Battlefield Tourist

Friday, June 18th

For my final trip out into Afghanistan on this contract, I decided to once again hook up with the Afghan National Army, which for the first time, has deployed east of the capital. Specifically, the 3rd Kandak was sent to Jalalabad to begin beefing up the government presence in preparation for September’s elections.
Major Bloom arranged for me to hook up with a small group of Army reservists, most of whom are based out of South Carolina and Alabama. Their mission is to train the ANA and eventually take them into the field as a “professional army”.
My point of contact, Major Mitchell picked me up at the gate of Camp Phoenix and we made our way to Bagram to catch a chopper to Jalalabad.
We were given a Blackhawk that was piloted by two young women who took the opportunity to do some pretty nifty maneuvers. These “fly girls” knew their job and the trip was quite interesting.
The flight reminded me of being in a video game. The only difference was that you could feel your stomach as they moved through their maneuvers. Personally, I thought it was fun, but not everyone would agree because if you had a weak stomach, life would be miserable.
The trip wasn’t all fancy flying, which allowed me to check out some new sights that I’d not seen before. The first major geographical difference was a huge reservoir just east of Bagram. The turquoise water looked incredibly refreshing and all I could do was think about swimming.
Beyond the reservoir lay a plush green valley that would stretch on for the rest of the 50 minute flight. To understand the context, this is something I had not seen anywhere in the country: Water. Actual running water.
The flight plan took us along a large, fat flowing river that would make my friend, Chris Crap, drool with daydreams of kayaking. The surrounding valley as green as it could possibly be. I remember thinking that if I were Afghan, this is where I would want to be.
Absolutely beautiful.
Before long, we landed on a pad of grass at the Jalalabdad Provincial Reconstruction Team. Jumping off the bird, the surroundings had all of the characteristics as I imagine Vietnam looking: Green, rice paddies, humid and hot.
The PRT itself is an old Soviet resort. The troops using the hotel as a barracks. The guys and gals here have internet, rooms, TV with satellite and plenty of shade. I quickly realized that if I was an American soldier in Afghanistan, this is also the place I would want to be. Considering we’re in a war here, it’s pretty nice.
Our patrol wouldn’t be leaving until the next morning, so we spent the rest of the day at the new ANA camp being built next to the PRT. Nothing too exciting here. I roamed the camp drinking tea and trying to talk with the men. I checked out a sprawling complex that looked centuries old and had been bombed into rubble. I later learned that it was a major Taliban base when the war began.
Back at the PRT itself, there was a bazaar, which is common on Fridays in Afghanistan. I’d never checked out a bazaar before so I decided now was the time. The best way to describe it is as a flea market. There were a lot of antiques including centuries old battle helmets and swords. There’s a ton of “haji vision” DVD’s (bootlegs), cut gems, rugs, blankets, etc… After checking everything out, I decided to buy some gems to make some jewelry for my wife (can’t say what, because it’s a surprise for her). To give you an idea of what you can buy here: A 2-carat, cut diamond would have set me back about $80!!!

Saturday, June 19

The following morning we had to be up at early for the long mounted patrol scheduled to go deep into Lagham Province, a place where there was no law and no security. The goal is to show a presence to give people the perception that it’s safe to vote. Perception is the key word here.
The patrol was seven vehicles with a total of about 50 men, 40 of them were ANA.
I rode in the gun truck which is an uparmoured Humvee with a mounted 50 caliber machine gun. The driver, a very nice Sergeant Major (Yes… a Sergeant Major) with a Sergeant First Class (Brian) in the turret.
The ride is bumpy as usual and the roads are very narrow, making it difficult for the deuce and a half trucks (2 ½ tons) to maneuver. Most of the villages we passed were filled with smiling children who would run toward the patrol with the “thumbs up” sign. Not all the villages were like this, and even the ones that were, many of the men looked menacing. At times we were spit at and given the middle finger.
About five hours into the patrol, we heard several bursts of gunfire and we dismounted into a defensive position. As I dashed from the cover of one vehicle to the next, I made my way to the top of the hill where the bulk of the ANA were in fighting positions…