Before I went off to war, my older brother gave me a leather journal. He gave me exactly the kind of journal that I love and used once before when I went away to Spain for a couple of years. I called that one my travel journal. The warm leather and analogue experience of writing my thoughts and adventures down was rewarding.
He knew how much I enjoyed my travel journal so he gave me a second one to keep me company in Afghanistan.
Journal Entries – Afghanistan
I didn’t write in it as much as I wrote in the travel journal. There were periods of such intensity that I felt like one firefight blended into another. Days sped by highlighted by getting shot at and shooting back. I became so accustomed to mortar and machine gun fire that I knew by the report if it was friendly or enemy, incoming or outgoing.
But war is a finicky thing and the periods of excitement were complemented by other periods of down time. It was during a few of these periods that I found myself writing in the journal that my brother gave me. Here are three of those entries.
12 May 2008
I have finally arrived at Pathfinder, a firebase now named Kutschbach. It is located in the Kapisa province north east of Kabul. I like the FOB. We are in the Tagab Valley. The beauty here includes high peaked mountain ranges in every direction, a green valley floor with compounds scattered throughout and an indescribable feeling that I belong here. A feeling I have also felt when I lived in Sweden and Spain.
Today, day 2 on the FOB, I went out on my first mounted mission. Commander’s intent: draw out bad guys and kill them or disrupt them in order to prevent placement of IEDs or ambushes. Dangers: IED, direct fire with RPGs and Small Arms, most likely AK-47.
We rolled out in two teams consisting of six vicks at 1945. Not only was this my first convoy but also my first experience using NVGs (Night Vision Goggles). We headed north in teams utilizing High terrain for fire superiority. The first three vicks would drive forward five or six hundred meters, take position, then the last three vicks would move while covered to the high ground.
To make a long journal entry short, nothing really happened. Although during security halts I performed my duties, nevertheless the night was quiet. 2 things of interest did occur though.
One, 3 men were found on the main Supply route (MSR) with shovels in hand. Of course one would immediately think they were burying an IED. Over the radio came the call, Vigilant (our vehicle’s call sign) “escort the interpreter down to the MSR and tell the men with the shovels to hand the tools one by one to us.”
My heart beat hard. I realized that I would be leaving the protection of my HMMWV to escort the terp. But no, my TC, or truck commander, took the interpreter himself. In the end we learned that these men were using their shovels to clear an irrigation ditch. Regardless, biometric scans were taken and recorded.
Two, after we finished with the scans we got stuck in our HMMWV. Petty Officer Jones was driving down from a mountain foothill toward the MSR. There was a three or four foot ditch, invisible to us, between the road and our vehicle. The gunner called out, “clear! go go go!” Petty Officer Jones gunned the throttle and the front of the HMMWV slammed into the opposite side of the ditch. On impact everyone slid forward. I ended up banging my shins on a horizontal cross member that all HMMWVs have. Ouch! We were all fine though. An MRAP came to our rescue and pulled us out, but not before snapping our tow strap. An armored up HMMWV weighs about 11,500 lbs. You need a strong tow strap.
We got out of the ditch with my bruised shins and Petty Officer Jones’ bruised ego, but all else was fine. Following these two events 2 hours had passed and we returned to the FOB. The Convoy all went to gas up and then we parked. The op ended by taking all sensitive items back into our B-hut. So that was my first Convoy.
19 May 2008
Things are moving along well here and I am settling in nicely. Today we finally transitioned from the transient B-hut to a permanent B-hut.I have a nice little nook: My desk, a bed, and a place for my trunk which I use for my clothes.
Last night we went out on a convoy / presence patrol. This time I assumed my role as the driver. Admittedly I was nervous. I didn’t want to get us stuck in a ditch. All in all the mission was a success. I drove very well and had no problems coordinating with the five other vehicles. Early in the mission while providing overwatch with two other HMMWVs we were fired at. While stationary I observed several tracer rounds impact about 50 meters in front of us. At the same time George, who was our gunner, saw them too. He was in disbelief or shock because when I said “contact left” it finally clicked in his mind “Holy shit contact left, someone really fired at us!” Per protocol every vehicle searched in all directions with their thermal scopes. The person firing the shots was never found, but a vehicle did find a person in the mountains west of us. It looked like this.
The LT, Lieutenant Ward, ordered illumination rounds. Basically, from the FOB mortar / illumination rounds were fired to shed light on the mountains. The light is infrared so with night vision one can see very well. We never found the person despite the IR flares and shooting at his last known location. In all, we probably spent way too much time there. But, hindsight is 20/20 right?
We proceeded south about another click and set up our vehicle on high ground overlooking a wadi known for trouble. Three or four men in two groups were traveling through the wadi with lanterns. No positive ID was made as to whether they were friend or foe but our presence seemed to make them nervous. They scrambled this way and that not knowing which way they should go. So we left them alone and returned to base.
We drove in blackout mode, no lights whatsoever. Using the night vision was definitely odd. It’s like tunnel vision bathed in green light. Despite the difficulties I drove us back safely through winding roads and many an area where the road was partially washed away by water. If a tire gets too close to the edge of the wash the HMMWV would surely be pulled in and get stuck. Or worse, roll over. But all is well and now I have two missions under my belt.
29 October 2008 COP Honaker Miracle
I’m not sure why I am finally writing in this journal again. I suppose this shows how I am as a person, floating through life. So much has happened since my last entry. What a wild ride it has been. In a couple of weeks I’ll be getting ready here to go back to BAF. I’m going on R&R in December. Pete and I are going to Australia. This trip is a milestone for me. It means my deployment is coming to an end.
Now, at the end, I find myself finally looking back. How can I sum up the past months and even begin to describe the events which took place. Our team only stayed at Kutschbach for one month. We went to BAF for two weeks, trained with the new MRAP, and then came here to good old Honaker Miracle.
We have truly made a positive difference here. When I say positive I mean we have saved lives. That’s the biggest reward for our work.
How do I breach the next topic? I am directly responsible for the countless deaths of enemy Taliban and mujahideen. I don’t lose sleep over it except in the excitement after a battle won.
From September 20th through October 20th I was the team sergeant here. What a great learning experience. I did a superb job and in fact put our team on the map. I had no problem running the team. My knowledge of the mission and proficiency with the equipment is better than anyone’s. I know it sounds like I’m boasting, but I’m not. I’m the expert and everyone knows it.
So, what did I learn as a team leader? I learned that the mantle of responsibility of a team leader, a leader of men, is indeed heavy. Especially when lives are on the line. My first night alone, being a leader of men, I couldn’t sleep. I literally felt the responsibility and commitment I had for the guys sleeping in the room with me.
The last entry
That was the last time I wrote in my journal.
I spent Christmas that year in Australia and learned how to scuba dive at the great barrier reef. Pete and I drank so much beer that for the first time in my life I actually got tired of it and didn’t want any more. We became friends with a bunch of other travelers staying at the same hostel and had a blast together. I lived as hard as I could during the short time we had and forgot about war.
We returned to Afghanistan with recharged spirits. I left Pete in BAF (Bagram Airfield) and jumped on a chinook back to Honaker Miracle where I stayed until February. New Soldiers came in to replace us and my team gathered up our gear and ultimately, we went home.
10 year journey
I wrote in my journal because I wanted a way to remember and share it. For the past 10 years though, I haven’t been able to even open it. Funny how I deal with things like that. I bury them down deep until I’m ready to take a peek. Sometimes after I take that peek, they get buried again for a while before I can ultimately begin to deal with them.
Retelling and revealing these journal entries is a bit therapeutic for me. I joke with friends about war and pretend to talk about what it was like, but reading and now retelling these stories has had a profound impact on me emotionally. I don’t know how to describe it. For me, there are two components of an event, analytical and emotional, and in the course of self preservation the emotional component gets compartmentalized and pushed down deep, hidden. Now, after 10 years, I’m opening that box of emotions up.
So much of my life since then has been a distraction, a weight to keep that box down. To keep myself from feeling anything about it. I tried drinking alcohol, buying fast cars, working too hard and too much and none of it worked. Eventually the box floated to the top and I opened it. I opened the journal and took a peek and you know what? Everything is going to be okay.
Unknowable Past
I am sure there are a hundred articles out there on why combat veterans don’t talk about their experiences of war. Ironically, I’ve never read one of them.
My grandfather served in the Army, like me. He was in Germany and France during World War II and later in Korea. He never talked about his experiences with my father and I know my dad wishes he knew more. More about where he was and what he did. I would like to know more too, but he died from lung cancer when he was a sergeant major, before I was born.
I’m glad I wrote in my journal.
