ProseKnitic – of Words und Wolle

Since Sunday morning is downtime for everyone else in the office, I thought I would use the quiet to upload a variety of photos from my first month here. I have separated them out by date/activity/location or whatever felt the most appropriate. For most of the photos – you can get a slightly larger version by clicking on it.

When I first arrive, I was in the DVQ right opposite the baggage yard. Didn’t bother BlueNose at all, not when surround by the essentional (hat, headphones and weapon for protection).

Blue Nose at the DVQ

Besides the fun of curtains for doors on all the latrine stalls – ingenuity is required. Since it doesn’t happen at home, there is no reason to suspect that toilet paper rolls would ever be changed leading to loose rolls and ends trailing to the floor. Solution?

more than one roll.

Kandahar

Traveling to Kandahar, more dust and dirt with harsh moutains on only two sides.

Kandahar looks pretty much like Bagram

It is also where I first met the normal, local in-country form of transportation. Named obviously from all the decorations hanging off every possible space and bit.

Jingles Trucks

B-Hut

Getting back from Kandahar, I was offered the change to move into more permanet quarters. It took less than an hour to pack, clear the old room and drop everything off in the new location.

facing the door

Unpacking took even less time.

my own comfy corner

10 Oct 2010 – random photos

Since Bagram is high on a plateau ringed by moutian peaks, they are a constant presence and backdrop for daily live.

how the mountains look most days

mountains from a roof

B-Huts, flat ground and more dirt

Flying North

Given the size of the moutains, to get to Mazar E Sharif is not exactly a direct flight. First we went a bit east over agricultural areas.

farm land

It was barely dawn when we took off with blowing sand. Add in the challenge of a Dash flight (courtsey of Presidental Air) where washing the windows is not a common occurance and the photos are not exactly the quality I would like to have.

start of mountain range

From flat land, the transition into the mountains is rather sharp. The Hindu-Kush range extends from Afghanistan into Pakistan covering 800km in length and over 200 km in depth. It didn’t take long till we were flying over baren, stark, beautiful mountains.

start of the snow covered central moutains

Frozen lakes are tucked through out the moutains

middle of the winter range

and the bare bones of the earth are always visible

snow that stays, no where flat at all

there is no vegetation, nor is there a tree line – just ridge after sharp ridge of stone

ridge after brutal ridge

still heading north

with the only variation in color coming from the rocks, snow and clouds

and rock strata clearly visible

with brilliant color

and the roads through and out of the moutains determined by geography and obvious to everyone

arriving on the northern plane

Mazar-i-Sharif

The original camp has been outgrown with more being added for the additional Americans. Mountains are obviously only to the south. To the north, less than 100 km lies Uzbekistan.

again, the moutains obscured by haze

and the standard billeting on this camp – Alaska huts

row upon row of Alaska huts

and, just to be safe, bunkers being added. Might I have mentioned that this camp hasn’t been shelled for about seven years …

huts to the left, bunkers to the right

Dutch sense of humor – and spoofs of some franchises and hotels. The Hilton is not here…..

no, those are not real arches

Back at 14704D

In the short term, the weapons issue is solved. If I don’t pull down the harness when exiting, it is pretty much going to be in my face.

hanging on the door, partly blocking my exit

And, finally, my second shawl is complete!

410 meters makes a shawl

One skein of Opal Hundertwasser knit in a Sharon Miller pattern – size 4.00mm needle.

You can always count on Wikipedia to have more than a three line definition or description. Take “saluting.” In fact, most days I would be happiest if the whole process was taken far, far away.

Usually a hand/arm combination of movements, a salute in the military is offered as a sign of respect with the obligation on the junior person to start the exchange of courtesies. The actual combination of hand, finger and arm positions vary by service and country. It can also vary by location and activity.

(Go read Wikipedia, just remember I am not discussing small arms and canons).

In the US Army, you don’t have to be in a uniform with a “cover,” i.e. hat or other head gear to have saluting required. Here on BAF, we are a salute area. ACUs, PTs, doesn’t matter. Even on a post this size, as rank goes up, numbers of individuals wearing that rank go down effectively meaning that just about everyone I pass on the street, alley or boardwalk is junior to me. (Generals are few on the ground and I have not yet seen any of them hiking anywhere).

Walking the boardwalk – the rather new, level, nice cement sidewalk that parallels Disney means that my right arm gets exercised, a lot. Even when most aren’t paying attention, it is pretty obvious to most of the young troops that I am “old.” Old and in uniform usually = senior. BAF reminds me of trying to walk across some of the areas of Ft Sam Houston where the students would spread themselves out so that every more senior officer walking in the area effectively would be walking a salute gauntlet.

Unlike KAF (Kandahar) where some wise person decided that with all the countries participating in ISAF and most not having a clue about other countries rank that much of the installation is “no salute.” Much of Mazar E Sharif is no salute, primarily because the German’s have declared a lot of it “no hat.” Since they have a no hat = no salute, they are off the hook. US military, of course, still wears covers and salutes.

Anyway, I was going somewhere with this.

The exceptions to “all salute, all the time” on BAF seem to be as follows:
1) It is too dark for anyone to read your rank
2) You are in PTs and they don’t know who you are.
3) You are actually doing PT.
 

Talking over to use the computer on my putative day off, I happily hiked along with sidewalk in my PTs (yes to both weapon and key) not saluting anyone. They are all in uniform. I know their rank, they don’t know mine. Not my issue on such a lovely day. This worked well until I passed someone from the unit.

She saluted. I returned the salute. The guys right behind her also saluted me, so I got to salute them back. And it started to snowball…..

Anonymity gone, it was time to bail off the main drag and take to the back ways.

Keys

Yes, there is no question that the smart thing to do would be to place my key on the chain with my dog tags. I have dog tags, they made extras for me at Ft Benning. But wear them around my neck? Yes, I should be doing that…….

Yesterday was such a productive day. By COB (close of business) I had managed to spend time with the commander of the forward surgical team, meet with the German Dermatologist, the German Med Task Force Commander, our new Prev Med detachment and the new Vet officer for the area. Oh, yes and the Brigade Surgeon for one unit in the area (and yes, another one of mine from years ago now recycled into Medicine).

Ahead of time, we had figured this was going to run a couple of days. Every once in a while, the stars line up, you find everyone on the first try and nice conversations abound. Late in the evening, the CPT and I stopped at the PAX terminal. No US flights tomorrow. The German NCO looked up and told us that he had a flight and put us on the manifest.

Cool, I think. I have been on a C-17, a C-130, and yesterdays Dash flight since arriving in Kuwait. I can now add a C-160 to my plane collection. (kind of like bird watchers collecting birds sightings).

So, after breakfast with the Vet and a bit more conversation with the Prev Med crew at the Beach House (which is actually a large tent whacked in to office segments and no where near any water) we hike the mile to the terminal.

Flight, of course, has been cancelled. Unexpectedly, a US Air Force flight was due in with cargo. Space-A was authorized for the return flight. Happy little row of ducks following the Army NCO out to the C-130. C-130 flight back across the Hindu-Kush, row of people following the Air Force NCO to the PAX terminal.

Back at the B-Hut, there is a slight issue. I can’t find the key for my padlock. Back to the billeting office, get the phillips screwdriver, take off the plate, enter the room. Isn’t it cool that I have a second key stashed? Put the hasp back together.

Think key on a key ring would be an improvement over a loose, small key? I do this again and it is bolt cutter for sure.

It looks completely different from BAF. It is not just the German uniforms in the PAX terminal or the ability to get a cup of German coffee The base just looks different. There are hard stand buildings and warehouses laid out in a grid. Like the other camps, there is large gravel (pigeon egg size) between the buildings and the side walks.

The original solid wall marking the perimeter has been breached in multiple locations to accomodate the increasing American presence. Billeting is in Alaska huts (half round blown up tents with doors on front a nd back. The aid station for 4thCav is in the new area.

German is spoken eveywhere, which should be obvious when you think about the fact that this has been a German base for years. The US medical team is integrated into the fixed facitlity (which looks like it could be anywhere in Germany.

Most importantly, there are few rotatary wings here and the occasional fixed wing aircraft. No fighter jets, absolutely none screaming in pairs down the runway and drowning out everything else.

And then there is the bread. The German DFAC has real bread.

the main drag on BAF (Bagram Air Field), has nothing to do with good old Walt. Like most other named locations here, there is a story relating to a death on or near here. In this case, SPC Jason Disney who was killed in an industrial accident, Feb 2002.

Disney Drive has transformed from a dusty, gravel strewn road in 2005-2006 to a paved, busy two lane road with sights and sounds that rival many a small city.  What I actually found amazing is how little about it appears in blogs and posts. Only a couple of mentions - like in the Burlington Paper, we just take it for granted. 

Early in the morning – 0530-0700, Disney is off limits for vehicular traffic except for the rare bus so that all of us military types can do PT in the road without risk of getting run down or run over. You knew I was going somewhere with this. Biking in the morning in PT uniform is PT. I can bike on Disney, staying on the pavement rather than fighting dust, dirt and gravel along the edge.  The rest of the time, on a bike, I am vehicle traffic just like the “big guys.” Those big guys are not just the occasional 4×4 but a seemingly endless string of pickups, buses, 18 wheelers, gators, ATVs, tactical vehicles and tankers. So far, the only transport that I have not seen taxiing down Disney are those with rotors or jet engines.

Many of the major organizations, Task Forces, contractors, and facilities line both sides of Disney. Craig Joint Theater Hospital, Dragon DFAC, the PAX terminal, USO, 3AV DFAC, Coley DFAC, the JOC and CIF are all on the eastern side. Oh, and the BBQ Shack DFAC is also there. On the west there is the North DFAC, R&R Billeting, Dragon MWR, Dragon Billeting, Dragon Clamshell, Faith Chapel, the Korean Hospital, the PX, the Eqyptian Hospital and half a dozen other important places that I can picture in my mind but not name.

Even more dense than the vehicles is the constant flow of foot traffic. An electric billboard at the corner of Disney and (whatever) near the Air Force three story billeting seeks to remind everyone that pedestrians do not always have the right of way.

Could not prove that by observation – pedestrians act like they have the right of way. Pedestrians in uniform are armed (amber status in case anyone who is military cares) and they out number the heavy stream of traffic by more than 10:1. There are a few locations along Disney where there are bridges over the deep ditch that separates the sidewalk from the road; most of the traffic crosses at these points.

Disney is lighted in the evenings, traffic flowing through out the night. As I walk back after dark, I am more likely to hike along the flightline fence where it is quiet, uncrowded and I don’t have to salute every two feet.

As I settled comfortably into my chair facing the computer screens (large in the middle, laptop to the left, laptop to the right) I started reflecting that I have been here just over a month. I am housed, fed, employed and working on a number of projects.

Shrugging my shoulders, I am ready to get down to work when my brain stutter-steps and freezes.

I try it again, a simple shoulder shrug. Easy, comfortable and weightless.

No harness, no weight, nothing banging on my sides or resting against my hip while I sit.

No Weapon.

Not again.

I never had an issue in the Balkans. Sliding into my shoulder holster was second nature before leaving the container in the morning. For most of the time I was in Kuwait, we weren’t wearing weapons on a regular basis, but when I was, wandering off without it simply wasn’t an issue.

But now? Brain dead or psychological block?

In any case, I am trying to figure out a fool-proof system as I trudge back to my B-Hut. Picking up weapon and harness rig from the floor where it was set to trip me on the way out, I contemplate other solutions. Desk has not worked. On top of uniforms hasn’t worked. In front of the door has worked most mornings but not today. Something tells me that wrapped around my boots would be a lost cause as well.

What do you think of a hook next to the door so that I can’t open the door without grabbing my weapon?

and not 4 weeks. Blog posts that start with a number don’t seem to accept comments. Since much of what I write can wind up duplicated in the email distro list and here – there you go!  

What have I accomplished? I am unpacked, spend a lot of hours at work doing a job that probably needs to be done, gotten to know the people with whom I work, and  have a couple of the computer systems under control and will work on the other two in the next couple of days. Such is my life, hours in front of the keyboard.  

Oh yes, and books. Have read a couple dozen paperbacks, registered them at www.bookcrossing.com and dropped them off at MWR so that someone else can enjoy them.  Audiobooks - I have enough to last the duration at the rate of 3 a week (well, not really but close).  

I am knitting in the evening, making good progress on the second scarf that I started back at Ft Benning. I have yarn for socks, including a SOM from Blue Moon, so socks will be next on the list

Bicycles

At 0530 this morning, I met a couple of other people from the office. We were going to ride the perimeter road. An easy 8 miles they told me. After the first mile, I hung a left and headed toward the office. I have no leg muscles, or at leasts ones that don’t adapt easily to a new form of exercise. I like my own pace, not that of other people’s. It was obviously one of those times where that 15-20 year age difference made a significant difference.

 Phones

 Still working on the phones. DSN is not area codes as I found out by comparing the DISA site with a numerical listing of area codes. Roaming charges would be unbelieveable anyway so am not going there.

 Nap time!

Phones are like computeres in this office. They seem to replicated at night when we are not looking, taking up more and more space on the not so large desks. Never mind that we have more than half a dozen people jammed into a room not much more than 12×14. And a fridge, several printers and the bike boxes still unpacked in the middle.

At any one time, I have my choice of phones. There is normal DSN (Defense Service Network) with which I can call world wide to US military phones and mostly reach 800 numbers in the US. There is the classified phone system (US) and the classified phone system (NATO). Then there are also the Roshan network cell phones, of which I don’t yet have one.

The other day, I asked an interesting question – How does one dial a DSN here from a civilian phone number? Completely blank faces looking back at me. Now, everywhere else there is a conversion posted in the DSN phone books for dialing into the system. It saves military installations from having two sets of phones – one for military and one for civilian. This might not seem critical until you think about the medical facilities on base. Obviously there are people who live off base who need to call for an appointment. So that takes care of the US and most overseas locations.

It is now a week later and still no one has a clue as to how to dial into our DSN. I am going to wander down and ask Finance and Signal, they might just have an idea. In any case, I have turned the T-Mobile Germany based phone back on. Obviously, calling it from anywhere in the world might be incredibly expensive. Unless you happen to have somekind of voice-over-IP or other way of beating the charges. Texting should not be quite as expensive – but I am not going to try that either.

In any case, I can be reached in an emergency. Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?

I had planned on discussing weather – the cold of the night and the sunshine during the day. The fact that Michelle apparently has the remote for the A/C unit, since it is now pumping out warm rather than cold air. And, the fact that I am sitting here on my “down day” muttering as I go through compture files.

But then, I got roped into going over to the PX. Mark bought a bicycle yesterday. The same under $100 bike that I had purchased in the UK. Now he was looking for others who might be interested in riding for PT. Another office mate has been having repeated injuries from too much running. Me? I have tried the gym a couple of times and it is just ugly – too many people and not enough time I can keep the treadmill. Running in a group is horrible, just not my thing.

But biking? Really hard to talk while biking. Opportunity to see more of the post as we ride the perimeter road. Chance to increase fitness. And, I can pass it along to the next group.

Grey bike, white helmet, lights and lock. I am all set.

Anyone have reflective loud colored tape?

living in tents – is not the place to be when the wind blows. Certainly, I am not sure how those in the transient tents here are faring. My friend Ron (the ortho doc, not the flight surgeon) wrote back to me -

I remember the joins of subtle weather changes in the field. Life was always the best when the temp was right at the freezing point… mud froze and dust went away, walking become a simple task again. Air is usually pretty still when things are evenly cooled and the sky is overcast. Looks gloomy but makes life very simple.

Wind in the field is a huge problem. The 212th was set up at Bedrock and taken off line for 2 days due to a wind storm early in the Bosnia mission. Entire GP mediums lost and a couple of fires almost took out the entire tent complex. I was with a Cav unit and still living in lagers of tract vehicles… Move during the day and circle the wagons at night… wind is not a problem for a M113 or M577, just close the hatches.

Glad you are living in fixed buildings. That way you don’t have to deal with tent sides flapping all night long in the gusts.

I am in early this morning, 0500 in fact. Wooden B-huts groaning and shaking compounded by idiots who think it is cute to lob things at the base in the middle of the night meant that I was awake early. Multiple sirens and loud speaker announcements meant I was not getting back to sleep. Going to work, checking email and having a cup of tea started sounding pretty appealing.

And before any of you panic – the aim and equipment of the idiots around here is not that good. In spite of perimeter fences and runways with huge lights (read well lit targets) – they don’t seem to be able to get close enough to do any serious damage.

The three of us who were trying to get to Sharana have given it up as a lost cause for the moment. Too many ahead of us on the list and now the people with whom we need to work are not going to be there.

The wind came up.

Doesn’t that sound like such an innocous statement? After all it is October and, north of the equater, late summer should start sliding into fall. Temperatures drop,the leaves turn, and the rains start.

Well, this is Afghanistan. A base camp at 5000+ ft. It might just be a bit different here, not like a reoutine autumn in Europe, the US, Canada. Certainly nothing like the Pacific Northwest.

That is where the wind comes in. Not just a mild breeze but strong enough to lift the dust and swirl it to meters in the air. Eddies and whorls obscure my vision and leave a nasty taste in the mouth. Stinging skin and eyes are now an issue for anyone without enough sense to wear eye protection. To the east the mountains are still visible but west and south the brown haze extends almost to the highest peaks obscuring the plains, craigs and lower snow covered slopes.

According to the local weather det and windsocks – this isn’t bad – 15mph (24kph) winds. Certainly no where near sandstorm level, just enough to be completely agravating and giving you dirty hair between the showers and the hut.

I have started watching the weather here as the people who seem to be getting it right. Unfortunately, that means that freezing temperatures and snow flurries might just be in my future. Certainly rain seems to be out of the question.

I knew it was a mistake last evening. With a 0015 show time, I have a tendency to stay awake rather than take a nap for fear that I am going to miss the flight announcement.

Air Force is easy, and clear. They do a one time announcement for a flight to see how many they have who need the flight. After accomodating all those with “reservations” the rest of the seats are filled by Space-A. And there in lies the rub. You have no way of knowing how many seats are actually available, nor how many on the waiting list. And if you miss the call – you have missed the call. You are skipped over and they go on to the next person in line.

If, as happened to us, there is excess cargo, then seats will suddenly vanish and the flight will be updated to read “cargo only” as happened to us at both the earlier time and 0345.

My resulting sleep deprivation could have been worse. Stumbling home with body armor, kevlar and duffle I didn’t even bother to set an alarm.

So here I sit, back in the office for a couple of hours since my body clock is set to get up early. We will try again for one of the flights later today and reconsider if we can’t hitch that ride.

Another one of those “blinding flash of the obvious” items in a deployment setting is laundry. No one has their own home – or washers and dryers. Certainly, it would be close to insane to set up enough launderettes to accommodate 30,000 people. (Well, ok, the number of AD, Civilians, and US origin contractors is a bit less than that). Thus we go to alternative solution, the Centralized laundry facility.

Back in the Cold War era, there were bath/laundry units in the Army with the responsibility of providing not just clean clothes, but hot showers for field units. In fact, I can remember activating one of those back in 1990 when I was the Division Surgeon for 10th Mountain. Like the traditions with cooks and mechanics – not always the sharpest crayons in the box.

With the modernization and downsizing, almost if not all of the units have left the inventory. In the field, that means another solution has to be found. Centralized laundry under contract seems to be the method of preference on most of the bases and FOBs (forward operating bases).

When I was at Blue Factory, the laundry was contracted by the Norwegians. The laundry provided mesh bags which you had to use and turn around was usually 3 days. I strongly suscept that the reason for the mesh was in order to be able to “wash in the bag” making effective use of the machines.

I never learned much about the central laundry on Doha since, as permanent party, we had a laundry trailer in our housing area. The biggest challenge was to chase out all the temp people and prevent idiots from washing TA-50 in the machines and ruining them. MAJ G – the DPW (Director of Public Works) said the life expectancy of those washers/dryers was about 7 months because they effectively were running 24/7.

Here there is a central laundry with multiple pick-up points. I am familiar with two of them. Albert is on the office side of Disney about half-way back to the PAX Terminal. Dragon is located right in my B-Hut area and certainly convenient. Last night I went to pick up laundry dropped off on the 12th. Turnaround has been running 4-6 days.

After inventorying and dropping off a new bag of laundry, I move to the pick-up line. The LN (local national) dudes behind the counter bring me a bag – not mine. They look for some more, then start trying to explain about the 15th and 16th. One of the guys who was with me at CRC walks in the door. They can’t find his bag either, but hand him one that he dropped off two days ago.

We look at each other, and the penny drops. Apparently whoever is running the laundry mistakenly got all the inventory in the wrong order. The more recently dropped off bags were done before the earlier. All the laundry dropped off on the 15th and 16th is done and back. That which dates from the 12th, 13th and 14th is still in the que.

And here I am, plenty of socks, t-shirts and underwear but out of PTs.

[prahy-vuh-see; Brit. also priv-uh-see]
–noun, plural -cies.
1. the state of being private; retirement or seclusion.
2. the state of being free from intrusion or disturbance in one’s private life or affairs: the right to privacy.
3. secrecy.
4. Archaic . a private place.

Simple concept really. But the implications are far reaching.

Look at the court cases about FBI placing wires on cars without a warrant on the premise that “travel on public roads” should not contain an expectation of privacy. (Side question – does that GPS bug disappear everytime anyone drives a car onto private property? IMHO, I think citizens have the right to privacy and the assumption they are not being spied upon without due process being observed.)

Or – all the attention that the papparazzi places on entertainers, the wealthy and badly behaved, sports figures. Anything and everything they do is fodder for people with too much time on their hands and purient interest in the affairs of others.

Now, let us look at deployments. Privacy becomes a luxury for the average troop. Note, I am saying troop, but I mean soldiers, airmen, marines and sailors (excepting sub-mariners). The last time most adults shared sleeping space with someone who is neither their spouse or partner is probably at home (siblings) or school (roommates).

The particular definition of concern is the second – being free from intrusion or disturbance in one’s private life or affairs. Privacy is not an inherent right in the military.

Now here we are on a post with thousands of others. Sleeping space is at a premiium. Sleeping space = personal space = where you keep your stuff. Sleeping space, for most, does not even carry an expectation of privacy. To have one’s own space – even size of a cell with barely enough room to turn around – is a priveldge. To not have to worry about someone else in your gear, your things getting, even accidently over the line into another person’s personal space, to be able to shut out the world for a few minutes/hours a day and rejuvinate is a priceless treasure.

One of our MSG came in this morning almost dancing. In his forties, he is married with five children. Peace and quiet at home, he reports has never been reality. Now that the oldest two are in professional school, a daughter at the Air Force Academy and a son at West Point, home is a bit less crowded. None of that was important today. He had just given up a room (shared room) in the hardstand barracks complete with hard wired internet and showers down the hall and was joyous. He is now the proud occupant of a B-Hut cell. All his own, no sharing.

It is worth it, he says. Worth being farther from work and the DFAC. Even worth having to walk outside in the coming cold to the latrines and showers. Doors and walls to keep out everyone else for a bit of time every day. Not having to share a bedroom/sleeping space no matter how good a colleague.

Because of rank, I rarely have to face this issue. It is an artifical societal rule of the military. Rank hath priviledge. Even so, I am more than grateful every evening when can close my door and shut out the rest of the world.

No service.

Don’t you remember seeing those signs when growning up? Especially prevelant in resort areas and beaches, diners and food locations made an effort to hold up a minimum sanitation standard.

There is a version of that here at the DFAC (Dining Facitities)-

No ID, No Weapon
No Service.

Leaving aside the longer lists posted outside each DFAC which remind everyone that totally filthy uniforms, sweaty PTs, rags, tank tops, flip-flops and short-shorts (yes, an attempt to keep the contractors and DOD civilians under control), it makes you think.

The fact is, none of the bases are completely secure. All of the control and check points do the absolutely best that they can. But the amount of chaos created should thousands of people need their weapons all at once makes me shudder.

Whether or not there is a clip in the weapon while inside the wire is a local command call. Yes is more likely than no on US bases and otherwise on NATO/ISAF bases. There does not seem to be any arguement at all about cip in weapon, round in chamber when outside the wire.

At least this way we are not falling over clearing barrels all the time.

Everyone needs a down day. A quiet day in which work obligations fall by the wayside.

Since I am neither a regimented person or particularly observant, I am chosing my own set of rules.

1) Work – I am taking a day a week in which I don’t do work unless it is an emergency. Work is what I define as work. I don’t have problems with electricity. I live in a B-hut which will be pitch black inside unless I turn off and on lights. I don’t consider computer games, knitting, reading, watching videos or listening to audio books work.

2) people – I am living on a base with vast numbers of other people. While it is true that I do not interact with each and everyone of them on a daily basis – there are a lot of them around. On my quiet day – I am not dealing with other people without important provication.

3) food – eating what I want?

So, my day was spent reading, knitting, a few computer games, and hearing audio books. I got take-out from the Dragon DFAC for supper. I didn’t go shopping, to the post office or finance. I ran no errands or did any major cleaning.

And tomorrow I might just be up for being back and work refreshed. Or at least as muich so as one can with the discovery that 20+C outside does not guarentee warm water in the shower after a significant number of those strangers beat you to the shower in the morning…..

You know the challenge of sending your favorite guy, the one you love, the one you married, to the grocery store? You give him a list of the items that are needed for the next time period. You ask him not to bring home junk. You try and make your elf not think about him lose with all those temptations. And, finally, you hope that dinner tonight will be something other than beer and crisps.

He comes home. Unloads the car and carries in his trophies like he had gotten all the food from scratch with his bare hands. As the bags mount up, your tensions rise.

He starts unloading the bags and you start to shake. Out come all these interesting items, most of which are only marginally food. Of those food items, unfavorite vegetables and fruits are conspicuously absent. Oh well, you think, I can probably do something with three bags of apples.

At the end, he is pleased with his trophies while you are only marginally holding on to your sanity. No cereal, no eggs, no milk, no bread. But three kinds of olives, four salsas and other condiments in gleaming jars proudly stand on the counter.

There is a parallel in the deployment world. Do not ask your spouse, your loving, kind-hearted non-military spouse to mail you critical military items. Instructions in writing which would make perfect sense to a service member are thicker than a brick to a civilian.

Please – go into the studio. Look in my green flight bag. I need the socks, t-shirts and sports bras. There is also a pair of tan desert boots that look expensive and are close to brand new. I think they are in the studio or bedroom. Can you mail those to me?

Wednesday I received two packages in the mail, both mailed on Saturday. Delivery time from Germany via MPS is quite good. One box was the one I had packed and left in the dining room to be sent the week I left for Ft Benning (that was 12 Sept). The other was huge. More than 24x24x24. In it was the green flight bag.

I pulled out the clothing items I needed and the bag of toiletries I had requested. I found another box and packed in all the ACUs, trash and the MRE which had made the trip. The ACUs are not friend/foe tagged nor are they fire resistant and can’t be worn in this theater.

And then there are the boots. My Norwegian Army boots from 1998, which I have been intending to get re-soled since ½ of one heel is missing. Since the soles are black, they don’t look anything like US desert boots.

Two boxes here, three boxes to return so that none are uncomfortably heavy. Total weight staying in theater? Under 2 kg and immeasureable love.

I have mentioned the sanitation trailers a number of times. One might be set between several other containers, affording easy access to people living in that location. They may be out in the middle of an area. Or, what is prevelant around here is that they are stacked with the shower facilties reached by an outside stair while the toilet trailers are located underneath.

In any of these cases, the trailers are either hard plumbed into the water and sewer system or have water storage areas inside which are filled daily by truck.

What does all this have to do with curtains? you ask.

Well, I am not sure why (other than white plastic curtains are easy to maintain and cheep to replace) there are no doors inside any of these facilities. Just overhead rods and sliding shower curtains.  I think the idea is to provide a modicum of privacy without allowing anyone to lock themselves in.

The downside is that everyone seems to like leaving the curtains closed making it a bit challenging to find either an empty stall or shower. Go figure.

I was thinking about bringing in markers and drawing on the curtains…..

Back in 2003 we started to laugh about discussions of BOG (Boots On Ground) which turned out to be not very funny when applied to Reserve and Guard personnel who were tied up so long at mobilization stations that their terms of service were practically over the day they arrived in theater.  

Then the policy changed in Aug 2003 and shifted many people from their planned six month to 12. It was not fun. Predictability is critical to families, employers, individuasls which = everyone’s sanity.  

Since then, all the services have tried to be as clear as possible: the clock starts running when your boots hit dirt in theater – Kuwait being the port of entry for most. Those coming as unit members are normally here for the duration and we speak of tour lengths. Right now that seems to be about 12 months for this theater.  

For individual augmentees, it depends on their particular TCS (temporary change of station) orders. Active duty medical corps clinical positions are usually six months deployments. It avoids both burn out and skill degradation. RC/NG are 90 days. (the UK in contrast seems to do 6 weeks to 3 months for their clinical folks).  

Me? I am on 180 days orders. Means I am out of theater toward the end of March. Unless, of course, things change. No changes known at the present.

And no, I do not mean any of the wonderful albums put out by the group of that name.

Rather, those noises in the night that might just fall into the bump in the night category. I am sure that they vary by deployed base and location on the base.

First, there are those camp wide noises, i.e. a public address system. Have not heard one here, but it was obvious in Kandahar. Along with the echose which rendered all announcements entirely incomprensible. I was reassured that as long as there were words prior to sirens, not to worry. For that matter, why worry when you are soaking wet in the shower with shampoo streaming down your face? Ignoring the siren means that you are taking a chance on getting rinsed and dressed. And that whatever is inbound will be intercepted rather than land in your area.

Last night there were large thumps and booms. I have no clue and did not check any of the secure systems before writing this note to ensure that I did not say anything stupid. And then there were all the airplane noises. Lots of cargo, a few fighters, trucks on the road as well at tach vehicles rolling by at the end of the housing area. 

Obviously there are still going to be nights where headphones are needed.

Here it is, not quite 0800 in the morning and my day is well started. Officially we start at 0800. I am finding that I can acheive quite a bit in those quite couple of hours before everyone else gets here.

I sit with my iPod on – music playing – if anyone else is in the office. Headphone block out the worst of it. When sharing an office with a lot of other people, you really do not want to be listening to potentially six different phone converstations.

All of this takes me to the what are you doing there anyway question.

There is both a short and a long answer.

The short answer says that I am the Preventive Medicine Consultant for the Theater. In US speak, it means that I am the senior person with techinical oversight for the field. We have only one named consultant at a time for anything. It has nothing to do per se with credentials or certifications.

The long answer, well I guess I started that above. I have responsibilities for PM for the theater. In the case of deployments the field includes Occupational & Environmental Medicine as well as Public Health and Preventive Medicine. US forces, I need to caveat that with “responsibility for US Forces.” All of those fancy words translates to: sanitation, disease surveillance, immunization programs, entomology, radiation physics, environmental surveillance, occ health programs, hearing protection….. you name it, I probabaly own it from the technical side.

It is not just me. I have a public health nurse, a health physicist, enotomologist and an environmental enginer here and a senior tech in another region. There are PM assests in the combat brigades and the division. There are teams that fall under our command and control in each of the RCs (Regional Commands).

Right now there are a number of large issues on the plate – the kind that never seem to go away. Malaria and Leishmaniasis come immediately to mind followed by the standard fall push for flu vaccine.

There is certainly enough to keep me busy for the tour.

Before I get to the “what did you do in Afghanistan?” I thought I would mention living conditions. Ok, I have mentioned something about living conditions a few times in my whole, wow-ey two weeks in theater.

For my first 10+ days, I was living in the DVQ (Distinguised Visitors Quarters) opposite the baggage claim. Small dinky place with bed, night stand, shrank (cupboard), and folding chair. I could barely turn around unless the door was shut, but it was mine. Including the A/C unit in the wall direcly above my bed which provided the air ciculation for all three cells in our area.

I returned yesterday from Kandahar. On my door was a note from billeting. They had permanent quarters for me. Now, the senior folks from our task force have been in the DVQ since last spring. Now here I am, less than 2 weeks in theater and I am getting evicted?

Always friendly, I suspciously ask where?

Dragon B huts. My predecessor lived there and complained that it was really far from the office. So my attitude on the all of 200 meter hike is – right – plywood city rooms. Trying to maintain a sense of humor (tell you about the Kandahar housing challenge at the end) I went over to Dragon Billeting Office. I was helped by this lovely woman named Michelle.

She walks me down a couple of rows and in a hootch or two. Undoes the padlock on the door and points me toward the room on the left. This particular B hut is divided into two 1/4 units and a 1/2 unit. I have one of the quarters. Me, myself. All to myself. Turns out that Michelle has the other 1/4. We share an entry way complete with rug and hooks, a light switch and the ventilation unit.

The room itself is almost triple the size of the cell over in the DVQ. Three shranks, a desk, night stand, bed. THe previous tenant left me a number of useful items including lamps, power strips, wall hangings, rugs and a kettle. Obviously, I will add to and pass along to the next person.

It took me around an hour to pack, move and unload. Haven’t been able to accomplish a move in such a short time since it all fit in my VW Beetle.

The walk to the san trailers is a bit further as is the trek to work. 200 meters. Balancing that is the significant reduction in noise and the front covered entry way which will protect against the wind and dust.

AND! I can furnish my own lock – which means that everyone and their TCN can’t just wander in whenever they want. There is also this nice sliding bolt on the inside to secure my room when I am there.

Not bad, I have lived a lot worse on deployments.

yes, over the next couple of days I will make an attempt to explain what I am doing. Or supposed to be doing. Or others think I am doing (grin). One of the people with whom I work has said she will let me use her computer to upload a photo or three….

meanwhile -
Flying with the Air Force on a C-130 has no relation to flying with a commercial airline. Trust me on this. The commercial airlines may run you through some hoops, but the flights normally leave on time, the number of seats is a known quantity, and you can wear (within reasonable limits) what you want on the plane.

The three flights yesterday back were all either canceled or changed from passenger to cargo flights. At least this information was known by 1500 so I didn’t have to show up for all three show times.

Instead I toodled around on post, attending services at the CMC and hit the rack early.

But where was I? Oh, the Air Force. Show time 0545. This time there were actually enough seats for everyone. Flight of course leaving three hours give or take from the show time and baggage palletization. The only difference between flying at night and during the morning is that you might just be able to see the mountains out of one of the few porthole shaped windows.

We, the nice big target, fly through the mountains. This is not commercial airlines at 35,000 ft, this is up valleys with mountains still capped by snow. Take offs and landings are regulated by whatever defensive decisions have been made in order to make the smallest profile target for the least amount of time. Did I mention that our plateau is Denver high above sea level?

And then there is the wonderful security at Kandahar. For whatever reason, we run every thing through a metal detector.

Yes, a metal detector. Weapons, IBA, Kevlar, ammo, Gerbers, all on the conveyor belt. Cell phones and iPods are ignored. I have a feeling that some idiot or other either brought grenades or a rocket launcher to the party at some point…..

Then, you get to wear your IBA on the flight while maintaining a grip on your kevlar, weapon and whatever back pack you have managed to keep out of the hands of the load master.

Good challenge and all of that – I am glad to be back.

They call it moon dust. Swirling around my ankles with every step, soemtimes sinking in over the tops of my feet. Everyone here assures me that the overal road situation has improved over the last several months. Tons of gravel have been laid on all the main, non-paved routes. Never the less, Kandahar trumps Bagram on dust and dirt.

Situated on a long lost lakebed, there are mountains rising on two sides of the case visible in sharp detail against the early morning sky. By 1000 they have disappeared in the tons of dust and dirt raised by all the traffic. The haze from tactical, NTVs, foot traffic all contribute their share to the air laden with particulates.

I mentioned that MODS are the relatively new modular housing units made up of containers that replaced many of the old tent cities on this NATO base. Mostly they are permanent party. Laid out in columns and rows, it is easy to get lost at night, oh let us say about 200o when walking back from the wonderful new USO tent that has only been open since mid Sept. The numbers run from one end to the other; then starting again at the beginning of the next row. This might just explain why, when I was counting from 5822, I walked right past my location simply because it was on the other side of this particular row. Add in the challenge of absolutely no local street lights (why give the mortars an easier ability to target living locations?) and one can barely see the building numbers over the top of the Alaska barriers.

(you remember Alaska and Texas barriers? – I can cut and past from seven years ago if need be).

And yes, I am schlepping around my weapon. Not always loaded, but always with ammo.

At night you can not tell one PAX terminal from the other. Leaving side the fact that there is this huge sign that says Kandahar on the side of the terminal.

I will skip the early morning STOL that was canceled, the mid-afternoon flight that was designated cargo only and just dwell on the C-130 winding its way over mountains and valleys after dark. Not having luggage that was palletized, it was an easy hike to the terminal, swiping in and getting the briefing. (take the warnings seriously and go to ground, bunker, hardened building appropriately)

This morning the sun is shining brightly and there is the ubiquitous dust over everything. The nearest DFAC is NATO. There is no skim milk, there is no soy milk, but there is hot water that is actually hot and a good choice of tea bags. I guess one can not have everything.

Billeting here is row upon column of huts composed of UN type containers. Rooms in a row all facing a long haul with the Loo at the end safely secured behind a number lock. From above, finding anything would be problematic. From the ground, it is a grid. Numbers on the buildings, numbers on the cement barriers signifying rows and columns. Since we are only here last night and maybe tonight, I am not even going to figure out where I am, just trust my CPT not to lead me into danger or get me lost.

Pix

As soon as I find a friend who has access, I will try to load some photos. I don’t have a clue why anyone wants to see me in either full battle rattle or with the ever present weapon, but I will give it a shot.

Soldier/Officer on BAF in the latest style sports ACUs (Army Combat Uniform), sturdy boots, and a choice of cover (head gear). There is the patrol hat – what most would consider a standard cap fitted reasonably close to the head with a bill in front and the Boonie hat – a round hat with floppy brim on all sides and a string with which to secure it.

On the uniform, of course, is the proper flag worn on the right sleeve above whatever combat patch the individual may have. If in possession of more than one, you can chose in most circumstances. There is a relative value to patches: line division patches rate higher than support units rate higher than “x” army rate higher than medical rate higher than reserve/guard. The last is simply because most people don’t recognize them. It might mean that reserve medical brigades are in the bottom tier, but I can’t confirm or deny that fact.

On the left sleeve one finds velcro’d on the current patch. Other than that, name is on the right, Service affliation on the left and rank on a tab in the center.

Of course, I have not mentioned the most important accessory – M16, M4 or 9MM worn holstered or slung.

Please, remember that I am sharing, not whining. I have a lovely bed, space to myself, and a decent set of headphones which serve both to keep me entertained and to block noise.  

The baggage yard is where all the palletized personal gear from inbound flights is dropped off. It is not hard stand, rather crushed gravel with the usual amount of dust and dirt for filler.  

This obviously means forklifts - the large kind with operator perched high above us mortals wearing hearing protection, goggles, and some days a dust mask. The engines growl only when the load is heavy. A two meter tall pallet of duffel bags is really not all that much from the point of view of the forklift.  

Beep.   Beep.   Beep.   Beep.   Beep.  

Yep, another one backing up to turn around and exit this 50×50 ft space.   Shortly, the noise changes to grumbles and loud voices. This is not a regular airport – there are no baggage handlers who sling your bags onto a conveyor belt. There is no belt – there is the pallet. If you want your gear, you get to help unload the pallet. Off come the tie downs and smart groups get organized, laying the bags out in lines so that everyone can find their gear. Other disparet passanger groups just toss stuff around making it that much harder for everyone else.  

SUVs, 4x4s, trucks, small buses and other vehicles are pulling up along the road continuosly to claim their inbound pax. During the day, the chaos is actually kind of interesting to watch.  

At night, right across the street from my door? I am finding my headphones a quite useful bit of equipment.

Remember those CNN commericals? Sights and Sounds of “xxxx” followed by glamorus shots of beaches, temples and beauties interspered with five start cuisine and superbly furnished hotel rooms? Made you want to instantly pick up the phone and call your travel agent?

Here is one of the sights and sounds of BAF.

As you might guess, Bagram, at least the airfield, is not the quietest place in the world.  There are fighter jets, always traveling in pairs. They take off and land at whatever time and interval, known only to themselves and the air traffic controlers, suits their mission.

You hear them first, engines running up to a deafing shriek before one goes blasting by on runways that feel right next both work and living locations. Shortly the second screams by heading for the mountains, climbing at a tremendous pitch before being out of site with only a small vapor trail marking their passing.

They land the same way, one after another, engines running down as they taxi back, pointy noses looking sleek and deadly aimed at the hangar.

That is not to say that there are not other aircraft taking off and landing on a regular basis – it is just the fighters seem the loudest as I watch them pass, afterburners red hot on landing.

I had a lovely, quiet day and thank you all for the birthday greetings. I enjoy getting to the office well before anyone else arrives. And if the attendence so far is any indication, I might well be the only one here today!

Computers

The “blog won’t let me leave comments” issue.  From what I can tell, there are two issues:

I am GMT:+4:30. A few reading this are GMT:+1 or GMT:0. The problem comes when you are GMT:-5-8 or so. WordPress does not allow comments to be posted at a date/time prior to when the post was written. Never mind that it is a technical issue of time zones and reality and has absolutely nothing to do what I would want.

The second issue is post naming. Apparently using a number to name the post is fine in the permalinks-but messes up the calls. I have changed the name on yesterday’s post and it is now possible to leave comments.

The archive function is also not functioning; getting to old posts is not an option without paging back. I ask your indulgence. Getting things fixed from here is going to be difficult a best. I am loathe to have any access to HOSTDE from here and risk hackers.

Services

Current routine attendance at Friday night services here seems to be about a dozen, give or take. Civilains, Army and Air Force made up the crew this past Friday. There is a cupboard full of goodies, different shuls and synagogues have been more than generous with their care packages. If I need any munchies, I know where to go.

Perhaps I should have a bit of brilliance today. Wise words for the young in all of us and specifically for everyone who actually is quite a bit younger than me. I think I might have done that last year.

Certainly I do not feel any older today. It is yet another day of sun, dust, and noise at BAF. The Task Force standard is that everyone gets a down day a week. For obvious reasons, I chose Saturday. The fact that it happens to be my birthday is just icing. Truly lucky.

This year is typical of “0″ years for me. Those years that many of us now expect to be milestones. Where we are suppose to celebrate, reflect and wow our friends.

Not for me.

40 – I was newly arrived at Ft Drum. Desert Shield had started. I had a toddler (Ms Soprano) and an unwilling baby sitter in tow and pregnant with The Mole. No party (lots of pity), one flower, a phone call and a card.

50 – Detached to the Germans in Munich, I knew next to no one and the family was wrapped up in their daily life. It just might have been the year that someone decided a fine, stainless steel cooking pot made a great present. Should I mention depression and menopause or just leave it at not a great time in my life?

60 – well – here I am at Bagram sitting in the MWR and typing out this note. I got to sleep in. A card from a friend in the UK arrived several days ago. My day is well planned. Yet to accomplish are a couple of meals and an evening exercise class. I have no cell phone, so calling me is not an option.

Leave me a comment. I like those kind of presents. They endure.

Ah, but first – and before I forget – Pat sent me this link. Not all of you may know about my families running flamingo joke. It started the day of our wedding when a present turned out to be a pink plastic flamingo lawn ornament. That flamingo traveled with us and finally got lost somewhere around our first tour in Heidelberg. The joke continued over the years with the occasional stuffed bird, strange pen (courtsey of the Eldest), and a wind chime courtsey of Carmen.  

This is not a hint. I neither need nor want any flamingo anything here in Afghanistan.

On to fine dining. There are three official choices here on base – the Dragon DFAC, Coley DFAC, and 3rd BDE AV. The last is less than 100 meters from the office. It is actually a military DFAC – with real military cooks. It is not big and shiny. It does not have the variety of the other locations. What it does have is a military hard working staff that likes their jobs, does them well, and is dressed in ACU scrubs.

Being smaller, it is less popular. Ice cream is still offered at lunch and dinner. The salad bar had a limited but adequate suggestion. Vartious rumors are flying about them not being replaced on rotation. I hope that is not true – and that it is actually another military unit.