Reluctantly, My Address

I've been hesitant to do this, since I want for nothing here at the largest US Airbase in Afghanistan. However, many of you have kindly and consistently asked for my address, and I am touched enough to oblige:

Felipe Perez
PRT Parwan & Kapisa
APO AE 09354

That's it. I know, it's so short it just seems wrong, but it works. By the magic of American airpower, mail takes about a week to get here. Pictures, letters, and postcards would make my day. If you're compelled to send something heftier, books, DVDs, or mix-CDs keep the boredom away and are shareable with the troops. And if anyone insists on sending edible goodies, I'll start posting a log of the extra miles I've gotta run to stay in fighting shape.

Seriously, though, I'm touched. Thank you

The Governor, Part II

Yesterday's lunch was a blast, so we followed it up with another one today, this time with the Governor of Kapisa Province, our other area of responsibility.

Actually, we didn't just meet with the Governor either day-- it was the entire provincial government, including all of the department heads and the elected members of the legislature, about 20 folks total (19 of them men). The split between the two kinds of officials was amazing. The department heads were all executive-branch technocrats (or wannabe technocrats) in suits and trim beards, with a good bunch of them speaking decent English.

The elected members were straight out of a Nightline special report- traditional wool hats representing their respective tribes, big bushy beards, and long cotton shirts and baggy pants. Interestingly, most of these guys wore some sort of western jacket or sportcoat over their otherwise Afghan outfit.

I was lucky enough to sit with the electeds, who immediately started digging into me. They asked how many wives I had, and were disappointed that I had none. They wanted to know if I was Christian and how often I prayed everyday. They asked if my parents were still alive, and whether I would take care of them when they got old. But mostly, they just laughed at my sad attempts to speak a few phrases of Dari (Afghan Persian).

My conversations pale in comparison to a couple of buddies'. They noticed the ring on one Air Force Captain's finger, and asked how long he'd been married. "Six years," he answered. "Excellent! (through a translator)How many children do you have, Captain?" "None," he smiled. Shocked, his lunch buddy smacked his fellow Afghans on the back and laughed, "what's the matter, can't find the hole?"

Here's another- at today's lunch a handful of female officials joined us. Just coming to the lunch already speaks volumes regarding these ladies' toughness and commitment. A female soldier from our group joined them for lunch, and they hit it off, the bunch of them chatting and laughing through lunch. The Kapisa governor, a much schmoozier guy than yesterday's governor, started working the room and made his way to the ladies. He sat down and joined them for dessert, grabbed a piece of cake, and took a couple of fork-fulls as he mingled. After he got up, my buddy looked at one of the ladies and asked, "wasn't that your cake?" The council-member didn't miss a beat as she shot back,"Yeah, he took my cake just like he takes my rights."

I'm not making this stuff up.

The smart-assier among you are probably laughing at me, thinking, "this guy's not at war! I'm taking my care package back." You're right, this isn't your typical follow-the-blackhawks-and-kick-down-the doors kind of mission. But it's my mission. And I like it.

I'm really encouraged by this, actually. I was in Iraq for over 6 months before we ever did anything remotely this inclusive and personal. It's gonna be a productive year.

The Governor

It's my second full day here and I'm having lunch (along with several of my colleagues) with the Governor of Parwan Province and his staff. It's gonna be a busy year.

P.S. Anybody got an extra "Obama Elected President" newspaper they can spare? They're a little hard to come by in central Asia.

Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan

After what has felt like the longest lead up of my life, I am here. Arrived just before dawn yesterday and watched as the morning light lit up the Hindu Kush mountains.

(Math-themed digression: this [the long lead up, not the red-lit mountains] reminds me of a story that Mr. Slevin once told me in 9th grade geometry class to explain sums of infinite series [that's a sub-digression that I'll spare you]. Some smart greek guy asked another greek guy, "For you to get from Athens to Sparta, do you first have to go halfway there?" Greek guy 2 says, "Sure." So smart guy says, "Once you've made it to the half-point between Athens and Sparta, do you then need to cross the new half-way point between that spot and Athens?" Greek guy 2 says, "Sure." Now smart Greek's got him on the ropes and asks, "If you've always got to get half-way to Sparta before you actually get to Sparta, and there's always a new half-way mark ,no matter how close you are, how do you cross that final, infinite, half-way mark and actually get there?" Greek guy 2 was so perplexed he invented some new math.

I just realized this story worked a lot better when Mr. Slevin kept walking halfway to the wall as he told this story.)

Point is, after what started to feel like an infinite series of half-way theres, I am, finally, here. Safe and sound.

Not impressed. But that's the next post.

Si Se Puede

It'll be a great story for the kids some day; "I was in Krgyzstan the day President Obama was elected, waiting for the plane that took me to Afghanistan."

 

A bunch of airmen and I got up early this morning (we're 11 hours ahead of Eastern time) to watch the results come in. I'm lucky to have found the biggest pocket of Democrats and moderate Republicans in the whole US military. I think there's almost 7 of us.

 

We ate our breakfast as they called Pennsylvania for Obama. We watched nervously as Virginia, North Carolina, and Florida remained too close to call. Watching the big screen in the rec room, most of us cheered as they called Ohio blue. I got hopeful, almost cocky. But still, at 10am sharp, local time, I nearly choked on my coffee when the words flashed on screen- President Elect, Barack Obama. One guy across the room stood up and cheered. Most of the room just grumbled "there goes the country," or something similarly offensive. I just sat there and fought back the lump of pride welling up in my chest.  I'll deal with the liberal bashers and Obama haters later. For now, I'll just bask in the hope.

Krygyztan

Before last night, I was only vaguely aware that this was a real country. Turns out it's real. And rainy.

 

The military seems to not like doing stuff in straight lines, so we'll be here for a bit before catching our final plane into Afghanistan. We're staying at a small US Air Force Base that used to be a small Soviet Air Force base a couple of decades back.  It's a lot like the FOB back in North Carolina -- tents, barbed wire, armed guards, gravel roads -- except that this place is not make believe. 

 

Also, the management here is well aware that the setting sucks, so they bend over backwards to keep morale up. Chow's great (including a panini station and a fro-yo sundae bar). The gym is ginormous, looks like one of those Bally's ads on TV, and pumps motivational, base-heavy gym jams 24 hours.  There are at least 4 24-hour free Internet cafes (the filter's a nanny-monster, though. Ex. The Onion is deemed "obscene.") There's also a bar. Really. Except only Air Force folks can drink. Seems there've been too many drunk soldier incidents.

 

The trip here was weird. Everybody was clearly flipping out, but we all handle it differently. Some guys (including me), had their cell-phones glued to their ears until the stewardesses pried them away. Some folks lost themselves in their gadgets and games until their batteries died. Some guys did the thousand-yard stare. Some guys sang. One guy, no joke, whipped out a harmonica.

 

Maybe there's a method to the madness. Maybe we need a psychological buffer zone between the shock of leaving home and the shock of going to war. As purgatories go, I guess Kyrgyzstan ain't too bad.

Shannon, Ireland

1am in at the airport in Shannon, Ireland. Our charter plane is layed up for a couple of hours for fuel and a new crew. We're sitting here, buying stuff we don't need at the duty free (no alcohol!), using the wi-fi, and staring longingly at the bar.

 

I actually love this place. Last here in July of 2005, en route home from Iraq. We landed at 7am and they suspended the no alcohol policy for a couple of hours. We tracked the manager down, got them to open up the bar, and several pints of Guiness later, we stumbled onto the plane singing "Come On, Eileen," the closest thing to an Irish drinking song we could come up with. It was beautiful.

 

Not today. Headed to war, rather than away. But there's a pint with my name on it they're keeping cold for Summer '09, when I head home.

 

Next stop- somewhere in Central Asia.

It's Time

It was over a year ago that my unit dropped the news that we'd been slated for a tour in Afghanistan. At the time the news hit me like a fist, but over many, many months and the progression of life in all it's messy, painful, glory, I'd become numb to the fact of my impending trip.  When I left home three months ago to come to North Carolina for training, Afghanistan once again felt real. But that faded away after realizing we'd be here for months of low-quality training. It became a real necessity, for my own peace of mind, to just bury this trip way back, to make it almost a fantasy.

 

Two days it ago, though, it hit me. It's time. We're leaving. Now. Wow.

 

Here I am, sitting in a hangar at an air force base, guns and bags in hand, waiting for the green light to load up. Those of you who've been keeping up with this whole North Carolina mess will not be shocked to read that our plane is late! God bless America.

 

So, this is my last American posting for while. My trip to the 'Stan will span many countries over many days, so I'll update this page next time I find a computer. Wish me luck...

October 13th, 2004

RELEASE NUMBER: 041018-01

DATE POSTED: OCTOBER 18, 2004

 

PRESS RELEASE: Civil affairs officers killed in Iraq

U.S. Army Special Operations Command Public Affairs Office 

 

FORT BRAGG, N.C. (USASOC News Service, Oct. 18, 2004) — Two Army Reserve civil affairs officers died Oct. 13 during an improvised explosive device attack on their convoy in Mosul, Iraq.

 

Lt. Col. Mark P. Phelan, 44, and Maj. Charles "Rob" Soltes Jr., 36, were returning from a mission at a local hospital with members of the Upland, Calif.-based 426th Civil Affairs Battalion's Public Health Team when their vehicle was attacked.

 

Five other Soldiers were wounded during the attack.

The worst day of my life was 4 years ago today, watching Maj. Soltes's and Col. Phelan's last moments, and seeing three other friends seriously hurt. I was riding as a machine gunner in the Humvee behind theirs when they were hit by a suicide car bomber. We had been in Iraq 3 weeks.

 

Major Soltes was taken from two young sons and a lovely, pregnant wife. She later had a beautiful, healthy boy.  Colonel Phelan was taken from an adult daughter and a loving wife. Mrs. Phelan continued to send us care packages throughout our unit's year in Iraq. She makes delicious rice krispie treats. It makes me sad, now, to think of them and of her.

 

Before that day I don't think I ever had a clue what these war deaths meant. They were names on a list, men and women who understood the risks they took and died doing their jobs. Their deaths were sad and tragic but, in my naive thinking, understandable and bearable. I had never given a moment's thought to the surviving family. I had never considered their battle buddies who sustained life-altering injuries (across the two wars, for every soldier killed, several more are badly hurt.) And I'd never thought of their surviving teammates. The men and women trained accept risk and face death and, really, no better at it than anyone else. 

 

As of today, 4182 US service members killed in Iraq, and 611 killed in Afghanistan. Every October 13th I make sure and set aside time to remember that each of these deaths hurt someone just as deeply and as as the passing of Mark and Rob hurt their families and us.

Nerdfest

Today is day 5 of a 6-day Interagency (Army, Air Force, State Department, USAID, and US Dept of Agriculture) Strategic Planning workshop. I'm in heaven.

We're talking measures of effectiveness (outcomes, not outputs!), de-conflicting multiple plans (for example, ISAF vs. ANDF) , developing 1, 3, and 5 year projected end-states, synchronization matrices- great stuff!

In all honesty, one of the most heartbreaking things about my tour in Iraq a few years ago was the shocking lack of vision, lack of a plan, lack of a clear understanding of what we were doing and why. Blood was spilled and treasure was wasted in vain.

This experience, this nerdfest I'm in now, is encouraging. Granted, half the eyeballs in this room are glazed over, but this is important work. What are the root causes of instability in Afghanistan? How, given limited resources, will we tackle those drivers? How will we know whether we're succeeding? How do we make sure all US agencies are pulling together? This room doesn't have all the answers, but to board that plane to Afghanistan without asking the questions would be criminal.