Day One

It’s been a very long trip, but I’ve decided to count day one from the day we got to Mazir-E-Sharif and go from there.

The sun was setting on the Maz as we sat in the airport waiting on a convoy of MRAP’s to pick us up and take us to our final destination: Camp Mike Spann in Northern Afghanistan. Capt Gerst, MSgt DeWitt and I unloaded our 30+ bags from a conex we had stored them in the night before and stacked them up outside as the convoy rolled in. The pink and orange sky beamed above the snowcapped mountains as we loaded our bags into the mail truck and received a safety briefing from an Army Sergeant. Upon receiving information on what MRAP we were assigned to, I strapped in my IBA and helmet and threw my 72-hour backpack on my back and walked toward the vehicle. I jumped in and was happily greeted by the Army E-4, who was our driver on this trip. Of course, being the first one in, I took the seat that was furthest in, so as to make it easier for those that followed to get into their own seats. As luck would have it, the gunner (also an E-4) followed me and with a big smile says, “You picked the worst seat in the truck Master Sergeant.” I soon discovered what he meant, as the gunner stand that this E-4 stood on was directly in front of my seat where my feet should’ve been, and I had a great view of his ass during the whole one and a half hour trip. I laughed once he got up there and said “I’m good man” to him as he smiled back at me looking down the gunner’s hole. I found a comfortable place for my legs, but only after the muscle cramps in my quads and back subsided. At that point, I just wanted to get to where we were going, and if I had to suffer a few cramps and that was all, I was good with that.

The driver was sitting in his seat listening to his iPod and checking his cell phone as we awaited word that it was time to depart. He seemed to be just like any other young kid; happy, dancing in his seat…jamming to whatever his iPod had to offer at the time. I found myself observing everything from the driver to what was going on outside. By this time, the sun had already set and it was starting to get dark. When the driver got the word that it was time to depart, things seemed to change a little. Off came his iPod and away went his phone. He put on his IBA and helmet and put on the radio so he could hear what was being talked about within the convoy vehicles. All of a sudden, things became more serious.

The convoy departed Mazir-E-Sharif airport with the roaring sound of MRAP’s echoing through the air. We passed through the concertina wire-riddled gates and next thing I know, we’re outside the wire. I didn’t know what to think initially, as I’d heard so many stories about things that have happened outside the wire. For the first time, I felt like I was really in harm’s way.

Rolling through the Afghani streets didn’t seem much different than many of the old dirt roads I had been on in New York or even in Illinois. There weren’t many people around initially, and all you could see was open road for the longest time. We made a few turns onto bumpy, desolate roads that might make a normal person uneasy, but still, it didn’t seem too bad. I remember thinking to myself that I didn’t want to get complacent, but I was feeling pretty comfortable about how things were going up to that point. Then, off in the distance, I noticed the multi-colored lights of a town or city ahead. This, I thought, was going to be interesting.

Approaching the town was a bit nerve-wracking, as the population of people around grew almost immediately. Markets full of colorful fruit lined the streets, and people were everywhere. Men with turbines and jet black beards glared at us as we passed, peering with their dark eyes. Moped-type vehicles weaved in and out of our convoy, much to the dismay of our driver, who was consistently frustrated at our “stop-and-go” pace. The crowds seemed to thicken as we got closer to the city’s center, and there were people of all sized and shapes everywhere. At times, we were at a stand-still, which can certainly make you nervous if you know anything about what the Taliban and terrorists are capable of. I sat in my seat and stared through the windshield with so many emotions running through me and questions running through my head. “Why is that man staring at us?” “What is going on in his head?” “Is he planning something?” “Does he realize we’re here to help, or is he against us?” Those were just a few questions I asked myself as we slowly passed through the town. I watched the moped type vehicles pass by and remember thinking: “he’s letting us go, but will the next convoy be so lucky?” It was almost unfair of me to think that way, as most of these people are probably friendly and wish us no harm. But you just can’t help it. The capabilities of the Taliban and terrorists are almost limitless, and who knows how many of them were among the people I saw. Over the past 45 days, I’ve had so much information pumped into my brain about them that it was almost natural to want to question everyone and their motives. You can’t be complacent and think “this can’t happen to me.” Many Soldiers, Marines, Airmen, and Sailors have lost their lives probably thinking the same thing.

The dark night had come upon us as we made it through the city and back to the open road. It wasn’t long before I recognized the characteristics of a military camp and arrived to Camp Spann. It was funny to me because once the driver pulled into the gate, things changed again. He pulled a knob on the right side of the steering wheel, and you heard the loud hissing sound of the brake echo through the inside of the MRAP. Almost immediately, he inserted his headphones, selected a song on his iPod and began dancing in his seat like he had been doing before we left the airport. He pulled out his cell phone and appeared to be checking it for calls or text messages. The gunner was laughing at something said on the radio, and the troop commander got out and started talking to a man at the gate. At this point, I just had to smile to myself, knowing that things were going to be ok. I really was overwhelmed by the Army guys and how naturally they took care of business. Yet, they were people too…iPods, cell phones, laughter…why would I be so surprised at all that? Here is an E-4 driver with 3 stripes less than I have, responsible for watching the road and making sure we get to where we’re going. Along with him, an E-4 gunner with 3 less stripes than me manning a weapon and scanning the streets for any activity that could put us in harm’s way. These young guys had more responsibility than I could ever imagine, yet, made it look so easy. Today was a good day. I’m glad that these guys were here today to take care of me and get me where I needed to be. I said “thank you” to both of them, but I doubt either of them really knew how much that meant coming from me.

Our bags were waiting for us by the makeshift post office on Camp Spann. The civilian that we are working with was already here and greeted us with a golf cart to carry all of our bags to our rooms. It was dark and difficult to see, but we managed to get everything and get to our tents without too much trouble. I found myself in a bee hut with wood partitioned rooms about 6x6 feet in size. My room was the last one available in the tent, which was obvious once I looked inside and saw nothing but a bunk bed. No wall lockers, no drawers, no anything. It’s what happens when you’re deployed and you’re the last one to arrive; others in the tent rape your room of anything that’s in there and use it for themselves. My little part of the world didn’t even have a door on it. It was a little disheartening at first, but I knew I could make due just like I always have. After all, I’m in Afghanistan…nothing is going to be perfect, and the conditions…well…they’re a bit less than ideal.

We got the dime tour of the camp, which took all of 10 minutes as it is very small. I can walk from where I live, to where I work, to where I eat, to where I work out, to where I mail stuff, to where I use the computer…all in about 2 minutes if I’m walking slowly. As far as convenience goes, the geographical location is ideal. There are about 600 people on camp, 25 or so of which are Air Force. I don’t see many uniforms I recognize often. The Army makes up the majority of the population, and there are soldiers from many NATO countries here as well; Germans, Croatians, Swedes, French, etc. Today I got to see a few of them, but tomorrow will be interesting when the sun is out and I can get a good idea of what’s really going on in this place.

I just got out my yellow sheets and pillowcase - from the bottom of my moon dust covered duffle bag - and put them on my lower bunk mattress. My room is bare and I have nothing but the bags I came with, and a pile of dirt that one of the guys in the hut probably swept and decided to leave in my room. I’ll make this thing work…it’s just going to take some time. I think I did see a wood self-help shop, so maybe I’ll put my handyman skills to work. I know I at least have to make a door. I’ll try that tomorrow. I’m going to watch Gran Torino on this laptop until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. I really need some sleep after the long journey to get here. I don’t have any set time to be at work tomorrow, so I’m leaving the alarm clock off until further notice. Today was a good day. I’m excited to be here, and excited about the challenges and opportunities that wait.