More Shiny

Forgot to mention it, but the other day I got one of these in the mail from the ISAF headquarters where I was stationed in Afghanistan:



So that's neat.

Afghanistan in Retrospect: a List of Quotes

This morning I was digging through the little notebook I've been carrying around with me for the past nine months or so and re-reading a whole bunch of little quotes I've written down during my mobilization, to include the training beforehand, the travel there, and all of my running around. I failed to write down who was saying them, but they're all fun for their pointedness or ridiculousness.

Because I'm in a sharing mood, here's some of my favorites:

"Remember: no battle is won until the checklist is done"

"The barracks are fairly comfortable and there's wireless internet access available. Just don't harass the roaches. They live here, we're guests, and they outnumber us."

"While you're here you'll have plenty of time to bond. A little bondage never hurt anyone."

"The only thing left to say is: go forth, do good things, and play nice with your new green friends."

"Welcome aboard flight 695. Please place your rifles behind your feet and your pistols in the seat-back pockets in front of you."

"Those who destroy cannot defeat those who create in the long term. Shock and awe failed this test."

"This chart shows a breakdown of IED activity by month. As you can see from the chart, there's no good time to be in Kabul."

"If toilet paper were made of nails, there'd be a lot more assholes in the world."

"Why can't I use my Visa card here? It's supposed to be everywhere I want to be." "Did you want to be in Afghanistan?" "Good point."

"So what if it was on the floor? I'll eat it. You call it 'filth,' I call it 'fiber.'"

"I'm glad we were able to help you make your conference a success. In the future, if you need any support at all, please don't hesitate to look elsewhere."

"Really, we're building the plane while we fly it."

"We need unity of command, but we'd settle for unity of effort."

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm going to need you to explain that to me. I'm sure you made sense, it's just that I'm learning to speak Army as a second language."

"We're trying to sort out a common definition of the problem. So far we've only managed to agree that there is actually a problem."

"We can't measure all of the subjective factors involved. It's like tracking little kids shoveling clouds. It just doesn't make sense."

"It takes all kinds. I just wish it took fewer of this kind."

"We like to keep our budget small and closely restrict out reconstruction efforts. This is unlike the American model which is more like filling potholes with $100 bills."

"I demand rigidly defined areas of doubt and uncertainty."

"You can't boil the ocean."

Slowly Rolling

The last time I posted I was still waiting around at Bagram Air Field to catch my flight to Kuwait. So here's the way the timeline ended up working out:

27 April (late): I found out I was actually leaving.

28 April: While doing my last-minute checking out stuff, I found out I couldn't get back some 30lbs of laundry because it was a local holiday (Mujahideen Day) and none of the staff in the laundry were coming to work. This is also why nobody was able to tell me anything about ground transportation to Bagram Airfield or even flights from Kabul to Bagram. The mail room was open though, so I was able to lighten my load by quite a bit. I don't remember how much weight that bit was, but it was about $140 worth of postage. Late in the day I lucked out and got word of a convoy headed to Bagram that might have room for me if I was ready to go by...

29 April, 0540 (in the morning): I got to load everything I own in Afghanistan (and a bunch of Army crap I haven't even pulled out of my luggage since I arrived*) into the back of an up-armored Suburban. I ended up in a five-vehicle convoy and my vehicle had a German driver, Swedish vehicle commander, and the other guy in the backseat with me was a Danish Army lieutenant colonel. Fun.

We arrived at Bagram a couple of hours later and I convinced them to drop me off at the passenger terminal so I wouldn't have to walk while carrying three full seabags (each around 75lbs), one full rucksack (around 45lbs), my laptop case (about 25lbs), my rifle, my body armor, and my sleeping bag. Once I'd stacked it all neatly in the baggage area, I had nothing to do until the following day.

30 April, 0900: I got to muster with the good folks at the Navy's admin shop for all of Afghanistan. It was tucked away in the farthest, darkest corner of the airbase (a good 30-minute walk from anything else), so it took a bit of finding. Once there, I got the last few pieces of paper that would allow me to leave Afghanistan. Then I had nothing to do until...

01 May, 0900: Checked in with the same admin shop to find out what time my flight out would be. It turns out we were expected to muster at 2345, so I got to look forward to a third whole day of waiting around the airbase, wandering through the exchange and waiting in line to use the internet.

01 May, 1100: I happened across a Navy lieutenant who happens to be flying out with me and he tells me that the flight has been postponed by an hour and we'll be mustering at 0100 instead. Fun.

01 May, 2200: Thunder, lightning, and pouring rain start simultaneously. Ten minutes later it occurs to me that my three seabags, my body armor, and my helmet are neatly stacked in the baggage area outside the passenger terminal and probably completely soaked through. Realizing that once something is completely soaked through it can't get any wetter, I resign myself to carrying all of the original weight plus another 90lbs of water.

02 May, 0100: I show up for muster and find out the flight has been delayed even further. Then I go out and find out that some kind soul has dragged all of the stuff that was outside into a nearby tent and it takes me half an hour to find all of my gear again.

02 May, 0215: Roll call. We find out we'll be flying to Kuwait on a C-17 and that every single seat is full. An hour later it is time to load up our luggage:


There were two pallets like this one and another smaller one with all of our crap.

02 May 04??: Boarding time. We grab our carry-on items and stroll out to the plane:


Despite being thoroughly exhausted I'm still unable to sleep:



02 May, 08??: We land in some airbase in Kuwait. They told me the name, but I was kinda strung-out and I don't remember it. A 45-minute bus ride later we were deposited at a tent on the far side of the airbase. Then things got slightly stupider.

We were assigned to a tent for the day. Our bags were dropped off at one end of the tent complex at around 0930. We were told that we would have to board a bus convoy at 2200 that evening after loading our bags onto a stake truck on the opposite side of the tent compound, roughly half a mile away. Why they couldn't drop our bags off and pick us up in the same place still has me boggled, but I suppose that's just par for the course.

I ignored the baggage drop off, ambled over to my tent, sat down on one of the beds in there, and passed out. A few hours later I woke up and got in line to use the internet. A few minutes later the cafe's internet connection failed and I had nothing left to do but wait to leave.

At 2000 I found one of the Navy chief petty officers who was travelling with me and found out he'd managed to borrow a truck to move the pile of bags from one end of the tent city to the other. We mustered up five more guys and it took only two trips with the little truck and a utility trailer to get everyone's luggage over to the pickup point.

At 2200 we began waiting around for the busses to show up. At 2245 the busses arrived and we found out we would have to wait for a boatload of dudes coming in from Iraq that would be moving with us. At 2345 they were onboard and we set out for a completely different base.

03 May, 0230: We arrived at Camp Arifjan, the Army base in Kuwait where the Navy would put us through it's "Warrior Transition Program," and prep us for going back to the states. Within minutes of arrival we were assigned to the tents we would be sleeping in. Moments after that I was passed out on a bare mattress with my balled-up shirt for a pillow.

03 May, 1150: Gear turn-in. I got to unload my M16A2 assault rifle, M9 pistol, gas mask, MOPP suit, entrenching tool, cold-weather gear, body armor, helmet, and oodles and gobs of other random camping gear that the Army wanted back. It was easily the best moment of the year so far.

Once our stuff was unloaded, the rest of the day was ours to spend as we saw fit. I saw fit to spend it lying in my rack and reading.

04 May, 1300: Warrior Transition Workshop. This is where a Navy chaplain sat us down and told us what to expect from our homecoming. The short version: nothing. He pointed out that our return won't involve manning the rails in dress whites and having a big crowd waiting on the pier to welcome us home. There won't be any parades or flag-waving. He also went on to point out that we need to steel ourselves to deal with a bunch of folks who have been doing all of their normal work PLUS all of the things that were our job before we left.

Fun.

Now all I have to do is wait until tomorrow when I'll board the bus to the airport. I'm flying commercial flights all the way back, so I've got to find civilian clothes to wear on the plane. I wish I'd've known that before I mailed home most of my stuff. Oops.

*The Army actually issued me an entrenching tool. For those of you who don't speak Army, an "entrenching tool" is a shovel. By my reasoning, if we ended up in a situation where they need a naval officer to use a shovel, we've already lost the war.

Departure from Kabul

I'm finally on my way and going places.

Okay, that's not true. I'm sitting in Bagram Air Force Base waiting on a flight and trying to kill some time. I only get 30 minutes at a stretch on the computer, but I'm convinced that if I type fast enough I'll be able to make an entertaining entry.

First off, my last night at HQ ISAF was a pretty good time. I met up with the rest of the folks from the office for dinner as usual, but afterward we got coffee and cigars and sat out in the garden in front of the headquarters building telling stories and enjoying the rare clear night.

Then I had to go back to the office to take care of a few last-minute things:


While I was showing my appreciation for our civilian from the State Department, Greg Scruton was testing out his camouflage uniform:


The rest of the night was spent packing and checking, double checking, and triple checking to make sure I hadn't left anything behind.

At 0545 the next morning I hitched a ride with a convoy from Kabul to Bagram. Along the way I snapped a quick pic of what I hope will be the last I ever see of that place:


There's a few things I'll miss about being at ISAF HQ, but nothing so much as our allies with all their cute little hats:


With ISAF HQ behind me, all that's left for me to do in Afghanistan is wait around with everyone else:


More to come. Stay tuned.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel is Suddenly SO MUCH Brighter

This afternoon I was gearing up to head out on another, longer trip to not one or two but three Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs) when, on a whim, I paused to check my Yahoo email account. There, mixed in with all of the promises of fame and fortune and greater length and girth, was a message from the Navy's admin detachment in Afghanistan.

The short version of said message:

I HAVE A FLIGHT OUT OF THIS PIT!!

I figured that whenever I finally got notice of when I'd have to pull out, it probably wouldn't be much notice. Turns out I was right. After weeks of trying to get set up with orders and travel information I have just over one day before travel begins. Fortunately I was only counting on a few hours' notice, so aside from picking up my laundry and getting all of my last day signatures on my checkout sheet, I really don't have anything left to do here but practice my grappling:

Logar Trip

Last week a group of us from the office decided to drive down to visit with the civilian-led Czech Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT) in Lowgar Province. Logar Province is directly South of Afghanistan's capitol city of Kabul, so it's a pretty short trip. The PRT has been operating there for just over a year and in that time nobody from my office (which is supposed to be visiting all of the PRTs) has ever been there.

The drive itself was fairly routine. The main exception was that I was behind the wheel again:

Before we were out of Kabul Province we got stuck in traffic next to this charming little ice cream parlor (and butcher shop):

Once we arrived, we unloaded our gear and sat down with the PRT's civlian director, Ms. Bohumila Ranglova. Busy as she was, she set aside most of her morning to answer our questions and tell us all about the numerous reconstruction and development projects they've been running in the province. She was fascinating to talk to and has a tremendous amount of experience with humanitarian relief work and reconstruction projects. As far as I know, she is also the only female PRT leader in Afghanistan so far.

Small though it is, the Czech PRT is doing a lot of great work. They've upgraded schools and hospitals from tents to stone and concrete buildings, they've built government buildings from scratch, repaired dams, and established jobs and provided technical training for countless local workers.

After a long and fruitful conversation we took a walk around the base. The PRT is actually located within an American-run Forward Operating Base (FOB) called "Shank." It's a big place with lots of folks stationed there and a constant buzz of activity. We ended up getting a great view of the whole thing from one of the lookout posts next to the perimeter. Here's part of it:
From here there were also pretty impressive views outside the compound:

Here's Greg Scruton in front of the obligatory sign with directions and distances to the hometowns of soldiers stationed here:

Of course all of the signs point the same direction because all of the towns are in the Czech Republic. That's also why all of the distances are in kilometers.

Having wandered around and gotten the lay of the land, we had some time to spare before dinner. Somewhere in there I snapped a self-portrait:

The food there turned out to be some of the best food available in all of Afghanistan. If nothing else, the US military is doing a really good job of feeding folks on US bases. Before you ask, the HQ compound I'm stationed on is not a US base.

FOB Shank was every bit as comfortable as any other FOB. What makes them fun is the little bits of silliness that you find when you look closely. Take for example the little stacks of bottled water pre-positioned all over the base:


On the plus side, I didn't have to sleep on the deck this time:


The next morning, Vic Vale and I mounted up with a Czech convoy carrying a couple of the civilian engineers out to check on some of the ongoing projects. Here's me about to climb into a up-armored HMMWV (pronounced "humvee"):

On the road I got the typical soldier's view of Afghanistan:


Still, there were plenty of interesting things to see if you kept an eye open:


Here's a run-down old house with a fairly new well in front of it:





Our first stop was at a nearby village where the PRT is funding and managing the construction of a girls school. Here you can see some of the Afghan locals at work:

A year ago classes here were being taught under a tree. Now there are several functioning classrooms in the building to the right and eight more being built in the building in the background. Because our convoy included men, we had to visit on a day when classes were not in session and none of the girls were present.

While we toured the facility, the Czech soldiers provided security overwatch:

The local children were very curious about us:



We also visited a local hospital, but I didn't take any pictures for fear of offending anyone. Suffice it to say that a year ago the facility was simply a tent and now it's a walled compound with several concrete buildings, electricity, ambulances, and running water.

During the drive back to the FOB I snapped a few more interesting pictures. Here's a local man crossing the street:

And here's an Afghan sporting goods store:

After a few more meetings with the various civil-military affairs folks working in FOB Shank it was time to call it a day. The next morning we packed up, took our time having breakfast and coffee, and rolled out. On the way back there was still plenty to see:

So taken for all in all it was a good trip. We got a lot done and got plenty of fresh air:

Of course as we got closer to Kabul, there was no mistaking the murky pall of smog clinging low to the ground:

*sigh*

Hopefully I'll get to leave this place soon.

Parwan Province Pictures

Earlier this week a handful of us from the office made a run up to Bagram Air Base to visit with the PRT Commander there and check in with the guys from the 101st Airborne's staff. As an added bonus, this would give me a chance to check in at the Navy admin shop where they manage all of the naval personnel in country and find out when I'm leaving.

The whole thing was pretty routine. The weather was just moist enough to keep the dust down in the morning on our way out of Kabul. As we were halfway out of town, we passed one of the countless guys on bicycles making a delivery. This wouldn't have been unusual if it weren't for the fact that this particular guy was delivering balloons:


Other than that, the drive from Kabul to Bagram was unremarkable. We passed the usual assortment of jingle trucks and open space and little kids filling potholes in the road.

Everything we had to do in Bagram went smoothly enough. The only real problem was that I still don't have the orders I need to get me out of this godforsaken country and the guys in the Navy's admin office tell me there's nothing they can do to help me. I'm trying to get back into the Zen mindset that makes it easy to roll with all of the delays and disinterest I'm getting from the folks that are supposed to take care of this crap, but it's a bit more frustration than I'm used to.

Anyhow, once we were all done with our various to-do lists it was time to drive back to Kabul. Unfortunately we ended up stuck behind a French convoy:

Along the way we saw the usual assortment of traffic:

Then I spotted the first camels I've seen since arriving in Afghanistan. It wasn't for lack of looking, they just happened to be elsewhere:

But for some reason there were plenty of them this time around:


There was also the usual alltoment of small children alongside the highway waving:

Of note, most gas stations I've seen in Afghanistan use gas-powered pumps. If you look at the pumps in the background above, you'll notice small engines like you'd find on a lawn mower attached to the far side of each one. Whoever pumps the gas has to pullstart the pump first.

Then, in the midst of all of the little kids who usually stand on the side of the road filling potholes, there was this one little girl who decided to stop waving and point the bottom of her feet at us:
In case you didn't know, it's considered an insult in most Afghan tribes (and most Muslim people in general) to show someone the bottoms of your feet. Bitch.

Aside from that part, we had the usual scenic drive through Parwan Province:


Back in Kabul we returned to an unusually serene afternoon:

With the usual assortment of oddities on the road:


Also, I noticed a local bicycle repair shop for the first time:


So that's that.

Stay tuned for story and pictures from the trip to Lowgar Province. It should be at least as interesting as this post.

A Hint of Light at the End of the Tunnel

I forgot to post it when it happened, but my relief arrived a few days ago. He is now largely taken over all of my duties and I'm mostly just hanging around the office to answer the occasional question.

In other news, I still haven't received the demobilization orders that will make it possible for them to transfer me to an outprocessing center in the states. What makes this funny is the fact that the new guy already has his demobilization orders in hand.

*sigh*

Sadly I'm still not in charge of the making sense department.

At Home on the Range

I won't go into the details, but the week after getting back from the last trip was a bit stressful. I was getting increasingly irritable and short-tempered, readily snarling at people for things that would've usually earned them a good-humored ribbing from me. Clearly, it was time for me to find some sort of therapy.

Fortunately, treatment for such an affliction in Afghanistan is readily available in the form of ammunition. Better still, my good friend (and driver) Greg is very adept at finding ammunition for us to take to the firing range and he jumps at every opportunity to go out and shoot things. After the week I'd had I couldn't appreciate him more.

Here's the lot of us from the Regional Outreach office on the range:


The bulk of the office got together along with a couple of Marines who are new in theater and went to the range. We got there with our personal rifles and pistols, many thousand rounds of ammunition, and a variety of junk that would show adequately satisfying battle damage when it was hit. Ostensibly we were there to make sure that our weapons were still properly calibrated so I started out with carefully aimed shooting:


It took me ten rounds to feel confident that my sights were aiming where the bullets were landing. At 30meters I was able to put six of those rounds through a target about the size of a quarter. I wasn't shooting great, but I wasn't doing too bad either. After my ten carefully aimed rounds to zero my sights, the rest of the day was spent just shooting for fun.

I only put about 600 rounds through my M16:


That was okay though, because then I got to melt through a full ammo box on the C9, the Canadian version of our 5.56mm, belt-fed machine gun (called a Squad Automatic Weapon or SAW for short):

I was all over the place with this thing. I fired it prone and kneeling and standing and from the hip. I'd be amazed if two out of five rounds landed anywhere near where I was aiming. Still, I'm pretty confident that if there was someone on the other end of the range headed my way with ill intent, at least a handful of the 220 rounds I fired in the first four minutes probably would've hit him.

After the SAW, I used up a quick 180 or so rounds with my 9mm pistol. I'm a fan of the pistol too. I need to get me one of those.

Someone also left a piece of laminated "bullet-resistant" glass out on the range, so we decided to test it out. Here's Greg dumping a few rounds into it (the glass is the light-colored area at the base of the glass powder cloud):

He was very proud of himself:


When we were done, the glass had not fared well:

In defense of the properties of this piece of "bulletproof" glass, we did manage to put well over 500 rounds into it and less than six managed to penetrate all the way through.

Anyway, as is his way Major Brinkman had to pose for pictures everywhere we went. So here's a shot of him looking tough in front of a mountain while wearing his ninja turtle costume:


Major Brinkman also decided he needed a shot of himself in front of a bunch of old bombed-out buildings and shattered Soviet Tanks. He kept talking about how the perfect caption for these pics would be "the Brink of Destruction." Okay...


Since the basic concept wasn't silly enough already, I decided to take one of these pics a step further and turn him into Andrew Brinkman, Infantryman of the Apocalypse:


Goofy as all of that was, I couldn't resist the urge to get a similar shot of myself:


It was a good day and did manage to lift my spirits a bit. Of course, anything beats sitting around in the office and waiting for something unpleasant to do.

Stay tuned, more shenanigans already scheduled...