On the Road Again

Out on a mission the other day, under a bright morning sun, a white pick-up full of Afghan cops and guys in suits starts following our convoy and trying to wave us down. We sort of lost them for a little bit, but they caught back up and managed to get us to stop. The little general and I walked back to talk to them. "We wear suits, so you know we're important," the head guy says to us, "so when we try and wave you down you should really pay attention." One of the cops then pulled out a tangled, softball-sized ball of red & black speaker wire. "This was attached to a bomb set down the road for you. We cut the wire so they couldn't hit you, but would you mind doing something about the bomb?"

 

Under the glaring mid-morning sun, they led us a few miles down the road and pointed out the spot. Nothing obvious, but we stayed way back and stopped traffic. Within minutes, there was a jumble of cars, trucks, motorcycles, wheelbarrows, 3-wheeled taxis, and pedestrians jamming the road, asking questions. "What going on?" "There's a bomb." "Oh. Is it for you?" "Probably." "So, can we pass, then?"

 

After what felt like forever, under a blazing midday sun, the French bomb-squad guys finally showed up and proceeded to precisely and gingerly find the bomb, and then hack it right out of the ground. ("Dude, is that safe?" "They're the pros." "True. I'll be behind that wall over there if you need me.") 

 

We're not bomb-techs, we're people people, so we just kept the sweaty, thirsty, irritated crowd at bay. "You promised this would only take two hours." "No we didn't. And, by the way, it's a frickin bomb." "I got somewhere to be. Why don't you just blow it up?" "We don't like explosions." "I don't think your bomb engineers are very good." "Thanks for the feedback. Now stay back." "I'm late for school." "I think your teacher will understand." "I'm sick." "Did we mention the BOMB?"

 

My favorite though, was the teenage guy, decked out in slick shoes, dressy jeans, and clubby shirt, that strolled past dozens of vehicles and hundreds of people, right up to the cordon, and says in accented but comfortable English, "Hey, man, what's up? My friends and I are late. You mind if we drive on through, buddy?"

 

Jeez.

 

The French guys finally got the thing out of the ground and off to safety, so we, drenched in sweat, sunburned, and exhausted, all climbed back into our trucks. Crisis averted and without a single injury, we continued the mission ("talking to people and looking at stuff" as our medic generically but accurately describes our basic mission). 

 

Actually, one injury. The little general doesn't like water ("It's so blah, it doesn't even taste like anything"), so by the time we got back to base she was so dehydrated we had to drag into our sick bay and stick a couple of IVs in her. Happy to report that she's fine, and back to her usual diet of fried stuff and Coke.