Welcome To Kabul

I've resigned myself to the fact that there will be a significant lag between events happening and events being written about here on this blog. So I've been here for almost a week and I'm finally posting this shot of the "Welcome To Kabul" sign.

One of the funny things about internet communications is that I can quickly post stuff on Facebook or send an email almost immediately... but I still want to write longer blog posts and letters, to capture more of the details even though they end up feeling out of date when I write them.

Anyway, when we got off the C-130, we were greeted by this sign over the passenger terminal. They brought over a big pallet with all our bags strapped onto it and we began the latest bag drag exercise. We hauled our stuff inside, made a call to our various contacts, then hauled the bags out to the front of the terminal to wait for transport.

Mine didn't come that night after all, so I spend this night in a rather unpleasant little tent with 20 of my closest, um, let's call them friends. Got to sleep after midnight and was up at 0500 to meet the drive team who took me from the airport to the ISAF HQ compound

It was a surreal moment, walking off the back of a C-130 in full body armor in the middle of the night, hauling big bags of various military equipment (most of which I'll never use, of course). Never thought I'd do something like that. Between the dark, the fatigue, the disorientation and unfamiliarity of it all, I must confess it was a bit scary. But having been here for a while, it's really not so bad.

C-130 Rollin' Down The Strip

So the C-130 flight was happily uneventful – except for when I got my first (and hopefully only!) injury of the deployment.

I happened to be turning my head looking for my seatbelt as someone else was swinging a backpack in my general direction. That wouldn’t have been so bad except there was a Kevlar helmet attached to that backpack. Before I knew what was happening, my schnoz got up-close and personal with the Kevlar.

Kevlar: 1

Schnoz: 0

There was a loud crack, a little blood and an extremely apologetic Master Sergeant, but nothing’s broken.

Other than that, the flight was about as noisy, slow and uncomfortable as I expected. And since it lived up to my expectations, it really wasn’t that bad.

Here's a few shots of the view I had from my "seat." To the left, you can see we were definitely "in the rear, with the gear." Our big bags were on the pallet, and our smaller backpacks were strapped down in two rows.

To my right, I could see two dozen of my fellow travelers. That is, I could see them when the lights were on. The last 30 minutes or so the cabin lights were turned off, probably to help us sleep better. 

In The Wild Blue Yonder

My trip across the Atlantic was pretty uneventful - and actually one of the smoothest flights I've ever had. If only all my luggage had joined me (more on that later)

I was in a very cozy middle seat in the front section (emphasis on cozy - the dude next to me had no sense of personal space). Although I had precious little room side-to-side, I had plenty of overhead space. The section of the plane I was in came equipped with the much-coveted cathedral ceilings. None of those pesky "storage bins" overhead, because really, who wants to put a backpack up there anyway, right?

The lack of overhead storage meant I had a great view of the technicolor movies they showed. Technicolor is the term for when Capt Jack Sparrow's skin is green and the sky is fuschia, right?

Remember airline food? Turns out it’s not gone after all, although it's been years since I've had any. As I discovered, they still feed airplane food to the troops on these transatlantic flights. I think the intention is to make us appreciate our MRE's.

Actually, it wasn't terrible, and they fed us constantly - my watch said 1230 at night when they brought breakfast, but I ate it anyway, you bet.

But things got interesting when we got onto the C-130. That's the next story...

Fine Dining at Manas

They really do make every effort to keep us comfortable over here - there's even a Burger King and a Pizza Hut here at the Manas Transit Station.

Now, to be clear, they are modified tractor trailers, and I can't say I bought anything there (I haven't been out of the states THAT long), but it was interesting enough I wanted to snap a photo.

Manas Is Nice

If I had to describe my current location (the Manas Transit Center) in one word, I'd have to go with "primitive" (i.e. latrines, tents, etc) Or maybe "rainy." Or "former Soviet republic." Or, what's the opposite of cushy? But actually, the graffiti artist who penned the sentiment in this picture (taken inside one of the aforementioned latrines) isn't far off base.

Manas actually IS kind of nice, in a rainy, austere, Soviet sort of way. They've got internet access, showers and even a couple flush toilets if you know where to look. The all-you-can-eat food is decent and there's plenty to do when you're not busy getting briefings and picking up more gear (MORE gear? Seriously, how am I gonna haul all that stuff?). There are pool tables, a handful of small movie "theaters" and lots of computer games. There's even a little library and a chapel.

I have more pictures but for some reason I'm having a difficult time posting them here. I guess all you get for now is the latrine graffiti. I'll try with the pictures again later. Come to think of it, that's not a bad metaphor for my Manas experience so far.

All in all, it's been a smooth start to things - except for the fact that they lost one of my bags and I spent about an hour wandering around in the rain at 3am looking for it. Here's hoping they find it before I catch my next flight... whenever that is. The nice thing is that I had a buddy who stuck with me for that hour in the rain, helping me in the fruitless search for a bag that may not even be in this country (yet).

So yeah, Manas is nice. And each day gets me one day closer to coming home... which is even nicer!

Just For Giggles

While I was at CAST, I snapped this photo of one of the ubiquitous storage containers that dotted the camp's landscape. Each one was at least 7 ft tall and wide enough to store, well, a lot of stuff.

What was so special about this container, you might ask? I'll show you. The lower picture zooms in on the words printed along the top of the box: "Reusable Container," it says.

Really? Do they make disposable ones that size?

It just cracked me up that someone felt compelled to explain that this container could be reused. Like anyone would empty it out, then shrug and say "Well, guess we'll have to throw that puppy away."

It's The Final Countdown...

I've got less than a week to go before I ship out to Kabul, so we're definitely in the Final Countdown (it's a little embarrassing to think how much I liked this song when I was in high school)

Hard to believe it's almost time to go. I think we're all as ready as we can be - I'm all trained, immunized, packed and completely paperworked. The pantry is stocked with extras, the finances and vehicles and wills and powers of attorney are all in good shape. We even made Christmas ornaments and wrapped some of the gifts. And yet the list of extra little things we could / should do before I depart always seems about the same length as ever.

Getting ready has certainly been an adventure. From the time my deployment manager sent me to the wrong training ("Can you get on a plane to Seattle this afternoon, sir?" *Two days later* "Oops, you were actually supposed to go to Norway...") to the surprisingly mild Texas weather for my (correct) combat training to the surprisingly claustrophobic feeling I got when I first put on a gas mask, there's been a lot of surprises.

For example, on Thursday I went to pick up my M4 rifle, only to be told it wasn't there. And they didn't have any spares. And could I come back on Monday to re-shoot and re-sight a new rifle? ("We'll probably have one by Monday..."). Sure, no prob. See ya on Monday.

It's just the latest example of the need to be flexible and patient. And maybe that's the best training I've had so far - training in being understanding when things go wonky no matter how much I pay attention to detail (When I shot my first M4, I asked twice to confirm whether that specific rifle would be held for me to pick up. I got a "yes, sir" twice, and I watched them tag it with my name. God knows what happened to it after that).

No doubt there will be many opportunities to practice being flexible and patient during the next 6 months. But I'm not worried. Like I said, I've been well trained.