Final Mission...

I must admit, it feels like a year ago not three weeks, when I mounted up for my first convoy operation. I was indoctrinated into the dangerous world of mission outings by getting acquainted with big guns and being taught what to do if we came under fire. Being handed my own personal tourniquet, told that it was mine to keep and hopefully, I wouldn’t have to learn how to use it was very sobering. Now, eighteen days later and a lifetime of experiences behind me, I am heading out on my last mission here in Afghanistan.

In preparation for what was going to be a long morning, I headed off to breakfast only to find that everything they offered this morning was a pork product. So once again I cracked two eggs on the skillet and made myself some well done scrambled eggs – not the way I would have them back home but not trusting the eggs I make sure they are well cooked. I hurried and had breakfast so I could try and get a turn in the Internet room. Last night I tried in vain to get a turn but the evenings are the busiest periods. I also felt guilty trying to get a turn when these young men have family and girlfriends who haven’t seen them in so many months and this was their only time to communicate. I found the room relatively empty this morning and got a chance to read and send some emails and transfer my blog that I had written the night before on my laptop. It is so cathartic and therapeutic for me to write. It is the therapy that will keep me from seeing a shrink on my return home. To all my family and friends, thank you for sharing in my experiences and reading along as I try to share the nuances of life here in this strange place.

This morning I will be riding in a COUGAR – the third and last type of military transport vehicle being used in theater. It is very similar to the MWRAP with a few configuration differences. The objective today is to go into a village close by that is not considered a “friendly”. The ag advisor and an extension agent from the district ministry for agriculture will be doing a site visit to see how they can assist the farmers and families to improve their situation and livelihood. Before we even get started we have our first dilemma. Instead of meeting us at the village, the elderly, white bearded extension agent shows up at the compound saying he refused to go into the village on his own and he would only go under the protection of the military. He admits that he is afraid of being “taken” or kidnapped! After some discussion with our SECFOR (security force) lead, he is allowed to get into one of our convoy vehicles for the ride up to the village.

Mercifully, it doesn’t take long to get to our destination and as we dismount from the vehicles I can see that a recon team had preceded us, securing the area before our arrival. The security perimeter is set up and the obligatory greetings and salutations take place. As the greetings are taking place, a very unusual sight takes place in front of us. Even to the delight of the hardened military, a small group of nomadic Kuchies passing through come over the rise of a hill leading their donkeys laden with their possessions. The lead animal in the group is a large camel with a high stack of sacks strapped to his back. The Kuchies are as surprised and curious as the soldiers and villagers and they quickly continue along their journey to what looks like a day of selling in the market.

We again turn our attention back to the villagers who want to give us a tour and express their problems, needs and the solutions they desire. Despite the suspicions about this place, the usual three ring circus takes place. Young children greet us with wide grins and sparkling eyes. They surround us and look us up and down not with suspicion but with curiosity. They are fascinated by the cameras and all the attention they get when the lens is pointed at them. The older males seem more suspicious and whisper in the background, while the elders do all the talking and seem to be genuinely hospitable. As usual our welcoming committee is all male, from toddlers all the way up to the wizened old elder – the leader of this tiny village. He is a small man, slightly bent at the waste but he has a confident stride. As is the custom he leans into his guests for a kiss on the cheek, shakes hands and touches his right palm to his heart. Our interpreters are unidentifiable with their sunglasses and ski masks. They too are afraid and do not want to be recognized since they are working for the Americans. They translate rapidly as the elders are anxious to share their stories and do so with great excitement. There are 20 families that live here, all farmers. They grow wheat, grapes, apricots and almonds. They lack water for irrigation and their only supply of water comes from an ancient spring in the middle of the village and a smaller spring up on a nearby hill. The water is enough for daily use but not for all the irrigation they need. They are trying for the third time to dig a well but at 225 meters down they are only getting a trickle – another failure they think.

As we slowly make our way through the village via a well used footpath, the soldiers are amped up. There are vehicles and lookouts on every high ground surrounding us. Surprisingly, I feel a great sense of calm as I have come to trust these guys implicitly. As I walk in the midst of these young men with their instincts and senses on high alert, I walk directly in their path, not deviating from the footprints they leave behind. They go ahead of us and search behind walls, down small alley ways and check any and all nooks and crannies. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed one of the soldiers suddenly take a knee and put his sniper rifle scope up to his eye. He trains the gun on a vehicle way up on a hill overlooking the village. He calmly reports that the occupants of the vehicle are not looking in our direction and don’t seem to be hostiles trying to observe our operation as first thought. The gunner in one of the turrets continues to keep an eye on the vehicle as we make our way deeper into the village. It is such a paradox to see this mighty military presence in this truly medieval setting. The elder shows us the natural spring that is hidden inside a cave. It is probably this spring that caused the ancestors of this village to make this their home. It is a grotto where the residents, bathe, do laundry and get their water for cooking. Yes, all of this takes place at this one location! We slowly make our way forward pass the middle of the village when from a small, dry, dusty backyard one of the soldiers yells out to our interpreter. He has come upon an old tractor that looks like a museum piece. He is curious as to the age of the relic and if it still works. The answer is, yes, it still works and it is over 50 years old. So just when you think these are ancient uneducated people, you realize they are wise enough to somehow keep a 50 year old tractor running. We finally get to their vineyards where as is typical of Afghanistan the thick thirty year old grape vines are grown as bushes and the grapes grow on the ground. Our ag advisor is trying to teach the farmers in the area about trellises and growing grapes off the ground. He thinks their yield would increase five fold and they would be able to get much more raisins which is their finished product.

After the village tour we do a couple interviews in the middle of an apricot orchard. It is a beautiful day with a cool breeze rustling through the tree tops ever so often, breaking up the monotony of the heat. The sun is high in the sky and filters through the branches and leaves to form shadowy patterns under the rows of trees. It is a rustic rural setting, an oasis outside a chaotic busy town which we can see below us at the end of the rugged unpaved road that brought us here. I would probably enjoy the setting more if I wasn’t wearing 30 pounds of armor around my body and a heavy black helmet that seemed to draw the heat from the sun overhead. It is also an unnatural sight to see heavily armed soldiers in every direction within my line of sight as I follow the low mud walls that encircle us. Dave K uses every last second of our allotted time to get as many visuals as he can. Then the order is given for us to move out. We have to get going as the soldiers are aware that the more time that goes by with us in one place the more vulnerable we are. We have to make our way back the way we came following the narrow footpath through the village back to the vehicles parked on the edge of the tiny rural community. As we pass by the grotto there is a man sitting on a rock waiting to take his turn bathing. On further scrutiny there is another man inside the cave in the small pool of water washing himself. Before we depart, a large box of gifts for the children is removed from one of the vehicles. In order to prevent total chaos, the box is given to the elder who has everyone sit obediently by the side of the road and as we rumble away in the long convoy of armored vehicles I see through my window that the candy, books, pens and other treats from the USA are being distributed to some very excited children and young adults. Of course I can’t help thinking about the little girls back inside the mud walls of their houses who do not get to share in this activity…

Once we are back in the security and safety of our compound I make sure to thank all the soldiers; the foot patrols, the gunners, the drivers and our lead NCO for taking us out and bringing us back safely. “I would expect no less,” says the NCO as one of his cohorts yells, “This ain’t our first rodeo, you know.” I give them all the thumbs up like one of the many children who chase beside their vehicles every day. As I remove the bulky body armor to reveal a soaking wet shirt underneath, I bow my head and say a silent prayer of thanks. Four provinces, multiple missions, successful filming, and no hostile incidents – I am grateful for every positive thought, every intercessory prayer and the safety and good health of all the wonderful, well-trained soldiers I encountered who took such good care of Dave and me.

Now it’s on to Kabul and one more week till I’m homeward bound!