Share I  did arrive safely home from Afghanistan some time ago, and I’ve got some stories to tell.   For several reasons, I found it difficult to tell them while I was in-country. Transition is always a challenge, and this one is as well.  The return from each tour brings its own challenges and has its own flavor.  Each one is different.  You can never tell what exactly you will be faced with upon return.  Usually, those challenges take time to manifest themselves. My children are healthy and doing well in school, so that’s a plus.   For the most part, my extended family is doing well, although we do have one family member, a niece, who is facing an enormous health challenge.   Personally, I’ve faced some significant blows that leave me struggling, but life goes on. It is what it is. I’ve always said, “That which does not kill you

Share This blog is about the experience, and part of the experience is feeling it.  I can relate to readers the way that it feels to be cold, I can relate to readers how it feels to crunch across gravel on the camp.  I can try to relate how it feels to sit and converse with my Afghan counterpart.  I can try to relate how it feels to ride in an MRAP through the streets of Mazar-e Sharif, the feeling of earphones and body armor, viewing the normal world of Afghans through armored slats and thick glass as we do our little part to influence their Border Police to make their lives better, safer and more stable so that we can have that at home, too. How does one convey the feeling of being seven thousand miles from home while two countries go mad?   I swear, it feels as

Share Just wanted to post and say, “I’m still here.”   I’m fine.  We have been locked down in the wake of the Quran burnings at Bagram.   I’ve read news articles about the events, the comments on American news outlets that allow them and monitored emails from friends.  All I can say is that the atmosphere on both sides is disturbing. We were at the Zone headquarters when we got the news, and I thought it had to be a joke, because no one would do something that stupid, would they?  I mean, it’s only been less than a year since that nimrod in Florida burned a Quran on YouTube and people died over it.  Of all the things that you could do in Afghanistan that would cause unnecessary death, this is one that is a proven winner. It wasn’t a joke.   And it’s not a joke.  

Share The move into theater was very disorganized.  I’m understating that, but bear with me.   I traveled through Manas on the way into country in 2007, and it was smooth.  We were there less than 36 hours and then we were gone.  All of our baggage made it into theater with us.  We arrived with what we left with, and that was that.  In 2009, I moved to theater through Ali Al Saleem in Kuwait with much the same result.  Not so this time.  I haven’t written about it because I had some small level of trust that it would be ironed out with some kind of focus, but it hasn’t, and so it is no small part of the experience now. On my first two tours, we were allowed either four duffel bags or three duffel bags and a rucksack (backpack), plus a carry-on and a laptop bag

Share One thing that I try to do with my writing is to bring at least some sense of the feeling, the sensation of what it’s like.   I don’t know how well I do with that, but I try.  It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been in, or how many times you have deployed; deploying is an experience.  First deployments are different.  Each deployment has its own flavor, its own underlying tone.  Some aspects never change; the interminable flight to Asia, for instance.  Other things vary. I can’t speak for anyone else.  I can speak for the differences I feel in my perceptions, my sense of anticipation.  I can compare these with observations of others, listening to those on their first deployment.   Afghanistan was a mystery to me, my perceptions shaped partially  by what I had read, what I had been told by others, and by my training.

Share Interior shot of the C-17 “Boomerang” I had an easier time entering Afghanistan traveling on a civilian aircraft without a passport than getting in via military air transport on this deployment. I’m in the air over Tajikistan as I write this. We had scarcely entered Afghan airspace when they told us the runway at our destination is so fouled with ice that we cannot safely land and so we are turning back. Sigh. First the Air Force forgets that we are in Manas for nearly 72 hours. Then we sat on a C-17 yesterday for nearly four hours and never moved an inch. Now we are bound for our point of origination on this flight. Is there a bright side? Yes. I know right where to find the bandwidth to post this. I will be able to get emails out. I will be able to charge my batteries. One

Share The Air Force called for us to mount up on four buses to be taken to the flight line, cutting short my previous post. No sooner had we boarded the buses, laden with body armor, helmets, laptop bags and carry-on bags, than we were told that fog was delaying the flight. We got off the buses and filed back into the Pax Terminal, voices calling sarcastic congratulations on the execution of the drill. Again laptops and power cords came out. This was short-lived, however. Again the call came to board the buses. This time, the buses slowly processed towards the flight line. Cherries, excited at the prospect of putting their boots on the ground, gave themselves away with their chattering. They joked and chuckled as others sat silent. I took in the sights and sounds. Each time, some things are the same. The cramped space on the bus. The