On the road home...

No pictures to post just yet, but I thought I'd let everyone know that I'm finally on my way home. My team convoyed from Camp Clark to FOB Salerno. From there, a Blackwater flight to Bagram Air Base. Then a helicopter ride to Kabul International Airport, then another convoy to Camp Phoenix in Kabul, then another convoy back to Bagram and a flight to Kuwait. What a major pain in the ass. If only the Army could figure out how to move people inteligently. Your tax dollars at work, folks. I'm in Kuwait right now preparing to turn in a lot of gear, including my M-4 carbine, M-9 Beretta pistol, and my body armor. I can't wait to be rid of it all. I'm flying back to the states on the 13th. I'm flying into Baltimore, then to Norfolk via La Guardia for release from active duty. From there to Oakland, then finally home. I hope to be in Oakland on the 21st, but might even be there a few days earlier than that.

I'm also happy to report that my birthday (November 8th) was uneventful, and my first full day outside the combat zone. Pretty good by my standards. And today the mighty Florida Gators soundly trounced Vanderbilt. Another good day. See you at the SEC championship, Alabama.

Just when you thought it was safe...

KABOOM!

Last month we were headed out on a routine convoy. Agverage tasks, average day. Nothing seemed out of place, and no one had any sort of "funny feeling" about the day. Just as the convoy headed into town...






This is the aftermath of a suicide car bomb that hit the convoy.



Below you can see what's left of the car...



I'm sure you can guess who claimed responsibility for this awesome display of stupidity. That's obvious. On the other hand, what was the human cost? Let's see- two young children later died from the severe burns they recieved. A local innocent bystander was blown up. And the suicide car bomb driver... well, he doesn't have to worry about the skyrocketing cost of gas anymore.

Oh yeah- the humvee that got hit. It got a flat tire, and the gunner got a smashed fingernail that later fell off. Great job, Taliban. You really taught US a lesson!

Living the Dream

I've been here in Khost for over a month now. The perception of just how far I am from home comes and goes depending on what's going on. I feel the distance mostly when I have down time. I think of the things that friends and family are doing back home, and want to be there. When I want to find something new to read, or I'm out of some trivial thing that is taken for granted, but just can't be had here. Or when an Afghan is talking to me and I have no idea what he's talking about. Or when I'm immersed in a group of people who just doesn't seem to get my sense of humor. (For those of you who know me, I'm sure you can imagine that scenario to be rather frequent.)

On arrival here at Camp Clark, I inherited two hats: Supply and Facilities Engineering. If you're like me, you might wonder exactly what "facilities engineering" means. If you're wondering, don't ask me. I seem to have it wrong. As far as I can tell, it means I'm in charge of building projects and planning. Maybe.



Meetings with the ANA (Afghan National Army) folks that I mentor take up a fair amount of my time. There's "Logistique", a Lt. Colonel who is in charge of ANA Logistics. He pretty much hangs out at the ANA cafeteria all day and looks either amused or angry. There are about 5 other officers under him that I mentor as well. I try to meet with each of them with some regularity, but regularity is in short supply in this remote part of the country. In Afghanistan in general, for that matter. But it's not too hard to get the Afghans to laugh, and that makes it all pretty doable.



The photo above is me giving a new (to them) Ford Ranger to an ANA Garrison officer. The guy tried to be cool about it, but he couldn't help himself- he got all excited and kept telling me how no one had ever given him a truck before. He didn't know how to drive stick, but he assured me his driver did. When they got the truck, the driver kept trying to put it in gear using the 4WD/2WD shifter. So I got to mentor the driver, too.



Construction projects are a really fun part of my job. I really don't like meetings and paperwork and inter-office e-mail, so its a damn good thing I have this job for balance. This morning, I got a couple of bulldozers and bucket tractors to do dome demolition work to prep an area for me to build some new security walls. My list of projects has taken on a life of its own, and will give me a lot of chances to get off base and see the province I'm based in. Of course, it'll get me shot at more likely than not, too.



Every now and again, we get a little gift from the Taliban. Usually, this is what we get- an old 107mm rocket shot at us from some random riverbed. The Taliban can't shoot for shit, so they rarely get close enough to cause any damage. They tend to be fired at our base in the middle of the night, and are almost always set on a timer, so there's not usually anyone around to get caught. In our area, though, suicide bombers and IEDs are becomming increasingly common. The UXO (unexploded ordinance) in the photo above is a 107mm rocket that was found lying in a ditch a short distance from our camp. It was still live and unfired, but didn't look like anyone had tried to prep it to be shot at us or used as an IED. We find these and other ordinance all the time- mortars, anti-tank mines, artillery shells, you name it. Here's a photo of a 155mm artillery shell (probably the most commonly used IED device) that was found near our camp, too. It's currently stored in a ditch along with the above rocket, a dozen or so mortar and RPG rounds, and a bunch of other UXOs awaiting EOD demolition near our camp.





And, of course a care package or two shows up from time to time, like this one from "Santa Barbara Angels". This one was a godsend because I was running way low on socks, and there were 6 pairs inside. I've also been recieving boxes of clothes, shoes, and school supplies for Afghan kids donated by people- mostly strangers to me- back home. I should be going out on an HA (humanitarian assistance mission) in the next few weeks to pass this stuff out at local elementary schools and local medical clinics.

If you're not careful, it's easy to get looped into Groundhog Day around here- where day after day after day seems just like the day before. The trick is to get out. Volunteer to go on a mission, go on a convoy, or whatever. If you get out enough, something interesting (or terrifying) happens sooner or later to break the routine. More on that in my next post...

The journey...

I'm finally in Afghanistan. Actually, I've been at my duty location for two and a half weeks now. And a lot has happened since then.

On February 22, my class "graduated" from training at Fort Riley. The ceremony was extremely cookie cutter and insincere, but I really didn't care. I was just happy to be getting outta there. While they say ECRC training at Ft. Riley is designed to prep you for war, I think it is ACTUALLY designed to emulate one of the planes of Dante's Inferno. Or Purgatory at the least.

My Dad drove down from Nebraska the morning of Saturday the 23rd. The day was full of down time, so we got to hang out for quite a while.

We went out into town to do some last minute shopping and to eat, and checked out the Manhattan, KS muni airport. In a maintenance hangar, we found a nice older guy wrenching on some planes and got to hear the story behind a bullet hole I found in the engine of a cropduster.

Sometime around midnight, we carried all of our seabags out to a staging area to be trucked to the airport. Around 1:15 in the morning, it was time to muster up to march over to the "deployment center"- a fenced in metal building where we would be accounted for, weighed with our luggage, and checked for contraband. As we left our barracks room to join up, my Dad suddenly told me he didn't want to get in the way, and that he ought to be heading back to Nebraska. I knew the real reason for the sudden break was more for emotional than practical reasons. I really did not want to say goodbye to him just yet, but Dad handled it the best way possible, and kept me from getting overly emotional with a drawn out goodbye.

From the barracks to the deployment center, where we were processed then sat on our butts waiting for a couple of hours. In the small hours of Sunday morning, we boarded tour buses and (FINALLY) left Fort Riley behind. Our buses drove us right up to a Boeing 767 that awaited us at the Topeka airport. It had been snowing off and on all night. We were whisked onto the plane, seated, and were ready to go by about 4:00 am. I fell asleep for a couple of hours and was surprised to wake up still on the ground with the sun up. The runway had to be plowed for us to take off.

We had a comfortable flight from Topeka, KS, USA all the way to Leipzig, Germany. We stopped for a couple of hours, got off the plane, and were cloistered in a small terminal/ gate building specially maintained by the DoD for US military personnel coming and going from Iraq, Kuwait, and Afghanistan. There were credit card operated phones for us to call home, which most of us did. Most of us were also shocked by the price when the bill came in- my 10 or 12 minute call came in at around $80.00. Ouch. On the plus side, we got one last chance at having some beer, and I was happy as a clam to see one of my old favorites- Paulaner. It's a yummy German beer I first had at the Paulaner satellite brewhaus in Beijing in '92.

From Liepzig, we flew the rest of the way to Manas Air Base in Kygyzstan, a former Soviet Republic. The very next day, we were hearded to an Air Force C-17 for a 2 or 3 hour flight to Bagram Air Field in Kabul. And we were finally in Afghanistan.

We waited around the airfield for a while in a semi-daze. There I came to a stark and terrible realization. The Turkish version of the armored Humvee is cooler than anything I'm likely to drive for Uncle Sam.

After a few hours, armored Humvees whisked us away to Camp Phoenix, the hub of all US and coalition activity in Afghanistan. It's a big, dirty, dusty base that is crawling with way too much brass. Thankfully, we were only there overnight. We had been scheduled to spend a week there to endure endless briefs on rules, regulations, safety issues, et cetera ("Death by Power Point"). But the folks we were replacing down in Khost were understandably anxious to see us arrive, and pulled some strings. After only half a day of briefings, we were put into a convoy of Humvees and departed to Gardez, Afghanistan by way of "The K-G Pass" The KG pass is a tortured section of what can only loosely be called a road. As the Soviets found out in a really hard way, it's a bad place to be when the folks there don't like you. Traffic is dominated by huge "jingle trucks"- great big primitive looking utility trucks that are intricately decorated by their drivers, usually with colorful painted designs, a skirt of chains with jingle bells, and all kinds of other stuff. These gentle giants lumber along the pass at the hands of daring drivers of questionalble driving skill. Here and there, a hopelessly overloaded (as most are) jingle truck lay on its side after gravity, massive overloading, gusting winds, slippery mud, and uneven ruts in the road combine in a way the driver couldn't handle.

Still overjoyed by our rapid escape from Phoenix, we were awestruck by the natural beauty of Gardez. It's an ancient city founded by Alexander the Great during his conquests. His castle still stands in the middle of this small city, 2,500 years later. There are numerous other strongholds, forts, and garrisons built by his army. They’re all in respectable condition considering the fact that they’re around 2,500 years old. In fact, they look a lot nicer than the bases we’re staying on, which is odd considering the fact that we’ve probably been here as long as he was… The base (more like a primitive camp), sits just above the main city at about 9,000 feet elevation. It's surrounded by gorgeous snow covered mountains. The air smells like campfires, as there is an Afghan National Police garrison about a mile upwind of it where wood is burned for cooking and heating. We stayed there for five days and we able to finally get a bit of rest and had a chance to realize that we were really here. On Saturday there was a bazaar next to the base where my team bought a few nice Afghan rugs, loose gemstones, and other goods from local vendors.

On Sunday March 2, we convoyed the rest of the way to our destination, Camp Clark. This took us over the more dangerous half of the K-G pass. For the first time, we were delayed by an IED (another team was just finishing up on the disposal of an unexploded IED that had been found). Along the way we stopped at a truly remote and primitive forward operating base (FOB). The handful of soldiers there have few if any amenities. In fact, they use wooden outhouses and burn the waste in half oil drums after mixing it with diesel. They were burning while we were there. There was a guy practicing with his sniper rifle. Sitting atop a 20 foot dirt berm, he was firing right over our heads at some target several hundred meters behind us. Another couple of hours down the road, and were arrived at our new home, Camp Clark.

Camp Clark sits at 4,500 feet elevation on a rocky, desert plain. We are surrounded on three sides by arid, Sierra Nevada like mountains. It looks a lot like the California desert just to the East of the Sierra Nevada, or between Bakersfield and Vegas. Shepherds occasionally wander by with flocks of really furry sheep. Nomadic tribesmen can be seen with huge wool tents and small herds of camels. We're in the middle of nowhere. We do have moderately reliable plumbing, but our water supply is touch-and-go. No store or exchange. Getting mail, buying toiletries, or getting cash requires a combat convoy of about 1-2 hours each way to the nearest operating base. Primitive Internet service is available.... for $130 a month. I am set up comfortably with my own quarter of a 20X30 foot plywood building. I've got electricity, a twin size been, a simple desk, and a plywood wardrobe. Nothing is painted on the inside- just bare plywood. It's light years better than a tent, and affords some degree of privacy, even if I can hear the other three occupants breathe.

Overall, it's a nice base, if cozy. We had about 5 days to do turnover with the team we were replacing, then POOF... we're on the job. Finally here, finally doing the job.

More about life at Camp Clark in my next post.

I'm outta here...

It's finally time. I'm on my way out the door to hop on the plane from Kansas to Kyrdistan. From there, I'll make my way into Afghanistan. I'll post several updates once I'm back online there.

Good luck to you all. I'm outta here...

In case you were wondering...

Here's the .50 cal all put together. Complete, the weapon weighs in at around 140 pounds. We've been doing a lot of shooting lately, and sometimes my .50 even works. The weapons we use here are rather high mileage, and prone to minor setbacks.

Night Shoot

Here's a little video of us shooting vehicle mounted machine guns at night. This was, obviously, a lot of fun... even if it was 20 0r 30 degrees below freezing.

A Much Needed Reprieve

Over MLK, Jr. weekend, the staff at Fort Riley cut us loose for 4 days, and boy did we need the break! The training schedule has been very intense, and the conditions have been taxing to say the least.

Even before the day officially ended, I was headed for Lincoln, NE for a visit with family. Steph flew in from Santa Barbara, and my Dad picked her up. Despite drining snow and below-zero temperatures, we has a really good time visiting with family and just spending time together.

Touring the proprty at Dad's:

This was a cold, cold day!

Dang it!

Well dang it. A few days ago I was screwing around doing some shadow boxing when POP! I hit my bed frame and broke my left hand. Specifically, the neck of my 5th metacarpal (a.k.a., a "boxer's fracture"). I looked at my hand and saw the knuckle at the base of my pinkie was gone. I went straight to medical, where x-rays confirmed the fracture. I got stuck with a nice big fingers-to-elbow cast that I get to live with for a couple of weeks or so. I'm far enough along in training that it shouldn't get in the way too much or affect my training schedule. It has been quite a pain in the ass to live with already, though. As long as I keep it dry and avoid too much attention from the staff around here, I should stay right on track. It's a minor injury that will be healed well brfore my deployment date at any rate.

A late Christmas...

Well, Christmas came a little late here in Kansas. Today, I took my team over to the motorpool, where I signed out two humvees and a couple of really big guns... a .50 caliber M-2 machine gun and an M-240B 7.62mm machine gun. Each goes to one of the humvee turrets. I'll be the .50 cal gunner in my humvee.

The weather got cold last night, and we awoke before dawn to heavy, wet snow coming down. By mid-morning, it was all melting and leaving a muddy mess in its wake. Not a big deal, as most of our day today was spent indors, learning how to operate communications equipment ("commo") and taking Dari language classes.