This ain't Hell, but you can see it from here

Author: TSO

  • Breaking radio silence for SPC David Sosa

    Remember I talked the other day about a PFC?  If not:

     One guy in particular that I noticed was a PFC. Young kid, fairly new to the country, and we owe him everything if this works, because dude does the right thing without even apparently noting it. The local kids had come out in droves. I mean, probably 100-200 of them all told filtered through. And being around the vehicle that was immobilized was obviously not something anyone needed. This PFC that we’ve spent thousands of hours and dollars training to bring destruction to the enemy was out there ACTUALLY winning hearts and minds. He was in the middle of the kids, smiling, learning their language, answering questions, making them giggle and so on.

     
    Well, as the title indicates, he is a PFC no more, but the newest proud recipient of the sham shield. And it has been quite a day for this young man, as he learned this morning that was the ultimate winner of the “Baddest JFO Competion” for the entire brigade (JFO is Joint Forward Observer) There were over 100 guys who took part in the contest for the 172 SBCT Brigade. He placed first. As a PFC. There were SSG’s, LT’s and company level FSO’s, and this young SPC (ney PFC) won it all. In fact, Able Company won the overall competition as well, with Able taking 1-5 of all scorers.

    Now you know why I chose this company. They’re badass man, like a moustache with….well, you know.

  • Out on Patrol with Captain America and Pookie

    In my defense, a first call of 0300 for a media embed is unconscionable. (Joes were 0200)

    Nonetheless, when I showed up at the vehicles this morning for our SP time, my vehicle-mates would have been well within their rights to just send me back to my hooch. No MRE. Camelback empty. No gloves. Wearing sunglasses and using a white light (I honestly just thought it was dark.) And my field and stream shirt was inside out, so not only was the collar on the inside of my armor and rubbing the wrong way, but the interior mesh of the shirt was on the outside. And I might never have known about this deficiency until I caught sight of my shadow, and realized that those straps you use to make your shirt short-sleeved were hanging down from me. Dude, soup sandwich don’t have [stuff] on me.

    Today was day 2 of actual patrols with the ANA, and I remain impressed by them. I was sitting outside one Qalat with an E4 (maybe an RTO) who looked up at his ANA counterparts and waved to one of them. “You know what pisses me off about the media and civilians?” he asked. “They either badmouth the ANA or they think all of these people are savages. Neither is true.” he lamented as he shook his head.

    The man “Parachute Cutie” calls “Captain America”, the CO of Able company agrees. “Look at ’em, doing everything we do.” The CO and the 1SG are a hilarious couple. They remind me of the guys from the old Bartles and James commercials where one guy talks nonstop, and the other just sort of nods. You could ask 1SG if he could pass the salt and somehow, without breathing, he’d be still talking 20 minutes later, and telling you how much he is pulling for some girl on The Voice. The CO is more like me, you have a certain number of spoken words you can use each day, and he is economizing them, and his are spoken in this Tennessee drawl so I listen pretty close to every one of them.

    The two of them never stop smiling, answer everything I ask, and tease the troops and each other mercilessly. In fact, everyone in this unit smiles a lot. My only complaint at all is that the PSG I am with smiles right before he launches into epic arse-chewings, and I never get a chance to get it on video. It’s not what he says neccessarily that makes them epic, but he has this certain panache that makes his rants so enjoyable. I swear, I look around before patrols in hopes someone isn’t wearing knee pads, which to hear him tell it might be worthy of a court martial.

    But today I got to follow the CO around, and watch him interact with the troops, the terp (“Cletus” is probably not his given Afghan name, but it is on his nametape) and the Afgan Army guys. He pointed out all the stuff they were doing. For instance, we were moving through one village, and it had probably 20-30 qalats, and in-between the houses were 2-300m open spaces. Where on my deployment here (’04-05) I had witnessed similiarly situated ANA guys walking around in circles or playing soccer with UXO (well, it probably wasn’t unexploded ordinance, but it was a cylinder that looked unhealthy) these guys set up overwatch positions, and then bounded in 2 elements.

    When we went into the compounds, they didn’t steal everything that wasn’t tied down, they talked to the homeowner first, requested permission to climb up on the roofs, didn’t leave litter everywhere, and then thanked the guy when we left. They continue to not get the total concept of safety* but on tactical stuff they are great. They understand how to use the maps, and communicated through the radios pretty effectively.  When one guy was apparently not pulling his weight yesterday morning, he literally got a boot to his arse, and then the ANA Commander took away the guys weapon and chased him back on the compound.  They seem to take real pride in the work they are doing, and seem very cognizant of the importance.  It may be a small thing, but they decorate all their vehicles with the Afghan flag, and they seem to be very cogniscent of emerging nationalism.

    *Case in point was the weapons test fire the other day, and this other poor cat that was in the back of a pickup that I saw the other day. Undeterred by a man standing in the back with a DShK attached to the roof, the driver decided to take a series of bumps at about 30 MPH. Guy in the back had to let go of the gun, and grab onto the side of the truck. The perturbations of the vehicle of course send the DShK spinning in a circle, so now the guy is holding on for dear life to the sides, while simultaneously channeling Jackie Chan’s ducking ability to keep from getting his block knocked off by a machinegun.

    Another patrolmate today was Pookie, some sort of mutt that the guys think is a guardian angel. It should be noted that this Talisman of Luck is not being fed, owned or in anyway controlled by the Joes (that would violate General Order 1B prohibiting pets) but rather appears to live over at the ANA compound, and runs out at the sound of vehicles. This isn’t a dog I would take home to play with mine. The only reason I was upset about not bringing my gloves this morning was because I would rather shower with turpentine than pet that dog without gloves on. MOPP 4 would even be preferred. But that guy was running alongside the vehicles as we left and then patrolled with us when on the ground. A few times he got a little lazy and just skipped large portions of the road on cut-backs, but most the time he ran right behind one of our vehicles. Was glad to see Pookie with us today though, since I saw a dead dog yesterday on patrol, and it made me a bit sad.  The guys think nothing bad will happen when Pookie is around.

    Anyway, that is it for today. It’s noon and I am exhausted. And I just ate what they refer to as “chow” here, and I therefore know I have a date with the restrooms in my near future. After that, a shower, some laundry, and then a nap that will last through first call tomorrow. Let’s hope common decency prevails and that first call isn’t before….oh, let’s say 0900.

  • Stuck like Chuck an MP.

    I was disabused today of my previously held belief that QRF was some sort of latin for “Quiet and Relaxation Farce.” Astonishingly, they actually believe in this unit that it is the “when things go to shit, who ya gonna call” force. Which really put a pretty sizeable dent in my plans today, which involved a shower, the barely edible chow, and copious amounts of local videos which are sort of an Afghan version of Mystery Science Theater 3k with local heads bobbing on screen. The selection today was “The Last Boy Scout” followed by “Seabiscuit” and then rounding out the Bruce Willis sandwich with “Mercury Rising.” I did sleep in (to 6AM), ate my Lucky Charms and stopped in the TOC before my plan went the way of mythical beasts like the DoDo, T-Rex and straight guys who watch “The Voice.”

    The first call of the day was allegedly some sort of IED threat. Essentially it was me running to get my stuff, running to the motor pool, and then some frantic prayers that the Doc would show up with the paddles. (Clear!) No cardiac or SP ensued, as we got waved off. As I was walking dejectedly back to the TOC though, I met the Air Force EOD guys, who like EVERY other person I ever met in the Air Force were clearly pleased with their lot in life, ready to share a smile and an explanation of what they do, and show off their digs.

    [As an aside, if there is anyone who reads our dopey blog who is considering military service, hear me loud and clear: Dude, for the love of Spongebob’s ghost, join the Air Force. If you are a dude who wants to be a Marine or Army SF or some crazy bad people ventillation technician, you still go AF, and tell them you want to be a JTAC. Seriously. The grooming standards are lower (“I didn’t feel like shaving this month” is a justifiable excuse in the AF) the scenery is a hell of a lot more scenic (*wink* *wink*) and the level of ability to bring terrorists to room temperature is the same. /end aside.]

    These particular EOD guys had a robot, which no matter how you cut it makes them exponentially cooler than you. And out came Wall-E or iRobot or whatever it was. Thing is kind of heavy, and it is like an 11C humping the baseplate up a mountain, but when you get to the top, and look back on what you just climbed, you can feel pride in knowing YOU JUST CLIMBED UP A MOUNTAIN WITH A ROBOT. [Yes, CAPS LOCK, dude, it is a fricken Robot.] This thing operates off an XBox controller, because the only thing that ranks up with a robot, is playing X-Box.

    So, I sat in the motor pool and ran this heavy little beast into folks because I’m just not that good at these things. Plus, them have these specially made sunglasses that make you look like the unholy cross breed of Tom Cruise in Top Gun and a Borg. You have this little video camera that shows you what Wall-E sees. Frankly it was easier to not watch through the video, but if you got used to it, it might not be so disorienting.

    Then this afternoon the TOC started getting busy. Let’s just say it was interesting to see, but rife with some stress to say the least. The end result of the excitement was virtually nothing, but it was tense. Then came word, call up the QRF, MPs got not one but two vehicles stuck. So out we roll.

    First one was pretty easy. I’m fairly certain they could have gotten it out with a little work, but it wasn’t far away, so why risk it. The second one though, hoofah. I honestly have no idea how this thing got stuck where it did. It was the middle of a village, with side roads literally 20m ahead and about 20m behind, but the driver inexplicably decided to do a 400 point turn (neccessitated by the width of the road) and didn’t quite make it.

    As we were eyeballing the disaster, the ANA rolled up. Now, yesterday I talked about the one side of the ANA, the part where safety concerns are at the opposite end of the spectrum from the US Army (“wear your PT belt and Eye Pro at all times”) mentality. Today I got to see them at their best. Their 1SG rolled up, got out, and took charge immediately. He barely glanced at the vehicle stuck (which I was keying on as it was the obvious excitement) and immediately deployed his guys efficiently and with evident strong leadership. He was pointing out sectors for his men, directing his vehicles and communicating with the locals with a modicum of holering and hand movements. The locals took him seriously, and his men moreso. If there is a future for this country, that dude will be the one that future generations can thank.

    And he wasn’t alone. Other ANA guys came through, and hollered to various US troops that they knew from previous (mis) adventures. That in itself wasn’t surprising, but the US Troops were clearly excited in turn to see these guys. I talked to several of them afterwords as they met their various counterparts, and every one of them told me something along the lines of “That dude is awesome, he’s a great leader.” This went well with what I had heard from a buddy back at KAF. Despite what we hear in the states about Green on Blue, these ANA are making marked improvement. It’s a race now. Can we bring up the substandard ones to bring the fulcrum to a point where the weight of history will be on the side of discipline and prosperity for the country.

    Nonetheless, after several hours we got the vehicle out. But what I saw on scene in that time was great. One guy in particular that I noticed was a PFC. Young kid, fairly new to the country, and we owe him everything if this works, because dude does the right thing without even apparently noting it. The local kids had come out in droves. I mean, probably 100-200 of them all told filtered through. And being around the vehicle that was immobilized was obviously not something anyone needed. This PFC that we’ve spent thousands of hours and dollars training to bring destruction to the enemy was out there ACTUALLY winning hearts and minds. He was in the middle of the kids, smiling, learning their language, answering questions, making them giggle and so on.

    I was reminded of a old German man who once came to an event we had. He had been 7 when Germany was in it’s second World War, and surrounded by utter destruction when one day he saw US Troops approaching down a road. He’d never seen one, and was justifiably worried what this would mean for his family. One GI smiled at him, approached him and knelt down. He gave that kid a stick of gum, tried to speak German with him, and basically just devoted attention to him. That kid decided then that one day he too would be an American, all because one tired Joe took the time to make him feel important.

    As I watched that PFC do that today, I quietly talked to my Medic buddy. “Yeah, he’s like that. He just walks up and gets them talking.” I can’t help but wonder if somewhere in this tiny village was a kid who was distracted from a stuck vehicle by a smiling young 20 year old who really was interested in engaging the children. Will that kid come to America, or will he one day be a leader of men here in this country? Either would be fine with me.

  • Outside the Wire, fun with the ANA


    Even before I made it out here (FOB Andar) I had heard an NCO tell me how lucky I was to get embedded with Able Co, 3-66.  “Awesome unit, awesome leadership”, he said.  “They love the CO, but they worship the 1SG, dude is a stud.”  That was my first impression when I met the leadership as well, but I decided to ask one of the NCO’s I was out with yesterday.  He sort of smiled, “Well, that’s half right, we pretty much worship the CO too.”

    Getting here wasn’t easy, and it was rife with anxiety.  KAF-BAF-Sharana-Andar is a pain in the ass travel scenario.  At one point a AF person told me my ticket would cost $122.  I was somewhat stunned, since the orders just said I was to have access to anything I needed, but I said “ok, how can I pay.”  What followed was a surreal experience as they explained that I couldn’t pay cash, couldn’t pay credit card, couldn’t be billed for it.  Then the AF female and a KBR person just started screaming at each other, and the loadmaster that was for my bird whispered to me, “We’ll get you on the bird man, don’t worry about this horse[expletive.]”  At the next stop, an Army female and a KBR guy also got into it over who had priority for weighing folks on the one scale they had.

    So by the time I made it here, I was pretty tight and apprehensive all around.  Every unit I’ve been in has had some defect.  Whether it is the leadership being not up to par, or the troops not getting along, there’s always s0mething.  Here, not so much.  Everybody gets along great, and they play jokes on each other constantly.  And the PLs and PSGs all seem top notch, none more so than the Platoon I went out with yesterday.

    (more…)

  • Top 5 Things I hate about Afghanistan

    1) BAF

    2) The Pax Terminal at BAF

    3) The personnel at the Pax Terminal on BAF telling me my flight is cancelled.

    4) After personnel at the Pax Terminal on BAF tell me my flight is cancelled, and that there is some Space A, and I should give them my passport and then either sit on these torturous chairs, or sleep on the floor.

    5) The Weather which necessitated the Pax Terminal personnel to tell me my flight was cancelled, and I should go to sleep on the floor until my name is picked from the magic barrel that contains my passport.

     

    In the immortal words of Eric Cartman- Fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

  • Officers in the mist….

    Living with officers in a hooch, I can’t help but feel like Jane Goodall or whatever her name was.  The officer class is an inscrutable race.  I live with 5 O4’s, an IG, G2, JAG, PAO and Chaplain.  The Chaplain has been remarkably tolerant.  One should never get 3 Mass guys together around a chaplain who isn’t deaf.

    However, I was absolutely delighted by the literally 2 hours of talk about poops they had taken in the past that we had last night, and I am holding my own in Gay Chicken.  (For those that don’t know what that is, you do something gay, and the dude either ups it, or flinches.  For instance, patting a guy on the knee and then sliding your hand up the inside of his leg during IED lanes training.)

    So, the MRAP rollover thing.  Yeah, that sucked.  We missed the TTP where you put the smallest person up in the turret, and instead, a 250lbs dude fell into my lap.  I braced my arm on the roof, and nearly broke my ulna.  Good times, good times.  I tried to upload the video to YouTube, but it didn’t work.

    Anyway, I am headed downrange, and just checking in from the O’Hare Airport of Afghanistan, as I wait to fly back on the exact same friggin route I flew to get here, but which will stop at my actual destination.  I should be with the men of Able Company 3-66 AR by somepoint tonight.

    Miss the wife and (gay) dogs, but the rest is all well.

     

  • Stuck inside of Kandahar with those Sharana blues again….

    Disregard, I may have found a guy who knows a guy whose second cousin once dated a dude who can fly me in an ultra-light.  (Actually, I may have a bird.)

    Unicorn Shit Pancakes for Brunch FTW.

    (more…)

  • No shit, there I was….

    So I land at KAF and we head over to check in.  Dude gives the “Welcome to War” speech and then goes into the does and don’ts of KAF.  Wear your PT belt, eye protection at all time, rockets bad, sex bad, beer bad etc.  So the guy gives the spiel about rockets and when the siren goes off you lay on the ground and cover your head with your hands.  (LIttle known fact, fingernails stop 107’s.)

    So right after the dude finishes this, the siren goes off.  Headhunter and I assumed it was some ridiculous role playing nonsense and gave each other the “this is gay” look and get down.  Well, turns out a) it was a real one, and b) we were in a bunker and didn’t need it, so there goes any potential cool points.

    After the room turns into a sauna of ass, the all clear comes and we head out with this female medic who is going to drive us over to the place where we draw room keys.  No sooner do we get to the car than the siren goes again.  Some of the dudes get down, Headhunter says “eff this” and I just crawled in the back of the vehicle.  So, we wait like a minute, and run back to the aforementioned, and still ass-stank ridden bunker building.  Some E4 chick from somewhere like SC is talking nonstop, and we are trying to figure out how we can dispose of her body here in front of all these people because she’s riding our last nerve, we haven’t eaten in 12 hours, and are exhausted.

    1/2 hour later the all clear comes, we pack back in the vehicle and head out to the housing.  So Headhunter goes in with other folks to draw keys and I stay and talk to the medic.  No sooner do we start talking than Air Raid nonsense iteration 3 goes off.  I should interject that it is this obnoxious sound, followed by what seems to be a Hong Kong female national telling us that rockets are inbound or something.   I guess the yyeeeee hawwwww, yeeeee hawwww noise isn’t enough of a clue.

    So I amble over to the bunker, taking my sweet ass time, because I am old and tired.  Headhunter finally comes out and tells me about what happened inside the bldg.  Apparently the siren went off and all the new dicks hit the turf, per the instruction from an hour ago.  In walks a squad of infantry guys with dirt still on their gear and with a terp, and the LT leading them looks at all the squishes laying on the ground and goes “What’s up guys?”

    Moral of the story, I’m not friggin ducking and running anymore.