Phoenix was killed, and the internet was shut down for 24 hours so the family could be notified directly rather than hearing it second hand through the internet.  So that’s where I’ve been.  Now back to my posts . . .

Swimming in Coffee, with a Hint of Rugby

30 July 2006

     Today the game of try to get everyone rides got a bit harder.  I couldn’t get over to CMA from my still un-air conditioned, un-internetable, fly-infested office until about 0930.  I came back to my office at 1100 to try to get a ride to lunch, and finally did at 1200.  I just stayed at Phoenix after that.  I could finally get important work done on the computer in my room.  It’s a good thing I brought my laptop so I can actually get work done.  On top of all these problems, my cell phone won’t connect to half the phones in Afghanistan.  This is a recurring problem here, as there are two major companies, and sometimes there are problems between the two.  This leads to me getting messages that the party I am trying to call is out of service range, even though he is on the same base.  You have to learn not to care too much, or you’d go insane.

     We had a total of almost 200 Air Force personnel come in last night and today.  Most will move on, and a few will stay here. I spoke with a group of Airmen as we were waiting for their bags to come in.  We had driven our vehicles over to help move bags.  For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t the new guy wondering what the heck was going on.  One of them asked me if I got to go outside the wire very much (that means leave the base).  I laughed and told her we did it every day, and we did it in that, as I pointed to an SUV.  The look on her face was priceless.  Of course they had just been through the usual training about IEDs, and expected they’d be driving around in hummers all the time.  HAHAHAHA.

     I found out there is a group of Americans here that travels to a NATO base to play rugby.  It is very low-key, and they use some kind of touch rules, as opposed to tackling.  I will definitely go play.  They have a real grass field!!!!! I can’t wait. I’ve always wanted to try rugby.  Taylor, my oldest son, has been playing in college and teaching me about it.  I am hyped, jazzed, or whatever the term is today.

     We had actual cloud cover today, large puffy, billowy clouds, and even saw a storm off in the distance, though it refused to come our way.  Much like my computer at work when I try to get on the internet, it teases me, but doesn’t deliver. But we did get a cool breeze in the evening.  It could have been Tennessee, except for the smog, dust, lack of grass and trees, and of course lack of my family and my dogs. Still, not a bad night.

31 July –

     A mix of the really good and the painfully dull today.  As per normal, there was no electricity and no AC in our office again.  I called up our facilities manager, Capt B.  The conversation went EXACTLY like this.  To set the tone, Capt B is a hard worker, but very overworked, and sometimes comes across as gruff.  So I called him up.

Me  - Hey, it’s Capt Traversa

Capt B – What’s up?

Me - What’s the status of getting our AC fixed?

At this point he thought I was asking about getting AC installed over at CMA.  Once we got it cleared up that I was talking about the AC in our office, it went like this:

Capt B – Well, first you need to tell TSgt B about the problem

Me – I did that, and he said he had to tell you, and you’d call the contractor and get it fixed. This was two days ago.

Capt B -  Yes, and then I told him . . (at this point his voice literally wound down) . . . (yes, it was all coming back to him) . . .That  . . .  I . . . would . . . take . . . care of it.  Sorry, I haven’t done anything about it.  I’m really busy doing something for the Colonel, I’ll get to it later.

     I don’t need to make stuff up, reality is funny (or painful) enough on its own.

     So instead I drove the Major out to Eggers because he needed some medicine.  When we got there, the clinic was closed.  We then drove back to work, sat for 15 minutes, and headed back to Phoenix for lunch.  I stayed here so I could do work on the computer, since, for reasons I don’t understand, we haven’t shot the guy who handles our internet and hired someone who, perhaps, KNEW WHAT THE HECK IT TAKES TO SET UP THE BLOODY INTERNET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  We dragged poor Hamid all over the place, because he had nothing better to do.  Tomorrow we will be putting him back to work. 

     I feel better now.

     I wear my helmet now when I beat my head against the table.

     In the afternoon I heard a knock at the hut door, then the magic words “Is Capt Traversa here, he has mail.”  I bounce (OK, stagger) from my room to get my mail.  They proceed to haul in four huge boxes from Boca Java, Inc.  The guys glare at me for having so many heavy boxes.  Not only that, but my soccer cleats have arrived too, from Jancy. What a haul.  Turns out the four boxes are filled with packages of gourmet coffee, along with 135 pages of comments from folks who have donated money to Coffee for the Troops program.  People donate money to buy the coffee, and Boca Java matches it dollar for dollar.  The cover letter says they sent us enough for 6,700 cups of coffee!  Lt Col M almost went into shock.

     “Now I can bathe in coffee,” he said, fighting back tears.  The other guys were also overwhelmed.  I know one of you signed me up, but I’m not sure who.  You may have mentioned Boca Java, it sounds familiar, but I never expected soooo much coffee.  We are passing it out to all the Air Force guys here, not just our 17 CMA troops.  Whoever did this, thank you for signing us up.

     I also signed up for the rugby team, as did Drew, one of my hut mates.  We will go out Friday for our first game.  It is very low-key, but Maj Frazier, the Army guy who sets this up, is a big rugby fan.  He has rugby stuff all over his office.  He even gave me a rugby ball.  How cool!

     July is about to end, so another milestone down.  I’ve been here 44 days, it only SEEMS like an eternity.  If this endless summer would end (I know, a logical paradox, like “expect the unexpected”) I think life would improve a bit.  Soccer and rugby should help too, along with my writing.  Soon I will be so busy I can skip work altogether.

     Yesterday, Hate, Maj Roger’s interpreter, was telling us how mad they were at the Taliban, because all the stuff they did was not in the Koran.  He said the Koran taught peace and war only as self-defense.  Sounds like they have the same splits that Christianity has.  I know I've met so many nice, kind, peaceful Muslims, and their religion is probably as peaceful as Christianity, but both groups have those who use the scriptures to teach violence.  I hope to get an English copy of the Koran.  I want to see what it really says, since it drives everything around here.  Not even remotely interested in converting, just want to see what it really says.

Big Bottoms

1 Aug 06

     Surprisingly, I haven’t heard a thing from John Stewart.  Surely he is reading the Tullahoma News on line. 

     My father has been asking why jingle trucks are called jingle trucks.  He has been asking for at least two weeks, and I’ve been studiously forgetting to answer.  Sorry, Dad, please don’t write me out of your will.  A couple of weeks ago we actually had a jingle truck on base at CMA.  It was parked, but there was a good breeze blowing, and I heard wind chimes.  It was the chains and pendants hanging from the front bumper.  I’ve included a photo of a very similar truck in the jingle truck photo album.  You can see all the chains hanging from the front.  This is the older, non-trailer version of a jingle truck, and lacks the impressive murals on the sides.  We also talked to the driver and asked what the purpose of the chains and pendants were; he said both for decoration and for the sounds.  There you have it, another of life’s mysteries solved. 

     Yesterday I asked Hamid how he was when we first met for the day. He said he was tired because friends from Pakistan had come to visit.  For the newcomers, Hamid spent 10 years growing up in Pakistan to avoid the endless wars.  So what did they do for entertainment?  They watched a movie from India.  He said it was about a horse and a dog that helped the human star. It seemed to make a bit of an impression.

     “The horse and dog kept helping the main person.”

     “So they were helping the human star?” I asked. 

     “Yes. They did a lot to help him.”

     “So now you like dogs better, right?” Sorry, couldn’t resist.

     “Yes, a little. It was a black dog.”

I didn’t bother trying to figure out the breed.  If I told Hamid about dog shows, never mind the cost of a pure bred dog, I’m sure smoke will come out his ears.  Wait, that would be pretty cool.  Maybe next time we hit a dull spot, I’ll tell him about the Westminster Dog Show.  MUWHAHAHA.

     Maj Apple has a prodigious memory. He quotes movie lines in exacting detail, and at great length.  It’s like winding up a toy, and off he goes.  Yesterday it was the Princess Bride.  Somehow I made the mistake of mentioning the movie, and he started spewing out the funny lines.  And I think he is pretty dead on with each of them.  But even more disturbing is that he does a perfect impression of the pudgy bald character who keeps saying, “It’s inconceivable.”  Eerie.  In the car he started (completely out of the blue, please understand I don’t have to instigate this) he starts telling painful, pun-infested jokes.  After each one I say something like “If I pay you, will you stop?” or “I’m going to have to kill you now.”  Of course, this is merely fanning the flames, and more pain ensues.  Today we were in the office when the power went out (what a surprise, the power went out; this never happens; what will we do?)  Not that it matters a whole lot, since the internet wasn’t working again.  Nor was the AC, just in case you were wondering.  So what do we do in our hot office?  Start quoting Monty Python of course.  He can also sing most of the songs from “The Meaning of Life,” and he does.  To make the day complete, we were driving over to CMA with a couple of NCOs, and we suddenly started singing “King of the Road.”  The NCOs looked at us like we were mad, which we probably are.  After we got out and started walking down to the shop, we hit on “The Battle of New Orleans” by Johnny Horton.  This was undoubtly a bizarre sight to the Afghans we passed. “Crazy Americans,” they might think, and they might be right.

     Just so its clear, if you are going to be bored out of your mind, he’s a great guy to be bored with. Endlessly entertaining.  Even scarier is the possibility that he will be moving over to Camp Phoenix and into our hut.  Does this mean I’ll start singing on the way to chow????  That would be scary. (editor’s note: Capt Traversa cannot sing. He can make noise.  Take cover if he ever looks like he is going to sing. Save yourselves. Hide the children).

2 August 2006

     Something I forgot to mention yesterday is that I found out that Hamid only has two or three hours of electricity a day period, and it usually runs in the evening.  Last year they had it almost all day, but he says that everyone is so corrupt that they can’t even get regular electricity. 

     Went by the Chapel to see if I could get a Koran from them.  Only if I was a Muslim.  Bibles yes, but no Korans.  I guess Islam doesn’t have the equivalent of the Gideons.

     We spent a good part of the day in a class of over 200 folks, learning about IEDs (roadside bombs) and it was no more uplifting than it was back at Fort Sill.  We also learned how to drive in convoys, which did us no good, as we don’t.  There was also lots of talk about how the gunner up top should operate.  Again, little good for us, as we don’t have gunners.  I think I will paint a sitting duck on the side of our truck.

     Our class met at Phoenix, so I did not need to go anywhere else.  I saw Maj Apple at lunch, and he’s looking frazzled.  He’s been living in a tent all this time, and there is hope he will move out to Phoenix any day.  I told him he was starting to get that crazed look in his eye, and we’d need to take his ammo away.  Life has not been kind to him since getting here.  If anyone needed a good butler, he does.

     Sorry, not a very exciting day.  I cut a new desk top for myself, enlarging the desk in my room a bit, but also giving me much needed leg room.  I’d send a photo, but it would look the same.  I have posted photos of a mosque that is being rebuilt on the Log Command base, the suburbs overlooking Log Command (they may look like ruins, but I assure you they are the suburbs), and the CMA gas station (the fuel truck with the two sheep in front of it).  I think the sheep are the base pets (and undoubted future meals), as I see them around a lot.  They also have prodigious buttocks.  I don’t know much about sheep, but it doesn’t look normal to me.

Hamid’s Life

3 August 2006

     I kept thinking today was the day we dropped the A-bomb on Hiroshima, but I now think that was 7 Aug 1945.  It just dawned on me that today is our anniversary.  Jancy and I have been married 22 years, and she is a wonderful wife, my friend and companion through so much.  I love you, Dear.  Thanks for a great 22 years.

     Today was the usual half-day of a Thursday.  Hamid and I spent a lot of time waiting for meetings, and we worked getting the ANA troops paid for their convoy duty.  I was the approving officer for 4 convoys, so they had to write up the approval letters, Hamid had to translate, and then I signed them all so they could get paid.  The personnel officer was very happy that I was taking an interest in helping.  Franz Kafka could not have written a more twisted and convoluted system than the ANA pay system, even he had a hangover, a toothache, and had just had his leg gnawed off by a rabid hamster.  NOTHING is easy here.  Falling off a chair requires three different forms, signed in blood, and approved by the Ministry of Defense.

     Hamid and I had lots of time to talk, which he really enjoyed.  I learned just how awful his life is.  So starting now, I warn you, there is no humor, just a tale of a nice guy stuck in an awful situation.  First of all, Hamid is an earnest, serious man, 27 years old, and he never gives the impression of being irresponsible or not taking his religion and culture seriously.  He lives with his mother and two brothers on a hillside overlooking the capital, and he says his house is very nice.  It is conveniently located to everything, except work.  He would love to have us over for a meal to meet his family, and I would love to go.  However, I doubt that we would be able to.  No one knows he works for us except his immediate family.  They don’t want to get attacked by insurgents or angry neighbors.

     Further questioning revealed that his house has only two rooms.  It used to have four, but the house was divided, and his uncle owns half of it now.  I’ve already mentioned that he only has electricity for two or three hours in the evening, and so their house gets pretty warm in the evening.  In the winters they have a wood-burning stove, but the house gets very cold.  He loves eating at our chow hall because there is a variety every day.  At home they eat a rice and meat dish that rarely changes from day to day.  He does not like it very much, but the rest of the family does.  I’ve seen Hamid wear exactly three different shirts in the five weeks I’ve known him.  It’s probably all he owns.  He gets paid good wages by Afghan standards, but I know he supports his mother with some of that.

     We discussed funerals, as Col Rasoul and many of the ANA troops were heading to a funeral.  Death is common over here, and the life expectancy is in the upper 40s.  Muslims are not supposed to cry at the burial, as it can send the dead person to hell (as best I understood Hamid on this point).  Despite this, there is much weeping and screaming of anguish at funerals here.

     He also told us that the police had just arrested a man who had been posing as a woman and hijacking cars and kidnapping women.  Men would pick him up, think he was a prostitute, and he would chloroform them and steal their cars.  This whole thing was pretty amazing to him.  So we told him all about America, sex-change operations, breast implants, transvestites, etc.  I explained that when you live in a free country, there is a lot of weird stuff that can happen too. 

     At lunch we discussed his hopes in life.  He would like to get married, but his mother must arrange it.  First his older brother must get married, and that is in the works.  When he does, the wife will move in with them into the tiny house.  He also explained that wives and mothers-in-laws fight a lot, because sons must pay equal attention to their wives and their mothers.  After his brother is married, Hamid may ask his mother to arrange meetings with a girl.  However, Hamid must first go through all his cousins and tell Mom that he doesn’t want to marry them.  Then he can look to marry outside of his cousins.  At this point he asked if we married cousins in America.  I said in many places you could, but generally we did not.  I tried to explain about in-breeding and recessive genes, but who knows how much he understood.  I did make it clear that for health reasons it was usually better not to marry a cousin. 

     Well, Hamid does indeed have a girl he is “impressed by.” That is Afghan for “She’s so HOT!”  He rarely gets to see her, but once his brother gets married, he can start hinting to Mom that she might be a nice girl to set him up with.  Despite this, Hamid is very sad. He wants to get married, but it is at least two years off, and at 29 a good chunk of his life is over.  Most of his friends are married and have kids.   I told him lots of Americans wait until they are over 30 before they get married.

     “Yes, but you can have sex any time you want.  We must be married,” he replied.

    Well, I can hardly blame the poor guy for being frustrated.  He’s going to wait for marriage, and it’s killing him.  I told him that plenty of Americans waited until they were married to have sex, and we weren’t all having nightly orgies.  Plenty of guys never have sex (here I am making an assumption, but I think there is a significant number of guys so afraid to even talk to a girl, that they never get to first base).  Hamid gave me a look of skepticism, but I told him there are plenty of religious people in America, just as there are in Afghanistan, and they wait for marriage.  I think he finally believed me.

     I will close with a story he told me which is so poignant, so heart-breaking, I defy you not to be moved. I will write it as closely as I can to the way he told it, which was very moving. This was about his life in Pakistan, shortly before coming back to Afghanistan.

    “Pakistan was so green, so beautiful. When it rained in the spring, it was warm and lovely.  I remember once it was raining and I put on my raincoat, and my friends and I walked three miles in the rain to a café.  It was dark, and there were lights everywhere, and they shone off the water, the rain, the streets.  We sat and drank tea and watched the beautiful girls go by.  But here (Afghanistan) there is nothing. We must be inside by 8 PM.  There is no electricity.  There is nothing to do.  I wish I could leave.”

     “Why don’t you go back to Pakistan?” I asked.

     “My family was with me there. Now they are here, and I must take care of them.”

     When Pakistan is your Garden of Eden, you know you are at the very bottom of what life has to offer.

     Since he ate lunch at Phoenix, and my day was over, he needed to go to the front gate to catch a taxi, and I walked him out.  He said, “Today was a very good day.  I am glad we had so much time to talk.  Normally we are in too much of a hurry.  But I enjoyed it very much.”

As did I, my friend.

Rugby in Paradise

4 August 2006

     Today was the long-awaited rugby day.  Capt Drew Morton from my hut went along. We traveled with three Army and one Marine to ISAF HQ (International Security Assistance Force).  ISAF are the NATO forces that are moving into Afghanistan in increasing numbers.  The base is mostly Europeans, with a few Americans.  When we got there, our jaws dropped.  First of all, this base really looks like a military base. Admittedly, my expectations are pretty low now, after living on the slab of cement with plywood buildings that is Camp Phoenix.  One of the first things we passed was the sports field.  It was real grass; beautiful, green, living grass. Believe me when I say, with absolutely no exaggeration, easily 20 times more grass than I have seen in this entire country the whole time I have been here.  I was all choked up.  They even had soccer goals.  We went into the very nice locker room to get changed, and they had a huge, marvelous bathroom with running water and real toilets.  The basketball court was in a real building with a real hardwood floor.  There was an ATM in the lobby!  The difference between ISAF HQ and Camp Phoenix is about like the difference between the USA and Afghanistan.

     The rugby game was a lot of fun.  I’ll explain the rules quickly, but Taylor, my rugby-playing son, may be the only one to fully understand.  Rugby is like football in that you try to get to an end zone, but you cannot pass the ball forward, only sideways and backwards.  You advance the ball by running it.  A touch down is called a “try.”  We played two-hand touch rugby, and once you are “tackled” three times, the other team gets the ball.  There are 15 on a team, though we usually had around 12.  You are pretty much spread out in a line across the field, trying to get through each other’s lines.  About 10 minutes in I am delighted to say I scored my first try ever.  After running about 30 yards to score, I decided I might take a little rest.  Seems running around in 90 degree heat at 6000 feet altitude causes one to tire easily.  Being 44 and out of shape doesn’t help either.  After a while I was able to see again, and played some more.  We played for a good hour, and I lived to tell the tale. 

     Afterwards we showered in ice water (the first bad thing I have to say about ISAF) and ate lunch, then went to the gardens.  Yes, there is a beautiful 50 x 50 yard area that is grassy, full of trees, tables and chairs with umbrellas, gazebos, and even rabbit hutches (Though no rabbits. Apparently the cat and the rabbits had a fight, and the cat won).   We marveled at how the upper crust lived.  I could go on and on about how nice this area was, and how I’d go to work for ISAF in a second, but I think you get the drift.

     As we drove home, people were playing soccer on the beautiful grass field.  I looked out wistfully, wondering why the US can’t do this for its troops.  We arrived home to the slums and regaled all who would listen about the wonders of ISAF HQ, and now we can all be disgruntled together.  Misery loves company.

      Something else interesting happened today.  While we were at ISAF, were heard that 3000 Koreans had been placed under house arrest. Seems they were with a humanitarian group that (allegedly) was there to spread the gospel.  One of them even supposedly handed out a Bible!!!  Such activities are forbidden, and will get you in a boatload of trouble.  On our way home from rugby, there were police everywhere, and it was supposedly because of these Koreans.  No effort will be spared to prevent the introduction of free thought or freedom of religion into this country.  Remember, if a Muslim converts here, it is the death penalty for him or her.  You can be a Christian here, you just can’t BECOME one.  Even if we put this country back on its feet, what will we have created? Another religio-fascist state?  I sure hope not, but I fear the worst.  Before I came here, you may remember that a man announced that he had converted to Christianity, and the only way they could save his life here was to declare him insane and send him to another country for treatment.  Otherwise he would have been executed.

     Tomorrow we are supposed to play soccer here at Phoenix, on our nice hard dirt field.  Anyone who slides on this stuff might as well run sandpaper along their body, as the effect will be much the same.  It will be interesting to see how sore I am in the morning.  On a scale of 1 (none) – 10 (get my wheelchair), I suspect it will be 15 (bury me now). 

The Godfather

5 Aug

     This morning I woke up and was pleased to find that my body still functioned after rugby.  A few sore muscles, but really not bad, less pain than after a soccer game.  I didn’t even need the morphine I had acquired the night before, just in case.

     Work was rather interesting. I called up my boss, and said I’d rather skip going to our office, since nothing seems to work there, and all his bad luck might infect me, and I’d go straight to CMA (I know I’ve explained these acronyms before, but if you are like me, you forget them unless they are beaten into you) the Central Movement Agency, the Afghan military trucking organization I am helping.  Mentoring is the correct word, but I think facilitating is better.  Seems like most of my time is spent helping the Afghans figure out who to talk to and how to get things done.  They in turn like to use me as a battering ram to intimidate other Afghans.  I think it goes like this:

Col Rasoul, calling someone at HQ who isn’t playing ball – Hey, I’ve got Capt Traversa here.  I’m going to send him over if you don’t cooperate.  Get those papers signed or else.

HQ – Or else what?

Col Rasoul – He’s an Italian American, you know, like on the Sopranos.  He doesn’t like it if you don’t cooperate

HQ – Right, we’ll have those papers signed today

     You laugh, but everyday someone thanks me for helping to get things done.  Admittedly, I do make lots of phone calls and visits to get things rolling, but they could do it too, and that’s what I am trying to teach them.  In fact, today I made the personnel officer call HQ and tell them to move some paperwork today.  So he did, and they agreed!  He says it was because they knew I had talked to Col Raheim the day before, and Col Raheim said I wanted it done. It is all pretty heady stuff.  I’ll enjoy it while I can. I think Col Raheim used the Sopranos routine. They do know I’m Italian.

     Col Atabar asked me to lunch, and said he had something to ask me.  Hamid and I both laughed; we knew it was favor-asking time.  But I agreed; hey, I didn’t have to find a ride to lunch today.

     After this I decided to sit outside in the shade.  I have a spot next to the water pump building I call my office.  It is shady all morning, so I sit there when I need to make calls. I barely get one in, and someone comes up to talk about something. Today we had three guys there and we did business for over an hour, sitting in a nice shady, breezy area.

     At lunch Col Atabar showed me that he had been working on his computer.  What that means is that he knows how to download photos and music videos. He is particularly fond of Katharine Zeta Jones and Angelina Jolie.  I also got to see some interesting music videos.  One was from India, featuring a big female singing star (Indian music is big here) in a video with US quality production values.  I say this because most are not that good over here. The next was an Afghan singer, who looked like an opera star singing on a stage.  Atabar shut that off after a few seconds.  “No dancing,” he said.  Then came one from Iran.  It showed a bunch of college girls with linked arms doing a dance in a cafeteria or something.  Hamid said they were not professional dancers.  This was a graduation party at a girls’ college.  No men were there, so they were wearing normal western clothing, all very modest.  Still, coming out of Iran this surprised me.  Why was this on?  Hamid then told me that a man had secretly shot this footage, and when the girls’ familes’ found out, they hunted him down and killed him.  I guess there isn’t much of an Iranian porn business, if they execute guys who film graduation parties.  I shudder to think what would happen to the Iranian version of Hugh Heffner. But I’m sure it would not involve a quick, painless death.

     Anyhow, we finished up and sat down to eat.  The Colonel had invited his cousin and a couple of business associates.  They wanted an introduction to Camp Phoenix fuels personel.  They had a deal we couldn’t refuse.  Wow, I really am on the Sopranos.

     “Hey, youse guys, doona make me breaka your knee caps.”

     I explained that there was no way I could help them other than giving their business card to the Camp, and they could compete for business just like everyone else. 

     After dinner Atabar offered us beer, real beer.  Once again we explained that we were not allowed to drink at all.  He assured us that if he were in America, he would drink, even if he wasn’t supposed to.  I have little doubt that is true.  He pulled a couple of Heinekens out of his desk to prove his point.  Someone had changed the channel and now I was on the Twilight Zone again.  No one should be allowed to have as much fun as I’ve been having; it isn’t healthy.

     We decided that we had important work to do, like watching the grass grow, and beat a hasty retreat before it got any weirder.  Next stop, Col Rasoul’s office (he is the CMA commander, in the unlikely event that you’ve forgotten).  We discussed the inability of the contractor to hook up to city power.  I knew a month ago that there was a problem with the Army owing money to the electric company, so they would not allow them to hook up.  Yet the Col was unaware of this, and thought I was nuts.  How could they owe money when the lines weren’t hooked up?   I don’t know, but we are in a country where  Rod Serling does the introductions every single day, so it doesn’t surprise me a bit.

“Submitted for your approval, a Colonel who owes money for electricity he doesn’t have, and a Captain trying to escape from a land they call the . . . Twilight Zone

Cue theme music

     I had fortunately written the name and number down of the electrician, and Rasoul called him, and he came to the office pretty quickly.

    “Hey, Malood, get your butt in here, Capt Traversa and his man Hamid are here.  They don’t look happy. Don’t make them wait. You might have an ‘accident.’ ”

     Turns out that there was a bill due from long ago, when electricity somehow flowed to the base.  Rasoul yelled at the engineer for never mentioning this, and blamed him for everything.  I was surprised I had to do the digging to find out why they had no electricity.

     While this was going on, the Col had his TV on.  Remember I mentioned a couple of days ago there was a guy impersonating a woman, and stealing cars, etc.  Well, she/he came on the TV for a big interview.  Everyone in the office stopped to watch.  There were three Americans in there, and we watched too.  When this guy was all made up, he did indeed look like a woman.  Turns out he had married twice, and killed the husbands.  Col Rasoul enjoyed our looks of shock, disgust, and disbelief as the story unfolded.  Turns out the guy has always wanted to be a woman, but the operation was too expensive.  Thus the life of crime.  Unfortunately the day was drawing to a close, so Hamid could not relate all the stories, so I’ll hear them tomorrow.

     In the evening we had our first soccer practice/scrimmage.  The field is hard dirt, with lots of rocks.  We cleared out a lot of them, and had a scrimmage.  The field is small, so we will be playing 7 v 7 instead of 11 v 11, but it was fun to play again.  The cleats worked quite well on the dirt, and I managed to avoid falling or injuring myself. However, now that I am in bed typing away, getting up has zero appeal.  Hopefully I can manage to set the laptop on my desk before I pass out.

Girly Man and a Hut Divided

 

Girly Man

6 August 2006

     I arrived here 7 weeks ago today; 45 to go.  Time marches on inexorably.

Several people had asked if Hamid wanted anything from the states.  First understand that by Afghan standards, he and his family are middle class.  He doesn’t eat candy because he doesn’t want to get fat.  He says he has enough clothes.  There is one thing he would really like, a small DVD player that can run on 220 electricity or batteries, so he can watch movies even when there is no electricity.  I didn’t promise anything, since I knew it was probably at least $50.  His family said they didn’t need anything, but thanks.  So make of it what you will, I guess they are doing OK, or they don’t want stuff from Americans. Who knows?

     Today Maj Apple finally cracked and said we could move our offices over to CMA, so we have cut our ties with Log Command.  The Afghans were very excited to see us move in. They immediately brought us chai, and we had a steady stream of visitors, all very happy that we had moved in.  I’ve placed two photos of the new offices in the CMA photo album, and in one you can see Maj Apple snoozing at his desk. 

     As weird as yesterday was, today was relatively normal.  My calves were aching like crazy from all the abuse I’d put them through, and I walked with a very noticeable limp.  Occasionally a kindly person would offer me a wheel chair.  At lunch Hamid saw a male soldier with thin eyebrows, and he told me that he must want to be a woman. 

     “Huh?”

     “He plucks his eyebrows, he must want to be a woman.  Only women pluck their eyebrows.  Do you think he wants to be woman?”

     I scanned the crowd and didn’t see any obvious transvestites, not that I thought I would.  Even in the Army that sort of thing is discouraged.  I had him tell me exactly where this guy was.  Of course, he was on the far side of the cafeteria, so I wandered around to get a look, while trying not to look like I was getting a look. Yep, he did have thin eyebrows, and I suppose he may have plucked them, but there was no way to be sure.

     “You’re right, he has thin eyebrows, but I doubt he plucks them,” I said.

     “Yes, he plucks them, I am sure. We should talk to him.”

     “And say what?  Hi, do you want to be a girl?  YOU go and talk to him.”

     Hamid had enough sense not to ask an armed soldier why he had girly eyebrows.    After this he asked me if Michael Jackson had become a girl.  Sigh.

       After lunch, Hamid told me about his days with the Marines.  He used to work for them in far more dangerous situations than we face now.  Can’t go into any details, but suffice it to say that he knows what it is like to be pinned down and under fire for several hours, and he’s had a man die and fall against him after being hit by a bullet.  He is very thankful not to be on the frontline any more.

     My body is thanking me for not playing sports today, and maybe tomorrow I will be able to walk straight.

7 Aug

     Today we had lots of clouds, and even thunder and lightning, but alas, no rain. It was wonderful to see clouds and have a breeze though.  Sadly, the next 10 days are supposed to be more of the heat and sun we are so used to. 

     I am feeling after effects from playing soccer.  My lungs have felt nasty, probably from breathing all the dust, pollution, and exotic microscopic wildlife that lives in our soupy air.  Now I know how a smoker feels.

     The Afghans continue to be thrilled that we have moved in, and I like having an office there. It makes us feel like part of CMA now, and already several have said that we are part of their family now.  Well, for better or worse, we are in it together for the next 45 weeks.  I spent a long time talking to the personnel officer trying to figure out the process for getting their men paid when they go on convoys.  I know I’ve mentioned it before, but it has become one of my biggest headaches.  The good thing is that the personnel officer (known as the S1) is really doing a good job.  He asks me to work on the problem, and I tell him to research what we need to do, and then he works the issue on his own.  Others are doing the same.  It’s almost like just being there gives them confidence.

     Maj Apple will be moving into our hut by Thursday, and either Lt Col M(the coffee king) or Maj Rogers (my car pool guy) will be moving to Camp Eggers.  More to come on that. 

A Hut Divided

8 August 2006

My second article appeared in the Tullahoma News.  They only misspelled my name once this time.  Now I am a regular contributing writer.  Can fame and fortune be far behind?

     Looks like Maj Apple moves in tomorrow, and Maj Rogers will be leaving us.  That is a shame, but he seems to think his digs over at Eggers are pretty nice, so he is not too disappointed. 

     I spent a good part of the morning working on a Powerpoint presentation for a class on leadership.  We’ll be teaching it to the Afghans later.  Powerpoint has been the bane of people in the military ever since its inception.  It allows us to create slide show presentations, and allows our bosses to endlessly revise them.  It is one of Bill Gates’ most evil creations, and I haven’t been near it for almost three months.  But now its baaaack!  Fortunately, Maj Apple doesn’t nit pick (or I do such a good job), so it was done with minimal pain.

     We had more rain clouds today, and it actually rained.  Yes, we all went outside and marveled at wet stuff falling from the sky.  Although the amount of rain was small, it really cooled things off.  The evening almost required a coat.  Almost. 

     Since it is completely impossible for us to get anything for ourselves without selling our firstborn, Maj Apple gave Hamid some money to go into town and buy us some fans for our offices, since we don’t have any air conditioning.  Hamid was able to get three nice ones, and it helped a lot.  However, the Afghans all laughed, since I’ve been trying to get fans for them for almost a month now.  Supposedly they were finally ordered today. However, they said now that we lived with them, and could see how hot it was, we were able to get fans quickly.  I pointed out that we used our own money, and they could do that too.  They in turn thought it would be very nice if Maj Apple bought them all fans too.  Don’t think that is going to happen.

     We had a good talk with Hamid and Safi, another interpreter, when we went to lunch. We discussed Islam and Ramadan, which comes up in 45 days or so.  For an entire month, practicing Muslims don’t eat or do anything for enjoyment during daylight.  This will actually have quite an impact at work, as not much happens at the base.  I’m not sure how it will all pan out, but I suspect we will get some extra time off each day.  Hamid told me that in Pakistan, the mullahs (like pastors) spent all their time giving political speeches against the Afghan president and the US instead of teaching about the Koran.  But he said the people knew their Koran pretty well.  In Afghanistan, however, many can’t even read, and know only what their mullahs tell them.  He said the whole thing about suicide bombers going to heaven was ridiculous.  In fact, they would go to hell.  Only the uneducated who do not know their Koran believe that these murderers go to Heaven.

9 August 2006

     Today Maj Apple moved over, but Maj Rogers decided he did not want to leave, which threw a spanner in the works.  Lt Col M decided that he would move the two majors and himself to one side of the hut, and the four captains to the other, and close off the doorway down the middle. I really don't think he enjoyed living with us. As you might expect, this caused quite an uproar amongst the captains.  We also lose the dayroom, so there will be no more games of golf, no more shared coffee machine, etc.  I actually didn’t have to go to work today, because I had a meeting on Phoenix this morning, and I stayed there to help Maj Apple build the walls for his room.  However, everything was put on hold as Lt Col M made one last attempt to get a conex room for himself.  That failed, and now we are a divided hut.  Further, we found out that all the Army troops here live 6 to a hut, but Air Force are forced to live eight to a hut.  Army officers get a single room.  We are the only officers that live in a hut like this.  It is amazing to me that our leadership allows this.  Our happy little hut is no more. Sorry to be such a downer, but can’t think of anything funny to say today.

10 Aug 06

     A stony silence permeated the hut as the morning of day one of the War of Succession dawns.  I can hardly wait to see if we are asked to build the wall that shuts us out.  I think I’m going to start hanging out at the library.  It will be more peaceful there. 

     Over the last week I’ve been trying to get copies of our office key made.  We had two keys, and I wanted to get four more made.  In the US we’d just run down to Lowe’s and get copies made, no problemo.  But as you may suspect, it’s slightly more difficult here.  First I tried to use our money to get copies made.  Sorry, all funds have been frozen.  OK, I’ll try the Army Corps of Engineers contact.  He said he would get with the contractor to get copies made.  This was on Saturday.  So I gave my key to him, leaving us with one key.  Today I finally got the keys back, and I got 10 copies instead of four. The good thing is that we didn’t pay for them.  I know have enough spares to ensure everyone in Afghanistan can get in our office.

     Hamid was telling me more about the big soap spera that everyone watches here.  It comes from India and is called “The Mother-In-Law was Once the Daughter-in-Law.”  He was so eager for me to see it that we went into the Col Rasoul’s office and watched it this morning.  It comes on at 10:00 AM and 8:30 PM.  American soap operas have nothing on this show.  A business man, married and has a new child, heads off on a business trip but is attacked by a rival and injured, getting amnesia and being nursed back to health by a beautiful doctor who falls in love with him.  Meanwhile the wife and her family are shown another body which they believe is her husband, so they assume he is dead, and she goes on with her life.  She is about to get married to someone else, when her husband walks in to the wedding, still with amnesia, and the bride to be sees him and rushes over to him.  Memories start flooding back, and he passes out.  He still can’t remember it all, and unfortunately she doesn’t have wedding photos because they got married secretly.  Good stuff, and the hottest show in Afghanistan.  So good that a family gathered in their living room to watch it last night, and a thief snuck in and cleaned out the rest of the house while they watched raptly.   Hamid was sure I was hooked, and said we could watch it everyday.  He translated the whole show for me, and he was so excited that I got to watch it.  I think I’ll ask him each day what happened the previous night.  He seems to enjoy it so much. 

    We spent all afternoon putting up the Berlin Wall.  Lt Col M did give us some of his side of the hut for a day room for us.  So we built a zig-zaging wall which gives us an extra room for the X-box, and barely room for three people.  Two captains refused to take part at all, and two of us did.  I just wanted to get it over with, so I helped some, though not excessively.  This was not, after all, my bright idea.  Once the construction was complete, Drew (he played rugby with me last week) yelled through the wall “Mr. Gorbechov, tear down this wall!”  LT Col M was still working at 10:30 PM, and I had to ask him to stop using the buzz saw so we could go to sleep.

     I got a care package from my friends Matthew and Gloria Gauthier.  It had lots of science fiction books for our library, at least the ones I didn’t keep to read myself first.  Care packages really mean a lot to us.  Life acquires an unreal quality here.  I have come to accept as normal a country where 70% of the people can’t read, houses look like rubble, grass doesn’t grow, and armor and weapons are as normal as putting on a jacket before you go outside.  I am now in the habit of holding my pistol as we travel, rather than having it in the holster, just in case.  As I came out of my office today, I stood for a minute looking around at the CMA base, thinking how accustomed I had become to the place.  It was just like going home from work in Tennessee (except for the armor I had on, which I hardly even notice anymore).  So back to my original thought, care packages help to keep us anchored a bit.  It’s always nice to know someone is thinking about you. 

West Berlin

11 August 2006

     Rugby was a lot of fun today. Four French guys went also, from the French Quarter next to our hut.  Turns out that one of them was the guy who took the photo of the five of us sitting on the wall in front of our hut.  I’ve been here too long, I’m bumping into people I know all the time.  The weather was slightly cooler, and we were in slightly better shape, so it was not so physically traumatic. Well, maybe it was, as I managed to pull my hamstring twice.  I stretched it out and kept going, because there was no way I was sitting out.  I managed to score three tries today, and got a couple of nice compliments.  One of the French guys (I don’t know their ranks) said “You may not have two good legs, but you are all heart.”  That made my day.  We came home after the game, and did more work on West Berlin (our side of the hut) and I even went over to East Berlin to see how the other side is living.  Instead of having a computer desk, the official Air Force Computer for all to use is on a ledge in their hallway, so anyone using it must stand while they use it.  Admittedly, people did have a tendency to camp out on the computer, and this should help solve that problem. However, the ledge is so high that even I, being six feet tall, find the keyboard to be a bit higher.  Shorter folks may end up standing on a chair.

     On the plus side, I got a top half to my bunk bed, so now I can pile stuff up there, It gives me more storage room, but definitely allows me to destroy what little ambience my room may have had by allowing me to pile stuff on top in a most disorganized fashion.  You can see a photo in the “My Cell” album.

     I know summer is more than half over, but I can’t wait for cooler weather.  I think that, more than anything else (anything else that is likely to happen anyhow; peace isn’t going to break out), will life my spirits.  The hut gets pretty hot when we are home all day, like today.  I just sit on my bed with the fan blowing on me and watch a DVD.  Oh yes, that reminds me of another morale enhancement program.  Our little DVD library will no longer allow us to check out DVDs.  People weren’t returning them. Good grief, it’s not like they can go anywhere.  Hunt them down, shoot them , retrieve the DVD, and everyone else will understand that the late fee is murder.  The thing that really kills me is how little effort is made to improve this place.  It is a dung heap (OK, other words spring to mind, but kids may be reading) and no one is remotely interested in improving it at all.  All you have to do is check out the ISAF base where we play rugby to see what could be done.  Today I saw that they have a small soccer field with astro turf for 5 v 5 games.  I almost cried.  This is where I should be.  It is my destiny.  Alas, we had to come back to Camp Bleak.

     Yes, I KNOW that guys have it worse then I do, and I am thankful I am in a hut, not a tent.  I understand all this.  What kills me is that is doesn’t have to be this way.  It could be better.

     Today someone sent me a music photomontage of our troops over here (I think all were from Iraq).  What got me was the photos of the guys playing with dogs.  We aren’t allowed to touch a dog here.  You know, if I had a dog here, that would lift my spirits too. It won’t happen, but a little pom or papillon that lived with us in West Berlin would be really nice.

     By the way, changing subjects, did you know that Afghanistan is the third poorest nation in the world?  So I was told today.  I can’t vouch for the authenticity, but I don’t find it hard to believe.  You know all those desolate African countries you hear about all the time? Rolling in dough compared to here.  I am curious to find out which two are poorer.

12 Aug 06

     Today was another hot one, and the air seemed very thin. It was hard to breathe today.  Could be the onset of Tuberculosis, who knows.  Each day I kill about 50 flies in our office.  The Afghans insist on keeping the doors to their building open to get circulation, so even though all the windows have screens, they do no good.  Other than killing flies and taking out the garbage, I did nothing today.  We were short on interpreters, and Hamid had to go with a group that was conducting gate security training for our guards.   Motivation was zero today.  My hamstring was hurting from rugby, and Jancy had sent me a couple of heating bandages that you can wear for eight hours. They are about 8” x 10”, so I slapped one on the back of my leg, and my leg burned all morning, as though I had just applied BENGAY and it never lost its punch.  I don’t know if it is better to have the pain or the heat.  I managed to last about four hours before having to remove it.

     I stayed in the office during lunch; I didn’t feel like going out.  So I sat in my office while the others went.  It was nice to have some time alone.  After work we had our first soccer game.  To call it a league would be too generous.  We do have four teams, but today only 12 showed up total, and three were not even from the two scheduled teams, they just showed up to play.  Anyhow, 6 v 6 was perfect for the size field we had, so we had a good time.  I played keeper the first half because of my hamstring being sore. However, once the adrenaline started flowing, it felt much better.  I scored our third goal in a 4-2 win.  More interesting however were the field conditions.  Prior to the game we had a strong wind, lots of clouds, and even a light rain.  Mix rain with blowing wind and soon everything was covered with a fine layer of mud.  By the time we started the game, the dirt stopped blowing, though not the wind.  When we had five minutes left, a huge dust storm hit.  We could barely see, and I had my shirt pulled up over my nose and mouth.  The ref kept saying, “Now this is third-world soccer.”  We finished up the game, and then I staggered back to the hut, wishing I had brought my goggles along.  When I got back, a good honest storm hit, with thunder and lightning and a brief moment of heavy rain.  Most delightful.

     SMSgt White asked me if I was tense today.

     “Why would you ask that?” I said snapping a 2 x 4 in half with my bare hands.  I then saw a fly land on the table and I shot it with my pistol. “No, I’m fine. Hand me that axe, would you?”

     I just told an ANA soldier to make a phone call instead of driving over to Log Command.  They need to learn to use the phone and save some effort.  Perhaps I was a bit short.  The funny thing is, Hamid was translating with a forcefulness and volume not normal for him.  I think he actually interpreted my emotions too. How cool.

     I think that, along with skipping lunch, has him worried that I might be slipping over the edge.  Another major asked me how I was today.  I laughed and said, “As good as can be expected. I’m in Afghanistan for a year. You shouldn’t ask those such silly questions.”  She laughed, because she is a down-to-earth person as fed up as the rest of us.  We have over 150 Air Force people who have been sitting here for two weeks, and they still don’t know for sure what they will be doing.  Life stinks more for them.  It’s a shame things couldn’t have been better organized.

13 Aug

     Apparently playing soccer is a cure for a pulled hamstring, because my leg felt great this morning.  It was really hard to get motivated however. Dragging myself out of bed was tough.  In the morning Maj Apple and I met with Col Atabar for about an hour.  Col Atabar noticed I was in another world, and he said, “You look like you are in America,” which was amazingly perceptive, because that’s exactly where I was. 

     The guys in West Berlin have all finished their room renovations, and everyone seems in better spirits.  I will miss the large dayroom, but such is life.

     I asked Hamid about the soap opera he likes, and the husband’s memory has come back.  Last night they took him to a familiar place, and it all came back to him. That is certainly a load off my mind.

     We also talked with another interpreter about dogs.  This guy comes from a wealthy home, and they have three outside dogs that guard their yard.  He seems to like them, and says some people do keep dogs as pets, but not many.  Sadly, dog fighting is very big over here, and lots of betting goes on over these fights.  I think that the Afghan hound is called a “Tasi” over here.  Unrelated to dog fighting, I know, but this e-mail seems to be stream of consciousness.

     Maj Apple and I both stayed in the office for lunch.  I brought an orange and a bag of chips from Phoenix, plus I have beef jerky and Slim Jims and other assorted snacks from my care packages.  Hamid was disappointed I did not go to lunch again.  He said he will stay back and eat with us from now on.  Camp Phoenix won’t allow the interpreters into the cafeteria because they haven’t had all their inoculations.  So it’s OK for us to be with them everyday, but heaven forbid we would contaminate those who never go outside the wire.  There are people who literally spend the whole year on Camp Phoenix, and never leave. 

     Our last two CMA people moved over from Eggers to Phoenix, so we are all one big happy family (OK, one big family anyway).  That now leaves us with 17 people and four vehicles, which makes getting around a little better.  Interestingly, we found out that all personel are directed to travel in armored vehicles. However, Commanders have the discretion to waive that if they think it’s safe enough. I now wear my helmet when we travel, as well as holding my pistol.  Believe it or not, helmets are optional while traveling.  Breathing is optional too, but I choose to do it.

Today marks . . .

8 weeks in Afghanistan

12 weeks since I left home

44 weeks till this tour ends

7 weeks until my 4-day pass here at Camp Phoenix (there’s so much to do and see here, how can I cram it into 4 days????)

12 weeks until I go home for December leave (that was depressing, I just realized I have as much time to wait as I have just spent away)

Another Big Post - Bombs and Love

 

14 Aug 06

     I found out there are two programs for interpreters, one where they can go to college in the states, and one where they can immigrate.  Needless to say, I will be filling out applications for Hamid, and he is ready to go to the states now.  Now that his brother is getting married, I guess he gets to take care of Mom if Hamid leaves, so it’s not an issue. 

     Today we almost didn’t go to work because there was a risk of riots in town, but I can’t go into details.  However, it would seem the risk was acceptable, and we did go, as the roads were declared good (well, relatively good, they are never actually good, just varying levels of bad).  There was a bomb yesterday and another today, fears of another, and coming home was really, REALLY exciting.  I got to drive like a maniac (and this would be a recurring theme throughout my stay here) in our convoy, and if we hadn’t been worried about our lives, I would have had more fun.  Believe me when I say it was unlike anything I’ve done before.  Yee Haw!  When do I get to go home?

     Maj Apple, Hamid, and I had lunch with Col Atabar.  He again commented that I looked homesick, and had been looking bad for a few days.  He also commented that I always looked like I was thinking, as I was always rubbing my temples or had two fingers pressed against my right temple.  These are due to a couple of factors.

     1.  I am indeed thinking a lot.  I am using thinking about how I’m going to get my job done without a printer, copier, internet connection, or now a phone (which has died).  I am thinking that skinny dipping in molten lava would be an improvement.  I am thinking that there are many crazy people in the military, because they volunteer to do this.

     2.  When I hold my head in both hands, I am usually thinking “Make the bad man stop.”  Or maybe, “How in the world does ANYTHING ever get done here.  Or “Please headache, go away.”

     I got a care package from my friend going all the way back to 7^th grade, Joel Black.  Three good books, and most importantly, more Excedrine! I’ve been sharing with the guys at the offices.  Seems lots of us are getting headaches.  Imagine that. 

     My excitement today was acting as referee between Col Atabar and Massoud, the guy who is trying to deliver furniture for the CMA DFAC (cafeteria).  This is the same guy who tried to deliver scratched chairs last week, and I told him to take them all back.  This time he brought out a sample table.  I suspect he dreads visiting us now.  After a half hour of dickering, we came up with some improvements he would make, and he’ll bring out another sample Thursday. 

     Well, that’s all for tonight.  With all the bombs going off, maybe we’ll get a snow day tomorrow.

15 August 2006

     Looks like there were two bombs yesterday, and enough of a threat to keep us home today.  Snow Day!  Yay!  What to do now that I have a whole day off?  I decided to embark on the next phase of my master plan to get on the Daily Show and Colbert Report and get a book published.  I started a Web Log (or Blog).  Seems to me it would make more sense if it were called a “Wlog.”  Or maybe not, since trying to say “Wlog” will cause you to sprain your tongue.  (Note:  remember, I wrote this a month ago.  All of you reading this are doing so on that very Blog.  So far its been going very well.) 

     Mike and Doug are gone for a few days, so Drew and I have West Berlin all to ourselves.  I put some styrofoam up at the top sections of the Berlin Wall, which weren’t quite finished.  I was still able to hear Lt Col M yelling across East Berlin this morning, so further soundproofing was needed.  Maj Apple watches TV a lot (he’s making up for all those weeks in a tent), so I am glad he did not move in next to me.  The endless noise would have pushed me over the edge.  And you don’t want someone with two weapons and lots of ammo going over the edge of anything.

     I spent almost all day working on the computer, mainly on my blog.  Despite the fact that it is supposed to be easy to use, it wasn’t.  But I’ve managed to stumble through enough to get it going.

     Saw my first two mosquitoes today. Maybe those malaria pills will prove useful after all.  I was really convinced there were no mosquitoes here, so it came as a big shock to me.  I did kill both of them, of course. 

     We get this Saturday off because it is Afghan Independence Day, so we get a real, two-day weekend.  More time to work on my blog!

      And finally, tomorrow at 1200 we hit another milestone.  August will be half over! It is already dark by 7 PM here.  I imagine by winter it will be dark pretty early.

16 August 2006

     I did some more work on my blog, and now you should be able to leave comments if you wish.  Added more photos, mainly from Fort Sill, several of which I had not sent out before.  So you could call it my directors cut.  You can also see next week’s newspaper article early. 

     Work was uninteresting, and in the afternoon we took our SUV in for servicing.  As in the states, we had to wait a good bit for it to get done.  I brought a book along, and it was a good thing, as it took about 90 minutes for the oil change and car wash and cleaning.  When we got home, we heard that one of our vehicles had just missed getting hit by an IED (bomb).  I mean JUST missed.  I mean, it’s nice they are still with us, just missed.  I can’t go into any details, but we are feeling pretty scared.  I suspect that now that this has happened, things will change.  I sure hope so.  (Note to self: quit dreaming)

     On the lighter side, I took in some goodies to share with the Afghans.  We have a young soldier who sits guard in our hallway everyday, and a kid about 12 years old who hangs around too.  I gave them both some Sweet Tarts and a brownie.  You should have seen their faces light up.  Of course, they’ll probably be back every day now asking for goodies.  Gave Col Atabar a packet of Sweet Tarts too, we’ll see how he likes them.

17 August

     Massoud, the guy trying to outfit the CMA cafeteria, brought out a second sample table, and this time Col Rasoul, the CMA commander, got involved . We had a delightful 30-minute discussion about what sort of table was acceptable.  Admittedly, the one they brought in today wasn’t real impressive . Nothing here is.  At least it had a hard veneer on the top.  The bottom line was that I got to explain that the Air Force (or Army, or US) wasn’t going to pay for nice, solid oak furniture.  Col Rasoul seemed to prefer a cheap plastic table, so poor Massoud will have to come out one more time with three samples, and I told Col Rasoul that at that time we would make a final selection, period.

     Because of all the bombs lately, we won’t be traveling to ISAF to play rugby. Bummer.  However, I do have a soccer game tomorrow evening, and my hamstring has been doing great, so I should be good to go. 

18 August 2006

     Today was our day off, and we get tomorrow off too for Afghan Independence Day.  They won their independence from the British too.  I asked Hamid what year they gained their independence, and he had no idea.  I guess they don’t have a 1776 like we do, or Hamid was sleeping during history class.  I had a nice day off, sleeping in, and watching the Giants kill the Chiefs in a pre-season football game.  Even though it was pre-season, it was good to see football again.  Can’t wait for the regular season to start up.  I did more work on my blog, and played soccer in the evening.  We played the Romanian team, which had beaten teams 13-0 and 16-0.  We only lost 8-1.  I had a good time playing, and had a couple of real nice almost-assists.  The best thing is that I didn’t have to travel anywhere, so we didn’t need to worry about IEDs at all today.  I also went to the bazaar and had a good time bargaining.  I’ve gotten pretty good at it.  I went towards the end of the day, and it went just like this:

Me – “How much for this?”

Seller – “$40. I make you good bargain.”

Me – “I’ll give you $20”

Seller – “Oh no, I won’t make money.”

Me – “Fine, I’ll go over there.” Start to walk away.

Seller – “Wait, you give me $30.  No profit for me.”

Me – “You know you will make a profit.  Don’t give me that.”  I pull out a $20 bill. “Here’s $20. Do you want to go home with the cash or not?”

Seller – “$25.  You give me $25.”

Me – “No, I’ll give you $20.  You’ll still make money.  Do you want it or not.  I can just go over there and buy it instead.”

Seller – “$22.  You can give $22.”

Me – “No, here’s a $20.  Do you want it?

Seller – “OK.” We make the sale. “You can give me gift.”  He is pointing to a pen Matthew and Gloria sent me that hooks on to my neck wallet.

Me – “No. it’s a gift from a friend, I’m not giving it to you.”

Seller (they are persistent) – “You can give pen.”

Me – “No, you’ve got the money. You don’t want the money?”

Seller – (big sigh, like I had just robbed his house) “OK.”

     Lots of fun, and I still probably paid too much, but when you go from $40 to $20 and $40 to $16, you have to feel good.  Jancy and Ryan will be getting something in the mail soon.

     And the final bit of good news today, the chow hall had packages of Gatorade we can mix in our bottled water.  How cool.  Ideal, since I had just played soccer.

 

19 Aug –

     I missed an important milestone yesterday; two months exactly, boots on the ground, in Afghanistan.  Two down, ten to go.  Tomorrow marks 9 weeks in country.

     Today was another day off.  No bazaars to visit today though.  I stayed inside and  worked on my blog, played games on the computer, and generally hid from the world.  We played soccer at 5:30 PM, and we tied 3-3.  I scored two goals, so was feeling pretty happy.  After the game I had to rush back and shower to get to a meeting of all Air Force personnel on Phoenix.  The meeting itself was nothing special, just a chance for the ranking Air Force officer and NCO in Afghanistan to meet us.  The most interesting thing to me was that both of them were at Fort Sill in the group ahead of me.  So it was neat to meet someone who had been to Fort Sill.

     I also learned that there are folks who have it a lot worse than I do.  Many of the new AF people who came in a couple of weeks ago have gone on to other bases, and there is no place for them to sleep.  They have people 20 to a hut the same size as ours.  So life could be much worse.  I love my little cell.  They can’t even send the women down range yet, as they have no facilities for them.  Isn’t it grand how much thought was put into this? 

     One of my roomies and I had a nice talk about how screwed we are. Turns out some of the guys here have already written death letters, where they write a final letter to their loved ones, give the copy to a friend, and ask them to mail it if they die.  He has started waking up wondering if this is the day he dies.  Welcome to the club, my friend.  I think about it every time I get in the SUV.  Helmet on, gun in hand, scan out the window, go very fast, and look for bombs.  If I survive this, I’ll feel I’ve survived something equivalent to infantry who did a year in Vietnam.  I need to get that sitting duck painted on the side of the car.

     Drew is trying to decide whether to get out of the Air Force.  We are downsizing the Air Force pretty drastically.  He can take $100, 000 and get out once our year is up, or wait and see if enough others take the money and get out that he can stay in.  If he meets the board and gets kicked out, he’ll only get $50,000.  Let’s just say, after all we’ve been though, taking the money and running is looking mighty good.  The Air Force is being gutted.  Don’t know how we will be able to keep deploying at this rate, filling Army positions, and kicking people out (the euphemism du-jour is “Force Shaping”).  We call it self-inflicted pain.

     On that cheery thought I’ll go watch some TV.  Could use a Hogan’s Heroes tonight.  It’s on order, but until it gets here, I’ll have to do without.  I also find that my music helps drown out the surroundings.  I’ve been playing lots of Irish Rock (thanks Taylor), The Best of Queen (thanks Ryan), Gilbert and Sullivan, Bach, Enya, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, Dance Hall Crashers, and the Aquabats.  I defy you to find a more eclectic mix of music.  What I didn’t load onto my computer was Weird Al Yankovich.  I’ll have to load them on my laptop when I come home. 

20 Aug

     We’ve had a lot of clouds lately.  Thursday and Friday were cloudy most of the day, and even Saturday and Sunday had clouds late in the day.  It’s been nice having cloud cover, both because it’s something different, and because it is cooler.  Highs are usually around 90 now, but not too humid, so I can almost imagine fall coming.

     Today’s story requires a brief introduction.  A couple of weeks ago, Jancy went in to our vet’s office.  Dr Windley gets my daily e-mails, and the office staff reads them. Tonya (hope I spelled it right) told Jancy that she’d marry Hamid (remember I had mentioned his desire to get married).  Well Tonya, careful what you wish for.

At lunch today SMSgt White, Hamid, and Walli (another interpreter) were discussing Walli’s upcoming marriage.  As most marriages are, it was arranged, and he is marrying his cousin.  The conversation went something like this:

Me – “Well, now that you (Walli) are getting married, we need to find a wife for Hamid.”

Walli – “Yes, we must.”

Me – “You know, one of my friends said she would marry him.”

Walli – “Really?”

Me – “Yes, but Hamid wanted to marry a young, Muslim girl.”

Walli – “No, no, a woman is better than a girl.  Is she a woman or a girl?”

Me – “She’s a woman, not a girl.”

Walli – “Oh, that is much better.”

Me – “But she is older than Hamid.”

Walli – “That is not a problem. That is good.”

Hamid, finally joining in – “How old is she?”

Me – “In her 30s, I think. I don’t know for sure.”

Walli – “That is good!”

Me – “I’m pretty sure she won’t become a Muslim.”

Walli – “Not a problem.”

Me – “She smokes.”

Walli – “Again, not a problem.” 

Me – “And there’s a lot to be said for an older woman.  You don’t want a young girl, you want a woman!”

Hamid – “Was she serious? Or was she joking?”

Me – “All I know was that she told my wife she’d marry you.  All we can do is ask.  She’s tough, if you ever did anything to hurt her, she’d punch you.”

Walli – “Not a problem.  He won’t ever hurt her.  You should never hit your wife.”

You may have noticed Walli has no problems with anything.  I could have said she was a convicted murderer, and I think he would have said it was no problem.

Me – “She won’t be a meek little wife, you will be partners.”

Hamid – “Has she been married before?”

Me – “I’ll need to check with her.  I’m not sure.”

Walli – “I know all about this.  We can fly him over there, and they can get married, very easy.  Then he is citizen.”

Me – “You’ve got this all under control, don’t you?”

Walli, smiling –“Oh, yes.”

Hamid – “If she is serious, have her send me a photo.  She has seen mine?”

Me – “Oh, yes.  I’m sure she’d love to marry a handsome young man like you.”

Hamid blushes, and we are all laughing at his discomfort.  We continue to pile on.

SMSgt White – “Yes, I think you should consider this.  You want to marry a real woman, not a girl.  There’s a lot to be said for experience.”

Hamid – “Have her write me and tell me about her life, if she is serious.”

Me – “I’ll do so tonight.  We’ll see if she is serious.  You could be a lucky guy.”

     To spare you any further suspense, it was just a jest by Tonya, and wedding bells will not be ringing.  But now that my blog reaches millions (well, maybe a hundred) readers, let me know if you or someone you know is interested in Hamid as a husband.

21 Aug –

     After sending off my nightly e-mail last night, I immersed myself in editing old e-mails for my blog.  I had the Irish rock going, while watching the Bucs-Dolphins game on the TV (the Bucs did lousy).   Reliving my trip across the ocean and my days at Manas made me completely forget about being here.  It was a nice reprieve.  Despite four articles in the newspaper and my blog going strong, I have not heard from Jon Stewart or Steven Colbert.  Sigh.

     Hamid says that he has 20 people visiting, and they are all staying in his two-room house for two weeks until his brother finally gets married.  When they sleep it is pretty much wall-to-wall people, and there are kids who get up early and TALK!  Poor Hamid was looking rough this morning.  He is not getting much sleep.  I told him I had written everyone about our conversation at lunch, and asked Tonya to send a photo.  He looked a bit shocked.  I don’t think he fully knows what to make of me.  We saw Wali later, and told him too.  So both are wondering what Tonya will do.  Wali will set him up with an e-mail account so he can write Tonya directly, should she so wish.  Wali says that Hamid should just tell her all about Wali, but substitute Hamid’s name, since Wali is much more interesting.  As you may suspect, Wali does not suffer from low self-esteem, and would do well selling used cars.  So now we are all waiting for Tonya’s response!  Wali said we need to hurry so we can get Hamid married off and get rid of him.  I said he could not get married until I went back to the states, as I wanted to be at the wedding.  Wali and Hamid are actually good friends, but you would not know it from all the banter.

     Col Atabar came by my office while the interpreters were all out.  He saw my dachshund calendar, and was making it clear he liked the dogs.  So I showed him all my photos of my family and my dogs.  He loved Buffy (my Pom) and Pip (Jancy’s Papillon), and wanted me to fly Pip over so he could have him.  I suggested he get a small dog for CMA.  Don’t think he is going to go for it, but I gave it a try. 

     Speaking of soap operas, I was stunned to learn that in the latest episode of “The Mother-In-Law Used to be the Daughter-in-Law,” the female doctor who helped the husband who had amnesia (for a year) had fallen in love with him, and was now calling him at his home.  The wife found out, comforted the husband, and asked if he loved the doctor.  Egads!  He said yes!  And further, the doctor may be pregnant with his child!  The suspense is killing me. 

     Around 100 more chairs were delivered for the cafeteria, and this time I insisted that we start unwrapping them from the protective cellophane.  I’ve attached some photos of the project.  Col Atabar and the S2 (Intel Officer) helped, as did Hamid and I.  The S2 challeged me to a contest to see who could unwrap a chair the fastest.  In the first round I murdered him, almost getting two done before he got one done.  In the second round it was closer.  We were all laughing heartily at the whole thing, and it was the most fun I’ve had here.  Afterwards, we all ate in Col Atabar’s office.  SMSgt White and MSgt Richard joined us, and we had a great meal of lamb kabob, rice, bread, and something new, apples.  Col Atabar insisted I try a green pepper.  Turns out it was Jalapeno-like in its intensity.  My lips were numb for 10 minutes, and my tongue was on fire.  Atabar thought it was pretty funny, and he kept eating them to show how tough he was.  Clearly his taste buds have long since been destroyed.  While we were eating, the S2 challenged me to another round of unwrap the chair.  I suggested that if I won, he would get a dog for the base (I’m going to get a dog somehow).  They all laughed, and then someone asked him what he would get if he won, and he said it didn’t matter, because he was certain he would lose.  We never did get to do a rematch.  Maybe tomorrow.

  22 Aug 06

     I gave Col Atabar an extra Dachshund calendar I used to have in my room.  He saw the one I had hanging in my office, and asked if he could get one too.  I suggested again that he get a small dog for the base.  We shall see.  He again asked that I ship Pip over for him to have.  Poor Pip would not survive the flight, never mind being torn away from Jancy.  He likes Poms and Papillons the best, so it is a real shame we couldn’t get one of the dogs we are fostering over here for adoption.  Small dogs are hard to get here, and are usually imported from Russia.    

     Today Maj Apple had a bathroom emergency, and had to try out the Afghan toilet.  We all waited in dread, wondering what horrible fate would await him as he tried to hit hole in the floor without hitting his pants.  His solution was to grab the door of the stall and lean back.  This provided proper pants clearance, but also puts too much stress on the door.  Apparently it is coming off the hinges. 

     Once he got back, He, Hamid, and I had a long talk about the proper positioning for going number two.  Apparently the foot rests on each side of the hole are not actually used.  It is best to place the feet forward of the hole, and then you can do the deed without hitting the pants by simply squatting.  After this we discussed bathrooms in America. Hamid could not conceive of sitting in a tub relaxing and reading a book.  Then, as only Hamid can do, he hit me with another twilight zone question.

     “Don’t you want to have sex if you are taking a bath?”

     “Why in the world would you ask that?” I asked. 

     “Well, you are naked.  That must make you think about sex.”

     At this point I was nonplussed (one of those great high school vocabulary words that no one ever uses).   What could I say, other than, “No, I am able to take a bath without wanting to have sex.”  We then had a heart to heart which will remain between the three of us.  This boy needs to get married.  Badly.

     We ate lunch again with Col Atabar; Maj Apple, Hamid, and I.  It was another good meal, though exactly the same as the previous day.  They pretty much have the same meal every day for lunch.  I enjoy the lamb kabobs, the rice, and the bread.  I leave the community bowl of yogurt alone, and the okra has no appeal.

     In the afternoon we were out in the vehicle yard when we all heard a large explosion from down near the main road, and saw a big column of smoke.  I would say the explosion was no more than a mile away.  It may have been an IED, or it could have been a mine being detonated down by the airport.  There is mine clearing going on there all the time.  I have attached photos for you in the CMA album.  Imagine the feelings going through all of us as we saw an explosion less than a mile away.  It is pretty sobering, I assure you. The Afghans assured us it was just a mine being cleared, and we shouldn’t worry. I called it in, but we could not confirm that it was a mine.  Ultimately, everyone said “Screw it” and we all went home.  Such is life here.   

Wedding Bells and Barf Buckets

Continuing Large Posts to get my Blog Caught up to Present Day

23 August 2006

     We have been told repeatedly that when the Taliban were in control, the streets and sidewalks were usually empty.  Now that they are free, the Afghans do show a vibrancy and enthusiasm that belies their poverty.  The streets are full of people, which is a bad thing (for us), as we are trying to drive on the same streets.  I am not exaggerating when I say people just stroll out to cross busy streets without looking.  Children run everywhere, and occasionally one is hit by a vehicle.  Parents have a pretty casual attitude towards safety, or so it seems.  The worse thing you can do is throw candy or money to children.  You will be swarmed in seconds.  We are expressly forbidden to do this, but stories do circulate about a car that was completely stuck when such a swarm occurred.  Please Don’t Feed the Kids!

     Stealing is so common it might as well be legal.  Maybe it is.  Part of what drives this is the staggering level of corruption, coupled with the inability to get people paid in a timely manner.  Soldiers and civilians working for the government think nothing of selling off issued equipment, fuel, and anything that isn’t nailed down.  They need money, and they aren’t getting paid in many cases.  In such circumstances, morality is comfortably tucked away in a dark corner. 

     I remember hearing back in the states that crime is the price of freedom.  That is well illustrated here.  When the Taliban were ruling with an iron fist, and the morality police were beating people with sticks (really!)  if they dressed wrong, didn’t have a beard, or had hair too long, crime was almost non-existent (well, other than the crimes being perpetrated by the morality police).  The opium trade was shut down.  People weren’t getting hit by cars, because everyone was hiding in their homes.  So you had a crime-free, accident-free, opium free country.  Sounds good until the bill comes due.  No freedom at all.  No TV, no freedom of speech or religion.  No rights for women at all, and they won’t be going to school either.

     Now there has been an explosion of freedom, and commerce is booming.  Opium is being produced in record quantities.  The streets are crowded, and bombs go off a couple of times a week.  Yet the people seem pretty happy.  Despite the problems, I’ve never met anyone who wants the Taliban running things again (not that they would tell me).  However, a stable, free, democratic Afghanistan will require a full generation to achieve.  Today’s children need to be educated, then grow up and build this country from within.  Don’t know how it will all turn out, but I am more firmly convinced that freedom and democracy must come from within, not be imposed from without.  The strongest, most vibrant democracies are those where the people fought for it.  I will be pulling for these people, and hope they have the spine to keep their freedom. 

    

24 Aug  - Lost in Kabul

     Today started off much as every other day as we headed off to the vehicles.  All was well until Maj Apple said, “Lets try a new route.”  Visions of my father’s many famous “short-cuts” flashed through my head, and it was all I could do from screaming “Nooooooo,” much as Luke Skywalker did when Darth Vader said, “Luke, I am your father!”  OK, breathe deep, surely he knows what he’s doing (I’m sure the German General Staff thought much the same thing when Hitler said , “ Hey, let’s invade Russia.”).

    “I know we need to turn down one of these streets,” said the Voice of Doom.

     Well, it’s been a nice life.

     We turned down a street, and were soon caught in a traffic jam at a road block.  If you look in the “How Not to Get Blown Up or Kidnapped” handbook, item number one states “Avoid trafic jams.  Keep other vehicles 100 feet away.”  Oops.  Is this test going to be curved?

     Eventually we went down another side street, and were in totally unexplored territory. 

     “OK,” I said, “This is now officially a bad idea.”

     “This is fun,” said Maj Apple, clearly delusional.

     “It’s fun until we blow up,” I countered unemotionally. 

     “Naw, they won’t hit high-population centers,” said the ever-optimistic Apple (within a few weeks we would find out just how horribly wrong he was).

     “Perhaps today they will change their strategy.”

     Once we found our way out and were back in familiar territory, Maj Apple said, “Ok, Doug, you can breathe again.”

     “Nope, I’ll keep holding my breath. I crapped my pants. You might want to hold yours too.”

     Witty banter like this continued, and I told him when the revolution came, he’d be the first against the wall.  Just because it’s witty doesn’t mean it’s not true.      

     We finally arrived at CMA safely.  Whew.  Col Atabar came in and sat down for coffee. This will be a new ritual, now that we have our coffee machine set up.  After coffee, he asked if we played chess, and before you knew it, he had rounded up a set and we were playing.  Col Kabir, the Deputy Commander, came in, and they teamed up against me.  It was a close game, but ultimately they beat me.  In the world chess championships, it’s Afghanistan 1, USA 0.  Sorry guys.  Atabar knows exactly what he is doing.  By the way, instead of saying “check,” they make a swishing sound.

     I got some Indian music videos from Atabar for my computer, and there are some catchy songs, even though I don’t understand a word of it.  I am listening to them while I type.  Pretty cool.  Their stuff is very upbeat and flamboyant.

   

25 August 2006

     No riots in town today, so we could go play rugby.  I packed up my gear, including my Auckland Warriors Australian Rugby League shirt.  It was a gift from my son Taylor, and I never dreamed I would wear it while actually playing rugby!  It may seem silly, but I thought it was pretty cool.  One guy came up to me and said, “Hey, that’s a classic 1995 inaugural season shirt.  Who’d have thought that while in Afghanistan I’d run into an Aussie who knew all about my shirt?  Things never stop getting weirder.  As for the game, I scored three tries and had an assist.  We ate lunch there, and had a magnificent steak dinner.  It was glorious, not like the nasty steak we have at Camp Phoenix.  We then sat around in the garden area I’ve mentioned before, drinking our cappuccino.   Yes, these NATO guys have it rough.  On the drive back I felt a strange peace as we tore through the streets.  I’d settled into a routine again, which is probably a bad thing, considering where I am.  Rugby photos will be in the Afghanistan photo album.

26 Aug –

     10 weeks, boots on the ground in theater.  I’ve hit double digits.  Woo Woo!

We had a guy in Afghanistan (not here at Phoenix) catch malaria, and he wasn’t taking his medicine.  If he lives, they will kill him. Career over, man!

     Work was uneventful.  I did play Col Atabar in two games of chess.  I went over to see him on business, then said we needed to play again.  So he sent one of his guys off to find a set, but no luck.  So he called Col Kabir up, and he brought his set over.  I told Atabar he had to play me alone, no help from Kabir.  He insisted that Kabir wasn’t a good player, and had offered no real help in our first game.  Nonetheless, after Kabir brought the set, Atabar told him he had to leave.  I won the first game, and Atabar said he had let me win so I’d keep playing him.  I said he didn’t know me very well, because I’d play 100 times just to beat him once.  He insisted we play a second game, so I said I was going to play fast because I had to get back to the office (we were in his office).  We played a fast game, and I managed to win again.  When we got back to my office, Kabir asked Hamid who had won.  Hamid was very happy I had won.  It seemed to mean something to him. He didn’t want Atabar to keep beating me.

     Because of transportation issues, we only worked a half day.  When I got back I was feeling achy, like a flu, so I took a nap.  I was awakened by mail being delivered; two boxes of books from Kathy Terry (from Papillion 911) for our library.  Thanks for sending them!

     I had enough time to regain my senses, and get ready for soccer.  My aches were all gone, so I thought I’d give it a try.  This time I decided to wear sneakers rather than cleats, just to see if I got better traction.  They worked quite well, and I had my best game.  We were up 2-1 at half time, and I scored three goals in the second half as we won 5-3.  One goal was a direct kick from outside the penalty area (not that we actually have lines on the field) and I placed it perfectly in the upper left corner.  It was glorious, if I do say so myself.  David Beckham would be proud.  After the game the other team asked me to play for them next week (we often borrow players for games) so that made me happy. 

     We have set up a fantasy football league for the Air Force guys over here.  We have 18 teams, and points are awarded each week based on how your players perform in a real game.  I have managed to stock my team mainly with Buccaneers, Giants, and a few Jets players, my three favorite teams.  I have Eli Manning, Shockey, Toomer, and Jacobs from the Giants, the Buccaneers defense (you just pick a defense, rather than players) the kicker from the Bucs, and a couple of Jets.  Should be fun.  My team name is the Killer Chihuahuas (its funnier than Killer Papillons or Killer Pomeranians) and my Chihuahua, Rommel, will be the team mascot.  I’ll add his picture to the photo album too.

27 Aug – Peace Through Hot Wings

     Hamid is looking a little rough.  His brother’s wedding is Thursday, and the whole wedding process takes several days, and there are the 20 plus relatives living in his house (remember this is a two room house with a single outhouse in the back, and no shower or bath tub). He informs me that they are supposed to be helping with chores, etc, but they don’t.  They feel they are on vacation and shouldn’t have to work, but they do sing and dance a lot (no doubt cheering on the few people who are actually working).  Hamid had to buy a suit for himself for the wedding, and he finally got that taken care of.  He will be very glad to get this over with.  Another of our interpreters, Walli, is getting married this week too.  Love is in the air.

     My big success for the month was finally achieved today.  I accepted delivery of 20 floor fans for the Afghans in CMA.  It’s been a long time coming.  Col Atabar and Col Rasoul have enjoyed ragging on me about how long it has taken, and that summer would be over by the time they got here.  Well, when they finally came in, Atabar said thanks, and then said it was too bad they didn’t need them anymore.  So I told him I’d better not see one in his office, since it was no longer hot.  He got a good laugh out of that.  And yes, he is certainly getting one. 

     Maj Apple and I ate lunch with Atabar, along with MSgt Richard.  We waited for almost an hour before we ate, and Hamid came in after his lunch.  I learned the lamb kabobs we eat are actually purchased downtown, as is the bread.  That would explain the delays.  After we ate, Atabar regaled us with tales of his life in Russia.  He spent five years there during the Soviet occupation.  Apparently Atabar was quite the wild man, and left behind many heart-broken women.  So between the drinking and the women, I suspect (and I may be going out on a limb here) that he is not a very devout Muslim.  Hamid needed to pick his jaw up a few times.  Here are two guys on opposite ends of the spectrum of behavior.  Hamid told us about a den of Chinese prostitutes in Kabul that had recently been closed down, and of course he started asking about what life was like in America, and did we allow such things?  It is impossible to explain the intricacies of American life to someone who has never experienced it.  For instance, in Russia, couples kiss in public without shame.  Do they do that in America?  Yes, and sometimes a great deal more.  Our lifestyles are amazing to Hamid, as we once again described life in the land of the free.  He also asked how Muslims conducted themselves in America.  His final question was most interesting.  He thought it must be very hard to be a good Muslim in a free country.  Maj Apple misunderstood, and said that we had religious freedom, so anyone could be a Muslim.  I interrupted and said Hamid was referring to all the temptations they would face.  Ahhh, yes, that is very true. 

     On the way home we were discussing how thoroughly Atabar had been corrupted by the Soviets, and eventually we came up with a sure-fire plan for success in Afghanistan.  If we want to ensure that the Taliban never come to power again, all we need to do is open up a whole chain of Hooters in Afghanistan.  The men will be corrupted, and the Taliban will never stand a chance.  Can you see it a couple of years from now?  Your average man is given a choice:  Be ruled by the Taliban, and have no TV, no freedom, no education for women, no choice in clothing or behavior, or embrace democracy and eat hot wings served by curvaceous, scantily-clad women.  I’m thinking they’ll go for the wings.  Atabar would probably buy the first franchise.  This approach will work throughout the Middle East.  No more killing, no more war.  It is so simple, so obvious, so cunning, I think the four of us should share the next Noble Peace Prize.  Then Jon Stewart will have me on the Daily Show!

     After figuring out how to achieve world peace, I was feeling pretty good.  Even better was a soccer game awaiting me that night.  I played for another team today, and played keeper the whole time against the Romanians.  I had a good time, made some good saves, and had an assist off of a goal kick.  The game was pretty respectable until the last few minutes, when they scored three goals, and finally won 8-2.  Not a bad showing against them, however.

     Today marks ten weeks in Afghanistan.  This last week of August is crawling by.  I am always glad to have August end.  It means fall is close, as is the NFL.  Both things mean even more to me this year.  Will this month never end?

28 Aug -

    I am about to finish up page 95 (single spaced, 12 pt Times New Roman Font) of my chronicles.  Assuming I can keep this up all year, I will have plenty of material for a book, even a big, thick one.  Feeling sick tonight, so will keep it short.  Went by the tank graveyard again today, and drove further into it.  My friend Jed will appreciate this: Hey, Jed, I saw a T-34/85!!!! How cool is that? (for the rest of you, a WWII tank.  I used to annoy Jed no end telling him how vastly superior it was to his favorite tanks).  They gave it to someone else, and never bothered to tell him.  Ouch.  Got to do some shooting at the range today to maintain proficiency.  I did well, and am confident I can hit a target in a combat situation, assuming it isn’t moving or shooting back at me.  I have to get up very early tomorrow, so I am off to bed.

31 August 2006 - Back from the Dead

     I’ve recovered enough to write again.  I’ll describe the events in gruesome detail, because it’s both funny and informative.  If you don’t want to read about my brush with death, stop now and rest easy knowing I am recovering, albeit slowly.  It all began Monday night.  I started feeling hot around 9PM that night, and shortly thereafter I threw up a few times (fortunately making it to the latrine in time).   I went to bed, foolishly hoping I would be fine.  Around 11PM my stomach was churning again, and off to the larine I went, and threw up a few more times.  Surely I was empty by now.  I headed off to the clinic, as I knew I was in a world of hurt.  Once I got there, I managed to tell them my symptoms, then asked for a barf bucket.  Pronto.  Wee, I managed to throw up again, multiple times.  I know I haven’t eaten that much.  After taking my vitals, they called in the PA (physician’s assistant), and checked me in for the night.  I suspected this would happen.  Our clinic has 6 beds, all in the same room, separated only by curtains.  The beds have been designed for maximum lumpiness and discomfort, and only the fact I was virtually unconscious allowed me to sleep.  They decided to give me an IV, and I heard the words and patient hates to hear.

     “Hey, do you want to do this IV? I haven’t done one in a while.”

     “No, I’m no good at those.”

     “OK, I’ll give it a try.”

     Understand that I have been told on numerous occasions that I have nice, thick, easy-to-find veins.  No one has ever failed to stick it on the first try.  Until now.  I got jabbed a couple of times in the right arm, but they couldn’t find the vein.  They decided to try the other arm.  The same fellow reaches over me and starts to try on my left arm.  The bed is against the wall, so he can’t go to the other side of the bed to try this.

     I’ve had enough. “No way.  I’ll turn around in the bed.  And get someone who knows what they are doing. I’m not going through that again.” 

     Fortunately they brought someone in who knew what they were doing, and the IV was inserted.  I slept for a couple of hours, and then they came in to check vitals.  I sat up, and my stomach heaved, and I barfed with gusto.  Where was all this coming from?  After that, my body decided to try the other end, and off I staggered with IV in arm, to the single bathroom.  It was occupied.  However, my body wasn’t waiting.

     I found an orderly. “Hey, tell them to get out, it’s an emergency.

     They finally cleared out the bathroom, and I discovered the joys of dysentery.  Where is all this coming from???  After an eternity on the toilet, I stagger back to my bed, and suddenly I have to go again.  Guess what, bozo is back in the bathroom.  Maybe they should save this bathroom for the guys who are sick.  So we do the whole routine again, and I manage not to murder him when he comes out. 

     I spent the rest of the night and most of the next day sleeping, waking for another explosive decompression in the bathroom every couple of hours.  Since I had a fever the whole time, they would not let me go back to the hut.  It is a testament to the severity of my illness that I managed to sleep at all, since there was plenty of noise going on all the time. 

     By 3 PM on Tuesday I was able to go back to the hut.  However, I spent most of my time in bed sleeping.  On Wednesday I was able to make my way to the chow hall three times, but I had to force myself to eat.  I was nauseas all the time, and continued making emergency sprints to the latrine.  Wednesday night was actually worse than the others, with my intestines so filled with gas I expected to rise off the bed like the Hindenberg (with the subsequent explosions).  I pity my poor hut mates.  However, when morning finally came, I edged slightly towards normal, just when I thought I’d have to check myself back into the clinic. 

     Smells are driving me crazy now, every scent making me sick.  This whole place is maddening right now.  I can only hope that by tomorrow morning I will be back to normal.  I can’t take much more of this. On the bright side, August is about over.  One more month down. 

1 Sep - 11 Weeks Boots on the Ground in Theater

     Happy to report that most symptoms are gone from my bout with death.  My appetite is almost back to normal, and I may even try coffee tomorrow.  I no longer do an entertaining Hindenberg impersonation, and I can freely venture away from latrines worry free.  This was our normal day off, so I would have played rugby, but I wasn’t that adventurous.  The potential for an on-field relapse and subsequent humiliation were too great. There are no latrines anywhere near the field.  So I stayed home and cleaned out my cell and worked on getting my pay straightened out.  Still not getting my hardship pay, an extra $100 a month.  I can’t even remember what else I did; it was that dull.  I cleaned weapons while watching some football.  At 4 PM a soccer team from Eggers (the camp like a maze) came over to play, and I went out for that.  They brought over about 15 guys, all dressed in FC Milan jerseys (a Spanish team) and looked ready for a real game on a real field.  I’m sure our lunar-surface-like field came as a big shock.  We only had 7 players, so they lent us one and we played 8 v 8.  We lost 2-1, and towards the end of the game we had two instances where I made a nice pass on the ground to a guy making a break, only to have it hit one of the many boulders on our field, and it went over his foot. Sigh. We lost 2-1. 

      After dinner I went down to the library.  A week ago a bunch of boxes of donated books appeared outside of the library.  After a day or two someone moved them inside, but that was it.  I decided to take over, since no one seems to be in charge anyway, and started opening boxes and piling books on top of other books in the shelves.  I must have opened 20 boxes, and it was most illuminating.  First of all, I think some of these boxes had been sealed for a long time.  They looked pretty beat up.  Some of the stuff sent to us was bizarre, such as the Disneyland brochure, the instructions for the 93 Toyota, lots of old computer books, and enough romance novels to start a used book store. Admittedly, we do have women here, but I’d say at least 50% of the books were romances.  Several boxes were filled with moldy books, and those went straight in the dumpster.  Many had cockroach droppings, and I even saw two living roaches. I wonder if we have just introduced the cockroach to Afghanistan.  As if this country doesn’t have enough misery already.  Science fiction books were in short supply, but I did see a few old ones I remembered from my youth, which made me smile (briefly).

2 Sep 06

11 weeks boots on the ground in Afghanistan

3 months until Christmas leave

     Hamid survived the wedding of his brother yesterday.  Since Hamid has no sisters, he had to supervise both wedding parties (there are separate ones for men and women).  He said it was very tiring, but everything went well.  Some of the hordes have left his house, but not all.  He is looking forward to life getting back to normal.  Now that his brother is married, Hamid is next in line.  If any of you ladies back home are interested, speak now or forever hold your peace.

     Col Atabar is undergoing treatment to grow more hair.  He has a receding hairline, nothing serious, but he is taking drugs to grow hair. He swears it works.  He also rubs ointment into his scalp every night, and has to shave his head each week for the ointment to be most effective.  So he came in looking like a marine today. 

     Our group got a fifth vehicle, so now Maj Apple and I have our own SUV.

     In the evening I went to the library to open more boxes, and after a while, the librarian came in.  I didn’t realize there was one. She’s with the National Guard unit that runs Phoenix, and she volunteered to run the library, but had been sick.  I found out all sorts of stuff about the books.  They had been in storage here for a year, shipped in with the previous Guard unit (from Florida) which explains all the roaches and palmetto bugs infesting them.  They had been locked in a conex (big metal box) and forgotten.  The new guys opened up all the old conexes, unloaded two pallets of books, and left them outside the library for a while, and we had one of our rare rains.  Finally they were hauled into the library, but not unpacked.  That’s where I entered the picture.  We got the rest of the boxes unpacked, and if you remember awhile back I mentioned that I had found several books that looked interesting, but were the second in a series? I found the first book of one of these in a box I opened today, so I guess it was all worth it.  For all of you sending books for our library, don’t worry, we still have space for more.  I also learned that we have the biggest US library in Afghanistan.  We’ll be getting more shelves built, so it will be quite something by the time I leave.  Our next project will be to get the books sorted by categories.  When I’m bored I’ll go down and do a bit at a time.

The Dreaded Afghan Hamburger and Suicide Bombers Strike

3 Sep 06 – Afghanburger

     We had a long talk with Hamid today about how things would be in his home now that he has a sister-in-law.  The new couple don’t have a honeymoon, but remember all those visitors that were at Hamid’s house?  Many of them hang around for a week to do all the housework so the new bride and groom don’t have to do any work.  After that, she does most of the housework, and is now responsible for taking care of Hamid’s mother and the house.  She will wash the clothes for everyone, cook their meals, etc.  Of course, we told him that when a couple gets married in the states, they generally move out and start their own home.  Not quite the same as the indentured servitude that marriage seems to be here.

     Col Atabar invited us to lunch, and said he would order out for hamburgers.  Needless to say, we were skeptical.  Hamid assured us it was a beef hamburger, so we had to try this.  While we sat in Atabar’s office, they loaded up the table with all the food we would normally eat, lamb, rice, bread, even french fries.  He also had a plate of hot peppers, which must have been really hot, because everyone who ate them started sweating and their faces turned red.  I wisely chose to refrain from partaking.  I still remember the last time I tried one of Atabar’s peppers.  However, we were not allowed to eat much, because we had to wait for the “hamburgers.”   Finally they arrived.  Picture a giant pita pocket stuffed with a few thin slabs of meat (it looked like ham, but no way it was ham), a sliced up egg, onion, misc veggies, and french fries, all wrapped in a highly sterile Afghan newspaper.  I’ve never seen anything like it. 

     It is important to note that I have yet to regain my appetite.  I am eating about half what I usually do, but I make a point of eating healthy stuff.  I wasn’t hungry when we went into Atabar’s office, and the site of this monstrosity filled me with dread.  My stomach and I had a little conversation.

     Stomach – “You aren’t going to eat that, are you?” 

     Me – “I am afraid so”

     Stomach – “Weren’t you sick enough last week?”

     Me – “Hey, we have to try it.”

     Stomach – “But there’s no room in here.  Are you mad?”

     Me – “I have but one stomach to give for my country.”

     Stomach – “You will pay dearly for this.”

     I managed to eat about a third of it, and I was stuffed and feeling sick. At this point we got word that KAIA (the airport, about a mile away) had been attacked by rockets.  We all scrambled to return to camp, and I got to drive a little more recklessly than usual.  So I definitely feel I am earning my imminent danger pay here.  In the last week we’ve had an IED and a rocket attack.  I’ll have all sorts of great stories to tell.

     It was fortunate that I could spend the afternoon in my hut, as my stomach did decide to punish me by inflating and twisting my intestines like a clown making balloon animals at a kid’s birthday party.  Even now, at 9:15, I can feel it making a dog. Or is it a cow? I can never tell.

     I achieved another milestone; I am now on page 100 of my memoirs!

4 Sep - Today was a Holiday?

     Labor Day snuck up on me.  I didn’t even realize today was a holiday until around noon.  I guess we don’t get the day off.  Today I took Hamid out to our new vehicle to make sure we both would know how to change a tire.  I wanted to make sure we had all the pieces for the jack, and that it worked properly.  So we pulled out the manual and started looking for all the pieces.  Hamid doesn’t drive, so this was all new to him.  Unfortunately, the manual was very unclear, and it took me a while to puzzle out what it was saying.  Hamid kept asking if he should go get one of the mechanics to show us.

     “No, I’ll figure it out myself. That’s part of the fun. Americans like to do things themselves.”

     “But wouldn’t it be better if we got a mechanic?”

     “No, it wouldn’t be better.  I’ll figure it out.  Then we will both have a great sense of accomplishment, right?”

     Hamid looked skeptical, but shut up.

     I finally got to get the jack working, and Hamid seemed interested.  I showed him where to place it under the axels, and how to dismount the spare from the back.  By this time our hands were black, so we went up to Atabar’s building to use the latrine sinks, the only ones I have ever seen that actually have soap.  The ones in our building have never had so much as a sliver of a bar of soap.  We saw Atabar up there, and I asked him if he had soap stashed in the supply room, and he said he would get us some.  Shortly afterwards a captain came down with five bars.  Now that’s service.  Maybe now the guys who cook our food will wash their hands.  What a nice thought.  Hamid said they’d just steal the soap.  We’ll see.

     Just before lunch another bomb went off, so we were told to stay put.  I found out later that one British soldier was killed, another severely injured, and five civilians hurt.  For all I know, its one of the guys I play rugby with.  It’s almost funny when they fire rockets that never seem to hit anyone; it’s sobering when they succeed.  Just in case it sounds like I’m having too much fun over here, I’m not.  This is why.  I just don’t write too much about it.

     We decided to eat MREs for lunch, and Hamid and Atabar joined us.  It was a lot of fun (at this time we did not know someone had just been killed).  Soldiers kept wandering in just to watch, and we had to shoo them off.  Maj Apple invited us all to meet next year at his home in the Florida panhandle.  Atabar says he is coming and will bring Hamid.  If they really do, I’ll have to drive down for that reunion (though I am not holding my breath).

     After lunch, we left on another one of those hair-pulling adventures which I can’t relate, but had us all rolling our eyes and wondering how long we had on this earth.  Not that we were attacked, just the way everything is handled.  Very frustrating.

     We had a couple of good strong rainstorms come through the last two days, and today was really hinting at fall.  Last night I broke out my official air force PT suit, the only authorized winter gear here other than my uniform.  We call the pants “MC Hammer Pants” because they are so large.  If we ever get our hands on the idiots who designed the PT gear, we will kill him, slowly.  Very slowly.

5 Sep 06 - Suicide Bomber

     Tomorrow is my daughter Elise’s 20^th birthday.  She’s already a senior in college, and so smart I can’t even understand what she is studying anymore.  I’m very proud of her.

     I found out that the bomb yesterday was a suicide car bomb, and 4 Afghans died as well as the British soldier.  Today an IED was found outside the entrance to Log Command, and a bomb went off further west.  I can’t believe we were even sent out after all the activity the last couple of days, and I can’t wait for tomorrow so we can run the gauntlet again.  Some of the guys are starting to look a little frazzled.  I am surprised at how calm I feel about it all.  I just drive really fast and keep my eyes peeled.  Guess I’ve made my peace with the universe, and have had a good life up till now, so I can’t complain if something happens.  Not that I think it will, mind you.

    Back at the ranch I discovered the joys of SUV ownership.  I have to get the gas and wash it with a power hose.  It wasn’t too painful and gave me something to do.  I also unpacked more books at the library, watched DVDs, and wished another day of my life away.  Sorry, don’t have anything exciting to write about.  Maybe tomorrow.

6 Sep 06 -

     Happy to report no bombs today.  Maj Apple was sick, so at lunch I drove him back to Phoenix, and I stayed here for the afternoon too.  No way I’m going to drive out there again.  One trip a day is enough for me.

     I feel very much like the guys probably did in WWII who flew on bomber missions.  They were safe at the home bases, but when they set out on their mission, they were vulnerable.  Whether they found their target or not, whether they hit the target or not, they still had to make the trip, and it was the trip that was so dangerous.  Much the same we form up each morning, knowing that our leadership has not bothered to get us reliable communication, nor do they care to know when we depart or when we get there safely.  Fifteen men looking a bit grimmer each day, fully armored up, bristling with weapons, knowing full well that if a bomb hits us, there won’t be anyone to shoot at. There never is.  So each morning we head out, much as the men in the B-17s did many years ago.  We both hoped to return that evening.  We head out the gate into the chaos that is the road system on Kabul.  Any vehicle parked along the road could be a suicide bomber.  It might try to pull up along side and blow up.  Look for new piles of rubble, or a rock that wasn’t there the day before.  Go as fast as you can, passing the endless lines of slow-moving trucks that impede your progress.  Each time traffic slows, you look at the faces of all the people around you. Anyone look like they have a vest of explosives on them? Anyone coming nearer than they should?  Here’s a chokepoint, look around, anything new here?  Hit the speed bumps as fast as you can without destroying your vehicle.  More speeding and dodging, try no to hit the idiots on bike that weave out in front of you.  We finally pull in to CMA, and live to fight another day.  We’ll repeat the process on the way home.  One more mission down.  But unlike the bomber crews, we don’t get to stop at 25 or 50 missions. 

     When you leave the base, it is called “Going outside the Wire.”  No one goes outside the wire more than we do.  And yet, we are not a combat unit, and aren't looking for a fight.  We just keep flying missions until they let us go home.

     The good thing is that Camp Phoenix rarely gets attacked, as other bases around here are more vulnerable.  So when we get home, it is pretty safe. 

     In less than three months I’ll be on my way home, if not there already.  I can’t wait.  It will be so strange being back.  I can’t imagine going around without my Magnum.  I wear it everywhere.  It’s as basic as putting a hat on.  I try to remember what it is like to hold my wife, to have dogs climb all over me, to lay in the grass, to eat a real hamburger.  Two weeks won’t be enough to cram it all in, and then back here again.  At least I’ll be on the downhill slope at that point.

     A care package just came in from Bonnie Brucks with Pom Posse.  She got me a 2007 Pom Calendar and three PG Wodehouse books, all Jeeves and Wooster of course J Thanks. Already have the Pom calendar hanging up, since the first page has July – Dec 2006 on it.

     Also looks like a bomb may have gone off. Rumors are flying.  If so, that’s four days in a row.

7 Sep 06 - Three-Day Weekend

88 days until I leave for Christmas Leave

     Things have been so ugly all week, and road conditions bad again today, that we got to stay home.  Further, Saturday is an Afghan Holiday. So that means . . . Three Day Weekend.  Party, party, par-tee.  We, not really.  But a bunch of us Air Force types did go to the gym and play volleyball for two hours.  My team won the series 6 games to 1.  Since things have been so dicey around here lately, I am going to take a pass on rugby tomorrow.  I don’t see the point in taking unnecessary risks. 

     Yesterday I asked Hamid how things seemed in Kabul compared to last year.  According to him, things were pretty quiet last year, with hardly any bombs at all.  This year is much worse.  He says people have learned to accept it as part of daily life, however, and it hasn’t impacted the daily routine too much.  However, that same day, Han, another interpreter, came in wearing his body armor and helmet.  Things are starting to worry him a bit.

     I had a second comment posted to this blog, from someone who discovered it at fazed.org, a site where my son posted info about my blog.  I’d love to check out fazed, but I can’t.  You see, our internet provider here on base has one of those content filters running, to ensure we don’t look at anything naughty.  Problem is, it also filters out all sorts of other innocuous stuff.  So I can’t go to fazed, because our filter software is sure it will corrupt me.  Not only do I pay $35 a month for dial-up speed internet service, it also plays Big Brother.  Just one more insult to your troops fighting for your freedom and security.

        NFL starts tonight, which means tomorrow morning I’ll be watching the game. Ahh, sweet football.  There is simply nothing else to write about today.  Sorry, but no news is good news.

A Tragic Weekend

8 Sep 06 –

     Today was an eventful day, at least for the poor folks outside the wire.  Because of all the enemy activity in Kabul this week, I decided to skip rugby.  No need to travel under risky conditions.  Turns out it was the best decision I’ve made since coming here.  Maj Apple came looking for me this morning.  He said they were doing an accountability check, since a big explosion had occurred in Kabul.  In order to find out what was going on, I got on the internet and checked out CNN.  I found two articles about bombs in Kabul.  In the first one, I read that a roadside bomb had killed three and wounded six.  Additionally, six bodies showing signs of torture were found throughout Kabul.  The second article was even more chilling, at least to me.  I quote it here, with my comments inserted in brackets.

     Bomb explodes near U.S. Embassy in Kabul

     KABUL (CNN) -- At least two U.S. soldiers were killed in a massive explosion in a suicide car bombing near the U.S. Embassy in Kabul Friday, Afghan authorities said.

     According to an Afghan crime scene investigator, a pair of U.S. soldiers and four to five bystanders were killed in the attack that spread debris and body parts across the Massoud roundabout, about 50 yards from the embassy.

     [The Massoud Roundabout is a big, two-lane traffic circle that I’ve driven through many, many times.  It is a key intersection in Kabul.]

     "A Coalition convoy was the target of a vehicle-borne improvised explosive device this morning near the U.S. Embassy here," Master Sgt. Chris Miller said.

     Journalist Tom Coughlin said a U.S. Humvee appeared to bear the brunt of the attack, saying the vehicle's turret had been blown 30 yards away from the burning wreckage by the force of the blast.

     [The blast occurred no more than 300 yards from the rugby field.  The players heard the explosion and saw debris flying in the air over the wall of the compound.]

     Video from the scene showed a charred foot on the ground as military medics attended to a limp body dressed in military fatigues a short distance away.

U.S. military vehicles quickly took up positions around the area as debris burned on the streets.

     [The blast occurred this morning, but I’m not sure how close to when I would have been traveling]

     Later on in the day the death toll climbed to 2 Americans and 16 Afghans, plus 29 wounded.  There was a rumor that the two Americans were both Air Force, but I could not confirm it (I later learned they were both Army).  I’ve stopped having fun. Now it’s scary.

10 September 2006

     Yesterday a soldier stationed here at Camp Phoenix was killed. Whenever this happens, the internet is shut down until the family can be notified.  I understand that they want to assure that the family receives official notification first, but this also causes stress for our families who expect to hear from us each day.  There is no good answer, it’s just something we have to live with.

     Today we did not travel off base.  The poop has hit the air oscillation device, and we aren’t going out to let kamikaze pin-heads try to blow us up, at least not today.  Tomorrow is the fifth anniversary of 9/11, and there is certainly concern that the insurgents would love to make a statement on that day.  Hopefully we won’t be traveling.

     If anyone tells you that religion never hurts anyone, they are dead wrong.  You may think I’m just setting up a straw man here, but I have actually heard that said on more than one occasion.  While most religions teach toleration, not all do.  I get to see how religion kills people every day.  Interestingly, the kooks who are blowing themselves up over here represent mainstream Islam about as much as Jim Jones and his followers represented mainstream Christianity.  All the Muslims I talk to say suicide is forbidden in the Qu’ran (Koran), and these car bombers are going straight to hell.  Well, somebody’s in for a big surprise.

     I also found out that 3 US civilians were killed in the big explosion on Friday.  None of these folks were stationed at Phoenix (as far as I know), and I don’t know any of them.   This is all getting too close for comfort.

     When we do go back to work, I’ll be driving with a new sense of urgency.  Now I don’t only have to worry about bombs along the road, I have to worry about idiots trying to ram us and blow us up. 

     I did a few useful things around the hut today.  I created a curtain rod for my doorway from the leg of a broken lawn chair, so the blanket in my doorway now slides easily to either side.  I also built a book shelf/storage box to go on top of my bunk bed.  It serves the dual purpose of supporting the big piece of plywood over my room, so I can now put heavier stuff up there.  I also bought a flag of Rheinland-Pfaltz, the state in Germany where we lived for three years when I was stationed at Ramstein AB.  I got it at the German PX last week.  It was a bit larger than I expected, but I have it attached to my ceiling now.  I’m guessing I have the most decorated cubical (can’t really call it a room, since I have no room in my room; OK, I’ll stop now) in our group.  You can see new photos of my humble abode in the “My Room” photo album. 

     I also went down to the PX to buy some sneakers and white socks.  Simple enough, you would think.  However, the PX carries one brand of shoe, and only has sizes for midgets and giants.  Same thing for the socks.  Why do I even bother?   

     On the plus side, football will be on tonight!  I can almost taste it now.

5th Anniversary of 9/11

11 Sep –

     Yesterday evening I found out that a few of us had to go out to work, despite the fact that it would be the 5^th anniversary of 9/11, and the threat level was high here.  But some folks from HQ had to come out to evaluate progress at the ANA bases.  I can’t go into details, but there were threats that had been identified in the area.  So we were going to make the run to work.  I was more than a little worried, and for the first time I started thinking about dying.  I was a driver for our little drive in the country, and I have never been so focused.  Up until recently we were mainly concerned with roadside bombs, which though deadly, had both been inaccurate and rarely lethal.  But now they were using suicide bombers with enough explosives to destroy a Hummer.  Nine more months of this and they’ll bring me home in a straightjacket (I keed, I keed)

     Once we got to CMA we all breathed a sigh of relief.  CMA had never looked so beautiful.  My office looked so beautiful.  My desk looked so beautiful.  You get the idea.  Hamid said that everyone was talking about the suicide bombing, and many people were worried.  Kabul had been very peaceful for four years, but now all these attacks were occurring.  He was glad we had come into work, as he was bored at home and likes working.  Col Atabar came by to have coffee with us, and told us he and his family had passed through the spot where the car bomb had gone off only ten minutes earlier.  This bomb had touched so many people I knew; now it was personal.  My rugby cohorts had seen the explosion, and Col Atabar just missed it.  Sheese.  He had wanted to call to make sure we were OK, but did not have our number, so I had him and Hamid exchange numbers.  In the future he can call Hamid, who can call us, and so on. 

     We really didn’t have much work to do; we were just there for the evaluation team; and even though we went in extra early, we found out that they would not show up until late in the afternoon, and maybe not at all. 

    I called Massoud (supplier of tables and chairs) and he brought out the final design for the Chow Hall tables.  Much to my surprise and delight, they had actually redone them completely, and they looked great!  Even Col Atabar was pleased.  As usual, he gave Massoud a hard time, just as a matter of principle, but we were really pleased with the final result.  So maybe in two weeks ("This IS Afghanistan," laughed Massoud, "who knows how long?") we will have our 70 tables. 

     Col Rassoul and Col Atabar have decided that we are now family, so we do the traditional Afghan greeting, which involves shaking hands, hugging, and kissing on the check.  I’m trying to be a good ambassador, but I draw the line at cheek kissing.  So I shake hands, do the half-hug, but avoid the kissing.  Even more disturbing is watching two men go through all this, then doing a groin thrust.  Fortunately, this rarely happens, and never with Americans.  I think (I HOPE) they know better than that.  As though this day wasn’t traumatic enough.   

     We all ate lunch with Atabar, four Americans and four interpreters.  Atabar seems to enjoy these big lunches, and was very happy we could all be together.  After lunch he wanted to play chess, and he beat me twice.  I could always claim I was preoccupied with the impending visit, plus the dangerous roads.  I doubt he’d buy it, though.

     The VIPs visited, then we loaded up and raced home, this time with me in the lead.  Driving like a man on a mission, leaning on the horn a lot, we made it home.  Never, never had I been so happy to be home from work.  I have not heard of any bombs today.  Ramadan starts on the 23^rd.  Maybe these blockheads will stop killing themselves for a month.  We can only hope.  Despite the hair-raising nature of the trip, it was good to see everyone at CMA again, Hamid, Atabar, and the whole gang.  They really are becoming like family. 

     Since I’m always working on my room, the guys now call me Bob Villa, and say I need my own TV show called, “This Old B-Hut.”  Sure, right after I get my book published.

     Everyone keep passing the word about this blog.  I’m averaging 30 hits a day.  Thanks for reading!

A Small Memorial

13 Sep

     When I last saw Hamid, we talked about suicide bombers. He had said before that according to Islam they would go to hell for what they were doing.  I asked him where they get the idea they are doing God's will. They get it from the Mullahs (preachers). They probably never read the Koran, as so many are illiterate, so they only know what the mullahs tell them. They really are the ignorant being led by the ultimate exploiters, the scum that tell others to kill themselves for rewards in heaven.  I really doubt the leaders even believe this nonsense; they just preach it to get an army of suicide bombers. After all, the leaders aren't blowing themselves up, are they?  Look how tenaciously Osama hangs on to his life.  Why isn't he ready to go to Heaven?  Hmmmmm.
     We did play soccer Monday night, tied 5-5, and I scored on a penalty kick.  They reshow football games here on TV several times.  Both of the Monday night games were shown three times each.  So if you were so inclined (I was not) you could watch the Raiders embarrass themselves over and over again, or watch the Redskins’ kicker choke three times at the end of the game (he used to play for the Jets, and caused them to lose in the play-offs two years ago).  Glad to see him gone.
     My fantasy football team, The Killer Chihuahuas, beat Blitzburg handily, thanks to the NY Giants.  Even though the Giants lost, they had good stats, enough for me to get a win.
Go G-MEN!

14 Sep –

    

     For security reasons, there is a great deal I can’t relate in my writings.  Many times I have to be vague.  Sorry, one day when the war is all over I can talk more about it.  I did not go into work again today.  Hamid was sad; he is tired of sitting around the house.  I concur.  Each day I call and say we won’t be coming in, and I can hear the disappointment in his voice.  The threat remains high around here, though no bombs have gone off that I know of. 

     I found out who from Phoenix died on Saturday.  SFC Michael Taua’e Fuga from Samoa died.  He had a wife and 12-year old daughter.  He was in his 40s, and had served in the Army for 16 years and then joined the National Guard.  I did not know him, but I want to memorialize him in a small way by mentioning him to all of you and having him in my blog. 

One Quarter Complete

15 Sep –

     Looks like a lot of changes are going to be made concerning how we do our work, and how we go to work.  We will be looking at ways to work from Phoenix more and from CMA less.  Don’t know how all this will pan out, but it is very good to see that steps are being taken to lessen our vulnerability.  I’ll be doing a lot of work on the computer, which I can do here at Phoenix.

     I went to the bazaar, and found a couple of rugs I really liked.  Don’t know what I’ll do with them yet, but they were very cool, so I bought the pair, after much bargaining of course.  Got the pair for $70, down from $110.  As usual, I was assured that the poor proprietor was not making a profit, and he was just giving me such a low price because it was time to go home.  As usual, I enjoyed the bargaining, but I liked the rugs so much I settled for $70.  Photos of the bazaar are in the “Afghanistan” photo album.

     I found out that the two military people that died in the suicide car bombing last week were not Air Force after all.  Just goes to show how unreliable rumors are.  Sgt 1^st Class Merideth Howard (52) and Staff Sgt Robert Paul (43) were the victims, and both were in the Army National Guard.  I do not believe they were stationed here at Phoenix.

16 Sep -

     Two milestones today; we passed September’s mid point last night, and today marks 13 weeks boots on the ground in-theater.  Assuming that I am here 52 weeks, we can set this up as a fraction, 13/52, and we reduce it to ¼ and we see that a huge milestone has been hit; my tour is ¼ over!  79 days until I can leave for Christmas Break.

     I stayed back at Phoenix today.  I do appreciate the added safety and security emphasis that is being shown now.  I’m not sure what the future holds, but it looks like I’ll be working on some documents here for a few days at least.  Hamid will be sad, but so it goes. 

     We had a free poker tournament here tonight, Texas Hold ‘em.  I played for a bit, went “all in” on a shot at a straight, but sadly the other guy had a straight, so that was it.  The whole thing was free, and I had fun while it lasted.  When you aren’t actually betting your own money, the strategy is much different.  Taking a big risk is not a big deal.  The prizes were various casino T-shirts.  Nothing I cared much about.

     We also played some soccer tonight, 3 v 3.  Camp Eggers was supposed to come over and play, but the roads were still too iffy.  Anyhow, the two young skilled guys were on the other team, and two old guys (me being one) were on our team.  We lost something like 15 – 7, but I scored at least 5.  Just can’t run with the gazelles anymore.

     I had my two carpets rolled up and ready to mail, but a couple of people suggested I hang them up on my walls, so I will look into the feasibility of doing that.  I got to watch Toledo play Kansas in college football.  Not that I care about either team, but football is so soothing, and it was an exciting game.  Tonight we can now watch Iowa/Iowa State or Michigan State/Pittsburgh.  Tomorrow morning I’ll be able to watch the Saturday night games. 

       Sorry, just not much to talk about.  With me staying on Phoenix, my blog may be less interesting.  I’ll have to come up with something to write about.

17 Sep -

     13 weeks in Afghanistan. 

     I spent the day working on the computer in my room, as I have several taskings I can do here, and in the evening I played soccer.  We won 6-5, but any pretense of a league is gone; we just show up and pick teams and play.  I did score a goal, but on the whole my body is not responding as well as it used too.  Old age is finally catching me.  I’ve refused to grow old through sheer will-power, but I think Afghanistan will finally wear me down.  I may start acting my age when by the time I get home.

     Don’t really have much news today.  Just letting you all know that I’m fine.  Things have been quiet lately, but we are all waiting for another bomber to hit.  My next post will bring my blog up-to-date.

Finally Up to Date

19 Sep –

     No one traveled today.  Here are some news stories I found that describe yesterday’s attack.  I have included the web addresses to give proper credit. 

http://www.bakutoday.net/view.php?d=26704

     Hours later a suicide car bomb exploded in the Afghan capital, killing three policemen and wounding another, a police chief said. Eleven people were hurt, city police criminal investigation chief Alishah Paktiawal said.

     The blast, the fourth suicide attack in the city this month, was on a road in the east of Kabul that is often targeted by suicide attackers. Flesh and torn police uniforms and boots were scattered among shattered pieces of vehicle.

http://rawstory.com/news/2006/2ND_Five_suicide_attacks_in_two_day_09182006.html

Five suicide attacks in two days in Afghanistan, 9 die 

Deutsche Presse Agentur
Published: Monday September 18, 2006

     Kabul- The fifth suicide bomber in 48 hours in Afghanistan killed three Afghan police and injured a fourth policeman and 10 civilians in the capital city Kabul on Monday, officials said. Ali Shah Paktiawal, Kabul police spokesman, said the explosion occurred after police became suspecious of the car and attempted to arrest the driver.

     There was some more excitement today, but as usual I won’t say anything until details are released by the news media. 

     But enough about bombs.  Summer is almost over. I think tomorrow is the last day.  I won’t miss it in the least.  As colder weather threatens to arrive soon, the Air Force has discovered that the brand new, mandatory PT uniform, the one we wear all the time if not in uniform, has no sweatshirt or long-sleeve T-shirt.  Supposedly they are working to put some out fast so we will have something to wear when it gets cold.  We do have the sweat suit, but you don’t want to have to wear that all the time. 

     I’ve created a new photo album on my blog called “New Photos.”  If you want to see what I’ve recently added, you need only check that one album from now on. After about a week, I’ll take photos out of there and move them to the appropriate album.  Today’s photos are of our day room, so you can see what we have now for X-box and TV watching.  I have yet to use it, since I have a TV on my desk, and I haven’t played X-box since the great wall went up.  The second photo is artwork that Capt Doug Templeton drew on his wall.  This little guy is available on T-shirts, mugs, shot glasses, etc.  Believe me, right now we’d all like to open up a big can of whoop ass.

     Hamid sounded very down when I called to tell him not to come to work again today.  All these bombings are starting to get to him.  He is also afraid we will all pull out and leave him without a job.  I don’t think that will happen, but I can hardly blame him for being worried.   Hopefully we can go in tomorrow.

     I did get one of my carpets hung up next to my bed; don’t have room for the second one.  A photo is in the “New Photos” album.

    

20 Sep 06

     Here’s another news story about the recent bombings. My comments are in brackets.

http://www.pajhwak.com/viewstory.asp?lng=eng&id=24634

     [This is the bombing next to Camp Phoenix]  KABUL, Sep 18 (Pajhwok Afghan News): Three policemen were killed and ten people, including, two cops were wounded after a bomber detonated his explosive-laden car in Hodkhel area of Kabul-Jalalabad Highway Monday afternoon, security officials said.

     Crimes Branch Chief of Kabul police headquarters General Ali Shah Paktiawal told Pajhwok Afghan News three policemen were killed and ten others, including two policemen, were wounded in the incident. The blast occurred near a local construction company at around 5pm.  Paktiawal said the corolla car had a fake registration number plate.

     Zmary Bashari, spokesman for the interior ministry, said police were chasing the car, and when they were about to control, it the blast occurred.  Aimal, an eyewitness, told this news agency that he saw ten people including six children, a woman and three policemen in a pool of blood. "I don’t know whether they were killed or injured," he added.  Dr Hanif, Taliban spokesman, told this news agency they had no hand in the blast and perhaps it was carried out by Hezb-i-Islami.

     [This is the youth who blew himself up; still don’t know how old he was.]  Two ISAF engineers and two laborers were killed in suicide blast near Pul-i-Charkhi prison on Kabul-Jalalabad Highway on Sunday [just a couple of miles from Camp Phoenix].

     End of Article

         Another quiet day here.  I worked on stuff on the computer and played soccer in the evening. We played 5 v 5 against the French, and I played keeper; we lost 5-2.  Ramadan starts Saturday, and for a whole month Muslims don’t eat, drink, or do anything for entertainment during daylight hours.  They are generally finished working by 1 PM, so we will be having short days, when we do go in.  We are not allowed to eat or drink in front of them either.  So we’ll be eating MREs for lunch I suspect, behind locked doors.  No feasts with Col Atabar for a month.  Supposedly he is giving up smoking, so he and Maj Apple are going to quit together. 

A Farewell to Summer

21 Sep

     Today was rather the first day of fall, or the last day of summer.  It’s not labeled on my calendar, and I’m too lazy to look it up.  The weather was the coolest it has been since my arrival.  The high may not have reached 80.  In the evening, replendant in my Air Force sweat suit (with the MC Hammer pants that make us look like a collection of villainous henchmen from a James Bond movie [watch Moonraker]), I took my lawn chair, book, and headed out to the running track, which is about as close to nature as you can get here.  Back home I love sitting on the back porch with a book and a lemon ice tea, while the dogs play in the yard.  Well, here I can sit in the dirt and look over the walls at the crumbling roofs outside the wire.  Not quite the same, but the shade and breeze were delightful.  I could almost imagine not being in Afghanistan.  If you looked very closely, you might have even seen the slightest hint of contentment.  Maybe. It is remotely possible.  In an infinite universe, anything is possible.

     Amidst all the bad news around here, I do have some good news to report.  The Afghan National Police (ANP) has a bad reputation in this country.  They have been accused of corruption at all levels, and the guys on the street have been accused of doing next to nothing.  But the explosion outside of Phoenix was supposedly due to the diligent actions of the ANP.  As always, I can only speak in generalities.  Four policeman were checking out a suspicious car, and when the driver got in the car and refused to get out, they went after him (instead of ignoring a potentially dangerous situation).  The driver blew himself up as they tried to arrest him.  Three or four died, depending on the news source.  I don’t know how accurate this all is, but it seems that we owe gratitude to the men who gave their lives trying to maintain law and order.  The way things have been going around here, the bomb was probably intended for US or NATO forces.

     Tomorrow and Saturday are holidays, so two more days at Phoenix.  I’ve been tagged to head up the Combined Federal Campaign efforts for the Air Force folks here at Phoenix.  I built an up-to-date listing of all our folks here so I can insure 100% contact. CFC is a program where military can contribute money to a large variety of charitable organizations.

     Elise (my daughter) finished taking the GRE (A big exam for people wanting to go to grad school) and did very well.  Between that and all the schools she wants to apply to, she will get hit for about $800.  Maybe I can get CFC to give me money for Elise’s expenses.

     For those who want to check out news on Afghanistan, I recommend this site:

http://www.topix.net/af/kabul

     It has a good selection of Afghan news.

My Thoughts on Islam

22 Sep

     Since today was Friday, it was a day off.  I went to the bazaar in the French Quarter.  It is much smaller than the one we hold, but there was a guy there selling carpets like the two I bought last week.  In addition to the green and blue one ones I bought, he also had red and brown.  Those seem to be the four standard colors for this design.

     “How much?” I asked.

     “$85,” he said hopefully, looking at me closely to see how big a sucker I was.

     “Whoa, way too much. Forget it.” I walked away.

     “Wait, wait, for you, $55.”  Well, that was easy.

     “I bought two of these last week for $30 each.  I’ll just wait until next week.”

     “Wait, only $40 for you.” 

     “I’ll give you $30, no more. I can wait a week.”

     “Fine, there is no business today, $30 is good.”  He looked like I had just stolen his favorite puppy or condemned his family to starvation.

     So now I have a brown and gold carpet too.  It looks pretty sharp, actually.  Jancy is not real fond of brown, but this one looks good. Trust me, Dear.

     In the evening we played soccer against the Romanians, and in the first half I played forward and scored a goal, my first against them.  I can retire now.  No wait, I have to score on the French too.  In the second half I played keeper, and had lots of nice close shots blasted at me.  Midway through the 2^nd half it was a respectable 6-3, but them, as always seems to happen, the defense packed it in, and we lost 9-3. 

     I’ve almost finished my first book on Islam, and based on my encyclopedic knowledge (ha), I’d say that the Koran can be interpreted differently to suit different personalities, much as the Bible can.  If you’ve ever tried to figure out the meaning, mode, and purpose of baptism, or tried to decide which view of prophecy is correct, as well as many other doctrines in the Bible, you know what I mean.  Just as there are many denominations in Christianity (with apologies to the Roman Catholics, who only acknowledge one, I think), there are many sects, factions, whatever, within Islam.  So if you want an excuse to kill people, you can find verses in the Qu’ran to support your view (usually yanked out of context).  But don’t feel too superior.  Try to list verses in the Bible that oppose slavery, then list the ones that allow it.  Without much effort someone could accuse Christians of supporting slavery, quoting a few verses.  Never mind that the vast majority of Christians are totally opposed to it.  So I suspect the vast majority of Muslims have no desire to subjugate or kill the non-believers.  I can't prove it, but no matter what I learn in my studies, I think I will still maintain that your average Muslim, much like your average Jew or Christian, really doesn’t want to go to war, and would love to live in peace.  You’d be hard pressed to convince me that any of the guys I work with want to force me to convert, or kill me if I don’t. 

     It reminds me of my thesis on combat motivation I wrote when I was getting my masters degree.  I looked at many different factors, and the biggest factors that motivated people to fight were survival and protecting your fellow soldiers.  I was just looking at Germans and Americans in WWII, but I suspect it is much the same today.  You lose sight of the big picture when you are in the trenches.  You want to live, and to do so you have to kill the other guy before he kills you, QED.  If we could just hold a referendum on war, I think most, regardless of religion, vote for a peaceful co-existence.  You will of course have the lunatic minority that insists on killing because God told them to.  So I will not vilify Islam, just a small minority of scum who claim to be Islamic.  When you consider that these guys convince others to kill themselves, I think "scum" is too gentle, but this is a family blog. 

     Off my soapbox for the day. Dr Macfarlane wrote to tell me that her two calendars have summer ending on the 22^nd or the 23^rd.  I wasted much time trying to find out on the internet, and I know that the 23^rd is the Autumnal Equinox, and I think that is when fall starts.  All I know for sure is, tomorrow it is definitely fall! And if it isn’t, don’t tell me; ignorance is bliss.

    

    

    

USA 4, France 2

     23 September 2006

   

    14 weeks in theater

     18 weeks away from home

     10 weeks until Christmas Leave

     38 weeks left

     Today we all stayed on Phoenix, as it was the first day of Ramadan.  I did a lot of work on the computer working on our strategic plan for CMA.  Not terribly exciting to write about though.  In the evening we took to the pitch (or should I say the pits) to play soccer against the French.  I played keeper in the first half, and had a pretty good game.  We were ahead 2-1 at halftime, and I switched to play forward.  About midway into the half I scored a goal, lobbing the ball over the keepers head who had come out too far, and we were up 3-1. YES, we were going to beat the French!  But then they scored, and we were only up by one. I decided to drop back on defense. There was no way I was going to let them catch us. This was our win! This was my win! Honor was at stake!  Shortly after this I cleared the ball down the field, it went off a defender, and one of our guys put it in!  We were up 4-2, with about 6 minutes left.  I had lots of exciting action in front of the goal those last few minutes, and the whistle finally blew. U-S-A, U-S-A!  You may remember that I said I could not retire until I had scored against the French.  Well, now I can retire. Not that I will, I’m just free to do so should I feel like it.

     Maybe tomorrow I will have more to write about, but things are pretty dull when you don’t leave Phoenix.  But dull is good, at least for me J

 

A Clean Sheet

24 September 2006

     14 Weeks in Afghanistan

     Ever have one of those days where you wake up in a good mood for no particular reason, and the mood lasts all day?  It’s been a while since I had one myself, but to day I did.  Despite having to get up early to go to work (yes, you heard me right, I was going into CMA today) I was up and going without the usual grogginess.  The morning was cool, and even though the day would be mildly warm, summer was dead, and it’s hot grip on our daily lives was over.  The drive in to work was exciting, as always, mainly because we never know what may hit.  However, life along the road looked normal, and it was hard to imagine that a suidice bomber could be driving down the street. 

     Hamid was very happy to see me again, as was Col Atabar.  Since Ramazan has started, they can’t eat, drink or smoke during daylight, and this includes drinking water.  We will not eat or drink in front of them, to be polite.  Hamid tells me that Ramazan means, ”No food, No drink, No sex, No fun.”  Atabar told me I’d beat him at chess because he will be weak with hunger when we play.  We will be essentially working half-days, as the Afghans generally don’t work in the afternoons during Ramazan. 

     We left in time to eat lunch at Phoenix.  I’ve been reading PG Wodehouse during my meals.  The Adventures of Jeeves and Bertie Wooster always make me smile, and this evening I was laughing out loud during dinner.  I sit off by myself when I eat, so I can enjoy my books, so I did not get any strange looks.

     After lunch I went by the library to see if any new books needed unpacking, and not only had a couple of boxes come in, but one of them had two coffee cups in them, and one was the nice insulated one with a lid.  I have one of these at work, but was thinking about getting another one for my room. 

     In the evening we had another soccer game against the French.  Yesterdays game was unscheduled, but today’s was.  The French came out loaded for bear. They were all wearing replicas of the French National Team uniforms, shirts and shorts, and looked pretty sharp.  They also had about six substitutes this time.  We also had a massive turnout, with 15 players showing up (and we only play 8 v 8). 

     I was pretty banged up from last night.  I was kicked pretty hard in the left leg, just above the ankle, and had also strained my right knee, and I don’t even know how to do that.  The bottoms of both my heals are bruised, undoubtedly from the rock-hard field we play on.  So I had to make some adjustments for the game.  I wore running shoes with nice springy soles to cushion my heals, and I decided to play keeper the whole game. 

     Despite the impressive French uniforms, we were leading 1-0 at the half.  Our team was playing really well.  They have really improved during the last few weeks.  They are learning to handle the ball well, adjusting for how quickly it moves on the hard surface. I only had to make one tough save.  In the second half I got a lot more action, but our guys came through with two more goals, and I had an assist off of a goal kick.  I had my first clean sheet (that’s soccer lingo for a shut-out) and several players said I should be the keeper all the time.  I have a nice, healthy self-esteem now.  The whole team looked great, and I had a blast.

     After dinner I called home, and was able to talk to Elise (home for the weekend from college) and Ryan as well as Jancy.  After this I was able to settle in for some football. 

     It would be safe to say that today was my happiest day since leaving home.  It was nice to get off Phoenix for a while, the weather was great, and we beat the French again.  I just felt good all day. 

     I posted a photo of the garbage truck that comes out to CMA.  The reason for this is that it is a jingle garbage truck, so I though that was a bit unusual. Check it out at traversa.typepad.com, in the “new photos” section.

A Classy Dining Experience

25 Sep 06

     I went into work again today.  Two days in a row! Unheard of (at least this month).  Today I accepted delivery of a bunch of furniture for the offices at CMA.  To give you an idea of how bad the furniture is around here, I’ve put photos of the current chow hall furniture in my blog.  You can see that it is pretty dismal, and they sit around old desks to eat.  In the background you can see some of the new chairs that had been delivered. 

I’ve also attached photos of Col Atabar and I playing chess.  Today we played to our first draw.  Of course any success I have this month will be attributed to his weakened condition because he is fasting for Ramazan. 

     After I got back to Phoenix, I had to go out again to Camp Eggers with Maj Apple, as we had to go get a vehicle checked out.  Going to Eggers is not my idea of a good time, but we survived and got back OK. 

     No soccer today, which is a good thing, because my body needs to recover.  Too much exertion for an old man lately.  No other news today. Go see the photos at traversa.typepad.com. Enjoy.

Slow News Day

26 September 2006

    

     No soccer to talk about, and no adventures at CMA.  I was doing paperwork at Phoenix today.  I did get two packages and a card today, so mail call was great.  Jancy sent photos, so I have some to hang up in my room.  She has taught Pip, our neurotic Papillon, to sit up! It’s a miracle!  Matthew and Gloria, I got your box of books for the library.  Thanks. The Science Fiction section is growing nicely.  I also got a card from my parents. Thanks everyone!

     I am doing some research on review requirements for my blog, so there won’t be much on it tonight.  I need to find out what level of review is required (this is all standard security stuff).  Hopefully we’ll have answers tomorrow. 

     I fear I am getting a cold, so I’ve been taking my Zicam all day.  This is a zinc-based product I highly recommend if you are getting or have a cold.  I am a hardened skeptic about cold medicines, but this stuff has impressed me for over two years.  Saw the final episode of 4400 last night.  It was hard to follow it over here, as they kept switching times, and for a few weeks they showed two back-to-back.  4400 is a science fiction show on cable, and they show it over here too.  I’ve actually spent a good chunk of the night working (as in working on the computer doing work, not playing games or blogging).  Now it is time to get to bed and fight this cold.

     One final thing, a couple of days ago I got my 1000^th hit on my blog.  Thanks to all of you who read.  Tell your friends!

A Dark Anniversary

27 September 2006

     Earlier in the week I mentioned I had my best day here.  The trend has continued, and I can say I’ve been pretty content all week, with only the onset of a cold to mar an otherwise great week.  We played soccer tonight, but only managed to have 5 v 5, but any soccer is better than no soccer.  Afterwards I was able to talk to Jancy, which is always nice.  I even enjoyed working on our strategic plan, which says a great deal about my mental state (“certifiably insane” springs to mind).  But sadly, nothing cosmic to relate.  Here’s a good article (with the link) from the BBC which helps to illustrate what Afghanistan used to be like, and why most people here hope we won’t leave.  This knowledge helps to make our sacrifices here seem worthwhile.  I truly hope the Afghans never have to fall under the rules of the Taliban again.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/south_asia/5383832.stm

It is 10 years to the day since the Taleban fought their way into the Afghan capital Kabul.

     One of their first acts on seizing power was to introduce their strict interpretation of Islam. This included the banning of women from work and education, and the prohibition of all music and television. Along with these harsh regulations came strict Islamic punishments, which included stoning to death and amputations. The Taleban were forced out of power in 2001 but today the country is once again facing a resurgence of Taleban militancy.

Music banned

     Back in 1996 the world changed beyond all recognition for many Afghans. Women in particular suffered from the sweeping changes brought by the Taleban. Many tens of thousands lost their jobs, girls' schools were closed and women were forbidden from appearing in public unless covered from head to foot in the all-encompassing burkha. Everyday pleasures were banned with a zeal never before witnessed in the modern Islamic world.

     The Taleban's Afghanistan was without music, television or images of any kind. Even the flying of kites - a hugely popular pastime among Afghan children - was considered frivolous and un-Islamic. Kabul in 2006 is all very, very different. Muslim traditions are of course still observed. This is the month of Ramadan - a time for fasting and devotional prayer. But what is different now, an Afghan friend told me, is that if you choose not to fast, you will not be punished. The religious police are no longer watching your every move. Music - not just traditional Afghan melodies, but the harsh beats of techno and rap - now blare out of radios across the city.

Resurgent Taleban

     But this new cosmopolitan lifestyle is only a very limited snapshot of Afghanistan. Conflict and grinding poverty still hold back many of the changes enjoyed by the few in the more affluent cities. And of course the Taleban are once again emerging as a militant and political force in the southern provinces. They do have some support - not least amongst those who see foreign forces in the country as just the latest wave of colonial aggressors. But in Kabul I found only fear - fear that the progress made in the five years since the Taleban fled the city could be under threat. Everyone from the young female students now studying hard on the campus of Kabul University to the migrant labourers looking for work in Kabul's thriving construction industry share that fear. The Taleban's era was a dark age and not one they ever wish to see return.

Another Weekend Coming Up

28 Sep 06

     We are nearing the end of September, another major milestone.  This month has flown by, as opposed to August, which seemed to crawl by.  Guys are starting to head out on their two weeks leave, which makes me more excited, as I know mine will be here soon.  I finished up some computer work and also attended the video teleconference for the Combined Federal Campaign I mentioned a few days ago (for donations to charity).   No soccer today, and the weather was perfect again.  Just another day in paradise.  I think someone must be slipping Valium in my food, because I’m still feeling pretty good, other than the cold I am fighting off.  Of course, I miss my family terribly, but that being a given, life is pretty good right now.  I got a care package from Dr Macfarlane, my college English professor.  The rice crispies treats came through great, and taste very fresh! Thanks.  Other than that, not much to share today.  On the dull days, I’ll look for news from around the area to share, so here’s the news story for the day.  ISAF stands for “International Security Assistance Force,” which are the NATO troops stationed here.  As always, the link for the story is included.

http://www.pajhwak.com/viewstory.asp?lng=eng&id=24997

ISAF soldier killed, five wounded in landmine blast

Pajhwok Report

     KABUL, Sep 26 (Pajhwok Afghan News): An Improvised Explosive Device (IED) apparently targeting an ISAF vehicle, killed one child and an ISAF soldier on Tuesday, 10 kilometers south of Kabul.

     A press statement issued here said five ISAF soldiers were injured and one vehicle was also damaged in the explosion and.  The ministry of interior has stated that five other Afghan locals were also injured as a result of the explosion. The Kabul City Police, an ISAF quick reaction force and an immediate response team arrived on the scene to control the situation. NATO will not discuss nationalities until released by the relevant nation.

     Both Taliban and Hezb-i-Islami have claimed responsibility for the blast. Qari Yousaf Ahmadi, purported spokesman for Taliban, told Pajhwok Afghan News via telephone from undisclosed location they had destroyed a tank of coalition forces with landmine in Sang Noshti area of Charasiab district. He said all soldiers in the tank were killed in the explosion.

     Engineer Haroon Zarghoon, introducing himself as Hezb-i-Islami (Hikmatyar) spokesman, told this news agency their fighters had carried out the attack that had left three foreign soldiers killed. He said car of the coalition forces were also destroyed in the explosion. Answering a query, Zarghoon said: "The Taliban claim is false, Hezb-i-Islami forces have carried out the attack."

What? Pluto is Not a Planet???

29 Sep

    

     Since this was Friday. I took an obligatory trip to the bazaar, just to see if anything new and exciting was available.  Saw some more interesting rugs, but restrained myself and didn’t buy any.  I found out that the scarves over here can go for as much as $20 (or was it $30) in the states, according to one of my friends.  I suspect the same is true of the rugs, a real bargain here if you have mastered the fine art of negotiation. 

     Someone, or several someones, sent three or four boxes of magazines, so I’ve been going through Time and Newsweek while I eat.  Seems there was a spot of trouble between Israel and Lebanon. How in the world did I miss that?  And Pluto is not a planet anymore?  Madness.  Is nothing sacred?

     I’ve discovered the joys of instant oatmeal for meals when I can’t stomach what they are serving.  I eat a lot of salad and fruit now too, as I can’t stand most of the meat they serve.  Chicken is about the only thing I like, and half the time it is over cooked. 

     I think I might finally have my pay all straightened out.  With all the bonus pay you get for being in a combat zone, hardship duty, family separation, plus tax exemption, I earn a significant amount more than normal.  And that doesn’t even count the money I save on gas and food, which is all free here.  I easily get an over an extra $1,000 a month.  So for my year here, I’ll earn an extra $12,000.  Would I give that up to have been with my family instead?  Don’t even have to think about it; of course.  But there’s a job to be done, and that’s part of my job description.  Too bad it’s necessary to be here.  The soviets cease to be a threat, and now we have terrorists.  Just goes to show you will always need a military.

     You may have heard that in Muslim countries there are calls to prayer blasted out from towers all over the cities.  This is very true, and we hear it every day.  During Ramazan they go on for quite a while; I think they are reciting the Qur’an; it’s sort of a singing/wailing combination, and we hear it pretty well here at Phoenix.

     Considering how little has happened today, that’s a pretty good chunk of writing.  Next week I get a four-day pass, so Monday – Thursday I get off.  I won’t be going anywhere, but I am sure I can find something to entertain myself. 

         

Groovy Ghoulies and a Puzzle

30 September 2006

Milestones:

15 weeks in theater

Last day of September

Paid off our house!

     Yes, that’s right, our house is paid off.  We’ve been making lots of extra payments to get out of debt as quickly as possible, and now the house is completely ours.  It’s nice not be paying any interest any more.

     This morning there was another suicide bomber in Kabul, and I’ve attached an article about it.  I do this so I don’t have to worry about giving out info I shouldn’t.  If it’s in the newspapers, it’s public knowledge.  The Taliban certainly aren’t making any friends doing stuff like this.  Do they really believe Allah wants them to kill children?  The mind boggles.

     Hamid was a bit shaken up by this morning’s bomb.  It occurred near his bus stop, and he heard the explosion and saw the smoke.  A friend of his was actually very close, and the police were telling everyone to run away just before the bomb went off. 

     I went into work today, and my big issue was working on the new furniture.  Seems there were a few problems with it.  One is visible in a photo I’ve put in the "New Photos" section.  Study it and see if you can see what’s wrong.  Answer is at the end of this message.  Another tiny problem is that none of the furniture was the design we ordered.  I could not confirm this until today, because we have exactly one furniture catalog for all of us to use, and I did not have it when the stuff was delivered.  Since we ordered it a long time ago, I could not remember exactly what it looked like.  So I had to take photos and e-mail them to the person with the catalog, who confirmed that these were not the right designs.  So the contractor will get to try again and get it right this time. I’m sure he’ll be pleased.

     My friend Jed from junior high has been writing me a lot lately.  We were talking about TV we remember from our childhood, and he mentioned the Groovy Ghoolies, and all the songs they sang, such as “Super Ghoul,” “What’s in the Bag,” and “Oh, Boy a Party.”  Now the creepy part is that I remember those songs too.  Who knows how many songs I heard growing up, but those songs are lodged firmly in my brain.  Anyone else remember these? Insidious. The person who wrote them probably went in to subliminal advertising or something. Or mind control.

Here’s the article:     

    

http://www.turkishpress.com/news.asp?id=144342

     A suicide bomber blew has blown himself up in the crowded centre of the Afghan capital, killing 12 people and wounding more than 50 in the latest of a series of attacks in Kabul.  The extremist Taliban, which is waging a deadly insurgency in Afghanistan, said it had carried out the morning rush-hour attack with a remote controlled bomb, but police insisted it was a suicide attack.  The blast came as President Hamid Karzai prepared to address the media on his trip to the United States, which was marked by a row with the leader of neighbouring Pakistan about the reasons for the rise in the insurgency.  Police said the attacker detonated explosives strapped to his body at around 8:00 am in a crowd of Ministry of Interior (MOI) staff and civilians gathered at the compound's gate.

     "He wanted to enter the crowd that was waiting to enter the ministry," ministry spokesman Zemarai Bashary told AFP.  "The police warned him to stop because he seemed suspicious. After being warned, he immediately blew himself up."

      Bashary said 12 people were dead and 42 wounded. The health ministry said the dead included a child and two women, and that more than 50 were wounded. Many of the wounded had already been treated and released, ministry director general Salam Jalali told AFP.  Others had emergency surgery and three were in a serious condition.

     There have been several suicide blasts in the heavily secured capital this year, putting more and more residents on edge. One of the deadliest was a powerful car bomb on September 8 that killed two US soldiers and 14 civilians.  In the last attack in the city, a bomb killed an Italian soldier and a child on Tuesday on the southern outskirts of Kabul.

     Suicide attacks occur every couple of days in Afghanistan, many of them in the southern part of the country where the Taliban are most active.  They have mostly been directed at military forces but officials say civilians are being increasingly targeted.  The United Nations representative here immediately condemned the attack.

     "Afghanistan’s people have suffered enough. It is wrong for any conflict to be played out in a civilian arena with such wanton disregard for so many innocent lives," Tom Koenigs said in a statement.

     The Taliban entered Kabul almost exactly 10 years ago and took control of government.  After five years in power they were ousted by a US-led coalition for not handing over their ally Osama bin Laden, the Al-Qaeda leader wanted for the September 11 suicide attacks that killed around 3,000 people in the United States.  Their insurgency is going through its bloodiest phase yet, with the revived militia able to attack security forces in large numbers while maintaining a guerrilla-like insurgency of roadside and suicide bombings.

     Afghan officials say much of the violence is being plotted by Taliban sheltering in Pakistan, which they say could do more to round up militants who are training fighters in extremist religious schools.  But Pakistan insists most of the violence comes from within Afghanistan. It says it has 80,000 troops along the border and has made several arrests of Taliban and Al-Qaeda figures. 

     Police said Saturday that Taliban fighters had stormed a police post in a district of eastern Khost province around midnight Friday, sparking a three-hour gunbattle in which three rebels were killed.  Another fighter was arrested after the battle in the Gurbuz district, provincial police chief General Mohammad Ayoob said.  The area is opposite Pakistan's North Waziristan where the government this month signed a peace deal with pro-Taliban militants that Afghan officials have warned could see a rise in rebels crossing the frontier to carry out attacks.

ANSWER

Although the colors look right, you’ll see that there is an oriental pattern on part of one couch that shouldn’t be there.