Home at Last

Dear Friends and Family,

Just wanted to let the masses know that I was home...safe, sane and sound. I'm currently "reintegrating" into society, as the Army likes to call it, partaking in a 7-day reintegration period that keeps tabs on the soldiers as much as it takes care of administrative issues that we've accumulated after a year away from home. My grandparents, mom and Katie saw the "Eagle Land" (apparently, as our plane touched down on the runway, they announced that the "Eagle has landed"...had to laugh at that one). We stayed at a nice hotel, ate great dinners together, and made the most of our long awaited reunion. I enjoyed the contrast; the most stressful part of the day came when I helped the waiter dissect my mom's, two grandmothers', and Katie's various orders from the menu. I also found myself hugging the right lane with my heavy foot pegged out at about 60 mph - things move more quickly on the ground.

I think back on my year in Afghanistan, and I have so much to be thankful for. A few weeks ago when I was still at Fob Shank, I took a moment to look around at the surrounding mountains, the quiet flight line, the tents and smoke and villages in the distance. I'll miss that feeling. It's hard to describe, except that you rarely feel so alive. The engines churn, blades spin; you feel the shudder and you're off, above a landscape that's as beautiful as it is foreboding.

Of course when you think back on a year, the scary moments and close calls come to mind. Inevitables are commonplace when you fly in harm's way on a regular basis, and with those inevitables come feelings of satisfaction - borderline relief - that make you want to kiss the ground before rushing to the CP (command post - i.e. office) to share the story with friends. Some of my fondest memories were sitting around the CP, with that “feet on the table,” “weight off the shoulders” feeling, and talking with other pilots about the good, bad and ugly from our missions. I appreciated the criticism as much as the compliments, and I certainly learned more from the former. We responded to a Medevac call in a bad area under bad conditions over the summer, and I landed into heavy dust, completely lost sight of the ground, and had to rely on the crew chiefs to call the aircraft down. Hovering with only your instruments and no outside references is tough, and even with the help from my crew chiefs, I scared myself and everybody else in the aircraft when the wheels hit the ground. I felt horrible - there probably isn't a worse feeling than scaring the rest of your crew - but I was absolutely relieved to be on the ground, safe and unscathed...I got away with one! More than that, I was thankful for the experience and felt a sense of gratification when, during future landings, I learned from my mistake.

We flew hyped up missions with seemingly imminent threats - we might get shot at - and somehow I always landed without any muzzles flashing or loud explosions. I can honestly say that, to my knowledge, nobody shot at my aircraft while it was in the air. I did have a near miss. A rocket landed underneath my aircraft one morning while we started the engines - a lucky shot by the enemy. Combatants will literally lean rockets on rocks with hopes of lobbing them onto the FOB - not exactly a recipe for an accurate shot at a target. The fact that this rocket landed directly underneath my aircraft - while it was running and occupied, roughly 10 feet from where I was sitting, a few feet from the fuel cells, and inches from the blades - still makes me scratch my head. My Irish friend and I and the rest of our crew were even luckier that the rocket didn't explode...such a shocking sense of relief that we nervously laughed as we fled from the aircraft and the smoking dud in expletive-laden astonishment.

I'm thankful for the trust that you gain after working through tough situations with great soldiers for a year. Before we left last week, one of our crew chiefs came up to me with a revealing story. Our replacements had arrived at Fob Shank only a few days earlier, and our crewmembers joined them on their missions to demonstrate some of the "TTPs" (Tactics, Techniques, and Procedures - another Army acronym) we developed throughout the deployment. While coming in for a dust landing, one of our pilots lost sight of the ground (as I had during the Medevac mission) and relied on our crew chief (nicknamed "Cookie") to call him to the ground. The senior crew chief from the replacing unit approached Cookie after the mission and asked if crew chiefs typically guided our pilots down when they lost sight of the ground. "All the time, " Cookie replied, to which the senior crew chief replied.."I can't believe they actually trust you." When Cookie told me the story, he captured, in a very practical sense, what it's all about to trust the guys you work with. I'm thankful to have worked with such competent, capable soldiers and to have reaped the rewards that come with working in a trusting environment.

Throughout the deployment, I can't express how thankful I was for the support I received from home. From the letters, cookies, boxes, and emails, my friends, family, church and community never let me go without knowing that I had the support from home. Deploying is such a team effort, and I really felt blessed to have such a strong team behind me.

In October, my mom organized a Vietnam Veterans recognition ceremony, where Rep. Ron Marsico and other distinguished guests honored some deserving heroes. My grandfather, a retired Marine Colonel and former fighter pilot, attended the event, and afterward said that it was the first time he was recognized for his service in Vietnam. Here's a guy who flew jets during the Tet Offensive, conducting combat missions in more threatening conditions than I will ever experience with my high-tech aircraft in Afghanistan. While I come back to the clapping hands, pats on the back and overall public support towards the troops, I'm thankful to the Veterans who paved the way for me, who endured ridicule from an ungrateful public after risking so much, and who never experienced the support from their communities that I did over the past year.

Finally, I'm thankful for my friends. There's such an unpolluted intimacy gained during a deployment, and the fact that I had friends to confide in - friends like Isaac, Tyler and Ollie - made challenges easier and helped relieve pressure during trying times. A TAC Officer at West Point once evaluated my leadership performance in a phrase - "he's friendly without being friends." As much as my "friendliness" towards the soldiers I worked with benefited the recipient, I knew that these budding relationships quenched an inner thirst that kept me going throughout the deployment.

Of course, not all was perfect in Afghanistan, and as much as I consider myself an optimist, my doubt bubbled over from time to time. I have more thoughts about my experiences, but a mass email or blog is certainly not the proper forum for an Army officer to voice his opinions. I will say that I wish more people understood how much more it will take to make things work in Afghanistan. I wish policymakers would reevaluate the costs and benefits of our mission. I wish that the onus of the war was more evenly distributed amongst the American public. But, for me, the micro satisfaction far outweighs the macro frustrations, and I am thankful for an incredible experience in Afghanistan.

It's been an amazing year. I'm looking forward to turkey, gravy and stuffing with loved ones in a few days. I have so much to be thankful for.

I wish everybody safe travels and a wonderful start to the holiday season.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Love,

Ben

October

While we were walking to the chow hall for "breakfast" (for most dinner) yesterday, I looked at my watch, double-checked the date, and asked my friend "It's October 10th...what happened to the last 10 days?" It still feels like we just arrived from leave, like we're still acclimating, still working our way into the schedule and groove, but we're already almost halfway through the month! It's surely not a reason to complain. There's definitely a powerful inertia pushing all of the gears and moving pieces that come with redeploying to the states...a momentum that keeps the days passing and time on our side.

October in Afghanistan means cooler weather, shorter days, jackets and hats and a pleasant crispness in the air. Minus the orange, yellow and red that normally dominate the landscape or the crunch that you hear as you walk on its leaves, it feels like October, like Fall, like change. We flew a few missions last night, and one of the missions involved an emergency resupply of water and food to an outpost on a mountain top. It was a chilly night (probably in the 30's), and we flew towards the grid, searching for a suitable landing area, only to see what looked to be white, fluffy caterpillars scattered across the ridgeline. Sure enough, the caterpillars were soldiers nestled into their sleeping bags, shielding themselves in a cocoon against the chilly mountain air. Although we "came bearing gifts," I felt like a Santa who makes a mess in the kitchen, tracks soot from the chimney, and forgets to close the door after leaving the house. I'm sure the wind chill from our rotor wash interrupted their sleep, and after trying to land our helicopter on the sloped, jagged terrain, we were forced to drop the supplies from a hover (like leaning over the sleigh, aiming for the chimney, and hoping for the best). In either case, the troops received their supplies and appreciated our help. Hopefully their time on the mountain is temporary.

There's definitely an excitement in the air towards going home. Guys are planning vacations, gearing up for changes in their careers and looking forward to the much anticipated reunion with family and loved ones. Of course, as a leader, you stress finishing strong, staying focused and resisting complacency - dotting i's and t's the same way we have for the past 10 months. There was a tactical expectation that things would have slowed down by now, that the enemy would start working its way back to the Pakistan border, that the fighting season would come to an end and the colder weather would freeze the aggressiveness that we'd experienced over the past few months. Of course, any scan of recent headlines begs to differ, and it's unacceptable to let an expectation or perception catch us on our heals. So for now, it's about leading by example, staying focused, squelching complacency, and driving hard towards the finish line. I think we'll be there in no time.

Back in Black

I finally arrived back to FOB Shank a few days ago, and it felt great to see the guys, catch up on their lives over the past month, and get back into the groove. The atmosphere in the company seemed to change a little bit while I was gone - probably stemming from a mass exodus of soldiers going on leave (myself included), a busy schedule and the countdown that many have started for our redeployment to the states. I spent the past few days playing administrative catch-up...writing evaluations and awards, attending meetings and trying my best to acclimate as quickly as possible. Tomorrow morning I'll give my lungs a test at the high altitudes during the Army 10-miler race. I managed to get 4 guys from the company to join me on the "Comanchero" team (I lured them into the race by offering to take them out for a steak dinner once we're back home). There's about 200 Soldiers from various units around the FOB running this satellite race, and I think it will be a fun, camaraderie filled event. I'll start flying in a few days (there's a required no-fly period after returning from leave); I'm looking forward to seeing things from the air again.

I received some great news upon arrival to Shank: orders to attend the Captain's Career Course at Fort Rucker in January. To sum it up in a few words, there's been a lot of discussion/concern for aviation officers in my year group trying to attend this course (which, after graduating, basically opens up your window for command). The deployment cycle over the past few years really constrained captains trying to attend the course, resulting in a huge backlog of prospective students. I graduated from college in 2006, and there's many officers, particularly in my brigade, who graduated in 2005 and still haven't attended. Obviously they receive precedence for a course date, and many of my year group officers were concerned that we wouldn't have an opportunity to attend the course before our next deployment (2011). This would place us behind our peers in career progression and really constrain those of us (like me) who hope to attend grad school after their company command. I joined many of my peers in voicing our concerns to Human Resource Command, but we always got the "we'll wait and see" or "hope for the best" response. I approached my command and explained the limits that it would place on my career progression if I didn't attend the course until 2012. I suggested, almost counterintuitively (and definitely wishfully) that I attend the course beginning in January. Most officers use the few months after returning from deployment to acclimate to their home with their families, but since I'm homeless and childless, I don't really have those constraints. Katie and I are flexible at this point, and my dog, Basil, will bark, howl, dig and whine regardless of my location.

So anyway, I left for leave with some frustrations and uncertainty about the next few years of my career, only to return with orders that honestly seemed too good to be true. It's amazing how things work out sometimes.

The other idea my friends (Ollie and Tyler) and I have been throwing around is trying to find a way to get more involved with the community once we're home. We organized a charity golf tournament last year, and we're planning on doing the same this spring. We're starting to piece together a pretty neat idea of using the money we raise to start a college prep service for Soldiers' and their college bound children at Fort Campbell. The service would be free, would basically focus on application prep, essay writing/review, and SAT preparatory classes. The funds from the golf tournament would be used to resource our services (mainly the SAT prep classes). I'm always helping people with essays and resumes, and I figured I (and my friends) have a great network of friends and families who are skilled writers and would love to jump on board to help. It'd be easy to delegate the workload (something as simple as sending a student's essay, via email, to a friend for review). We'll see what develops but I think it could make a positive, tangible difference for some people in our community.

Besides that, things are pretty much back to normal, with the same camaraderie and lightheartedness that make this place so bearable. It feels good to be back with the team as we make a strong sprint to the finish line and close out an important year in our lives.

Stuck

Still stuck in Kuwait, waiting for my flight back to the "Stan." They try their best to make Kuwait as bearable as possible with around the clock amenities, but it's still painful to anxiously sit and wait, hoping that they call your number so you can return to the groove sooner than later. I sat next to a Major for part of my flight from the states, and I couldn't believe my ears when he said he envied the people that "deployed" to Kuwait for their rotations.

The wait has given me some time to trudge through an awesome book - Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged." As I was reading it on my flight into Key West, the flight attendant warned me not to finish the book, saying that I'd never be satisfied. In a way, that's what I think it's about...not being satisfied...never giving up, feeding the drive, trying to improve, produce and grow - a part of the human spirit that I absolutely appreciate and believe in. Although I don't believe every tenet of Ayn Rand's philosophy ("objectivism"), she definitely captures the essence of the human spirit in her writing, and it's an amazing, highly recommended book to read. At the same time it's definitely a tough, deep book to read; one where you need to take a break and really digest each sentence or paragraph from time to time. Needless to say, it's tough to feed my restless spirit in a place like Kuwait, so I'm anxious to get on the flight back to Shank.

Homeward Bound (sort of)

Sitting in the Atlanta Airport waiting for my flight to Kuwait (and eventually Bagram). If I'm lucky, I'll be back at FOB S

hank by the 27th or 28th.

Man...what an incredible break! The highlights speak for themselves:

-A beautiful reunion/trip to Key West with Katie! 48 hours after departing Kuwait, I was swimming next to her, snorkeling around an old Civil War fort (Dry Tortugas), trying to avoid jellyfish and keep my snorkel tube free of water. During our 6 day visit, we golfed, "crawled" through some pubs on Duval Street, checked out some cool museums/attractions, listened to beach music, ate good food, and chilled out. Key West was such a perfect, laid back, low "key" place for us to spend some time together and catch up on the past 9 months of our lives.

-A delicious, welcome home dinner with my Mom and Caroline! The house smelled and looked, well, like home. My sister's cat, Bailey, kept us pretty entertained with her dog-like tendencies.

-We tried to avoid traffic as Katie, my Mom and I rode bikes, "helmetless", down a major road to this remote portion of Gettysburg Park. An absolutely gorgeous, Indian summer kind of day.

-Visiting Basil! The wild, restless beast has "calmed down", as they told me at the farm. It was nice to meet the owners, volunteers, and say thank you to all of the people who have been offering such an awesome service to deployed soldiers' dogs.

-Family Dinner - My Aunt Karyn and Grandma showed off their cooking skills as we all sat down, shared stories, and ate a satisfying dinner with loved ones and friends.

-Golf - Katie and I tried our hands at some golf down in Key West. We hacked up the course pretty good...I think the random Iguanas and birds were the only things that consistently stayed on the greens and fairways. After flying back to Harrisburg, I golfed with my grandfather at the now Public/Private Colonial Country Club. We beat the rain and enjoyed a beautiful day on a beautiful course. The next day we gathered our favorite foursome (myself, grandfather, cousin Greg and cousin Joe) to play at Felicita - the same resort my sister and I hosted my mom's 50th birthday last year. We lost a lot of balls but still had a blast.

-David Garrett - I have to admit that I really enjoyed it! Although I questioned the appeal of seeing a Banana Republic model/violinist woo the crowd on stage, it was a phenomenal show. My mom treated Caroline, Trent, Katie and I to such a memorable night in Harrisburg.

-The Beach House - We always refer to the Lewis's cabin as "The Cabin," so I think "The Beach House" is an appropriate description for their beautiful home on the shores of Avalon, NJ. Jamie was nice enough to host me, Katie, Caroline, Trent, many of my cousins (Joe, Jake, Sarah, Christian, Greg) along with Jeff, Ben, Allison, Joey, Mike, Katie (Jeff's sister), Laura, Andrea and Collette. We lived like kings and had a blast, which included oysters, champagne, dancing, jet skis (I saw Ben and Joe make a 5 foot jump over a wake and wipe out pretty hard. Greg and I couldn't stop laughing), giant tenderloins, and overall good times. It was great seeing everybody again...it felt like we hadn't skipped a beat.

-Greg's house - I spent a night with Greg at his house in Wayne, Pa on the way back from the beach. We treated ourselves to a pretty lavish feast of Sushi/Chinese food.

-Family Dinner - Katie's parents, Lori and Bill, joined my Mom, Katie, Caroline and my dad's parents (Bubba and Pappap) for a fun dinner at the Hershey Links, followed by champagne/puzzle finishing at my mom's. Another special night.

-Lunch for Caroline - Katie and I created a massive, summer sandwich for my sister and brought it to her for lunch at one of her Metro stores. Caroline was recently hired by a regional bank, Metro, and is about 2 months into a year-long training program before she focuses on a specific field. It's an incredible job, but they're just as lucky to have such an incredible person in their ranks!

-Hot Wings at the Eagle - Katie's parents took us out for a few beers and some hot wings at our favorite wing spot, the Eagle. I opted for the "Suicide" sauce, and, as I sit in the airport and think about the long journey I still have to Kuwait, I'm beginning to regret that decision!

-Late night TV back at the house; the last night - Katie, Caroline, Mom and I watched our favorite show, "The Office," and a few others as we kicked back and relaxed on my last night at home.

We said our goodbyes earlier this morning. Katie brought me to the airport, and we delayed until the last possible second before hugging, kissing and continually looking over our shoulders at each other as she walked towards her parked car and I proceeded through the security check point.

It's much easier saying good-bye this time, knowing that I only have a few more months until I'm home for good, with this crazy year behind me. My break was as refreshing and rejuvenating as I could have ever hoped for. I'm ready to get back to Shank, reunite with the friends that I've missed over the past few weeks, and start focusing on my return back to the states and home.

The Cabin (Summer, 2009)

Right now the troops are all converging on our haven at blooming grove. They are jamming to some tunes, forgetting their numbing week of work, and anticipating the long, dark highway’s end, the 1871 entrance, gravel roads, a few turns, and the warm home, pumping smoke from its chimney, mystical and romantic and grounded all the same, a familiar, friendly escape for a few days. Smell the sweet, forest air, the cool clear night…the stone path curves towards the entrance. After finding the key and opening the front door, you’re left with the dilemma of turning left and grabbing an old Heineken from the storage room fridge, or turning right, dropping your stuff in the hallway, and making a u-turn towards the same destination. Tough choices at the cabin, but time is precious, so best to do things quickly and thoroughly. James…put on some catchy indie tunes, Jeff…grab the shot glasses and get things rolling….Ben…provide the incredibly deep and witty observations…Greg…keep us laughing with stories from the past weekend and shenanigans later in the night. Congregate in the study, pour a beer in a wine glass, burn a cigar, kick your feet up and throw an extra log on the fire. It’s going to be a long night. With friends, the tunes and booze and satisfaction bubble into a concoction nothing short of ecstasy. Drink coffees, redbulls, and monsters; beers, wines, and liquors – it’s balance and it’s love and you don’t want it to end…a beautiful night.

Sleep in comfort and wake up groggy, albeit cured by a hearty, late morning breakfast, an inspiring kitchen view into winter’s wilderness, and copious amounts of caffeine. Although unnecessary, try to balance some wholesome endeavors with the destructiveness of the previous evening. Clean the kitchen and the study, empty the garbage cans, plan a dinner and crowd into the car, down more gravel roads for a refreshing walk. The stream…tempting…should we jump?....better yet, how to make the moment last? A constant theme at the cabin...moments full of clarity…time too fast…constantly squeezing the day. The pines sway in the winds and the moss warms the cold stone as the water pours over the edge into the pool. The cliff and rocks across the water weeping icicles and frosty mist. Walk back up the path away from the stream, remembering old fires and nights, old celebrations and dances…you can’t get lost in those woods.

Return and prepare for the evening festivities. Fires are built, drinks are poured, steaks are seared, ping pong balls bounce, quarters ting, with music blaring and people laughing, smoke rising to the stars in the sky. Conversations explore the intricacies of life…a library full of knowledge, a mind without inhibition, youth and adult in one…quite the combination. Eyes grow weary and hearts sadly realize the moon falling in the sky...

Beds are made, sheets are cleaned, delay the inevitable but it’s time to leave. Look at the book, but don’t sign it, because words really can’t capture the essence of the escape, the depth of the nourishment, the appreciation of the moment and the anticipation for the next. Turn right away from the woods, the stream, the home and the night, and back towards reality.

Rebels in the Sky (September 16th, 2009)

Dusk in Afghanistan is a spectacular sight. The clear, blue skies transform to a purple – light enough to contrast the dark ridgelines, but dark enough to evoke that mystical clash between frontier and darkness that would seem fit for a sunset in the Colorado Rockies. Purple soon gives way to black – a black unmatched by any backwoods experience I’ve had in my short life. A black so blinding that it tricks your eyes into a false feeling of heaviness, and you walk bent forward at the waste, with your hands in front of your face, protecting your eyes and nose from any foreign object that might stand between you and the latrine, dining facility, or aircraft. Against this darkness is a radiant array of stars in the sky - a milky way like you’ve never seen before, stars shooting from one end of the sky to another…a seamless portrait of endlessness and wonder.

The portrait reminds me of a night on the beach, with friends, fires, and nothing to worry about except the rising sun. As I quietly sit in a chair outside of my tent, the Afghan night is surprisingly familiar. I remember that old night on the beach, as the black sky turned blue and began to reflect in the crashing waves. We ran and dove into the water, rebelling against the morning as our tireless spirits danced in the sand. Friends holding onto a night, embracing the cherished escape, keeping things light in the wake of growing stakes and responsibilities. I knew I always loved that rebellion, that dichotomy, that depth under the surface, and while at times I thought the years would squelch my adolescent ways of coping, I instead have found that a young spirit is common in the wake of adversity and discomfort, and just how much my “comrades” here in Afghanistan embrace that rebellion in combat – a rebellion that is filled with enough hope and optimism to brighten the darkest days.

It’s a rebelliousness that I’ve come to enjoy and love over the past few months at FOB Shank. I think of it as a swagger – a confidence in the face of uncertainty and fear that can be so ridiculous, but so appealing at the same time. I’d be lying to say that I haven’t been scared, haven’t had my heart in my throat, and haven’t experienced the uncontrollable sense of fixation that grips you in the heat of the moment. But just like any hint of concern spreads like wildfire to friends and family, it’s equally destructive to soldiers in a unit or crewmembers in an aircraft, and with our hearts in our throats we all kid ourselves with an air of confidence and equanimity that, like the jokes and stories that comprise the majority of our days, can seem ridiculous in hindsight. I always found confidence as an end instead of a means. You ace the test and then pat yourself on the back; win the game and then celebrate; count your chickens after they hatch. But in the heat of the moment, in these fits of stress and fear, confidence can be the means to the safe, feet on the ground, breath a sigh of relief – end. I really embraced this balance over the past few months, trying my best to “keep things light” as we trudged through the heavy darkness.

One night I sat waiting for the “trigger” – our signal that the high value target was bedded down for the evening in the suspected objective house. I sat in a Special Forces command post, surrounded by faces better suited for a civil war vignette than a night in Afghanistan. Their worn uniforms, weathered skin, and thick beards contrasted the youthful drive in their eyes. And, in typical, almost laughable Army fashion, jokes and lightheartedness preceded a mission where the stakes couldn’t be higher. Our Special Forces comrades would “advise” Afghan military forces, leading an 80-man assault on a Taliban commander and his group of thugs. Our formation of two Blackhawks and one Chinook would fly into an unsuspecting village and literally land in somebody’s backyard, inserting forces who would quickly proceed to the objective, capture all military-aged males, and call our aircraft for extraction. With the mission planned and time to waste as we waited for confirmation on the target’s location, our hosts serenaded us with stories about ex-wives, cop chases, and other late night shenanigans that you’d expect to hear over a few beers with friends – not minutes before embarking on an aggressive assault on an objective. I appreciated the dichotomy.

For me, the war is very real at FOB Shank. The pace of our missions increased as we approached the Afghan elections, and the direct support platform that we provide our customer – the 3^rd Brigade Combat Team, 10 Mountain Division – makes our contributions that much more tangible. The big picture mission itself is straightforward enough – improve security in our AO (area of operations), build legitimacy for the Afghan police and military, and, for us specifically, ensure a safe, transparent presidential election for Afghanistan. Along the way, our higher command endorsed a more pragmatic approach for the counterinsurgency fight in a “tactical directive” – an emphasis on protecting Afghan citizens, minimizing collateral damage, adhering to proportionality and a more pinpointed, focused offensive. “Don’t let tactical victories turn into strategic defeats” was the catch phrase. I sat in the office with Special Forces operators as they prepped to lead Afghan commandos in a precise assault on a confirmed objective – a mission that surely embraced the tenets of the tactical directive. But as we received our final confirmation and finalized our plan for insertion, my mind strayed from the big, macro picture to the micro, thinking about our route, our landing, the threat – the small stuff.

As a Blackhawk pilot, I have the luxury of pushing the macro to the back burner. Our mission, for the most part, keeps us out of the enemy’s reach and away from the intricacies on the ground – the difficult distinctions that a faceless enemy places on our troops. When we fly on a “high threat” mission, Apaches always accompany us, providing an intimidating, quick-response presence against any possible threat. These gunships make the tough decisions, communicating with ground force commanders, distinguishing between friend and foe, and ensuring that “tactical victories don’t’ turn into strategic defeats.” Often we review gun tapes from Apache missions, where you can see, hear and really appreciate the deliberate caution that goes into engaging a target. I often think of Isaac and how well he’s suited to function in this “grey” area, making tough calls with tough consequences if things go awry.

And now, as we donned our goggles, started the engines, loaded the troops and took off, I had more immediate concerns. I loosened the grip on the controls and blinked the sweat from my eyes as I squinted through my goggles into the distance. Seconds felt like minutes as we approached our release point – the point where the flight descends and prepares for landing. As we descended the village appeared in the distance, hardly matching the imagery that we studied only an hour earlier. We continued towards our grid, using the GPS to ensure that we landed as close to our pre-planned location as possible. My scan became almost robotic – outside, check my altitude, our distance, our speed, back outside, search for any movement, inside.

We talked – “ok…1 k (kilometer)”, “I got you at 50 knots, looking good,” “towers at 7 o’clock”, “chalk 2, 5 and 5,” “ok….point 3 k’s out”, “what do you think…that terraced field at 12?”, “yeah…looks good,” “alright guys, clear me of the wires as we descend,” “roger, I’ll call the dust,” “Commit, commit, commit!”, “looking good, 30 knots, coming down to 50 feet, keep coming forward,” “moderate dust at the tail, at the cabin, your dust,” “Roger, I still have the ground in sight, are we clear down?”, “Roger..you’re clear”, “Alright, coming straight down.” “Down and safe, keep your scan on the buildings, let us know when we’re set for take off.”

And in this repetition, you feel it. It’s a weight that’s hard to describe, almost comparable to the jello in your legs after a long run. It’s harder to talk and harder to scan, as you’re lured into a state of fixation, with thoughts jumbled in your mind and lines blurred. The stress catches up to you; your mouth is dry and your heart races, but you battle through with the routine, continuing the scan and the banter, even as difficult as it seems. Once again, it’s that swagger, that - albeit forced - equanimity, that keeps you sane, keeps those around you sane, and keeps you from destroying the cyclic with your tight, sweaty grip as you come into land. Your grip loosens, your voice stops cracking, the dust settles and you’re safe on the ground.

So after months of landings and takeoffs – some more exciting than others – I found myself at Bagram. The crowded, transient tent that somehow stayed too hot during the day and too cold at night was surprisingly bearable when I knew that I was only days away from my reunion with loved ones. I think back to the trip over to Afghanistan and the intimidating, uncertain distance between those slow winter days and the light that, at the time, was nearly 12 months away. While shaving in the bathroom at Manas (our transient quarters prior to arriving in Afghanistan), I remember talking to a soldier returning from leave and my hidden envy not only for his vacation, but also for the experiences and challenges that he’d placed behind him as he looked towards the final months of his deployment. Now I’m that soldier, with 9 months of my own journey under my belt.

As my friends flew me from FOB Shank to Bagram yesterday morning, I felt incredibly relieved, peaceful, and pensive. The helicopter lifted off the ground, and the weight and worries of the past few months fell from my shoulders, leaving me with a surreal, bird’s eye perspective while we flew through that beautiful Afghanistan sky. With my company left to contend with the grind, I smiled knowing that their hopefulness, swagger, and lightheartedness – that rebellion - would continue.