My second mission this week came and went uneventfully. It was short notice and the commander specifically requested my presence on the trip—a quick visit to a nearby FOB, up towards Logar Province. It is a small outpost out in the desert at the bottom of Tera Pass (which we drove over).
I rode in the relatively bombproof confines of an RG31 MRAP, second truck in a four vehicle convoy. It is an uncomfortable ride, even on pavement, so I can’t imagine a few hours on nasty dirt roads. That said, I will always celebrate the MRAP over the Humvee.
I rode in the relatively bombproof confines of an RG31 MRAP, second truck in a four vehicle convoy. It is an uncomfortable ride, even on pavement, so I can’t imagine a few hours on nasty dirt roads. That said, I will always celebrate the MRAP over the Humvee.
In contrast with my ride with the engineers we were heavily armed this time. These guys roll on trips loaded for bear: every vehicle has a 50 cal or a Mark 19 grenade launcher and these are backed up by squad automatic weapons and personal weapons. On this subject, I've taken to bringing my M16 on trips with me, using the following logic: if I am in the unlikely situation of actually needing a weapon, I will want the rifle over the pistol in pretty much every scenario.
When we got there we met the FOB commander and the platoon leader and were briefed on the state of things, and then went out and mixed with his platoon. I did my combat stress officer duty and talked with the guys, checked in with the platoon sergeant, talked with the medics, talked with the FOB commander. Everything seemed to be going well other than boredom, and problems getting flights in and out.
On the way back I had a perspective shifting conversation with an interpreter who was riding in with me. I asked him about himself and he shared that he had a wife and two small sons in another city. He talked about growing up during the Soviet-Afghan war and how he wants his sons to grow up in peace. “I don’t care about my life, I do everything for my sons.”
Maybe I’ll post more on that later, but it put a human face on the war for me. Sometimes I feel myself slipping into an uncaring place, just wanting to get the hell out of here and leave this place behind. Listening to people’s stories gives color and meaning to the mission again. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not getting all idealistic, but talking with him made me care.
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