WEEK 28

May 14 - 20, 2007

Whew, this week has been windy, but every day is getting progressively worse! I don’t mean breezy like a comfortable cooling draft that gently wicks the moisture away from your body, I’m talking about gale force winds unfortunately mixed with hot air and miscellaneous loose debris that feels like your whole body is standing in front of a huge hair dryer while you’re being pelted with sand, trash, and occasional bird droppings. It’s the kind of weather which forces you to make mad dashes from building to building and keep your eyes and mouth closed for fear of accidentally acquiring an Iguana in your eye socket. This is nothing like the cool and wet delight of a Florida hurricane. I would take one of those anytime over this horror.

Ed made a comment to me about cleaning out my coffee cup. Yeah, I’m generally a clean freak but when it comes to my coffee cup that I use daily, I’m not that worried about washing it after every use. I’m just gonna put coffee in it again and I really don’t want the added flavor of dish soap to my freshly ground, carefully prepared, cup of hot Starbuck’s coffee. Yep my cup has coffee residue on the inside. It’s a black cup and you can clearly see the residue. I do not put any additives such as sugar or cream in my coffee, so the residue is pure. As opposed to my method of coffee cup savoir faire, Ed, the guy who I would not put anywhere in the upper rung of clean freaks, washes his cup every day. He even smells it before adding coffee to it. It’s absolutely hysterical (to me anyway) watching him go through his coffee cup process. I get around to rinsing my cup out about once a month. The floor of our shop? That’s a different story and it gets swept or mopped virtually every other day. Don’t want too much dust and stuff on our rough concrete floor, you know!

We drive a pick up truck nearly every day that has a rear bench seat design flaw. It rattles and makes unbelievable noise. The idea behind flipping the bottom portion of the seat up to store things below is nifty, but it does not stay in the up position on its own. Additionally to perform this flip up movement, the seat back must slide upward a couple of inches to allow the seat bottom necessary room for movement. This slide mechanism does not hold the seat back tight and fast which means that it clatters around in the slide. As you can probably imagine, the roads here on Bagram are glass smooth with nary a crack, gouge, or crevice to disturb the finely tuned dampening of the shocks of our vehicle. Regrettably, riding in our machine with the windows up causes a deafening racket which produces vibration so vehement through sound waves that we are worried about cracking the front windshield. Instead, we are the guys driving around with headphones on, windows down, and the AC turned on full-tilt. We are a sight to behold!

Here we are now a month and more from the GWOT Trot and we are still sans our t-shirts. The Lieutenant in charge of this little operation should be relieved or at least taken out back and flogged with a chili spoon. She won’t even acknowledge us any more and I hope the reason is sheer embarrassment. We do get the straight poop from an up-front NCO who recognizes us thoroughly and seems to ‘feel our pain’. In the time it has taken to get these promised shirts, we could have sent the graphics to a Chinese shirt producer, offered a $1.27 per shirt, and had the remaining 500 shirts sent on a barge from East China, through the China Sea south around southern Asia and up through the Bay of Bengal where it could have been placed on the back of a donkey and carted through India and Pakistan to arrive two weeks ago here in Afghanistan. Where are they getting these shirts?! Please don’t tell me they are paying a local here in the Bagram area $5 a shirt! In that case, we’ll never see them.

I’m not sure of the exact date of the new U.S. postal rate increases, but it obviously affected me this week. I certainly knew an increase was going to happen, but did not know how much it was going to be. I normally send out USPS box #4 which, regardless of weight, costs $8.05. That same box this week cost $8.95. I suppose it’s all relative, but that extra $.90 cents seems a little steep. That’s an 11% increase and much higher than any cost of living increases or percentages. I know our gas prices are unreal, but does than mean our postage has to be as well?! Who approves these things? I was not aware the United States Post Office was in the business of making a profit! Shouldn’t someone be held accountable?

The C Huts that we had planned to move into are no longer our concern. A couple of minute repairs remained and they ready to inhabit. As with anything in the military, once a piece of crap that no one wants is refurbished, suddenly everyone now needs it. The same is true with these C Huts. We have been patient in their development and care. Now that they are nearly 100% in shape, we were informed that they would be transported back to Camp Vance for the use of some schmucks there. Really, if these C Huts go to soldiers who need them, I’ll be happy, but I am very sure that isn’t the case. They’ll go to some windbag who thinks himself important to some degree and who is successful in convincing someone with authority of the same. Que sera, sera!

With the loss of the C Huts fresh on our minds, we were told by our POC that we would be moving out of the cramped confines of B Hut #55 to another B Hut with fresh remodeling that increased the square footage up to 50%. Exactly which new hut and on which date this move will occur is as of yet uncertain. There is no doubt in my mind that it will be the one day that is the absolutely most inconvenient day to move. On top of that, I am convinced that we will be provided with absolutely limited notice to make the move happen. I would be surprised if we were given 15 minutes of advance notice. Why is this like going to a movie I have never seen, but already know the storyline and outcome?

Jinkies! Wasn’t that Velma’s exclamation on Scooby-Doo? Well, if she were here, she would be saying that and more because of our on-hand beer supply! It is critically low and we don’t even have another batch ready to bottle (partially due to a lack of available bottles). Where does the beer go? Shouldn’t it have lasted the two of us longer than this? It’s not like were drinking them every day and certainly not during “business hours”. Yeah, we have shared a few, but you would think 6 gallons of beer would last us quite awhile. We’ll obviously have to crank the brewery back up and produce another vibrant batch of hand-crafted goodness. I do so enjoy the fruits of this labor.

One of the nights this week, the Taliban must have been bored. They decided it would be prudent to launch five mortar rounds onto Bagram. Fortunately for us the rounds landed in the junk yard owned by DRMO. Don’t ask me what DRMO stands for, but it is that place where generally out-dated or broken stuff is sent when no longer wanted. It’s amazing to me that they can actually launch the mortars, let alone five of them, and have them all land in the same vicinity. Does that mean they fired all five from the same tube in rapid succession? Just imagine if those guys could actually aim or direct the mortar rounds.

Further good news about this attack was that no one was injured and we did not have to move to the bunkers for an hour after the attack. We did go into Red Alert, which means that we were required to stay indoors (preferably in hard buildings unless mission dictates otherwise) and wear or have at-hand our weapons and protective gear. The leadership must be waking up to the fact that putting everyone into bunkers after an attack for an hour and announcing it multiple times over Giant Voice only benefits the enemy. Bravo on lessons learned! Hopefully my weeklies had something to do with that.

Now that the temperature has been steadily in the 80s and 90s, the Air Force has embraced this by wearing their PT (Physical Training) uniforms all day. At least it seems that way. Rarely do we see Air Force personnel in their Desert Camouflage Uniforms (DCUs). I do know this is an air base and it is critical for resupply and the like, but other than load and unload planes, what are the gobs of Air Force personnel doing here and why are they doing it in their PT uniforms? Technically, this is a combat zone for which personnel residing here get an extra monthly stipend coded as “Combat Pay”. It amazes me that military personnel here are not wearing helmets and vests daily. It further astonishes me that they are not even wearing combat uniforms. I thought service member safety was our top priority regardless of comfort. In my mind, receiving combat pay means wearing the uncomfortable stuff.

This week’s picture has absolutely nothing to do with me here on the opposite side of the globe. Instead, it is a picture of my son, Cole, sitting in the ‘dugout’ waiting for his opportunity to bat. He is wearing his super batting gloves that he coerced his mother into buying because they no doubt help his swing and batting ability (read average). To Cole, his batting gloves give him the power and might of Zeus with the nimbleness and dexterity of a vascular surgeon. He credits is batting success to these gloves (as opposed to the hours we spent the last couple of summers playing waffle ball). Anyway, if it works for him, then it works for me. I just had to share this picture and my immense pride that goes with it.

Next week’s thrilling and awe-inspired tales will be focused on the impending move: Will it happen or is someone just having their way with us?, What must we do to coax the rain clouds off and around the mountains and into this high plateau, and finally Memorial Day weekend: preparation, frivolity, and whether or not we actually get a day off for the holiday.

Don’t work too hard this next week; I won’t either.

Craig

WEEK 27

May 7 - 13, 2007

Our weather has leveled out and it seems that mid 80s and low 90s make up this week. There have been no torrid winds or rains, just lots of blazing sun and hot air with only a mild breeze.

Our work here is really at an end. We have nearly completed everything that we were here to do and are now on-call to repair or replace any panels which require such attention. It is during this period that our miniscule toil is focused on organization, accountability, and cleaning of tools and equipment. It’s also a time for observation, especially those things that I may have overlooked or simply taken for granted. You fine folks are now the recipients of my new-found powers of perception.

As I told you months ago, the French have the absolute worst uniforms. Their summer versions are equally hideous. They wear berets with the little tassel still affixed and wear camouflage short sleeve shirts and shorts with gray-green boots and socks that are above the ankle. The summer camouflage is the same pattern and color as their winter uniforms. What makes the uniforms terrible is the absolutely tight fit. Their shorts have inseams that appear to be no longer than one inch and are worn like women’s hot pants. Their shirts which seem a half size too small are tucked into their shorts and no two Frenchies wear the same belt. I guess I could understand the fit of their uniforms if they were the French swim team, but these are supposed to be military combatants. It’s easy to comprehend their stellar battle performance through the look of their soldiers.

The Polish on the other hand have the best looking uniforms here. Their summer uniforms are much lighter in color than their winter uniforms although they sport the same camouflage pattern (similar in pattern to the French). However, where the French go wrong, the Polish do it right. They have tasteful, dare I say stylish, shorts with cargo pockets on the sides and boots and socks that match the uniform. Their shirts are very similar to the winter shirts with the exception of sleeve length and have a relaxed fit that can either be tucked in or left out. The Polish even have shoulder epaulets on their light brown t-shirts for rank wear when they are sans the camouflage shirts. On the back of their t-shirts is their regimental unit name. Instead of berets, they wear a version of our booney hat that is suave and cool (kind of what we think of as being an Australian hat) that is the same color and camo pattern as the rest of their uniform. On a 1 to 10 rating scale, I give the Poles a 9.5. I’d give them the 10 if on the back of their t-shirts they had a phrase that said: “Got Pole?” in place of their unit in the same context as our “Got Milk?” campaign. That would be the epitome of cool. By contrast I would give the French a 2. Only because the makers of their uniform did an excellent job of making those things fit skin tight.

When comparing our U.S. uniforms with the rest of the worlds, I would give ours a 5. What?! The best Army in the world with an average uniform that was just fielded?! Yes, it is unfortunately true. I dislike many things about our Army’s new uniform. My chief complaint among them is the rank placement. We moved the rank from the collar to right in the middle of the chest. Gone are officer branch insignia from the uniform so now you have no idea what kind of officer you are meeting or greeting. The primary problem with the rank placement is that it is covered by the rifle sling. Also, instead of virtually looking at someone in the face to see their rank, you are now looking at their chest which certainly does not help in greeting, especially with female soldiers. The fit of the uniform is good and there are myriad pockets and so forth, but the gobs of Velcro is too much. Velcro name tape, patches, flags, everything. Gone is the simple sewing of your name tag and skill badges on the uniform. Names are Velcroed on and skill badges are individually pinned on. Whose brilliant idea was this? Our boots are tan in color and do not match one pixel on the uniform. We have no summer variant (not that I think we need one) and on top of these complaints, the material that the uniform is made of lacks staying power. These uniforms disintegrate nearly as easy as edible underwear. So, not only does the new uniform cost almost twice as much as its predecessor, its longevity is less than one third. Maybe a 5 is being generous.

Our mornings here are absolutely gorgeous. The sun is up before my 0600 run although it has yet to clear the mountains by that time. The temperature is generally mid-60s and is the perfect running scenario, save the vehicles that are not supposed to be on the road until 0700. I know you are aware of my contempt for vehicles on the road when they shouldn’t be. I have spoken to several Military Police (MP) and have discussed this issue with appropriate personnel who are all in agreement with me, but nothing seems to be done. The main road on Bagram that runs primary North-South is Disney Drive. It is nearly two miles long (the rest of the perimeter road that makes up egg-shaped Bagram is not known as Disney Drive, but is essentially the same road) and forbids vehicle traffic from 0530-0700 daily unless it is emergency or security vehicles on mission or you have a signed pass from an appropriate entity. MPs are stationed along Disney to help with the restriction, but have no authority when someone possesses the pass. I have no idea who is authorizing those passes, but a couple of hundred seem a little excessive to me. Why, you ask, am I concerned with this?

While running is not a passion of mine, I find that I feel better after a run and it helps me maintain my desired weight (of course the food here is also helping my weight). To run here, you have to adjust to the elevation and dodge things like potholes in the paved portion, rocks, debris, and other runners who take advantage of the time and weather. With these vehicles driving during the time when a thousand runners are in a two mile stretch, it’s aggravating for the runners and vehicles. None of the vehicles here meet U.S. emission regulations and most of them run on diesel which means they are puking out this dark thick stench that beats out the already thin O2 on the way to your lungs. I could stand behind a running M1 Tank forever and never complain about the exhaust, but there is something about burning it through a turbine that is completely different. Besides, since my episode with the bus, I keep a wary eye on vehicles in my presence even if they are traveling at 5 miles per hour. As long as vehicles are on the road when they shouldn’t be, and I am still here, I will continue to be a champion (some would say whiner) for the common runner.

I must say that I enjoy ogling the mountains on my morning runs. I like looking at them even when I am not running. Yep, they are treeless and have hardly and snow on them now, but are still magnificent. I’m just amazed at how close I am to them and how high they really are. Being able to see this kind of detail because of proximity is awesome. Bagram sits about 5000 feet in elevation and the Hindu Kush are an easy 10,000 feet higher than us. There are a couple of peaks that put many of the world’s peaks to shame. Thankfully the snow is gone from the mountainsides and I no longer yearn to ride an inner tube down them. I would obviously need guys like Aubrey, Charles, and Joe to make that experience complete and I doubt they will show up here sans snow to do a little tubing.

I did mention food a couple of paragraphs ago, didn’t I? Yes, I sure did. I like these kind of paragraph tie ins so now I’ll expound on my change in appreciation of certain foodstuffs. All of you are intimately familiar with my disdain of the food here. Because of this, I have resorted to eating things that were on my “Do not eat list” back home. I’ll start with fruits or similar type items. Mangoes were something I never really cared for, now I will plow through them especially when they are prepared. I’ll munch the myriad melons and even down a Kiwi or two. Although Kiwi is still not preferred by me, I’ll now eat them as opposed to going hungry. I’m a much bigger fan of Grapefruit than I ever used to be, but am still avoiding the raisins here and pick through the meats. I eat quite a few salads as long as the lettuce is not limp and or brown, however, there is the one Holy Grail food that I still avoid like the plague and that is Tomato. Eeeww! (Nikki says the best Eeeww I have ever heard!) Anyway, I cannot get past the texture of a tomato. Fortunately, for one to get on my plate, I would have to put it there or request it and as you can imagine that just does not happen. One of the DFACs here produces a spicy chili that is tomato based and has quarter-sized chunks of tomato in it. The spiciness of the chili makes it palatable enough to be spread over a grilled hotdog and bun, but I pick the tomato chunks out to later be flung at the Frenchies. I’d fling them at the Taliban with the Bud N/A beers, but the French are more prevalent and in much closer proximity. In any case, don’t be stocking up on tomatoes when I come for a visit because I’ll be looking for the first Frenchman to toss them at.

Along with this new-found taste for certain foods comes a new-found taste for certain beverages. Primarily I’m talking about Gatorade and Snapple. Who knew that I would actually enjoy the MangoOrangePeach Snapple concoction? Who knew that I would drink flavors of Gatorade that I cannot pronounce let alone know what they contain? Anymore, Ed and I refer to the Gatorade by color instead of flavor. We have adopted the “Who cares” attitude with reference to taste and just drink the stuff. With the multitude of flavors, it’s just easier for me to say: “Ed, grab me a purple one will yah?!” and I’ll either get Grape, Pungent Frost, or Lilac Heaven. I would have never done that at home.

Woohoo, I’m back to that magical fourth page and you know what that means; it’s time to flick the ‘kill switch’ on this baby and shut ‘er down! Wow, and I have so much more to write about now that my scanning techniques are more intense with the increase in available time. I suppose I’ll just have to include the rest of that stuff in later weeks.

The picture I’m attaching this week is one of substance. It is a picture of me unloading bottled water from the back of our pickup. This water is essential (because we do not have running water) in the making of beer. Those are 500ml bottles of Crystal water (plucked from a natural spring in the U.A.E (so the bottle says)) in packages of 12. To make one batch of beer requires approximately 24 liters of beer or 48 of those bottles. That’s a lot of opening. Anyway, we picked up a truckload of water just to make sure we had enough.

Check out next week’s thrilling tales of the ensuing horror of a low beer supply, the disaster befalling our move into the luxurious C Huts, and the thunderous rattle in the back seat of the truck that just will not go away.


Craig