November 26th, 2010 - Thanksgiving in Afghanistan

Yesterday marked the passing of my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving.  It’s the holiday that always means the most to me.  It’s the unofficial start of the holiday season.  It’s a holiday with no strings attached.  It involves family, food, and football.  This was also my first real holiday away from my family.  I’ve missed some other holidays over the years, a handful of July 4ths, and a couple of Labor Days and Memorial Days, but I have never missed Thanksgiving before.  

Normally during Thanksgiving, I’ll take some time to reflect on everything that I’m thankful for, and this year was no exception.  The only difference is that being away from everything made the reflection that much easier.

As for the actual holiday itself, it was not too bad of a day.  We had a semi-light day yesterday and today.  I basically worked 3/4 day yesterday and a half day today.  It’s amazing how nice it is to get an afternoon to just relax after going non-stop for over two months.  

Yesterday about 1pm we left as a team to go to the Thanksgiving meal.  When we got to the chow hall a huge line for food greeted us.  Usually a long line will put me in a sour mood, but yesterday it hardly phased me.  The thirty some minutes that we spent in line went fairly fast as we laughed and joked with each other.  Finally, after the long wait in line we entered the dining facility and went through the line.

The food that we had before us was all the traditional Thanksgiving Day staples, turkey, dressing, potatoes, corn, gravy, green beans, and pies.  Everyone piled up their trays with heaping servings of their favorites.

As we sat down at a table together, we made a toast to each other, our safety, and our blessings.  I told everyone that if I could not be with my family, there is no one I would rather share a Thanksgiving meal with.  We ate, talked, and eventually as trays were pushed away and plastic forks laid down, some of us got up and did our little part in the Thanksgiving Day meal.

 You see, one of the unwritten rules of Army life is that Officers and the senior enlisted personnel serve the food in the chow hall for holidays.  

Our team’s group went to the kitchen where we washed our hands, put on aprons and gloves and entered the serving line.  We had the last one-hour shift for the main meal, 2pm to 3pm.  Everyone embraced their job and we served a constant stream of Soldiers, Airmen, Sailors, and civilians their Thanksgiving meal.  

Our group was loud and cheerful as we piled heaps of food onto plates.  A videographer from AFN (Armed Forces Network) was there to record the meal and we soon became the center of attention.  We laughed and joked with the service members as they came through line, managing to put some smiles on faces.  I hope that we made some of them feel a little better 8,000 miles away from home.

 After dinner was done I came back to my room and watched a movie.  I did not eat dinner yesterday since the line was extremely long once again and instead ate a bunch of food that I had received in care packages.

In the evening, I spent quite a bit of time talking with family members on Skype.  It was nice to see everyone, talk them, and let them know that I’m doing ok.  

One final touch to top out a nice day yesterday, I received a care package from my parents and sister.  In the box, they packed me a little Christmas tree with some decorations for it.  It was a perfect surprise for Thanksgiving, and I was able to put my little tree up in my office yesterday. 

I hope that everyone else had a great time with family yesterday.  I know that next year, when I’m home and with everyone, the day will be extra special, but I’ll always remember my Thanksgiving in Afghanistan. 

November 20th 2010 - Changes

Over the years, I’ve heard people say that a deployment will change you and I always thought to myself that I had the demeanor to be impervious to these changes.  I am now coming to the realization that I’m not going to come out of this deployment the same person that I was when it started. 

 

When this is over, the old version of me will be gone, replaced by a version that has been changed over the course of time spent in a combat zone.   I do not think that these changes can be prevented, it just happens.

The realization that the changes were happening became evident to me about a week ago while I was sitting outside on a picnic table.  A fellow Soldier looked over at me and said “Boy Sir, you are getting a lot of gray hairs”.  Now, this by itself is nothing new.  I’ve been finding gray hairs since my mom pointed one out to me when I was 18.  Over the past few years, whenever I get a haircut I notice that what is cut off has more and more gray in it every time.  

As soon as I could break away, I went to the nearest latrine (bathroom) and looked in the mirror.  This was the first time that I really looked at myself in the mirror in the two months that I’ve been in Afghanistan.  Yeah, I have used a mirror to shave, brush my teeth, and floss but I had not really looked at myself.  Vanity has no place here so I had not paid any attention to my image in the mirror and as I looked at myself for the first time in months, I realized that I had changed.  

My hair was showing a little grayer than I remembered.  I saw wrinkles on my forehead that I never noticed.  I then realized that my days of being carded were probably long gone.  Part of me was saying that the change was inevitable and would have happened no matter what.  Another part of me was saying that it was no different than it was before.  Then the last part of me was saying that the long days were starting to take their toll on me.  

Those of you that know me, know that I’ve always been a gun guy.  Guns are one of my two hobbies.  I’ve had a concealed carry permit for years but this was the first time that I’ve ever carried a weapon nearly every minute of every day.  The only time that we do not have a weapon on us is when we go to the showers or when we conduct physical training.  

As I walked to the shower at 4:30am one morning I realized that it did not feel right not having my weapon with me.  I could not feel the reassuring mass of cold steel on my hip or slung over my shoulder.  I then asked myself what it would be like back home not carrying a pistol or rifle with me all the time…

I have always been a big fan of family and friends.  I always want to visit family or have friends over.  The thing is that after being here I realized that I no longer want to do things with family or friends; I realized that I need my family and friends.  I have realized how important the bonds are with the people that you love.  I have realized the importance of letting them know that you care about them.  I have realized how much it means to hear from them.  Every morning I wake up with the anticipation of a kid on Christmas morning in the hopes that I have an e-mail from someone waiting for me. 

I am certain that other changes are underway as well.  I am now over two months without a day off.  We work every single day, or as we like to say, “Every day is Monday”.  I have started to break the connection that I have with Monday being Monday, Wednesday as being halfway done with the workweek, Thursday as the last day before Friday, Friday being the last day before the weekend, and the weekend being time off.  Every day is a day to work.  The time off is the time at the end of the day and that is it. 

I now realize why they cut our orders to extend past our return home.  Why we have paid leave at the end of the deployment, why Federal law gives us 90 days to return to our civilian job at the end of a deployment.  I cannot speak for everyone, but I know that I’ll need time to adjust to civilian life.  Time to acclimate to the schedules and routine of a normal life that has a clear distinction between the workday, the evening, and the weekend.  I now understand that if I returned home and immediately tried to jump back into the life that I left, that I would find myself at one of two extremes, either highly productive and focused or bored and distracted without the stimuli that comes with living and working in a combat zone.

As of right now only my extra gray hair will be evident to everyone when I return home and there is nothing I can do about that.  The remainder will just take some time to fade as I adjust to the way that I spent the first 31 years.

November 15th, 2010 - Feel like a challenge?

It’s kind of funny how the little things back home that you never really even think about or appreciate start to matter when you are here.  As our weather starts to get chilly, one of the things that I’m really missing is indoor plumbing.  If I get anything out of this experience, I’m going to get home and starting appreciating the little things in life. 

 

Granted, I’m only two generations removed from outhouses, but I’ve never LIVED without indoor plumbing.  If you have to use the bathroom you walk a few feet and instantly you can do your business.  I remember my grandfather telling me stories of his childhood and having to use outhouses.  It seemed like ancient history to me, but here I am, 8000 miles from home getting to experience a similar situation.

We do not have “outhouses” in the old sense with the hole in the ground, but a modern twist on them.  Our latrines are these standalone building with toilets, sinks, and showers.  Some of the units are in shipping containers stacked on top of each other, where the bottom is the toilets and sinks while the top houses showers and sinks.  We also have some single level units.  Then there are some strategically placed port-o-potties sprinkled throughout the FOB.  

In the office, we are fortunate enough to have a latrine across the street.  In our rooms, the closest latrine is about 100-125 meters away (longer than a football field).  That means that in the middle of the night to use the restroom I have to get up, put on my socks, put on my shoes, put on my shoulder holster and pistol, and grab a flashlight.  I then have to walk the 100 meters or so to the restroom and then walk 100 meters back to the room.  

The other day, I added up the distance walked to the restrooms and it added up to about 1200 meters a day, which means that I’m walking three quarters of a mile a day to shave, brush my teeth, use the restroom, and shower.  Over my roughly 300 days here that equates to 225 miles to use the restroom.  

A few weeks ago, as I talked to my wife on Skype, I proposed a challenge to her.  The challenge was to sleep in her closet for a week to simulate my room.  Then, when she wanted to get ready in the morning, shower, and use the restroom during the night, she would have to walk down the road to the neighbors to use the restroom.  After some thought, I’m sure that the neighbors wouldn’t be happy with her knocking on their door in the middle of the night so I asked her to walk halfway to the neighbors and then come back home to use the restroom, and then when she was done she would have to walk halfway there again and then come back.  

Of course she thought that I was out of my mind proposing such a crazy idea and would do no such thing.  If anyone out there is interested in this challenge, I’d be interested to see how it works out for you.

November 9th 2010 - Range Time

Everyday something happens that reminds me that I'm no longer back in the States.  Today we went to the firing range and it was definitely different than the ranges that I'm used to back home.

Early in the morning we loaded up in our MRAP's and headed to the firing range where we were reminded of how different things are here before we even exited our vehicles.  Blocking our path was a half dozen cows.  Finally the cow herder (or whatever the proper term is for a guy ushering cows around happens to be) moved the cows out of the way and we drove the final hundred meters or so the range.  We exited the vehicles to the sound of cows mooing and excited voices of Afghan children.

The children were excited because they pick up the brass from the range.  Normally back home, we take great care in collecting every single piece of brass (the casing remaining from firing a bullet) to turn back in for recycling.  I guess here by leaving the brass behind it's helping out the local economy since the costs to transport spent brass back to the States would be more than it costs to manufacture new brass.  We ushered the kids away from the range (for safety) and told them to come back when we were done.

Finally things got underway and we shot about six magazines through our pistols.  To be honest, it was a relief to shoot my pistol.  I carry my M9 Beretta with me everyday and have it either on my person or within arms reach 24 hours a day (with the exception of PT or showering).  After locking, loading, and pulling the trigger and feeling the pistol jump in my hand I broke out in a big smile.  Even though it was fired back home as well as in Bagram (when I first arrived in Afghanistan), it's a relief to know that if I needed to use it up to that point it would have worked properly.  It would have been extremely disheartening to have it malfunction and not work properly.

After firing the pistol, I waited around for everyone else to finish firing.  During this time helicopters and cargo planes were constantly taking off and landing.

A CH-47 Chinook takes off

After firing our pistols, we moved on to verification of the zero on our rifle.  Our weapons were previously zeroed as recently as Bagram, but due to a shift of about 2000 feet in altitude, our zero may be slightly off.

As I laid down in the prone position in the dirt of Afghanistan and attempted to get comfortable in my 40+ pound armored vest and started to slow my breathing I knew it was going to be a good day at the range.  After firing my first 6 rounds at the target and seeing that all 6 rounds impacted in a group about the size of dime I confirmed that it was going to be good day.  I fired a few more rounds to confirm my zero and waited as the rest of the group finished zeroing.

Zero targets are placed downrange

Finally we moved to the qualification stage.  I was in the second group to fire.  I was in a groove and my qualification score reflected that.  The only thing that threw me off slightly was when we shot from the kneeling position, we were on that little hill in the picture above and it was difficult to get a solid firing position.  After feeling that I blew my last 10 rounds that I fired kneeling, it turned out that I shot the high score for the day.

My day at the range was then over and I took a little break.  I sat down on a little rise of dirt and relaxed in the sun. 

Enjoying the sunny day

Yeah, it was dusty on the range, but it was a nice way to spend the morning.

Remember the little kids that came up to us when we first got there?  Well, they eventually came back towards the end. 

An Afghan boy waiting for us to finish so he can pick up our spent shell casings

Until next time...

November 8th 2010 - Snakes, scorpions and crows oh my

The last week or so has been quite busy, so I apologize about the gap in the updates.  I’ve had a few odd things that I’ve wanted to feature and of course by the time the day is over and I’m able to post, I’ve long forget my earth shattering post.  Thankfully, this time, I remember something that I wanted to share.

The wildlife here in Afghanistan is definitely different than it is back home.   

Some of the wildlife is seasonal but some is here year round.  A daily routine when you are here is to shake out your boots before you put them on in the morning.  Things that you don’t want to be in your boots have a habit of taking refuge in them while you sleep.  What might be in there would probably be a snake or scorpion. 

Luckily,  the fall/winter is not prime snake or scorpion season, so the chance is slim that you will see something, but every morning I shake out my boots.  To be truthful, if I shook out my boots and a scorpion dropped out, I would probably scream like a little girl.  Don’t ask me what I’d do next because I don’t have a clue!  Do you step on the scorpion?  Oh wait, you don’t have your boots on.  Do you squish it with something?  Do you spray it with bug spray (not like I have any).  The technical answer is that you call vector control so they can take care of it.

The next thing up is snakes.  This country is home to some of the most dangerous snakes in the world, from cobras, to vipers, to kraits.  When I first got here and the snakes were still somewhat active there were posters up all over announcing that a new snake was found.  It usually went something like this:

On 24 August a (insert deadly snake here) was found outside building 1234.  Be on the lookout and use your flashlight at night.  If you see a snake stay 6’ away, keep your eyes on it, and call vector control.  

Now, I always ask myself how the heck am I supposed to A) keep my eyes on the snake and B) call vector control if I’m supposed to babysit some deadly snake?  There are also other posters on the FOB  going over the snakes that are found in our area, if there is anti-venom available, and how likely you are to croak if you are bitten.   

From what I’m told, our area is not home to a lot of scorpions, but they do occasionally find them here.  I don’t think they have any of the nasty deadly scorpions but we can add them to the list of nasty creatures here.

Next up on the nasty list is the mosquito.  Afghanistan has over 3 million cases of malaria a year.  Our base in particular has one of highest malaria rates in the country (our province has one of the highest rates among the population).  I haven’t seen a mosquito since I’ve been here, but I’m sure that will change in the spring/summer.  We are issued doxycycline as a malar prophylaxis, so that means every day we take our “malaria” pill.  Our uniforms are also treated with permethrin to help as well.  I’m happy to say that I’ve done a great job taking my daily dose.  Every night everyone reminds each other to take their medicine.  Personally, I’d rather have a good old fashioned gin and tonic (with quinine in the tonic) like the British had while they were in India as well as here.

There is also some strange mammal in the area.  I’ve only seen it briefly from a distance.  It has a strange call, kind of like a coyote.  No idea what it is…

There is also some really annoying and smart crows.  I’ve been trying to figure out what specie it is, and my best guess is a House Crow.  They hang around the dumpsters and trashcans on the FOB.  Often times they’ll root around in the trash and make a real mess.  I think that the Afghan kids use them for stone throwing practice because they fly away if you bend down to pick up a rock, wind up like you are throwing a rock, or if you fake throw at them.  

From what I’ve been told, the local kids are such good shots with rocks they’ll actually throw rocks, knock the crow out, and then carry around the unconscious raven like a toy.  If I ever see this, I’ll get a picture.  On a side note, a flock of crows is properly called a murder. 

Once again, this country never ceases to amaze me.