The fast moving train towards deployment came to an abrupt halt at the Personnel Processing Center (PPC) roughly two weeks ago. After hearing my voice echo through my empty house as I bade farewell to loved ones on the phone, I spent the evening with Isaac, Jill (his wife), their 1+ year old daughter, Anna, and their parents. Jill cooked a delicious lasagna dinner; I probably ate four servings – the “excuse of deployment” still applied, especially during one of my last suppers in the states for a while. We talked about long flights that we’d endured over the years. As a scientist, Isaac’s father had literally traveled around the world and in doing so experienced his fair share of jet lag and crammed seating. I’m a relatively unseasoned traveler, and focusing on the uncomfortable flight was a useful way of pushing the notion of deployment and combat to the backburner for the time being. I turned off my phone after some last goodbyes to Mom, Katie, and Caroline, said goodnight to Isaac and his family (Isaac and Jill weren’t leaving for a few more days) and waited for my ride. I threw my bags in the back of my friend, Ed’s, truck, zoned out to some tunes, and joined 300 other soldiers from our battalion at the PPC. We were about to board a fast moving plane to our new home for a year…Kandahar.
The PPC overflowed with Soldiers, their families, and all of the excitement and uneasiness that you could imagine. I drank about four cups of coffee in an attempt to stay up until we boarded the flight in the morning and to be alert as I introduced myself to my soldiers’ families. I met families from Michigan, Florida, California, and Arkansas. I met babies and wives, grandparents and friends, parents and boyfriends. After about two hours of mingling, we were called to formation, secured our gear, and marched to the buses, receiving handshakes from colonels, pats on the back from bystanders, and words of encouragement from veterans. The bus drove us to our terminal, and after a series of briefings we shuffled our way out the door and onto the plane. It was probably 7 in the morning by the time we started taxiing to the runway…I was asleep before we took we off.
The flight was long but surprisingly comfortable. We stopped in Ireland before making our way to Manas, Kyrgyzstan – a former Soviet state in Central Asia. We have an Air Force base there that serves as a transition/staging area for travel to/from Afghanistan. For two days we waited for our flight, acclimating to the time difference, establishing our priorities of work upon arrival to Kandahar, working out in the gym, eating in the dining facility and writing emails home. On Sunday we boarded a C17 – a large, troop/supply carrying Air Force plane – and made the three-hour flight to Kandahar.
We landed into some confusion; an indirect fire alarm had sounded on the airfield, and rules precluded us from taxiing to our offload area. Our Task Force commander, COL Benson, was less than pleased that his Soldiers had to wait on the crammed plane for an hour, and he voiced his disdain to the Airforce pilot in command. After a long wait, the doors opened and I walked off the plane into the cool, Afghani night. The airfield was dark but bustling with energy, and the air reeked of smoke and sewage – a consistent odor in Kandahar. We made our way to another processing center where we received keys to our rooms, basic base information, and our schedule for the next few days. Our Task Force would undergo an extensive “RIP” (relief in place) program, in which we’d receive classes, briefs, and lessons learned from the outgoing unit before we took over their mission responsibilities. So much for thinking that I’d be hitting the ground running…the Army (wisely) uses a gradual process to transition its aviation assets into/out of theatre.
After our initial briefing, my platoon sergeant, SFC (Sergeant First Class) Mihako and I located our platoon’s gear, organized it, and made a quick system for platoon accountability in the case of indirect fire. After all of our guys grabbed their bags I secured my belongings and headed to my assigned room, excited to see my home for the next year.
The room was surprisingly accommodating, equipped with a desk, a bed, and a wall locker. I was slotted in the room with 3 other junior officers, including Ollie, my good friend and fellow platoon leader in the company. Ollie’s a fun guy to have around, always full of energy, extremely competitive, but cool enough to laugh at himself and join me in some of our cynical observations on Army life. Ollie, Tyler, and Isaac were three of my closest friends at Fort Campbell, and it was nice to see their smiling faces over the first few days at Kandahar.
The Kandahar Airfield is a pretty incredible operation in itself. A showcase of both the strengths and weaknesses of diplomacy, it is a home to Americans, Italians, Canadians, Australians, Brits, Romanians, and Afghanis. There are no paved roads and the air reeks of raw sewage, but I also live within walking distance of a gym, a coffee shop, and a laundry center. The dining facility is tolerable; the food is labeled European, which I take as a convenient “synonym” for bland, overcooked, and, at times, questionable cuisine. I really can’t complain too much though; I was expecting to eat MREs (prepackaged military meals – Meal Ready to Eat), and having some “hot chow” each day is honestly a luxury. I’m sure my grandfather and Uncle Vic, two Vietnam veterans, would have given anything to enjoy the accommodations that we have here in Kandahar. It’s not home, but it’s fine, and being deployed isn’t about eating good meals or sleeping on a soft bed.
So…back to the rest of the week. We finished up our classes, got our guys working areas/shifts in order, and accounted for all of our tools and equipment that had been shipped over. We set up our rooms (I have internet…another much appreciated luxury), got into a rhythm at the gym, and basically worked hard to get into a productive groove. My “groove” in this case was two fold…I had to do all of my platoon leader stuff, administratively taking care of the guys and making sure my commander’s intentions were met. I also had to take care of the fun stuff…the flying…which I was fortunate enough to start only a few short days after arriving in country.
(Just to clarify, all Army aircraft are dual pilot, meaning there are two pilots and two sets of controls in the cockpit. There are times when I’m flying and times when I’m not, but in reality flying (“wiggling the sticks”, as they like to call it) is the easy part. Managing the cockpit – communicating, navigating, troubleshooting, etc –is the more demanding part of flying. Two pilots work as a team to ensure that the flight is safe, timely, and successful. Also, during each flight, there is a “pilot” and a “pilot in command” (PC). The PC “owns” the aircraft while it’s in the air. He/she makes all of the critical decisions, assumes responsibility for anything that might occur during flight, and decides his/her way of managing the cockpit. To become a PC, you must fly a certain number of hours, complete a specific list of training requirements, and go through a series of check rides (essentially evaluations of your planning, knowledge, piloting skills). One of my big goals while in Afghanistan is to become a pilot in command)
Before you are deemed “Fully Mission Qualified” in Afghanistan, all pilots must complete their CCTs (combat crew training). This training consists of academics/briefings, “environmentals”, and a “right seat ride.” During environmentals, an instructor pilot assesses your ability to do maneuvers in environmental situations that are common in our area of operations. In Afghanistan, “dust landings” and “pinnacles” are the two common, important maneuvers, so, as long as you can perform the other, basic maneuvers to standard, you’re environmentals will basically consist of these two maneuvers. Learning how to do a good dust landing helps mitigate some of the risk associated with landing into a dusty/sandy/silty LZ (landing zone), where the rotor wash can cause dust to “brown out” your vision and obviously lead to a dangerous situation. A pinnacle is useful when landing on hills, mountains, or ridgelines. While landing, you might have to balance the aircraft in a level position on one or two wheels, while equipment/troops depart, and mastering the control touch required during a pinnacle can pay obvious dividends in these types of situations. I received word on Tuesday that I’d be doing my environmentals on Thursday with the battalion SP (Standardization Pilot), so that gave me two days to prepare.
Since it was my first flight with our SP, I really needed to study before my flight. Flying with any instructor pilot (IP) is always a little stressful. It’s almost like having a one on one conversation with a nitpicky professor, who at any time could ask you a question on any topic you had learned throughout the semester, possessing an almost god-like awareness of your concealed weaknesses. The SP is the highest-ranking IP in the battalion – a master in piloting who has a deep, endless knowledge on the systems of the aircraft. I wanted to make sure I left a good impression with this influential pilot, but I also wanted to make sure I had a good time on my first flight in Afghanistan. Sometimes not knowing the basic stuff can lead to a barrage of questions and belittling that make you feel like a kid in a corner when your done with your flight. I certainly didn’t want to do that, so I studied.
My preparation for the flight paid off, and Thursday was as smooth, fun, and interesting as I could have hoped. It’s amazing that my fear of heights subsides when I’m flying. During the pinnacle maneuver, we were balancing on the top of a ridge, and all that I could see off the nose of the aircraft was clear blue sky ahead and rocks hundreds of feet below. We flew over small villages, Bedouin goat farmers, mountains, and eventually the city of Kandahar. The villages honestly looked biblical – small, clay homes, probably without electricity, far removed from any modernity that we enjoy. While flying through the city of Kandahar, kites flew in the sky, old markets lined the streets, a beautiful mosque (the largest in Afghanistan) boldly sat at the city’s edge, cars sped along the highway (there are only 2 paved “highways” in Afghanistan), ANA (Afghanistan National Army – the good guys) training compounds were scattered throughout the city…things appeared as expected. The night flight was dark – absolutely the darkest I’ve experienced while flying under goggles. It’s actually so dark during this lunar period (based on the angle of the moon/ambient light) that the division commander, a three star general, has to approve missions that extend beyond the 10 nautical mile radius of Kandahar. Since we were inside the 10 nm, we didn’t need approval, but that didn’t stop it from being blindingly dark!
Two days after the environmentals, we did our “right seat” flight (basically we fly a mission with pilots who are familiar with the area and finished with their initial training). All combat flights include at least two helicopters, and as I walked into the briefing room early that morning, I saw Isaac, my great friend, sitting waiting to be briefed. He is an Apache (attack helicopter) pilot and also needed to complete his “right seat ride.” The two Apaches in our formation of aircraft (there were three Blackhawks) would essentially protect us during our flight. The symbolism was too obvious to ignore – Isaac’s always that steadfast friend, and whether at college, flight school, SERE school, Fort Campbell, or preparing for deployment, he’s a consistent, selfless, thoughtful guy who is always there when you need a hand. We always joke that there’s no person more “together” than Isaac…he has a beautiful home with a beautiful wife and baby girl, his finances are in order, he’s a great leader/pilot/officer, but he’s also down to earth, is full of fun wit, and knows how to turn it on/off when he needs to. Any nerves I might have felt about flying in my first combat mission were eased not only by the fact that we would have Apaches on our flanks for protection, but more so by the fact that my buddy would be in one of those cockpits.
We picked up Admiral Mullen (Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff) and brought him on a series of hops to US FOBs (forward operating bases) in western Afghanistan. It was a fun, uneventful flight, and although the Admiral didn’t ride on my Blackhawk, he appreciated our services and gave all of the crew/pilots a Chairman of the Joint Chiefs coin (which is a tradition in the military. Many senior leaders give coins to soldiers to recognize achievement. Traditionally, if you’re at a bar drinking a beer and a fellow service member shows you one of these “coins,” you have to present a “coin” that outranks his coin. If yours wins, he owes you a beer, and visa versa). Overall, it was a great first flight and I was relieved to have my first little mission under my belt.
This morning we were scheduled to fly a USO mission (USO is an organization that's been around since the World Wars that supports troops with entertainment, gifts, special events, etc). We didn't know who we were scheduled to fly, so I showed up in the morning expecting some famous actor/actress/athlete and learned that the Miami Dolphin cheerleaders needed a ride...haha...you can imagine how excited the guys were. We preflighted the aircraft and were ready to go until we learned that their flight had been diverted to Baghram (in northern Afghanistan), so they cancelled our mission.
The highlight of my week was a little vicarious celebration for my sister’s recent graduation from college (on the Dean’s list, I might add). The time difference here is 9.5 hours ahead, and Sunday evening (Eastern time) Caroline, Mom, and Katie joined my grandparents for a celebratory dinner in West Chester. I woke up bright and early on Monday morning (my time) to give them a call, and even with the time difference and the fact that we were separated by oceans, climates, and comforts, I couldn’t have felt more at home. Hearing Caroline’s laugh, imagining Katie’s smile, sensing the warmth from my Mom or the pride from my grandparents were a perfect holiday present. Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year. Whether it was a family dinner, watching football at Uncle Greg’s, playing eye spy with my sister, decorating the tree with my mom, or celebrating the New Year with friends, I have always cherished the holiday season. And as much as I miss being home for the holidays this year, I know this experience will help me cherish it even more.
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