Odd but true

It may sound totally ridiculous, but after a few days your body does get use to temperatures soaring above 12o- degrees. How hot it actually is here nobody knows because the only temperature gauge I’ve found tops off at 120. Trust me, I’m still sweating like crazy but it doesn’t affect me like it did when I first got here.

Tomorrow is D-Day for this operation which is now being called “River Liberty” by the U.S. I’ll be with the Combat Logistics Batallion-8 who will be pushing south where the Helmand River fishhooks to the west. It’s there they’ll build FOB Payne from the ground up in just 96 hours. They’ll also construct a bridge across the river and fortify a former Taliban stronghold into a new district governor’s office.

The convoy of vehicles we’ll be driving in won’t be taking a road to our destination. They’ll be blazing a new path right through the open desert. No vehicles have ever taken this route before. Imagine driving from Phoenix to Vegas without going on any roads. That’s what these Marines are doing. Incredible! This should be fun to watch.

A rare breed

In the days leading up to this operation, the Marines at this Forward Operating Base have plenty of preparations to make, not to mention the never ending cleaning of weapons thanks to the constantly blowing moon dust. It’s exhausting work made even more difficult by the 120 degree temperature.

When the day is done, most people would find an air conditioned tent and chill out for the night, but not the U.S. Marines. On D-Day minus 1, when the sun was starting to go down and the air had cooled off to a chilly 119 degrees, a handful of Marines put on their body armor, picked up their weapons and went for a three mile, “fun run.” After that, they formed a circle and took turns beating the crap out of each other in the moon dust, calling it hand to hand combat training.

With the sweat pouring off their bodies and their faces and uniforms coated in moon dust, for the first time ever I saw Marines smiling. They were in their element; hot, nasty and fresh from a fight. This is where Marines belong.

A walk in the moon dust

He sat on a small wooden folding chair keeping a sharp eye on a wall of blackness. His fate, just inches from the end of the platform with only a machine gun bolted to the floor and positioned between his legs; the only thing from keeping him from going over the edge. “Don’t mess with Texas,” was written on the back of his helmet in orange marker. At the opposite end of the helicopter, the flashing lights of the instruments guided the pilot and co-pilot to our destination.

Like a horse rearing up on its back legs, the aircraft took off. We were only in the air for less than two minutes when the pilot made an abrupt landing. A crewman got out and made a strange look towards the port side. He was followed by the pilot who made the same face. Then they disappeared. It wasn't very reassuring for myself and the three reporters I was escorting.
Ten minutes later, with the thud, thud, thud of the huge rotors still spinning, we were off again. No problems occured so I guess the aircraft was okay. The flight would take us over some of the most dangerous land on Earth.

We eventually landed safely at our FOB or Forward Operating Base. From here, thousands of Marines will launch their largest air and ground operation since the Vietnam War, and I’m getting a front row seat documenting the event as a combat photographer. For the magnitude of this operation, surprisingly, there aren’t many media embedded on the trip; no CNN, Fox News or New York Times. The only people with me are a reporter from National Public Radio and a photographer from the Washington Post but I hear a couple of French journalists and an ABC documentary crew are also lurking around. It’s funny to watch each of these journalists secretly cozying up to the lead Marine Public Affairs Officer; each jockeying to get with the unit that is guaranteed to see the most action. It reminds me of my parents telling me, “be careful about what you ask for. You just might get it.” But the media’s ambition to see some action is only outweighed by the Marines here who are tired of walking in the “moon dust” and are ready to fight.

That’s what the Marines call the ground here, moon dust. It’s a talcum like powder dirt three to five inches deep everywhere you step. You can’t help but kick it up as you walk across the base; everyone surrounded in their own private brown cloud just like Pig Pen from the old Charlie Brown cartoons. Between the dirt and the sweat from the 120-degree weather, is there really a point to showering?

If you use the shower, go to lunch or have the insane idea that a run in this scorching hot weather sounds like a good time, make sure you know exactly where you tent is located. There are dozens and dozens of rows of unmarked tents and they all look exactly alike. You could easily find yourself walking into someone else’s tent or even worse… or even better based on your perspective… walking into one of the all female tent. Sorry ladies. Thank you for understanding.

A front row seat to history

I’ve had to take a break from my last assignment and head outside the wire. No one was available to shoot an operation that was going down and so I volunteered. Lucky for me because this will be the largest Marine Corps helicopter assault since Vietnam. I’m embedding with some Marines and after nearly 10 months in Afghanistan, it looks like I could finally see some action.

Even though I won’t be posting this until after it’s publically known, I’m still going to keep it vague. Just keep your eyes on the news and you’ll quickly learn where I am/was.

So now what?

The MPPAT is now in the hands of Lieutenant Commander Mark Walton. It’s his baby. Like Ted Williams or Babe Ruth, I ended my career there with some stats I’m very proud of; a team that produced 140 print stories, 130 broadcast stories, 60 live television interviews and nearly 3,000 pictures posted to the web.

In my final 45 days here in Afghanistan, I’m working directly for the Chief PAO, Captain Mark Durkin to produce videos for him. The first is on Kabul; a relatively safe city which the media often like to report as being surrounded with the enemy banging at the gate. This simply is not true and my video will tell the true story not through my eyes, but the eyes of Afghans who live here. We interviewed nearly a dozen people off the streets and their perspective is very interesting and different from what you hear on TV or read in the paper.

Here is a link to the Kabul; A city of progress video. I am very proud of how this video turned out. So far it has gotten 300 hits on the DVIDS web site.

http://dvidshub.net/r/pf8nr2

Back in Kabul

It’s been a while since I wrote anything in the journal. When I got home from R&R, I didn’t want to take a single second away from playing with the family. Now that I’m back in Afghanistan, I have been so depressed to be here, I didn’t want to acknowledge my presence in words because those words would only serve as a reminder to my situation. But alas, I have returned.
Let me begin with my R&R; it was awesome. When the plane landed in the United States, my fellow Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines all burst out into applause. That was in Atlanta. On my connecting flight to Memphis, the flight attendant made an announcement for everyone to remain seated and allow the military to get off first. That was pretty cool.

My reunion with the kids was just as I expected; Kathryn and Charlie running into my arms. Susan was right behind snapping pictures. Next to the day they were born, it was the happiest moment of my life. It had been nine long months since I last held them and while the seemed a little bigger, a little more mature, they were still my babies. My wife was as beautiful as ever yet strikingly different. It took me a day or two to figure it out. Her appearance hadn’t changed; she was just a stronger person. My being away has given her a confidence and strength she didn’t have before. I am in awe of this woman and so proud to call her my wife.

We spent a couple days at home which gave me such an odd feeling. Home was so familiar but so different at the same time. I felt like the Lord of the Manor and a stranger. Sleeping in a comfortable bed, a bath, food whenever I want to eat; these are thing I just wasn’t used to having. It’s a good thing we didn’t stay at home long because I’m not sure I would have felt normal by the end of my trip. When I go home for good, it will take me a solid month to readjust.
Within 48 hours we were off to Disney World and the dream vacation Susan and I have been planning for months. To see the Magic Kingdom again after so many years was exciting but to see it for the first time through the eyes of my children was truly magical. We ran our children ragged from the early morning until the late hours of the night. We rode rides, had breakfast with Pooh, ate lunch with the Princesses, watched parades, swam in the pool, made new friends and celebrated our anniversary. It was a great vacation; hopefully the first of many to Disney World.

I am the luckiest man alive to be blessed with the family GOD has given me.

Back in the U.S.A.

I am home. It’s an odd feeling but one that I’m happy to be experiencing. So many people are here in the Atlanta airport; so many women showing so much skill and no one briefing me before I go anywhere. No fear, no worry. It’s good to be back, even if just for a few weeks.

Hello from Kuwait

It was a long night, we didn’t take off until late and now it’s only later. You’d think as soon as we landed they would get us to our tents for some shuteye, but that’s not how they do business here. Before we could go to bed, we had to turn in our body armor and be processed into the country. It wasn’t until 0330 before my head hit the pillow and I have to be at another out-processing brief at 0700. What’s the point of sleeping? I’m in a tent with a dozen other guys (top bunk, my favorite) on a mattress covered in plastic. The bed wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t 100 degrees here. My body keeps sticking to this thing. I’m not unpacking my sheets for a couple hours of sleep.

Okay, it’s now several hours later and I’m at the Kuwait Airport. The highlight of the time between the out-processing brief and here was US Navy Customs. Before we can leave, we had to dump EVERYTHING out of our bags to be searched. When I go home for good, I’ll make sure not to pack so nicely. Surprisingly, the agent let me keep my plastic pirate pistol I got Charlie for Disney World.

Tonight we’ll fly from Kuwait to Shannon, Ireland. After a short layover it’s onto Atlanta then Memphis. That’s when the 18-day clock begins to tick.

R&R Time!!!!

For the past three days, I have been here at BAF or Bagram Air Field. I am finally heading home on R&R. Being here on this base is a different world compared to ISAF HQ. They have good food, nice accommodations, things to do in the evening and it’s big enough you don’t see the same people six times a day.

I’ve been staying in a private room thanks to the good people here at the base public affairs shop. The rooms are meant for media passing through the area but they have a spare bunk so I don’t have to sleep in the transient tent. I want to publically thank them for the berthing. If I would have had to stay in the transient tent all this time, it would have been a bad thing; a very bad thing.

The past three flights have been cancelled s I’ve been stuck in limbo with more than 150 other soldiers all trying to go home on R&R. But tonight we fly so I’ve got some packing to do. Next stop, the pax terminal.

Change of command

Recently the president announced a new change at the top for the fight here in Afghanistan. You’d think this would be the talk of the camp here at ISAF Headquarters as it’s an international story which directly affects us. Oddly, there’s been little talk on the subject. People here just respect the president’s decision and are pushing forward, business as usual. Will it affect me an in any way; perhaps. Just like the president picks his cabinet, a theater commander picks the generals that work for him. I’m sure when Gen. McKiernan goes, so will some of his staff. And some of those staffers are my bosses. Regardless of the reason, they’ve fought a good fight and I’m grateful for the opportunity to serve under their command. I salute them as they depart and stand ready to serve our new commander.