by Bryan Wood
March 13, 2003:
The midnight shift was slow tonight. We had rain almost all night, and I am assuming it kept everyone inside. Around six o’clock in the morning, a convoy of SUVs came rushing to the compound. A very popular national news figure, (name has been removed), came to the compound to include some of our operations in a story he is doing.
We had no idea he was coming, and after shift he spent time talking to a few of us. I went to the dining room to have breakfast where I got to eat with him, and he actually turned out to be a very nice guy. He was eager to meet with everyone, and he was happy to shake hands and take pictures. It definitely added an interesting and positive twist to the day.
They put together a team to provide additional security for his trip to an area called Gardez. This is a notoriously dangerous area, and the ride out there is known to be very risky. There are a lot of Taliban supporters in that area and reports of active Al Qaeda camps. I decided not to volunteer for this one and got to take the day off.
I went to the gym, and then got cleaned up. I caught up on writing some letters home, and then I cleaned my weapons and sorted my gear. Now I am here writing and thinking about going to bed early. If I go to bed now, I will get a good seven hours of sleep before I need to get back up for the midnight shift. This will be the first time I have gotten more than four hours of sleep in almost two weeks. I guess that means, “Good night.”
March 14, 2003:
It was raining again, so it made for another long, lonely night keeping watch in the OP. Around seven o’clock this morning, a bicyclist got hit by a car, along the west wall of the compound, right in front of my position. The bicyclist did not appear to be hurt too bad, and he ended up provoking a yelling match with the driver of the vehicle. Before long, it erupted into an all out brawl between the two of them. Within minutes, there were eight or nine other guys joining in the fight. They were all just random people on the street, and they started joining the fight.
A group of us exited our OPs and gathered along the wall. Half of the goal was to get into a ready position in case this fight was a distraction for something bigger about to happen, and the other half was to just watch the fight. Very quickly, the powers that be decided the brawl was too close to the compound and presented too much of a security risk, and we were ordered to disperse the crowd immediately. We threw two canisters of CS gas into the crowd and as soon as the gas hit the crowd, they scattered.
After shift, my squad was assigned a mission that took us towards the Pakistani border. The Pakistani government is supposed to be an ally of the United States, but the people of Pakistan see things much differently. The road leading out to our destination is very dangerous and goes right through some very hostile areas. Several convoys have taken enemy fire recently on this route, by snipers supposedly trained in Pakistan.
After about two and a half hours out of Kabul, the ride was very boring until the road began to follow the path of an old dried-out riverbed. The road curved through a pass with ten to fifteen foot rock ledges on either side of us. Our convoy consisted of six HUMVEEs, and I was the gunner for the third vehicle. I knew that entering the pass was dangerous as shit, but we had no way around it.
Half way through the half-mile-long pass, the lead vehicle stopped and I heard a burst of shots ring out. The lead vehicle was mounted with a fifty caliber machine gun, and the sound thundered through the pass as the gunner returned fire. They were around a slight bend, and we could not see exactly what was going on. My field of fire was to the left side, and I kept my mounted M249 fixed upwards at the top of the rock ledge.
As the fifty caliber stopped firing, I could hear the squad leader on the radio yelling, “Move, move, move! Don’t bottle up in here. Get the fuck out!” The trucks started moving through pass, as fast as we could. As we pulled through the curve, I could see two men, with cloths covering their faces, about one hundred feet to the left of the convoy. Every gunner in the convoy began firing, and the two snipers pulled back to behind an old wall. It was obvious that we had not hit them. The Sergeant made the call not to chase them down because they could be luring us into a greater trap, and we had a mission that needed to be finished.
I still cannot believe that a bomb was not placed for us in the pass. Al Qaeda and Taliban fighters love using improvised explosives during their attacks. They make their bombs out of old rockets, mortar shells, or landmines.
The whole thing happened so fast, it was over before I knew it. As we pulled out of the pass, it took me a minute to really believe what had just happened. Every vehicle checked in over the radio, announcing no injuries and no damage, so we pressed forward and continued on with the mission. It was kind of surprising how the incident was not very frightening at all, while it was occurring. Once everything was over and done, on the other hand, it was scary to look back on. At the time instinct just took over and my reactions just seemed to happen naturally. I am not sure how to explain it. The rest of the mission went well, and we got to the forward firing base just fine.
The unit I am in is made up of about one hundred and fifty troops, and we are all scattered around different bases in Kabul and Bagram, with about thirty five of us at Camp Eagle. I found out today that one of our guys at another compound, the Kabul Military Training Center, contracted Malaria over there. Afghanistan has a lot of diseases that we do not have in America anymore, such as things like Malaria, Leprosy, and other weird or bizarre illnesses. There is one thing that is absolutely certain about Afghanistan: in one way or another, there is always something here that can hurt you.
March 15, 2003:
Midnight shift was very long and quiet, yet again. Around eight o’clock last night, before I started my OP watch, I was taking a little nap after we got back from a mission. We were woken up and instructed to report to our posts early and double up at every point. I did not know what had happened yet, but I knew there must have been something. I was walking to my assigned OP along the south wall, where I was assigned for the night, and I heard there was just a series of bombings in the area.
As the night went on, I heard more and more and eventually found out there were three bombings, all within two and a half miles of the compound. The closest attack was just a quarter of a mile away. Two were suicide bombings at local shops, and a third was an improvised explosive left along the roadway. No word on casualties yet, and I have no idea if any Americans were targeted. It usually takes a few days for us to get full and accurate information, so I will not know for a little bit.
On the plus side of things, the weather has been getting very nice lately. When I first got here, it was chilly during the day but downright cold at night. The nights are still chilly, but the daytime temperatures seem to be climbing a little more every day. I was expecting it to be hot here all the time, but our elevation in the mountains definitely keeps things chilly during the winter months. It has actually snowed several times since I arrived. When our missions take us further into the mountains, it can get very cold, but it is becoming nice here. The weather is becoming nice anyway.
The squad opened a large care package yesterday, which had been sent by an anonymous sender. It had a volleyball set and some other cool stuff. Our Lieutenant gave us the go ahead to set up the volleyball net in a dirt area adjacent to where we park the trucks. Volleyball should be a fun way to pass the small amount of free time we do have. Other than what I have already written, there is not much else to write about. I am tired, and I am going to bed. Another day is done in Afghanistan.
March 16, 2003:
Last night, I finally had a night off. As midnight was approaching and the rest of my squad was gearing up to head out to their assigned OP, I was gathering movies and snacks from my foot locker and getting ready for my first night to relax in a long time.
Around five-thirty in the morning, I went to use the telephone and check my email. I was able to call my wife for the first time in weeks, and also write to some friends. Good thing I got to do that
last night, because all email and telephones were locked down today. American forces are getting ready to invade Iraq and the military is raising the threat level at all military bases and compounds in the Middle East and Central Asia. Part of that increase is to cut off all lines of communication between us and the outside world. It does not really have that big of an impact on me, though. My squad almost never has time for the computer or phones, and when we do, the wait in line is so long it is not even worth it. When we have four or five hours to sleep before we have to be back up for midnight, it is not worth waiting in line for two of those hours just to make a five minute phone call. It is a hard choice to make sometimes, but exhaustion usually wins.
It is very difficult being so cut off from the world and not knowing what is going on. The only information we get is newspaper clippings that are usually weeks old by the time they arrive. Day by day, we have no idea what is going on back home, how our families are doing, or what is happening in our old lives. It is a very cold feeling to be so separated from everything you love.
My night off, though uneventful, was very nice. Watching movies and eating snacks was a way to pretend I was somewhere else for a little while. I could pretend I was somewhere comfortable, somewhere safe, and anywhere but here.
I constantly think about the people who are stuck living in this shit. In five months, I get to leave here and go home. The people who live here have no such hope and little hope for a better way of living any time soon. Every day, when I am on a mission or out on patrol, I look at all of the people who have to endure the kind of life they are given here. I cannot understand how I was so blessed to be born into something so much better, and until this experience, I have never appreciated any of it.
March 17, 2003:
Just before my midnight shift started, the squad was getting ready to go to our assigned OPs. I was gearing up, getting my machine gun ready, and packing ammunition into my rucksack. The alarm horn sounded, and we all started rushing out towards our OPs. As soon as I got outside of our building, I could hear a lot of gunshots. The shots were coming from the east and as much as I wanted to head that way, my OP was on the west. I needed to respond to my point. Just because the compound is taking fire from the east does not mean a second attack is not coming from the west, and we need to secure every inch of the perimeter. Any time there is an attack of any kind, we are required to go to our assigned points and not necessarily where the current attack is located.
The gunshots lasted for maybe forty-five seconds to a minute after I started hearing them, and then they were done. I found out a few minutes later that an OP along the east wall had taken multiple shots from a large, open field across the street from the compound. It was pitch black outside, and no one knows how many people were out there, but rounds did strike the OP. No one was hurt, and even though the guy inside the OP was shooting blindly into the dark, laying down fire from an M249 sent the shooter running. It is just another reminder that anything can happen at any time.
The fact that anything can happen at any time sounds stressful, but to experience it is something completely beyond that. Every night I sit in my OP just hoping not to be hit by a sniper. Every day I patrol the city on foot, and I pray I won’t be shot or blown up. Every time I try to sleep, I hope I am not woken up by the warning siren or by an incoming rocket. You cannot become complacent and develop an attitude of “It won’t happen to me.” That kind of thinking gets people killed; however, it eats you alive to constantly be prepared and worried about what is lurking behind every corner. It is a shit situation with no alternative, and it is a perfect example of being damned if you do and damned if you don’t.
I know this place is not only getting to me, I can see it in other people also. Guys that were funny and goofy when we first got here are different now; some are barely talking, and others are just constantly negative about everything. Guys that were friends now seem to hate each other. We all do our jobs every day, and we do them better than could ever be asked of anyone, but it is taking its toll on everyone.
Later on in the night, around three o’clock or so, I heard a single gunshot. It came from the north and sounded like it was right along the north wall. The Sergeant started calling out for someone to advise on the location of the shot, and a patrol group announced that the shot came from inside OP 7, along the north wall.
The Sergeant called out to OP 7, and he was not getting a response. My heart sank, and my stomach just knotted itself right up. The guy assigned to OP 7 tonight has been having a lot of problems here. He has not been adjusting well, and he seems to be absolutely despising every minute of being here. He hates leaving the compound for missions, he hates being alone in the OP, he just hates this place, and this place is just a little more than he can handle. At that moment, I honestly thought he had killed himself.
About a minute later, the Sergeant announced over the radio that he was at OP 7, and everything was fine. As the night went on, the Sergeant went to each OP and told us all that this guy had had an incident; he was okay, but he was probably going to be leaving in the morning. The Sergeant did not offer anything more, and I did not ask for it. I think we can all assume that he came a little too close to doing something very sad, and he needed to be somewhere else. None of us want to be here, but he really needs to be sent home. This guy is sinking fast, and he needs to be pulled out before it is too late.
Last night was a crazy night, and I am very tired now. More of the same old shit went on after shift ended, but nothing worth mentioning. I am ready for a few hours of sleep, and then I have to wake up to do it all over again.
March 18, 2003:
Before we started shift tonight, the squad got some very scary news. Two hours outside of Kabul, in an area where we are always on missions, an American vehicle was hit in a convoy. There were four troops in the vehicle, and it was most likely a Special Forces team. Two of the troops are alive, one is dead, and one is unaccounted for. “Unaccounted for,” “missing,” “being taken,” however you want to word it, it is our worst fear here. I hope he is found soon, but if he does not get out alive, I hope he dies quickly. Being taken by these animals is horrifying. Torture, beatings, and beheadings are almost a complete certainty.
When we are on patrol in the city, we stay together and stay very close. If you become separated from your team and find yourself alone, you might find yourself with a bag over your head and on Al Jazeera for the whole world to see. Inside Camp Eagle, it is fairly safe from this threat as it is in the surrounding area. It is when you leave the relative safety of the city where the real threat comes. Firefights happen every day in the rural areas, and if your team is overrun, you are done. There is just no other way to put it.
Every time we load into an SUV or a HUMVEE and roll past the gate, I think about that tank that stopped us. It happened so quickly that none of us saw the situation coming, and yet it happened. The situation practically appeared from nowhere, and within seconds, we were over our heads in a situation with very few options. I still wonder constantly what their intentions were. I half think that if they were really intending on taking us, they would have. They would not have cared two shits about us calling anything in; they would have just done it. However, that thought does not calm the fear that, even if for just a few moments, they had complete control over my life. The fate of whether I lived or died sat right in their hands, and I was completely powerless to do anything about it. It all happened without the slightest hint of a warning, and could happen again in just the same way.
The rest of the midnight shift in the OP was very quiet, and gave me a lot of time to think about what I just wrote. It is an amazing way to put your life into perspective and realize just how very fragile your existence really is.
March 19, 2003:
The war in Iraq is getting very close to commencing, and things are getting very tense around here. Security is increasing, and rumors of various attacks are flying around Kabul. Attacks against coalition forces have bee
n on the rise lately, but the word is that they are going to start hitting us very hard in pro-Taliban areas. We have also been hearing about thousands of Pakistani trained, pro-Taliban, jihadists crossing the border into Afghanistan to begin attacking American forces. We have been hearing intelligence reports that these jihadists have been training in urban assault and warfare, mountain fighting, and how to use explosives. These rumors do not sit well when I know we are not far from Pakistan, and our compound is right along the main route from Pakistan into the downtown Kabul.
The soldier that went missing yesterday was found this morning and sadly, he was not alive. He was found about a mile away from the point of attack, and they said it looked as though he died fighting. He fought to the very end. As sad as that seems, it beats the shit out of the alternative of being captured.
After shift, we had to go out on a foot patrol in the city. It was the same deal as always, four three-man teams loaded into three trucks. We got to our area and left one team to guard the vehicles while the rest of us broke off to our assigned zones. Today, we were in an area with a lot of shops, shitty little businesses, a lot of cars, and mobs of people. We were assigned to patrol this district because of recent information that this area may be the target of attacks against American interests. We have been to this area many times before and have always found it to be very American-friendly. Most of the stores have signs in English and American flags waiving in their entrances. A lot of the signs try to integrate “American” any chance they get. They use, “American movies,” “American Coffee,” etcetera. They just want our money; they do not care about us.
Today was eerily different. The American flags are all removed, the signs have absolutely no English anymore, and every hint of American support is gone. This made us all think that the threats may be very real. If the locals are willing to pass on the chance to make a dollar, there is definitely something to worry about. None of them want to be the one store with an American flag in the window. Being the only store showing American support would be just begging to be bombed.
