Things can be dull in Afghanistan. I feel like I’ve poured all of the romance from my experiences out in my previous accounts over the last few months, and all that remains is the dreary, sandy skies that seem to engulf us on a daily basis. Occasionally, rain breaks this constant monotony of dust and haze – our tin buildings exasperating the sound of the pattering drops falling from the sky. Our flights can also bring some color to our otherwise brown landscape, as the rolling hills, mountains and river valleys with sprouting poppy fields and wandering Bedouin add exciting, more colorful tones to our days. But for the most part, I find color in my friends, my soldiers, and our daily interactions.
To be able to confide in Isaac, Tyler and Ollie is truly a blessing. We laugh at our surroundings, complain about our lives, talk about politics and relationships, soldiers and friends, future plans and current holdups. It makes for a cherished depth of companionship – a means to vent and stay grounded. Yesterday we all crowded into Isaac’s room for a remarkably normal evening, where we ate pizza and watched an episode of our favorite show – “The Office.” The small “Pizza Hut” trailer in Kandahar tries its best to mimic the American family restaurant, and regardless of the differences in taste and price, an occasional slice is a treat. Katie knows my appreciation of “spice” and recently sent me a bottle of hot sauce, which I used liberally to flavor my personal pan. We sat in our sweaty gym clothes, ate our junk food and laughed at our favorite Scranton office – our own “scene” as warm and familiar as it would have been at home.
Finding comfort zones is always my way (and probably most people’s ways) of dealing with new, seemingly uncomfortable environments. I can remember in survival school, with the thoughts of capture, prison camp, and interrogation constantly on my mind, I found an escape in something as simple as the taste of a shrub or the warmth of a fire. After days without sleep or food, the chill of the January air, even in Alabama, was getting the best of my team. Exhausted, cold, and hungry, we set up camp late one night and after a recent, soaking rain, desperately trudged through the thick forest to salvage any dry, usable firewood. With a few former boy scouts on the team, we were able to build an incredibly warm (and obnoxiously large) fire. The conditions were so cold and miserable that we ignored the direction to only make small, discrete “cooking” fires, and instead opted for the large, lavish bon fire approach. We assumed (correctly) that no cadre would venture into the woods and try to compromise our position in such miserable conditions. Next to our pit we found a shrub with leaves that, when chewed, provide small doses of caffeine. Our five-man team sat around the fire stuffing green leaves into our mouths and sucking out every ounce of caffeine they had to offer. We shared stories, laughed at the size of our fire, and forgot about our imminent doom at the prison camp. For a few hours it felt more like Boy Scout camp than survival school, and sometimes a little escape is all that you need.
The soldiers I work with make my days enjoyable, meaningful, and always entertaining. The nicknames paint the perfect picture – there’s “Pinky”, “Cookie”, “Cruise,” “Gunny,” “the Fornicator,” and “Top,” just to name a few. Gunny is my 52-year-old platoon sergeant, with children older than me and the raspy, gritty intensity that you would probably associate more with a Vietnam veteran than a 21st century soldier. He calls me “Boss,” almost as if he relishes the ironic disparity between our ages, experiences, and rank. We talk often about his career, our families, and our soldiers, and his hard-love leadership style is one that I appreciate and respect.
The “Fornicator” (whose last name is Forney – the nickname irresistible) is our Maintenance Test Pilot (MTP), and probably one of the hardest working members of the company. If an aircraft has a maintenance issue, an MTP will often fly the aircraft and troubleshoot the problem – a hands-on engineer and aircraft systems expert. The Fornicator – always with a cigarette and coffee in his hands – loves his job and works himself to the ground to help keep our fleet of aircraft in the air. He has an incredibly deep, yet unassuming, air of intelligence, and you can almost envision him teaching in an MIT classroom as much as you can in a flight suit in Afghanistan. He is probably one of the only people I know to drink a cup of joe before going to bed, so anytime I need a late-night fix, I know there’s a room brewing some hot, strong coffee.
My boss (our company commander) is a West Point graduate whose baby face hides his years of combat experience as an aviator. Incredibly intelligent and refreshingly relaxed, he is an easy person to work for, and Tyler and I try our best to make his life as painless as possible. Our First Sergeant (the highest ranking enlisted soldier in the company), nicknamed “Top,” is truly a soldiers’ leader, taking pride in taking care of our troops and keeping things light with his dirty jokes and crazy stories from his younger, wilder years. He is an assistant Scoutmaster for his son’s Boy Scout troop, and it seems like he would fit in well with the fun-loving triumvirate of Scoutmasters that mentored me in my scouting days.
The people I work with can be pleasant, abrasive, obnoxious, hilarious, appealing and, well, unbearable. It makes for a lively compilation of interactions throughout the day – some of which are appreciated more than others. Regardless of our personalities, however, we all share a deep bond – an appreciation of life and fellow soldier - that is undeniable. The camaraderie I feel with the other soldiers in our company resembles a football locker-room more than a day in an office cubicle. I know this is something I will miss when I get home and later in life when the Army is behind me.
A few days ago I received a package of Valentines Cards from a Pittsburgh area elementary school. It was touching to sit and smile at the crayon drawings and pink, heart-shaped cards made of construction paper. Each of my grandparents sent packages – pictures from past celebrations, new sets of sheets, and heartwarming notes. Katie’s grandparents sent me some delicious, homemade Valentine cookies, and Jeff sent me magazines and cigars. My aunt, uncle and cousins put together a Steelers package that arrived the day of the Super Bowl – perfect timing to cheer for the black and gold. Church families have showed their constant support with cards and packages, and the notes from Katie, Caroline and my Mom line my desk. With the support from my friends, soldiers and family, the light at the end of this deployment tunnel shines more brightly each day, adding color to the drearier, darker times.
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