Back in the USA

While I'm not quite yet in the mythic Fiddler's Green - my fellow Irishman, Sgt 1st Class Dave Thompson, and I pose by some of the FOB's new street signs a few weeks ago - I am back in the States. Sorry for the long gap in communication...it definitely would have helped to have my own laptop with me over the past couple of weeks. But I do have more to share, just as soon as I have a chance to hook up some access.

Please keep on extending all those thoughts, prayers and well-wishes that you have been to my comrades and all who continue to serve "over there." I've encouraged a couple of good guys to try blogs of their own, and will advise of that if/when it happens. As I said, there will be more to follow on this one, I promise. Thank you again to all who have followed along!

Happy 4th of July!

OK, back to the current time period. I'll get those backlogged photos up at a later date, but felt the need to first show proof to my family that the flags I'll bring back were proudly flown over this FOB in Khost on Independence Day 2006.

Sgt Tim Sander is the young journalist (constantly reminding me that I've got at least a decade on many of the warriors out here) helping me raise the flag outside our operations center the other day.

Saluting Old Glory, the Marine Corps, and a job well done. I've been particularly enjoying the fact that every vehicle or runner who comes up the road sees this Marine flag, designating the location of the only one on this base. Thanks for sending them, Mom!

The Lumber Yard

Late afternoon light at the lumber yard outpost in the Korengal, and blackhawks are still busy. There was a constant pace of activity as Marines and soldiers (even the occasional sailor or airman), supplies and weapons, building materials and everything else were shuttled to points throughout the mountains of Kunar in support of the massive operation...

And man, did they rearrange the dirt of the place every time they did!

Morning sun created a daily haze over the valley, which would then burn off. It was already heating up significantly over the first few days of the operation, which still featured some bitter cold nights.

Afghan workers were signed up for each day's work, which in this case meant retrieving contents of an aerial resupply drop. It was quite an event - the drop, that is - though organizing locals was always an event as well.

And the pallets are off! (the cluster of dots on the left) It's an impressive process to see those seemingly tiny bundles ejected by a large cargo plane way overhead, then remember that those dots are actually tons of supplies...are those cows out of the designated landing zone yet? If not, we eat good tonight!

Drifting to the earth (nowhere near the giant zone marked by green smoke and orange tarps) were the bundles, bringing needed supplies for the planned MEDCAP and humanitarian aid distribution. No cows were harmed in the conduct of this aerial resupply.

"Ayyy, I make you an offer you can't refuse!" So goes the motto of our trusty payments officer, Al the Sicilian. He had a ton of great stories, including golfing with every recent Commandant of the Marine Corps and lots of other top brass. Which is funny, because it really is fair to say that he's "connected."

"C'mon, little fella...here you go..."
"Dude, you are NOT taking my water bottles!"
Capt. Tim Kelly offers to show some young Afghans the photo he took of them, to no avail.

The ANA brigade also had their own command headquarters at the outpost landing zone...though they trusted in Allah much more for protection than we did, eschewing the double layer of blast wall.

Much to my amusement, one unit brought along a little friend. And who doesn't love monkeys? Unfortunately, the hairy biter was deemed a bit of a health hazard and had to be sold to the Afghan soldiers...

So here he is getting a bite to eat with his new friends, outside the wire this time. Monkeys actually seem to be everywhere in this country, though they're not employed as trained killers as often as I imagined.

Far more common, and far less entertaining, were the cows that wandered through the outpost. It was when there were no herders in sight, like this time, that the scene became puzzling.

See, here's one doubling back...there were a few times they'd have to be led on their way by Marines. All this is probably not that interesting to any of you who grew up with cows around, but for me it was hilarious.

"Brother, can you spare an afghani?" (that's the national currency, though US dollars are gladly accepted everywhere) Locals wait for the start of the first MEDCAP held in the Korengal Valley.

The first patients arrive as the medical tents were now open for business. A team of doctors, nurses and medical support flew in from Bagram to provide the staff needed to host such a large clinic. More on that later...

One of the battalion's mortar teams poses for a group shot. They kept us, and the smaller ground units, safe by suppressing the enemy, often striking their movements late at night. Great weapon to have on your side, though when there's no heads up, nothing quite prepares you for that eardrum-shattering shot out if you're dozing a couple hundred meters away!

SuperShura!

Morning shines its light on the strangest outpost in Afghanistan, as Afghan soldiers perched on top of one lumber pile look out. It wasn't nearly as serene a scene if you could hear the horrific music blasting from their boom box though...which was more like cats being tortured as a rythm-less class takes drum lessons.

The command post, now properly adorned with the battalion shield, was the center of activity as local elders began to arrive by the dozens for a large shura, or what we would later call the SuperShura.

Though it definitely be cheesy, I thought I'd pose with the backdrop of the heart of the valley, whose villages were represented at the large gathering of leaders.

"So whatchu whatchu whatchu want?" asked Afghan Col. Esop of our battalion commander. Well, that's what I think he was rapping in Dari. I later showed this photo to Mike, the interpreter in sweatshirt and ballcap, and he said, "Yeah, that colonel likes to shake hands a lot."

The SuperShura takes shape. A couple hundred gents wound up attending this meeting, dressed in all variations of manjammies and beard/hair dye (red is clearly the most popular).

Expectantly we all waited...for the governor was taking his sweet time getting to the helicopter that would take him here, I later learned.

Though it seems like a ton of pictures of the same event, believe me - I only selected relatively few. I was fascinated by this gathering, and the setting. This 'amphitheater' had been hastily shaped by a couple of the towering timber stacks.

Each time a new contingent of important or self-important people, or another gaggle of elders, arrived the crowd would undergo another round of musical chairs in order to strictly enforce priority seating. Punctuality, on the other hand? Not enforced.

Get those shawls over your faces, because every few minutes there were the repeated intrusions of those pesky blackhawks, which - as we were below the landing zone - kicked up the whole dirt of the hillside into our faces.

"Now people, please! We thought there'd be enough punch and cookies for all, but you each brought a dozen friends, so you'll just have to accept cash instead."

An up-close look at one of our colorful participants. I learned quickly that the seats on the side are coveted, for the ease of spitting off to the side instead of just down, like old man firebeard here is busy doing.

Some of the key leaders huddled for more substantial decisions after much of the SuperShura had dispersed, such as where to go for lunch (seriously). Remember, blue sport jacket = big man on campus.

"Thank you all for coming. Remember to get your parking validated on the way out!"

When it was time to go, there was the standard way home for some...

And the standard for others.

Into the Korengal

'Stand to' comes early in the field - it's the hour when all are to be up and on watch, guarding against a daybreak attack or other suspicious activity. It wasn't hard to be up that early when sleeping on a rock river bed anyway, so I didn't mind much.

Even the jingle truck drivers get bed head out here! Mornings were still chilly in Kunar at this point. A couple of these trucks would be part of my latest hitched convoy, from the Pech River to a just-established outpost in the Korengal Valley.

More jingle trucks! These colorful beasts, decorated as festively as possible, transport anything and everything for the Afghans and often for us. Check out the crown on this one...

King of the jingles, right here.

Meanwhile, the river crossing still continues, as some vehicles remained on the other side for security overnight. Soon though, the convoy was whole and ready to roll...

Naturally, in no time the local population had turned out to watch the show. Look at the feisty guy in the right. Buddy, watch where you're throwing those stones! (he was actually just chucking them into the field - probably undoing a project that we funded at some point)

Soon we were making our preparations to roll, after a convoy brief and threat assessment. Villagers had to be reminded to stand back from the vehicles about every 5 seconds, as usual. I can't blame them for being curious though - we were in one long train of vehicles.

I found my friend Al Andriotti on the convoy...this guy was a complete riot, raised in Sicily and later all over Europe, he was one of the unlikeliest Marines you'd ever come across. Naturally for a Sicilian, he handled payments to the locals.

At long last, we were underway...and driving literally up a river for a stretch. As noted before on this journal, sometimes that IS the road.

This is my favorite shot of curious passersby. It gives a pretty decent perspective on how wedged in between the banks we were.

A few tight twists and turns and we were out of the creek and heading up past large compounds into the entrance of the valley...

I was stunned at how close the Afghans would walk by our lumbering vehicles, although there were clearly weren't many options on these slopes. It was definitely their main route of transit also.

Sorry, sorry...coming through. In places they were hard at work, "improving" the road. How larger jagged rocks improve it, I'm not sure, but they sure were working back-breakingly hard.

The higher we went, the more gorgeous the views became. I'll admit that it became easy to be distracted by such scenery, so it's probably a good thing I wasn't driving or manning the .50 cal machine gun.

This road was no joke. I thought I'd travelled some harrowing ones before in this country, but this took the "Please watch the edge!" cake. On the passenger side, we'd guide to the rock wall until we were scraping it in order to avoid drifting the other direction.

As with elsewhere in the valley, terraced fields could be found way, way up there. How on earth these farmers get down to the river beyond sheer rock cliffs remains a mystery to me...it looks dangerous as hell.

You take the high road and I'll take the low...actually we took the high while our jingles took the low when it split, so they had to climb back up to re-join the convoy. I liked how the roads just snaked away from this vantage point.

There's my trusty gunner and the vehicle that took me up this last leg. After a few hours we'd reached the lumber yard, where the Marine battalion had set up an outpost a couple of days earlier.

A view of the emerging outpost, looking up from the one flat area. It was a crazy scene, with shelters and lean-tos springing up all over the hillside, like an Old West mining camp.

The center of a sprawling lumber yard for years, this building was heavily reinforced for use as a command post. But it was an individual effort to go stake out a sleeping spot. In true wandering fashion, I'd be in a different location every few nights while staged out of there.

By the Grace of God, I was able to pull a building crew together to assist with my construction...that's the chaplain, his assistant and a combat cameraman with me, in between some heavy lifting.

Soon I was chillin' in my new digs, adjacent to one of the towering lumber piles of the hillside. That Kunar timber is extremely heavy, and they don't use machinery to cut or haul it...it's done the same way it's been done for millenia here, by hand.

I'd spend the next few days primarily at the outpost, getting out only for a few patrols and missions in the surrounding valley, and will post some of that too. It's strange to be posting this all now that I'm leaving soon, but time and internet didn't allow for it sooner, so I hope you still enjoy the journey...

Crossin' the Pech

This little man's gaze at the opposite bank says it all - so this is the crossing point? "And you may ask yourself, How did I get here?" (my thanks to the Talking Heads...) So how did I get there?

The convoy taking me west was continuing on to Camp Blessing, another small FOB in the mountains, and not to the Korengal Valley where I needed to be. But as luck would have it, a convoy that had set out for the Korengal days ago had been bogged down at the crossing point. As we drove by, I yelled to the driver, "Hold up! I'm getting out!" Guess I'm lucky they actually did stop.

Afghan soldiers were among the first I saw after jumping out of the engineer vehicle with my gear and crossing a field, getting curious looks from farmers, to link up with the convoy about to attempt a crossing. It's funny- they had to be thinking, "What's with this guy?" (Joneser, I know you're laughing)

Another view of the opposite bank, where it became clear that the carnival had truly come to town, and it was us. Villages on both sides were glued to the spectacle...

And a spectacle it turned out to be. Just as soon as the crossing began, it ground to a halt in a few feet of rushing river. Marines and Army engineers then worked to free the stuck humvee, quickly as daylight was fading fast...to paraphrase more Talking Heads, "Letting the days go by/(DON'T) let the water hold me down"!

Another look at the nearly submerged guinea pig humvee...

And the people, highly amused. A couple jingle trucks easily crossed shortly after, which I couldn't help but laugh about. The world's most advanced military halted at a river, while local jalopy trucks bounce through! They did let up quite a cheer when our first hummer made it across though, so they were good sports about it.

Eventually the vehicle rescue did turn out to be successful, thanks to the towing capacity of another humvee. The re-entry then began, and vehicles began crossing "into the blue again/ in the silent water" (wow- the song is really in my head now- "same as it ever was, same at it EVER was"). Three more would get stuck, but most gunned it through without much trouble.

This is how long it took to get this lengthy convoy across the 3-ft rapids...it was dark by the time we reached the other bank. I had found a vehicle with an open seat, and joined a Marine gunny (an advisor to the Afghan army) in crossing. Just a little splashing, and unfortunately no good photos.

Once there, we made the call to stay the night, and resume the convoy in the morning. That day proved that 'come hell or high water,' I was getting back to the damn Korengal! Afghan Yoda, seen here, agreed that I was on the right track.

Parallelin' the Pech

An explanatory note first to all who may be just tuning in, or have not been so curious as to read all 56 previous entries... I am currently back in hot, dusty & safe FOB Salerno, and am still posting photos and ramblings from events two months ago. So sit back, enjoy, and (inshallah) I'll get this journal caught up sometime.

Your thoughts, prayers and comments have been warmly received, and I appreciate everyone who's taken the time to write and let me know what you think. I apologize for my inability to shed any light on the current operation in the south of the country, as I often learn its progress in mostly the same ways that you all can - through internet and TV coverage. Again, these photos pick up where I left off, on a convoy along the Pech River road with some engineers who let me hitch a ride.

The frequent stops along a route-clearing convoy were fine with me, as it gave me a chance to step out of the humvee and soak in more new surroundings. Most likely these boys are trying out their latest learned swears on the soldiers.

Nothing quite lifts your spirits as much as seeing the children at play when driving through their villages. It really is amazing how alike children are the world over when something exciting is happening in the neighborhood. We're like the ice cream truck here...if the ice cream truck had to be wary of mines and ambushes instead of just kids on bicycles.

These are a few of my favorites. I really did enjoy this particular journey along the river road, because of how seemingly peaceful and beautiful it seemed while conflict raged within a couple of miles.







Alas, the combination of a moving, bouncing humvee and a slow shutter resulted in little clarity in some of my attempts. But there were beautiful children and interesting sights in every town, and they would come running from the river, through the alleys, from everywhere to see the convoy roll through. Rock stars in a strange muddy world...

Getting up close & personal with the river I'd heard so much about. The route got pretty dicey in some places, but was nothing compared to what awaited me deeper into the valleys.

Up a slight rocky incline here and there did have its rewards...

Namely, amazing views of the river valley. It amazed me, and others I spoke with in various conversations across these travels, that such a lush region could be so poor, and such a seemingly serene setting could be so rife with hostility. Of course the latter has a great deal to do with the former.

Next up: Changing course again, and how to get across that river?

Hitchin' the Pech

Once again in eastern Afghanistan, we mourn the loss of four soldiers who gave their lives a few days ago in ongoing operations just north of where these photos were taken. RIP.

Picking up where I left off, I had to get from A-bad back out to the operation in the field. Unfortunately they seem to lack subway or even bus service in Kunar, so it became a game of how to get there from here. Complicating my effort was the fact that helicopters were not flying that direction from where I was, so I decided to take one to where it was going, and hitch from there. Wing and a prayer, you might say...

The Pech River Valley is a dicey place to be if you're an outsider, and it had provided sanctuary for the past few years to bands of enemy who regularly launch attacks on any representatives of Afghan government as well as Coalition forces and nongovernmental organizations. That's why the heart of the operation was establishing a presence in the middle of this fierce region.

Hardscrabble villages dot the rocky valley. There is no shortage of stone with which to expand your compound to accomodate those additional wives!

The Pech River is the defining feature and primary route of the region, and all settled areas spread outward from and its tributaries. So if I was an insane realtor and you were an insane speculator, I would say "buy riverfront."

Here is where the blackhawk dropped me off...as a matter of fact, there's the bird. I had landed at a vehicle patrol base, which isn't a base at all but a temporary staging point for convoys and route-clearing vehicles. That river looked awfully tempting as the mercury continued to rise...

Here's a look at the VPB, manned by more Afghan troops than Coalition. Actually the platoon there was short enough on troops at the time that they happily took me along a mission as soon as I got there, since there weren't convoys going my intended direction for a while anyway. And hey, I did have two loaded weapons on me, so why turn down some extra firepower?

Convoying to the suspected IED site made me realize once again the extraordinary risks that most Afghan soldiers must take in service to their still-new army. Of course sitting arse-out over the edge of an open pickup on a rocky road may be more risk than necessary, but they live life on the edge, these crazy buggers!

Providing security at the rear of the column, we waited while engineers checked out the site...and we weren't the only ones waiting...

Once again, locals are upset that we've caused a traffic delay. Sorry guys, we'll be done in a second with our efforts to make sure you don't get blown up on your way to your friend's house.

A suspicious car is checked for explosives before the site is secured. I was impressed once again with the professionalism of the soldiers who calmly assessed threats without offending sensibilities of the local residents.

Another look at the first waystation on my journey back to the Korengal valley. I learned on the mission that a Route Clearance Package (convoy with vehicles designed to detect and disable mines and IEDs) was heading further west. Their destination was past where I needed to turn off, but it was another step in the right direction, so I jumped in with them.

Would you look at that? A snack shack had sprung up after this small patrol base just setting up. There are enterprising individuals everywhere, I'm telling you...

Next up: Getting from the first stop to the valley I needed (aka- feeling like a hobo jumping cattle cars in a West that's still wild).

A-bad revisited

Not only is that probably Alex "Prettyboy" Rodriguez's latest nickname, but it's short for Asadabad here. Since I can't bring you coverage of the latest operation down south - they wouldn't let me play this time - here is more from my time up north in Kunar a couple of months ago. After the first phase of the op with the media crews, I got them to A-bad, then immediately plotted to return to the field. It wasn't easy getting back out there, it turned out.

A-bad is one of those bases tucked in the mountains, seeming like it would be a cool retreat if not getting rocketed on a regular basis. As a matter of fact, just before we flew from there to start the op, a rocket intended for the base struck a school in town - tragically, during their recess. The despicable attack killed 11 children and wounded over a dozen others, who were rushed to the base for immediate medical attention, saving some who were in really bad shape. The medics and docs on hand were incredible that day.

So Easter morning, after getting in the previous late night, I ended up on a convoy heading to the governor's house in town. The commander of the region's provincial reconstruction team (PRT) grabbed me to discuss the ongoing operation. I was glad for the chance to not only check out another new place, but one that I'd read so much about before this deployment.

The gardens in the governor's compound give you a good idea of how different life is for the power brokers in Afghanistan, much like anywhere else for that matter. People may be living in dirt outside, but inside the pink walls, life is good. This policeman may not have been thrilled that I was taking pictures, but the AfghaniDan was packing two loaded weapons at this point, so maybe I got a free pass.

Smiles all around on the Afghan army officials in the gov's office. I found it impossible not to think of all the times an office like this, or the base for that matter, would have changed hands over the past 30 years. Afghan royalists, Afghan communists, Soviets, various warlords, Taliban and now three governors already in the current government's time. And that's just the past few decades!

I just had to include this one, not for any photographic value, but for the little chief of police in the middle. Isn't he adorable? I hope that peaked hat of his gives him the extra foot of authority he needs.

Scenes from the town...again, this is a provincial capital. Things are a little different in Kunar. It's like the Alabama of Afghanistan, not that there's anything wrong with that (I can just feel the hate mail pouring in...)




Back on the base, the big guns were active. I didn't catch them firing with my camera, but lord almighty did it shake, rattle and roll the place when they did.

Next installment: making my way back out west. Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there, by the way...especially all of you with children here. You can be proud as hell of these young soldiers, sailors, Marines and airmen, as I'm sure you are. Politicians, reporters and those idiotic talking heads on the ubiquitous TV "news" programs can pontificate all they want about what's wrong here or what can't be fixed (and there is a lot of both), but the American military and our allies are busting their butts every day to improve security for the people of this war-torn place, no matter how long the changes may last.

Rough going in the East

First, my thanks to all still following this very interrupted page...we've had extremely poor internet connectivity lately, often just a few minutes over the course of a day or none at all, making it nearly impossible to catch up on past happenings and photos. Even now, this posting has been in progress for the past couple of hours, as I try to send it out.

I will post photos from my recent R&R trip soon, but first I ask that you remember the seven brave souls who lost their lives in this region over the past two weeks in five separate incidents. Four of them died in Kunar, where I took these two months ago during the operation there. As always, there have been and continue to be memorial services for each fallen soldier. May they rest in peace.