Heart of Darkness

Many of my friends and family know that following my last tour I came home with frustration and anger, which was too often miss-directed. So far I'm doing great - much of which I attribute to the many unknowns and knowns who are praying for me. I'm also working and praying toward giving up all the things I don't have control over and not stressing more than necessary the things I do have control over. Someone once said holding anger or spite toward someone is like holding a grenade against your chest - eventually it's going to go off and most likely it will have collateral damage on people within proximity who may or may not have had anything to do with your anger to begin with.

All that said, I also see a lot of similarities between Veterans who return home to a sometimes thankless nation or community and have animosity toward those around them they feel aren't supporting them nor doing "their part" for the country. I've also experienced and heard a lot of the same complaints about people back home being too focused and obsessed with issues that seem insignificant after one has been to a combat zone where people die. All of this is actually part of what inspired the title of this blog. My complaints here on Bagram truly pale in comparison to the living conditions and life and death issues experienced by the Afghans living just outside the wire. A perfect example is when our translator didn't come in today I immediately wondered if something had happened to him on his way to work. How many of us wonder if a missing coworker has been killed rather than if they are just having a sick day or are playing hooky?



Anyway... one of my goals this deployment is to read books. I am anything but a reader normally so it's actually more of a challenge than a goal. My book right now is Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. It's the book that inspired the movie Apocalypse Now. It's masterfully written and has some passages that are very relatable while I'm deployed. I'm about to finish it and saw this passage that made me think of Veterans everywhere who have returned from their own heart of darkness.

"I found myself back in the sepulchral city resenting the sight of people hurrying through the streets to filch a little money from each other, to devour their infamous cookery, to gulp their unwholesome beer, to dream their insignificant and silly dreams. They trespassed upon my thoughts. They were intruders whose knowledge of life was to me an irritating pretense, because I felt so sure they could not possible know the things I knew.

"Their bearing, which was simply the bearing of commonplace individuals doing about their business in the assurance of perfect safety, was offensive to me like the outrageous flauntings of folly in the face of a danger it is unable to comprehend."

I don't write this to offend those who've not served or deployed, but rather to give insight into the bitterness, anger and frustration that all-too-often plagues our Veterans as they redeploy home. I've heard myself say things that would've offended me prior to deploying. My only advice for Veterans and their friends and family is this - have grace, patience and love knowing we all need time to adjust and accept that we all have different experiences. After all, the deployed Veteran isn't the only one that served that year. Lord knows Andrea is serving her own deployment as a single parent and will deserve just as much adjustment, grace, patience and love when I return.

*By the way - if you haven't read this novel I HIGHLY recommend it.

Number 18: Squeezed and pulled and hurt my neck

I dedicate this one to my week of bad luck/health.

*Bonus points to those who know where the title came from without looking it up.*

Have you ever been sick or injured in a place far from the comforts of home? It sucks. I still remember the first time I got sick in college while living in the dorms. I had been living on that "freedom from the parents" high for a few months and then the dorm germs got me. It wiped me out physically, and emotionally I suddenly was incredibly homesick. All I wanted was to curl up on my parents couch and have some chicken noodle soup. But instead I laid around on my twin bed dreading the fact I had to go the the cafeteria to get my food.

This memory came back to me this week. It's not my parents couch I long for now but my own couch and home.

Last week I tried my hand at that Insanity class. Insane is an understatement. This 40 minute workout would kick my butt if I were in Oregon, but here at 5-thousand feet, forget about it. 15 minutes in I was dripping with sweat, leaning against the wall, and wishing someone had an oxygen tank for me so I wouldn't die at 33. Imagine pushing yourself to the extreme (sprint speed) and only being able to take half breaths. My worst enemy was myself, as my pride kept telling me that "Yes this is hard, but you could totally keep up back home." Well, there's a reason God hates pride... because pride hates us and causes us to be complete idiots, forsaking all common sense and wisdom. Either way, my pride pushed me too far and jump started what I believe was a 24-hour flu waiting in the shadows. You see, pride doesn't just hate me, but my stomach full of lunch hated me for listening to my pride. In this case the enemy of my enemy was certainly *not* my friend. I won't go into all the gory details of the next few hours, but let me just say God helped me overcome my pride in and put me in a "kneeling" posture. I think the worst part was trying to figure out where and how to relieve the angry beast in the depths of my stomach. Anyone whose been sick to their stomach knows it's not something you want others to watch you doing... and you have to be selective about the receptacle you use.
I had two options for restrooms. A porta-potty or an "indoor" bathroom. Here's what the "indoor" bathroom looks like. Neither were going to work and the whole time I was wishing I could be at home feeling icky. The winning decision ended up being a trash can. So there I was curled up doing a contorted bow to the trash can in-between two air conditioning units along side our office building. It was dusty, loud, and my knees hurt from the gravel, but it was the most privacy I could find. The one thing I found comforting in all of this was praying for it all to just end. Have you ever been at that point? That feeling of complete humility and disparity mixing into a perfect revelation that you aren't in control?

Putting aside the disturbing images or perhaps laughs at my expense you just experienced, there's one thing I discovered during this ordeal. Even though I could hardly walk, think or function in general - one thing was crystal clear - I prayed to God and I felt comfort from it. My desire to be in the comfort of my home even slipped away and was replace with my pleadings to make it all end. I found that my true home, where all sickness and injury find reprieve, is with God and nothing makes that clearer than a good dose of illness. It's in our darkest; hardest trials that we learn to focus and depend on something greater than ourselves.

So next time you squeeze and pull and hurt your neck - know that is a time to focus and grow.

oh yeah... I am now on day two of a cold, so I guess I didn't focus enough.

War Incorporated...

One big similarity between Afghanistan and Iraq is the number of former military jobs and roles that have been contracted out. There is so much money and corporate reliance on us being at war, it would be hard not to become a Fox Mulder conspiracy theorist about whose interests we're serving over here. The base I am currently at is 60% contractor. Every day I write down a new contract company to look up and see what their deal is.

Here's a list:
> Fluor
> Exelis
> Triple Canopy
> MPRI
> AC First Defense
> Ecolog International

Fluor is the most prominent here. They run our billeting and dining facilities (DFAC). The really interesting thing is comparing the quality of work and the wage from when it was military run to now. First, the quality isn't that much different... however, when it was military run, you could do something about it. There was a chain of command and someone to talk to about any issues you have. Now, there are comment cards that are reviewed and taken into account about as much as any other company's comment cards. Next is the wage. Here's a list of wages for the military (made public as they are tax paid). This is just the wage. To see the total amount you can enter any rank into this calculator to get an estimate of what a service member would be making once the combat pay and housing allowance type benefits are added in. For a typical Army Specialist with 4 years of service deployed to Afghanistan to serve food in the DFAC the annual income would be around $36,000. The least we've been told a contractor over here makes is $80,000. Some troops in my unit met one contractor the other day who makes $700 a day - $235,000 a year. There isn't a single military pay grade that makes that much. This is for U.S. citizen contractors. For all I know, those from 3rd world nations are making much much less.

This probably isn't news to everyone, but it bothers me on two levels.

One - These jobs are paid for by our tax dollars. Sure it's an international effort, but since when has the U.S. had an equal share rather than the heavier burden? This is *not* cost saving or the most fiscally responsible method to conduct war or to develop infrastructure. I believe contracting is effective when used on small-scale operations or short-term conflicts because it avoids keeping someone on the books for 20 years and then paying for their retirement and health care. But when a war goes for more than a decade, those savings turn into a vacuum of billions upon billions of dollars. The math doesn't add up, not to mention the paperwork and redundant hoops we have to jump through that are only in place to create a metrix of data to support the contracts we've signed with these companies. We have to check in with our lodging office every month so they know we're still here. Our vehicles have to be re-dispatched every other week.

Two - With the economy and job rate in the U.S. currently circling the toilet bowl, why oh why are we paying to replace American Military jobs with companies who predominantly hire people from Albania, Congo, or any other U-Pick-a-Stan? I'd really like to find out whose cousin's brother's daughter's husband is in a our government contracting office and approves these deals. I wouldn't be surprised if they're all subsidiaries of the same top CEO. Perhaps Enron trying to recover lost ground? Ultimately it's not a Right vs. Left issue since it's been going on throughout multiple administrations. It's a money issue. And unfortunately we're the ones drawing the short straw *and* getting stuck with the bill.

One last note... if you've been reading the news and hearing about a draw down... 

'Tide has turned' in Taliban zone amid U.S. troop drawdown

consider this conspiracy theory - sure we're pulling U.S. troops out, but the contractors we're paying for are flocking in by the "Benjamin Franklins." It's all about delivering a message effectively. No one is lying when they say we're reducing the number of U.S. Armed Forces in Afghanistan.

Bottom line - I know we have fully capable and willing Soldiers, Airmen, Marines, and Seamen to do the jobs over here, and do them well.

Operation - POS to Palace

*Disclaimer - I should mention that I am thankful for a shelter and the ability to build it up, considering the living conditions off base. This of course is where my blog theme comes from. Also, keep in mind that there isn't a sarcasm font.

My first welcoming to my new home for a year was just that - my new home for the next year. To say it is "lacking" that home feel would be giving it more credit than I believe it is due. We live in barracks huts, or as the locals call them - B-Huts.

These shanty shacks are long plywood buildings with rusty metal roofs placed in rows in the middle of a gravel lot.

When you step inside, you're welcomed by a near-pitch-black hallway with no light at the end (somewhat symbolic).

Typically, the B-Huts are divided into 8 rooms separated by more plywood with makeshift plywood panels on hinges acting as doors. To secure the "doors," we have a latch and lock. The only air conditioning units are above the doors at either end of the hallway with the tops of each room's walls cut away to allow for airflow. The beauty of this is I can hear and smell my neighbor - which is why I have an air freshener and use a fan at times for white noise. The hallway has lights, but due to the fact that they cut into each room about 3 inches, no one turns them on to avoid annoying their neighbors. I should probably mention that they don't segregate the B-Huts by day and night sleepers so there are only a select few hours a day that you can make any noise.

I realize I already posted a video of my room, but I'm shooting for a TLC or HGTV style tour of my B-Hut, so here's some photos to help break down the different areas of my little piece of heaven. First, my room is 7 by 7 feet with a sloping ceiling that is 10 feet high at the apex. The light in my room is a clip-on light that uses a dial to turn it on, so no light switch. This means I get to trip over the chair and blindly fumble for the light.

 Ahhh - where all the "magic" happens... By magic, I mean where I pass out every night. You may notice they don't turn the sheets down here or put a mint on my pillow. I wisely put my sheets and blankets in my foot locker, which is still sitting in Delaware with the empty promise that it will "head out on the next plane" - a promise we've heard for nearly a week now.

Here is what the wall above my bed looks like. That wavy mess is the sheet barrier that separates my neighbors room from mine. I never thought I'd sleep with a sheet between me and another man... hopefully my neighbor doesn't buy into the "what happens in Afghanistan stays in Afghanistan" theology. To fix this, I'm thinking about cutting more of the sweet plywood material to block up the rest of the wall so I can comfortably raise my bed up to 5 feet and move that annoying chair and desk underneath as well as all the other items that litter my room thus clearing enough space to begin training toward my goal of being the next World Break Dancing Champion. The only potential problem is that blocking off the wall might interrupt my neighbors airflow from the AC and cause some strife.

 Next is the entry to my castle. I already took the door off the wall and remounted it to swing into the hallway since that added quite a bit of space to my room. My next project over here is to add a shelf above the door next to the cut-out next to the air conditioner so I can put a fan up there and hopefully shoot more of the cold air into my room. Once I'm done with that, I plan to run an extension cord along the wall and over my door to create a closer outlet with a switch so I can eventually mount lights and turn them on and off. You may also notice the white boxes on the wall. Those are the wireless routers for the area. Monthly cost is $90 and while I have no intention of paying that much for shotty Internet, it is running off the power of one of my only two outlets. My thought on this is to charge my 7 neighbors $10 per month rent for my power outlet. It's kind of like that really successful food for oil program.

I'm not sure I can pull this off given my lack of carpentry knowledge or skills and the fact that I have to scavenge for tools, material and work during the limited hours of authorized noise. Wish me luck and pray my tetanus shots are up to date as I bring my hut from a POS to a local Palace. What could ever go wrong?

And now...  I leave you with a beauty shot of our local boardwalk.

Here we go again.

When I enlisted into the Army I never thought in a million years I would ever deploy to Iraq, let alone deploy there *and* Afghanistan just a few years later. But here I am, no longer a stupid Walmart cashier trying to get college assistance, but rather a senior NCO in a combat zone with a Public Affairs unit that used to spend its one-weekend-a-month sitting around drinking coffee.

And now after nearly 13 years I'm sitting in an office covered with the day's dust and listening to the air conditioning flow through a makeshift tube contemplating my next year in Afghanistan, a place that has me shaking my head and musing "I never thought I'd miss Iraq."

There are a lot of differences and yet when I first arrived I had a sense of nostalgia. There's that sandy grit slapping you across the face, shooting up your nose, in your mouth and my favorite - in the freaking eyes. There's also that wonderful porta-potty chemical smell mixed with burning plastic and diesel exhaust.

But all the similarities fell apart after 12 hours of living here when I realized I missed Iraq's many "comforts" of living. I started to mentally make a list of the things that irritated or frustrated me about my new home for a year, which can be dangerous because I don't want to be focused on the negative.

One thing stuck out to me though... all of my complaints paled in comparison to the living conditions outside the "wire" or border of my large compound. It was this realization that prompted me to create yet another blog to share my observations with my Western friends and family so they can see what it's like here, all while seeing the irony of my complaints and hopefully get some amusement from my current situation.

So get ready America... because I'm about to unleash my first world problems in Afghanistan upon you...