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Time to once again open my life up a little in order to share the plethora of wealth I'm about to absorb. I'm going to be back in Iraq through September, so hop on board and check back every couple of days, I'll do my best to update as much as possible. Questions? dtate38@cox.net And check out the site I'm working with: http://www.billroggio.com Support independent journalism!
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Tuesday, November 16th, 2004
Combined Forces Command (CFC) was offering a quick day trip to a village near Bagram and had put out an advisory inviting the media along. Day trips are perfect: You get a chopper ride, a convoy, see the kids AND get back for dinner.
Planning on not going out again, I figured the risk factor here to be low, so I decided this would be the last trip... for sure.
We met at ISAF airport in Kabul for the 15 minute Blackhawk chopper ride to Bagram. At ISAF, I met up with Scott again. It was good since the last and first time I saw or met him was when I was sick as a dog the day after the elections in Kandahar. He had his girlfriend with him, who is also a still shooter. What a life... get to travel the world, take pictures, get paid AND be with your woman. He definitely has the set up.
The ride was unadventurous as was the pre-convoy brief. When all was said and done, I got the front seat of an SUV for the 45 minute, very bumpy ride to Kapisa Province. What we are on is a humanitarian drop, which is done all around the country on a regular basis. The idea for today's event was a massive and coordinated one day drop at 25 locations around Afghanistan to help celebrate the end of Eid and the holy month of Ramadan.
We made our way through the narrow streets of the villages and across the bumpy roads of the country before we came to a school yard, which like everything else here, is surrounded by a high wall. Inside the schoolyard were hundreds of people waiting for us. I immediately had the same feeling I had coming around the corner of my first medical brigade in Honduras. I had to just step back and say, "Whoa.."
I had warned the female soldier with me of the dirty, perverted things the children will try for her and filled her in on some of the customs, particularly concerning interaction between men and women. In a nutshell, if you are not covered and veiled, you are considered a whore. That simple. Of course within five minutes I have to chase a little pervert away from her that was doing just what I had warned the Lieutenant about. What they do is rub their finger in their hand. If they have a chance, they will grab your hand, spit in it and rub your hand in that manner. Rather disgusting and primal. I guess the age is what freaks me out. These kids I see do this are 8, 9, 10, etc... No wonder the birthrate is an astonishing 6.8 kids.
Everything seemed to be going well. The men all standing around a huddled see of blue bhurkas. No unveiled women here. In fact ALL the women were in bhurkas.
The army loaded all the stuff into a tent, which was soon packed to the gill with clothes, blankets, school supplies, etc. First some handicapped people came through, then some women and all was going fine. The whole time, men and boys that had surrounded the tent began sneaking under the tent trying to steal stuff. Time after time they would get hit with rifles and sticks, but they kept coming back. It was like a pack of coyotes finishing of a dangerous piece of prey. One would swoop in, make a grab and run. Twenty minutes in to the drop and I'm getting pictures from the outside of the tent as these guys are trying to grab stuff. I follow one in and almost get whacked with a stick. Just writing this I now remember the look on the guys face that was about to whack me. Glad he didn't. As soon as I got in though, all hell broke loose around me. Like a feeding frenzy, once a box was penetrated, it was on. I just stood in the middle and shot the carnage. Sgt. Weitzke was standing his ground in a corner to my front right and I could see Christie and Scott snapping away to my back right. Doctor, from APTN, was off to my left getting the high angle shot. Me, I was sitting on a box of stuff that was quickly shrinking beneath me. It was wild. People grabbing anything they could. Guards pushing, hitting, beating... you name it, it was on. Funny thing is, most people I saw had smiles on their faces. Very surreal. One guard came through with a 1x6 taking long swings and clearing out all sorts of people who ran from his attack. They'd just flank him though and go back to pillaging everything in site. Even the cardboard boxes themselves.
I know for sure a few people got hurt, no doubt. You can't just get hit by a rifle and not be hurt. That hurts, no matter what the movies show. The dust was incredible inside the tent. Orange light broke through the canvas showing the trails of dust as the people fought for anything that wasn't cemented to the ground. Of course they destroyed the school's desks in the process. Hell, the mullahs were so embarrassed that they left without saying a word.
After a good 15 minutes, I thought push would come to shoot. One militia guy was chasing this other guy and he was relentless. He was going to catch this guy and when the one being chased realized it, he turned around and grabbed the guy's gun. That sent a wave through the crowd that brought all the gunmen running. I thought this was gonna be a gunfight. It wasn't (thank god), but one of the Afghan Americans that helped organize the trip became very worried that the police and militia where going to start fighting, so we loaded up and left.
We still had 50 goats to deliver, but had we done it at the school, it would've been a massacre. So we drove to the governor's house, talked, did some interviewing and left the goats there with the governor and the militia/police for them to distribute. I thought that was a bad idea and as we left, one of the translators said, "You just delivered the sheep to the wolf." How appropriate.
At Bagram, I got myself a haircut and a whopper and waited for the chopper. Again a Blackhawk. This time, the crew chief asked if we wanted the door open. Knowing this was my last chopper ride over Afghanistan, I was easy to convince and did I regret it. Must've been my seat, but the ride was horrible. I couldn't even look out the door it was blowing so hard. IN fact, I could feel my face wobbling around like in a wind tunnel with the occasional drool escaping and smacking into the guy next to me. Seriously, when we got to ISAF, the inside of my glasses were completely spattered in eye juice. And I thought I'd seen it all. What a warmup to going back to the house to ride out my time.
Combined Forces Command (CFC) was offering a quick day trip to a village near Bagram and had put out an advisory inviting the media along. Day trips are perfect: You get a chopper ride, a convoy, see the kids AND get back for dinner.
Planning on not going out again, I figured the risk factor here to be low, so I decided this would be the last trip... for sure.
We met at ISAF airport in Kabul for the 15 minute Blackhawk chopper ride to Bagram. At ISAF, I met up with Scott again. It was good since the last and first time I saw or met him was when I was sick as a dog the day after the elections in Kandahar. He had his girlfriend with him, who is also a still shooter. What a life... get to travel the world, take pictures, get paid AND be with your woman. He definitely has the set up.
The ride was unadventurous as was the pre-convoy brief. When all was said and done, I got the front seat of an SUV for the 45 minute, very bumpy ride to Kapisa Province. What we are on is a humanitarian drop, which is done all around the country on a regular basis. The idea for today's event was a massive and coordinated one day drop at 25 locations around Afghanistan to help celebrate the end of Eid and the holy month of Ramadan.
We made our way through the narrow streets of the villages and across the bumpy roads of the country before we came to a school yard, which like everything else here, is surrounded by a high wall. Inside the schoolyard were hundreds of people waiting for us. I immediately had the same feeling I had coming around the corner of my first medical brigade in Honduras. I had to just step back and say, "Whoa.."
I had warned the female soldier with me of the dirty, perverted things the children will try for her and filled her in on some of the customs, particularly concerning interaction between men and women. In a nutshell, if you are not covered and veiled, you are considered a whore. That simple. Of course within five minutes I have to chase a little pervert away from her that was doing just what I had warned the Lieutenant about. What they do is rub their finger in their hand. If they have a chance, they will grab your hand, spit in it and rub your hand in that manner. Rather disgusting and primal. I guess the age is what freaks me out. These kids I see do this are 8, 9, 10, etc... No wonder the birthrate is an astonishing 6.8 kids.
Everything seemed to be going well. The men all standing around a huddled see of blue bhurkas. No unveiled women here. In fact ALL the women were in bhurkas.
The army loaded all the stuff into a tent, which was soon packed to the gill with clothes, blankets, school supplies, etc. First some handicapped people came through, then some women and all was going fine. The whole time, men and boys that had surrounded the tent began sneaking under the tent trying to steal stuff. Time after time they would get hit with rifles and sticks, but they kept coming back. It was like a pack of coyotes finishing of a dangerous piece of prey. One would swoop in, make a grab and run. Twenty minutes in to the drop and I'm getting pictures from the outside of the tent as these guys are trying to grab stuff. I follow one in and almost get whacked with a stick. Just writing this I now remember the look on the guys face that was about to whack me. Glad he didn't. As soon as I got in though, all hell broke loose around me. Like a feeding frenzy, once a box was penetrated, it was on. I just stood in the middle and shot the carnage. Sgt. Weitzke was standing his ground in a corner to my front right and I could see Christie and Scott snapping away to my back right. Doctor, from APTN, was off to my left getting the high angle shot. Me, I was sitting on a box of stuff that was quickly shrinking beneath me. It was wild. People grabbing anything they could. Guards pushing, hitting, beating... you name it, it was on. Funny thing is, most people I saw had smiles on their faces. Very surreal. One guard came through with a 1x6 taking long swings and clearing out all sorts of people who ran from his attack. They'd just flank him though and go back to pillaging everything in site. Even the cardboard boxes themselves.
I know for sure a few people got hurt, no doubt. You can't just get hit by a rifle and not be hurt. That hurts, no matter what the movies show. The dust was incredible inside the tent. Orange light broke through the canvas showing the trails of dust as the people fought for anything that wasn't cemented to the ground. Of course they destroyed the school's desks in the process. Hell, the mullahs were so embarrassed that they left without saying a word.
After a good 15 minutes, I thought push would come to shoot. One militia guy was chasing this other guy and he was relentless. He was going to catch this guy and when the one being chased realized it, he turned around and grabbed the guy's gun. That sent a wave through the crowd that brought all the gunmen running. I thought this was gonna be a gunfight. It wasn't (thank god), but one of the Afghan Americans that helped organize the trip became very worried that the police and militia where going to start fighting, so we loaded up and left.
We still had 50 goats to deliver, but had we done it at the school, it would've been a massacre. So we drove to the governor's house, talked, did some interviewing and left the goats there with the governor and the militia/police for them to distribute. I thought that was a bad idea and as we left, one of the translators said, "You just delivered the sheep to the wolf." How appropriate.
At Bagram, I got myself a haircut and a whopper and waited for the chopper. Again a Blackhawk. This time, the crew chief asked if we wanted the door open. Knowing this was my last chopper ride over Afghanistan, I was easy to convince and did I regret it. Must've been my seat, but the ride was horrible. I couldn't even look out the door it was blowing so hard. IN fact, I could feel my face wobbling around like in a wind tunnel with the occasional drool escaping and smacking into the guy next to me. Seriously, when we got to ISAF, the inside of my glasses were completely spattered in eye juice. And I thought I'd seen it all. What a warmup to going back to the house to ride out my time.
