Share Each deployment is a marathon, and this is my third in five years.  I recognize the cycle.  We were even briefed on it.  Each deployment has its phases, and there is a phase of irritability, restlessness and discontent.  That has been the past month or so.  It makes it hard to write, because although there are stories of missions to tell, it’s hard to tell them in a voice that does not drip of that same restlessness and discontent.  Especially when changes to our force protection posture means that we can get even less done.   I can’t talk specifics about that at this time because of OPSEC (Operational Security), but our capabilities have changed, and not to make our work easier. One thing I noticed during our abysmal train-up at Camp Shelby was that a briefing had been added that described these phases.  I recognized them, and the

Share This is the post that I’ve been dreading, but I knew it would come.   For the first time since WW-II,  Ohio’s 37th (then a division, now a Brigade Combat Team that includes many soldiers from Michigan) has lost lives in combat.   The day before yesterday, out in Maimana, an insurgent wearing a suicide vest approached a group of Afghan Police and their mentors and detonated his vest.  The indiscriminate violence of that act took many lives.  Among the dead were two Americans; SFC Hannon and SFC Rieck.  A third, CPT Rozanski, died of his wounds within hours.  Five other soldiers were wounded, most of them severely.  Two are still fighting for their lives. All three of our honored dead leave families behind.  Children, wives, parents and siblings.  Each of our wounded has a life.  All have a story.  Every single one of them was born into loving

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 I’ve arrived at Marmal, a German Air Base near Mazar-e Sharif.  Now that the movement is over, I can say that the brigade trickled into theater over the course of about a month.  Some of the brigade has been on the ground here for just over a month.  Others have just arrived.  Most of my team has been in place for several weeks at least.  I was on the third to last (out of a bunch) movement to country, which was passed by the second to last and finally entered country at the same time as the final movement arrived.  Throughout the long, painful movement into Afghanistan, I kept in touch via email with the Lieutenant Colonel, LTC Grass* who is the deputy team chief for the Security Force Assistance Team (SFAT) that I am a part of. A couple of years ago, SFAT’s were called ETT’s or PMT’s.

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

Share By the time this is posted, we will be in Afghanistan.   For most of these Soldiers, it will be their first time in country.  For many, it is their first deployment.  Even for those who have deployed before, many of them were in Kuwait.  Afghanistan will be a new experience for them.  The North will be a new experience for me, but not Afghanistan.  It’s not like going home, but it’s familiar.  I know what to expect.   I know what normal activity on an Afghan street looks like, feels like.   The rest will learn on their own.  There is no way to train that.  There is no way to train feeling.  Some will “get it.”   Some won’t.  Some will wind up getting along well with the Afghans they meet.  Some won’t, and will wind up hating them and resenting them.  It is the way of

Share I was in Manas, Kyrgyzstan once. I was there for less than two days in early April, 2007 on my way into Afghanistan for my first tour. We went home via Kuwait at the end of the tour. Manas was a transit point that became a distant, ephemeral memory overshadowed by the events that followed. It was never the focus of my attention, even when I was there. I should say, “even when I was here.” Here I am again with nearly 200 of my closest friends. This time the wait is longer, and we are in Limbo. We are neither home nor in Afghanistan. We have been “swiped in” to theater. Our “smart” identification cards tell the human resources systems that we have arrived in the combat zone, but we are not there yet. We had a couple of briefings, got rolled around in the vehicle rollover simulators

Share For those of you who have read my writings before, it’s good to write for you again.  For those of you who haven’t, thanks for stopping by.  In the next few days I will begin my journey back to Afghanistan for the third time.  This is my first time deploying as part of a brigade-sized unit.  A brigade from my home state of Ohio, the 37th Infantry Brigade Combat Team (IBCT), is in the process of deploying to northern Afghanistan after training for several months at Camp Shelby, Mississippi.  How I came to be with them, to volunteer again, is a longer story.   The train-up period seemed to drag on forever, with a certain degree of fatigue having set in before the actual deployment begins. My uniforms, weapon and equipment surround me here in my billet.  Some of my gear is already in Afghanistan waiting for me.  Myself and