The Real Mission Begins

Convoy to JBad

Its been a long ten days. So much has happened. We finally got the hell out Bagram, which was a huge relief. Apparently the more “mature” a theatre of operations becomes the less there is for certain high-ranking officers and enlisted persons to do so they resort to enforcing dress codes and other trivial rules. I personally wasn’t accosted for any minor infractions of mindless uniformity, but I bore witness to a few including one just as our convoy was leaving for our six-hour kidney-bruising odyssey to Jalalabad. Apparently this Lt. Colonel passing by noticed one of our entourage without his seatbelt on and ran up screaming, literally screaming at him about it – some mention of scooping up his brains - I tuned the guy out shortly after he began. Oddly enough, when he came by my window, where I was definitely *not* wearing my belt, he didn’t say a thing. I’ve found this quaint little defense mechanism that I employ in these unique “Army” situations: I just give this serene, possibly vacant (but possibly not vacant) smile with just a dash of pity added to the eyes – like you’re watching a newborn kitten frustrated with a piece of yarn caught around its paws. It really works! Most of the time they just get this confounded look on their face and move on to the next victim of their unrestrained ego-tantrum.

Rolling “out of the wire” in Bagram was not at all the complexity of emotion that I had anticipated. I wasn’t anxious. I slept like a baby the night before. I was excited but not for the element of danger, rather the anticipation of finally, finally getting to begin my actual mission – the culmination of six months of training and two months of mobilization…and nearly two years of deliberation. If I could have visited myself two years ago and told him (me) that I was about to start work at a PRT in Afghanistan, I would not have believed me. My dream of being part of this was now real. The thought still exhilarates me! Not because the job is particularly that exciting all the time (though it can be) but because I did it! I made the leap of faith. I took the risk and followed my heart and here I am – for better, for worse, it doesn’t matter. I broke free of the imprisonment of my conventional mindset and set my life on a new course – on a true course. After the leap, every “big” decision from then on takes on a much less ominous, more playful tone. My new goal is simple: To lead as interesting a life as possible and to raise my family to a new way of viewing their role in the world.

The trip to Jalalabad was uneventful in the military sense. But I was fascinated by my surroundings and by my reaction to same. I’d been to the “third world” several times before, but always as a reluctant guest. Today, it was as a brother. Life is so much harder for these people from just about anyone’s perspective, yet there is a light behind the eyes and a trueness in their smiles that I’ve deeply missed somewhere in my soul. Sure, there are a few angry, jaded types in every crowd but the vast majority are friendly, hospitable and curious to know more about their strange visitors. Anyone who would tell you we are unwelcome “invaders” here should come spend a day with me on the streets of Jalalabad. You feel more like a movie star that a hated “infidel”. The trip through the tight mountain passes was absolutely striking. There were several rather surreal moments, like passing a bombed out Soviet tank on the side of the road – a grim reminder of what happened here when the Soviets took a very different approach to Afghan pacification. Scores of mine field warning signs decorated the roadside and the percentage of amputees amongst the roadside population sample was remarkable.

The trip passed without incident. I was almost disappointed that I wasn’t more excited about it, actually. Although I had experienced a profound realization of a shared humanity, my reaction to potentially dangerous operations has been so far a reserved, quiet professionalism. I’m actually quite reassured by this. Its like I said before, all the “big” decisions seem not so big and putting yourself in potentially dangerous situations just isn’t as intimidating as one might expect. Naturally, I don’t want to die or be seriously maimed, but my reaction to that possibility isn’t fear as much as it is the sadness of knowing how much pain my loved ones would endure if it were to happen.

Home Sweet Home

We arrived in Jalalabad tired and thirsty but excited about getting started on our mission – not to mention getting to a permanent location to end months of living out of duffle bags. Ourselves, and everything we brought with us was covered in a rather thick layer of fine, gray dust.I got some great post-convoy pics and then we headed to our rooms to check out where we’d be spending the next year of our lives. Surprisingly, it wasn’t bad at all. Aside from the fact that the previous inhabitants left a huge mess and a rather sickening stench of unknown origin emanating from one of the cabinets, it wasn’t much worse than my first college dormitory. In keeping with the collegiate theme, we were also bequeathed a unique, wall-to-wall collage featuring at least a hundred or so cutout pictures of scantily clad women from various issues of Maxim, FHM and other magazines of the “male Cosmo” genre.


The Jalalabad PRT grounds is a former Soviet officer’s resort facility. There’s even an old swimming pool that we use for a basketball court. It hasn’t held water in nearly two decades but the Taliban found it useful as an execution pit during their tenure here. The hundreds of bullet marks in the bottom and sides mark the violent and terrifying demise of so many souls. Its sobering to step down into it to play some one-on-one and know what took place here. If I ever for a moment entertain doubts as to whether we should be here or not, I need only remember that if we were not here, this swimming pool would no doubt still be used to take the lives of the innocent.

I was thrilled to find out that we have several dogs on the premises. I needed a surrogate for my two Labrador retrievers back home. Though it’s hardly an acceptable substitute for my boys, the naturally Zen-like demeanor of any dog makes me feel right at home. Its funny because technically having a pet here is a violation of “General Order Number One”, which sounds ridiculously similar in its verbal gravitas to the “Prime Directive” of Star Trek, and like its Sci-Fi counterpart, equally ignored. G.O.1 states you can’t own a pet, amongst other things that are given surface-level attention, but otherwise ignored (like no sex and no alcohol) but no one really “owns” these dogs, so it’s alright. Yet another example of how the letter of the law is honored while its spirit is completely undermined. Anyone who’s ever read Catch 22 can relate to the unqualified insanity of the military group-think phenomenon.

Meeting the Governor

Well, it actually turned out to be the Deputy Governor as the Governor was away on business, but still – it was Day 2 and we were already sitting in front of the provincial and municipal leadership. The mayor of Jalalabad was there as well. It was mostly just a get acquainted meeting. Being a lowly Specialist, I didn’t say much. I found a comfortable spot, grabbed a handful of pistachios and a cup of chai tea, just as our hosts had done, and sat back and watched - even exchanging a knowing smile with the mayor as on of the more agonizingly cheesy “diplomatic” proclamations was being translated. I had fun but also realized that I’ll probably never be given an opportunity in the military to actually use my skills at this level, regardless of what I’ve come to believe to be my one true talent of connecting with people. It has been in the past few days actually where I have realized the true limitations of my role as a junior enlisted solider and how different this world is from the private sector in that regard. All of my talents and experience in my civilian life can be exploited at the Army’s leisure, but no credit is given for them in kind. For instance, I have to fight to get out of the office now that they’ve discovered my I.T. background, but my skills of negotiation and my experience in high-level decision making, my college degree and my extensive world travel seem to mean absolutely nothing at all. It’s a frustration to be sure, but I will find ways of gaining “informal” influence. After all, a good idea is infectious. If I happen to have one or two, I should expect them to stand out on their own merit. Naturally, one of my superiors will get the credit, but I’m always reminded of a saying:

“There’s no limit to what can be accomplished if you don’t care who gets the credit.”

Sage advice for an ambitious E-4 to live by.

I’ve been on several missions the past few days. One was a humanitarian assistance mission to leave some supplies for some locals where were stranded by the floods caused by the spring snow melt. I stood directly underneath the flight path of the Ch-47 Chinook helicopter as it made its approach to drop of the supplies. It damn near knocked me off my feet! Got it all on video, too. Its been good for a few laughs around here.

The latest mission was to inspect the local women’s center that had been destroyed by the infamous riots that happened here in May. Not much to the story really, I pulled guard duty outside while the higher ranks went in for the meet-and-greet. While outside, I gathered quite a large crowd of children around me. I suppose all my smiling and waving helped them to gather the courage to approach me - they didn’t seem to bother the other soldiers much. While I was making slow conversational progress with a few that knew a few words of English, I took out a pack of Wrigley’s Extra chewing gum and realized that I had just enough to give some to each of them if I tore each piece in half. The act tearing the sticks made me think of my grandfather, “Papa”. When I was a child, his trademark move was to offer you a piece of gum and then tear it in half. I think I was in college before I ever got an entire stick of gum out of the old guy! It was maddening to a spoiled American kid, but it has come to be a very special and endearing memory. I decided at that point that I would do this every time I give a kid a piece of gum here - in honor of him.


In the last couple days there’s been an increase in insurgent activity. Just yesterday there was a Chinook downed in the mountains near our area of operations. I can’t say much more at this time, only to say that our Civil Affairs activities have been curtailed slightly for more “security-oriented” tasks. Hopefully this is a temporary change of priorities and we’ll be able to assume our normal assignment soon.