Battlefield Tourist

May 22nd 0700

It's amazing when you walk around FOB Ripely because you quickly realize that life in the field for soldiers and Marines probably hasn't changed much in centuries. Technology advances are definitely evident, but the basic life of these fighting men and women certainly hasn't.
I came back to this hellpit late last night and we needed to rise early. Today's task is to join up with UNAMA and take a look at the growing local interest in the election process. One of the keys to determining the success of the Marines, is this process. If people are registering to vote, you know the threat of the Taliban has been diminished. Of course the Taliban are doing what they can to disrupt the process. The more registered voters, the less Taliban. Word is that voter registration in the Tarin Kowt bowl is over 50%, which is amazing by any country's
standards. For Afghanistan, it's unheard of. To think we're in the middle of Taliban country, this is something I need to see for myself. Of course, like usual, I have to wait. So in the meantime...
Living in a tent out here isn't that bad. I should say, it's better than sleeping outside in the 8 inch deep moondust. Not to complain, but the main problem is that when the sun begins to rise at 5 am, so does the temperature in the tent. Naturally, like a mousse in a burning house, it doesn't take long to run for cover. Here there is none, so you just have to do what you can to be as comfortable as you can.
The camp here continues to grow. The companies that have been on operations for the past three weeks are starting to come in. All around are tents and men sleeping under the stars. One image that stands out from this morning is one of a black soldier sitting in the dirt staring at the ground in a daze. His head covered in the dust that plagues everything. His hands, as tan as mine. Didn't look like he had a good night's sleep in quite some time. He looked like he was completely at his limit.
Often times as I walk around here, I see images of the many pictures I have seen from remote Vietnam-era firebases like Khe Sahn. Barbed wire, bunkers, and bone tired men. Bathrooms here consist of both porta johns, and built "shithouses" where the deposit is made in 50 gallon drums that have been sawed in half. Everyday, these drums are dragged out from under the "shitters" where gas is thrown on them and innards burnt.
As the sun rises, it leaves a beautiful hue on the mountain ridges. It's a glow I don't think I've seen anywhere else in the world. With it comes the reflection of the dust that always seems to be in the air. It's a haze of natural pollution that settles all around the hundreds of tents, which for the most part, are in formation, probably along unit lines. Of course being the only journalist, mine stands alone. It's the only way I can tell which tent is mine. I always have fear of unzipping the wrong tent in the middle of the night, so I ensure that never becomes a problem. One of the worst things you can do is wake up a strange Marine in the middle of the night. It's a good way to test your reflexes (ask my wife).
Speaking of being the only journalist: I'm baffled by this. The best action in the country is right here, and fortunately for me, no one else has caught on. As I see things right now, the fight has moved off the border and is being pursued farther inland. The Army has been conducting operations in Zabul province to the east, which has yielded some great catches. A few days ago, up to 80 Taliban attacked the Afghan National Army. 80 Taliban in one area!! Unheard of at this point in the game. With Marines pushing east from Urzagun Province and the Army pushing west from Zabul, it's clear to me this "pincher" action is forcing the Taliban to group up, which will be their biggest mistake since becoming Taliban. It seems they are surrounded and being squeezed. At least that's what the evidence suggests. We should find out this week as Charlie Company (the helo company) prepares to push out on a fresh operation.

May 22nd 1200

Today I'm off on another interesting story. I'm going to hook up with men contracted by the UN to see how voter registration is progressing in this former Taliban stronghold.
Our meeting point is the governor's compound. Here, a small batch of special forces and Marines are keeping tabs on progress while providing support to the locals who are working feverishly to "rock the vote" Afghan style.
We get a rather late start and immediately visit the new UNAMA compound. UNAMA is the UN arm that oversees elections. The men from Global Risk Assessment are interested in seeing what's being done here, in particular because this is where their office will be.
The compound is a former Special Forces base. It's surrounded by a high mud brick wall with a "U" shaped set of buildings in the middle. The compound is where people are being trained to facilitate this new type of political system. Remember that voting on a national scale is a completely new concept, and here they're working from scratch.
The compound itself is still being worked on: A fresh coat of paint, new concrete flooring and a well is being pounded into the earth's crust in the main yard. Nothing too exciting for me. For the Afghans, it's a big deal.
By the time we're done looking at it, it's noon, and we are told everything closes down for lunch (which lasts until 2:00), so all of the Afghans want to go eat and take a nap. We go back to Jan Mohammed's compound (the governor) to wait until 2:30 or so when we'll see the registration sites.
Back at the governor's place, Jan Mohammed calls for us to join him for lunch. Everyone but me all but ignores him and as the rest of the westerners go upstairs to eat military rations, I accept the invitation to join him for a meal.
In the main yard of the compound are two large "dining areas", a lot like what we have in our parks: The sides are open and there's a roof for shade. Except these shelters are much bigger and made completely of concrete. The floors are covered end to end with woven carpets and there are men lining the area with community food plates in the middle. I've arrived late, so I get the pick of what's left. Just about everyone is done, except Jan Mohammed, and together, I get cultured in more Afghan food.
Jan Mohammed is a former Mujahadeen commander and has been appointed governor of Uruzgan province by President Karzai. He is a fierce anti-Taliban, having been thrown in a dark hole for two years by the religious freaks a few years back. He's an older man with a weak right eye that is clouded by a cataract. like all men here, he sports a long, scraggily beard.
We eat a meal of rice, some sort of meat, yogurt, bread and vegetables. Water is scarce, so our refreshment is a type of watery buttermilk. Knowing that eating this food could mean trouble, I do so sparingly and hope to God I don't get sick.
During the meal, I ask the governor where I can get an Afghan flag. He tells me through a "terp" named "Jack", that he will make one for me and pass it on to the Marines for me. To me this is a big honor and I leave for the upstairs quite happy.
Once there, the Marines are lying around taking a nap, so I join some of the Afghan guards and two terps in a small room with four beds. We start talking and I take the opportunity to find out what people think of the coalition forces.
One particularly well spoken terp, Assan Mohammed, tells me that he believes 80% of the people support the coalition and its efforts to help the Afghans (Afghan always put things into percentages. How they get these numbers is beyond me).
I ask him about his history here, curious how he dealt with the violent past of this country.
At 42, he knows quite a bit. During the communists, he lived in Kabul with his family. His father a successful businessman. During the Taliban, he taught English to children in Kandahar. He says that during this time, he would get into trouble for doing so. In fact things got bad enough that a Taliban member would sit in his classes to ensure that he only taught Islamic courses. English was forbidden. Under such pressure, he quite teaching altogether.
The conversation once again switched back to his family in Kabul and it turns out I would stumble onto a scar in his life that was too much to bear. One night a jeep with five Afghan soldiers came to his house. They had heard his family was thinking about escaping to Germany. The men came into his house and in front of him and his family, shot his father dead and then left. Assan could barely finish his sentence when his eyes welled up and he had to leave so not to cry in front of me.
Both terps I spoke with say that Afghanistan is tired of fighting and that the majority of people just wanted peace and the ability to raise their families. For that, they say, is why Afghans in general are very receptive to the coalition. In particular, they say that great thanks and kindness is extended to the Americans. They say that they will never forget what the Americans have done for them.
Our conversation came to a solemn ending as we all started to get sleepy. I said to Assan, "You're a good man. You can be my neighbor any day." "Thank you", he said, and we both went off into our own worlds. I could still see the pain in his eyes as he drifted into thought. For me, I looked out the window and I could hear hundreds of birds chirping. I could see swallows do acrobatics in the sky and I wondered if they had any clue what was happening on the ground below them.
After a nice nap, we took off once again and started visiting registration places. We visited three all together. One in a tent outside the main mosque, one in a small room upstairs near the downtown of Tarin Kowt, the last one in a warehouse that was riddled with bullet holes, shrapnel holes, and large holes in the roof made by rocket fire.
We found that registration was going well, but could be better. Many people inn the rural areas were being harassed by the Taliban and couldn't register. There were also complaints of workers not being paid, which was causing trouble. Overall though, it appeared as though this area was taking the vote thing very seriously. The enthusiasm was refreshing and it left an impression in me that this was going to eventually work. As one of the UNAMA guys said, "rome wasn't built in a day."
The best part was that this shows how effective the Marine presence has been. These areas that are inhabited by Pashtuns are considered areas where "rocking the vote" would be difficult. What we are seeing is that the Marines' presence is providing the security needed to allow people to register. After just three weeks, nearly 25% of the guesstimated voting population had registered. Not only good news for this country's first vote, but good for President Karzai who is a Pashtun. Right now, I see no other qualified candidate to run this country.

May 24th

As I sit in Kandahar waiting for the operation to begin, I once again get very sick. This time is the worst. It starts at 3:00 am with vomiting and diarrhea. By breakfast, I am into shallow breathing and so weak I can barely walk. I try to tough it out, but soon my body is aching and I have a headache from hell. Fearing I have sunstroke setting in, I relent and get a ride to the hospital. Here they say I do not have heatstroke and that I am hydrated fine. That leaves one thing: Jan Mohammed's food. The doctors give me medicines and tell me to rest, which I do for the rest of the day. I need to get better because tomorrow I go back to the field and wait for the new operation to start which is set for Tuesday.
The thought of this operation is exhilarating. This won't be like the last one where we are reacting to an attack. This time the Marines have the Taliban surrounded and are going in to get them. The danger is much greater here because the insurgents have their backs to the wall. Tomorrow they will have the chance to give up or die, nothing else.
This is my last entry for a few days, so check back often.