Spring Brings More than Showers....

The Apache is an intepid hunter.  Vigilant, watchful, lightning fast, they travels in pairs, and are deadly.  And like their namesake, they roam the desert and the mountains they rule protecting their tribe.  Their "arrows" pack a punch, and their smoke signals can bring help in a big hurry.

For the soldiers posted outside the wire, these guardian angels can be the difference.  Much of this war is being waged by small groups of soldiers up close and personal.  Outside of Forward Operating Base Tarin Kowt, one of the bases held by the 101st Airborne and a Special Forces detachment, our soldiers try to assist the children of the adjacent villages get to the new school that was built by the Afghan government with US dollars.  But the kids won't go.  Their parents won't allow it.  They've been warned. Two special forces soldiers were killed last week running escort this way.  So the school is empty, and the teachers hide.  The face of the Taliban reveals itself in shades of evil that are hard to understand in our culture. 

You can see in their eyes the contempt and hatred, and even more...the understanding that soon we will be gone, like all the others before us, and their tribal way of life will continue.  There is a hardiness and resilience in the good people of this land.  Nothing comes easy here.  Farming the deserts of the southern part of the country the way our pioneers did it....by hand.  They can't afford tractors or fuel.  The power grid exists only in the larger province capitals.  The whole family works.  No time for school, even if you were naive enough to believe that your family could survive the decision to risk it.  It's not just the soldiers who suffer from the IED's that litter the roads, the trails, the fields...they even plant small ones in the mud walls of the homes that lines the dirt streets.  Just enough to take off legs...or worse.  And they know that killing children sends the message at a volume that all can understand.  It is deafening, and it works.

The Warlords are powerful.  They control the roads, the highways, the movement of food and water, and have uncontested dominion over their villages......unless the Marines or the Army step in.  The young of our land, led by the best trained, best conditioned NCO's and Officers we have probably ever had, walk these villages.  Sentinels...protectors....door kickers when they have to be....and life takers when given no other choice.  I hope you all know a soldier that's been here.  And I hope you'll get a chance to listen to them...to witness the sadness and the pain in their hearts that is a true reflection of the suffering they've seen,  the burden they bear, the losses they've endured ..that they refuse to let you see.  The containment for them must be unbearable.  Share your appreciation somehow.  They need to know that it means something.  I can tell you that it does.

Revised post

 

A Soldier's Life

It's 0500 and into the first week in the 6 months you've been at Aziz Ullah that there has been the Ritz like luxury of a place to shower in camp. There are over 600 of you here on this forward operating base located dead center in the birthplace of the Taliban. You've been washing with water in your helmet, forget washing your clothes. It's about 25 degrees outside with a small breeze. And the showers are located in an unheated tent. There are ten of them, and a 40 gallon hot water heater with a slow recovery time. Your chances of hot water are nil....and even if you got lucky, you'd step out of the shower into the frigid air of the tent. But it's the only chance you'll get. You actually consider yourself lucky to even have this shower. Who knows what deal the First Sergeant had to make to get it here. You muse to yourself how great it would be if, after your shower, there was a commode somewhere to enjoy quiet ablution. You come to your senses knowing that the few porta potties on the base are the best you'll find, and if you don't get there fairly quickly, the toilet paper...currency in a war..will be long gone.

Another day, another dollar.

You didn't sleep much last night. There are nine other guys in your tent, and four of them snore at a volume that competes with the artillery that maintains a security blanket of daylight bright flares over the perimeter, because you're not alone here. And your neighbors want you dead or gone. When sleep comes, it's generally from exhaustion. But the conditions help maintain your edge. It's an edge you need, because in your real life, you just don't want to have to kill anyone...job or no job. You think you're a pretty good guy, and you act normal around the guys and the gals with whom you serve. But laying there at night, you wonder if your God will forgive you, knowing he will, but maybe praying that He will help you understand it all. Some of your buddies have been acting a bit detached lately, and you hope they're OK.

So you make formation, get your briefing on the days patrols or camp activities, do your PT and head to breakfast. You hear the Blackhawks approaching as you head to the tent on wheels, the mobile kitchen, that's been providing the entire camp's chow for months. You know the choppers will be bringing guys coming back from R & R. You know how they are going to act. And they'll be bring replacements for guys that have rotated out...FNGs..new guys. You have to keep your eyes on them and help them adjust the best you can. And maybe the choppers will bring mail. They almost never do, but maybe today. You really hope your girl has sent you a letter, or a picture, or something...anything. There's a tent called the MWR...Morale, Welfare, & Recreation..that has a couple of phones and a few computers for internet. You have to pay for phone use and the internet is unreliable and slower than dial up..,.almost not worth the trouble...and there are hundreds of you wanting that timed interlude with the world outside.



They keep telling you that the unit is getting a real DFAC..Dining Facility..with civilian cooks and servers, and heating, and air conditioning, and a 28 day menu. No more MREs and wheeled kitchens. But you've been hearing that for a couple of months. The reefers showed up to keep all the cold stuff in, but nothing else. It's something to hope for. Surely the generals haven't forgotten you.

On this day, you and your platoon have intel about a location outside the wire that houses a contingent of Taliban fighters and a huge cache of arms. You know that they won't give it up easily. You're confident of your team, your tactics, your technology, and your firepower....but the 101st has lost over 60 guys here in the past year and over 100 hurt. The bullets fly in both directions. You try not to think about anything but your job and covering your team's back. Nobody dies today, you tell yourself...not on our side. Let that other guy die for his country...oowah.
So you mount up, like most days, with a combat load that would bend a stout mule's back, and through the wire you go.

This is a story about many camps here. I lived this one for a couple of
days. Lord,,,protect these men..Specialist Tyler Hill of Mableton, GA for one..he convoyed me here. That's a job nobody wants. The IEDs on Highway One have cut a path through our troops...but there are only a couple of roads in this part of Afghanistan, and the Taliban know it.

Getting Around

There's just something about being surrounded by armor, armed soldiers, and a 50 caliber machine gun that make traveling fun. Thanks to my friend Terry, Colonel Farrell when in the company of others, I've had the chance to experience a taste of desert travel just an upgrade up from the hump of a camel's back. Terry gave me an opportunity to accompany he and one of his team members, Capt. Gomez, on a site visit to Forward Operating Base Lindsey, not too far from Kandahar. The leadership here at KAF (Kandahar Airfield) are not happy about civilians traveling anywhere by HUMVEE or any other wheeled vehicle. Rotary or fixed wing is the directed method of travel to and from the dozens of forward operating bases here. It's just safer. But Terry enjoys the adrenaline rush of commandeering a HUMVEE and getting off road as much as any Oklahoma son, and drive it, he did.

The locals are always watching. And the soldiers take nothing for granted. Always paying attention, diligent, alert. In this wasteland, the locals somehow manage to survive. I guess it's always been this way for them. Occupying armies, transient forces, poverty, illiteracy, tribalism and terrorism... it's an incredibly difficult existence. Just the acquisition of basic life services requirements is beyond the capacity of the population. Mud huts, no power, limited choices on food, and miles for many to go for water. If you haven't stared at a flag and thanked your God that you live in a place like you do; and apologize for all the petty things that make you mad, that shouldn't; and make you appreciate silly things like: pavement, soap, milk, paper, school, a convenience store, voting where it actually counts, a medical facility that has an antibiotic, or even a nurse, and if that flag you're staring out is at full staff, instead of half...thank God again because someone's son or daughter won't be coming home so that you can enjoy popcorn from the microwave while you watch the Super Bowl with friends. Sorry, sometimes this place can get to you.

Here's a look at how some of our troops are living...and this is considered the Ritz by many of the guys that aren't so lucky.

Kinda cozy isn't it. Here's a look or two at the outside. The large concrete structures are bunkers. They protect the camps exceptionally well. You'll see some taller concrete sections that are called t-walls. Each one weighs almost 30 tons.

The wire framed containers on the right are filled with dirt and called Hescos. They serve to form walls for most of the logcamps and structures within. The tents are airconditioned and heated...kinda. It gets pretty warm here in the summer.

Now for the fun stuff. This is another fun toy the soldiers utilize for getting around and staying safe. This particular unit has weaponry that can be targeted and directed from inside the vehicle...much safer for the gunner and not so good for the bad guys. You get a good look at the different size Hesco barriers in the rear with the razor wire above.
This next shot is the main entrance to Forward Operating Base Lindsey...pretty fancy, huh!?

This is the preferred method of transport. If you look close, you'll see that these are MI-8 Russian helicopters...the ones they used to demonize the Afghan people and to birth the resurgent Mujahadeen. They can carry a pretty good load. We have 8 of these and 6 new Huey's. We also have access to all military air on space available and several DC-9s that make up the company "air force".

And it wouldn't be right to deprive you of a view of the closest Afghan mall...I'll include the upscale...and the not so upscale..

I'm not kidding y'all. This is a shopping area. Wish I could have gotten a better picture. The Army isn't crazy about slowing down in areas like this for obvious reasons. As much as I hate to log off...duty calls..another meeting...the days just go on. But the funny thing is that you get to where you don't mind the long hours or the challenges of getting things done here. You get caught up in the excitement and experience of working at this level and somehow handling it. God envisioned his creation and we are here...and I'm seeing that we haven't come close to our limits. I guess they are self-imposed...somehow we don't trust that he made us in his own image. If we could just approach his capacity for doing good instead of just doing well. A topic for another day.