Ultimate Sacrifice, Monotony, and Canadians

Last night the reality that I'm in Afghanistan, a place where we fight a war against an insurgency, set in.  I went to a ramp ceremony.  This is where the bodies of the fallen leave the battlefield.  Four soldiers, all from an engineer's battalion, died as the result of an IED.  The bodies were brought to Kandahar Air Field (KAF), where I'm at, to be placed on a C117 that will fly them to the States.  Officers from all nationalities at the base gathered on the tarmac to march out to the yawning backside of C117.  A chaplain led a solemn ceremony in a prayer and a reading of a psalm.   "Amazing Grace was played, and six soldiers carried each of the flag draped coffins into the cavernous interior of the military's largest cargo plane.  The coffins, small against the interior of the plane, were the sole cargo for the flight, as if the fallen soldiers were a cargo so large that nothing else was needed to fill the giant plane.  In fact, nothing else was needed, their sacrifice was enough.

 

Life in general has entered into monotony. The Taliban shoots rockets onto KAF somewhat regularly, but usually to no damage.  The DFACs (dining facility in Army speak), there are at least six on the base, are running together, as I quit caring where I'm getting my food.  The days are hot and it is difficult to tell the difference between 100 and 110.  The scenery alters between this concrete wall and that one.  The 24 hour air show doesn't turn my head away from the gravel I'm walking on.  And the different nationalities standout as I can differentiate between all the different camouflages.

 

One of the nationalities I work with most closely are the Canadians.  You can't help but love them.  I can always pick them out by all the "proooooo-jects" they are talking about, compared to our American "praaaa-jects."   The Canadians present one great difficulty for me, spelling my last name.  It is that "a" at the very end of my name that gets them every time. I will spell it for them "v" as in victor, "e" "v" "e" "r" "k" "a".  "a"…… "a"…..  No, I'm not saying "eh", I mean "a" as in my last name ends with the letter "a."  It usually takes a minute before they realize that my last name ends in an "a" and I'm not just giving them an agreeable Canadian "eh."  Oh, the challenges that come working with Canadians.  J

Living on the Air Field

I finally made it.  I'm working on Kandahar Air Field (KAF).  It has taken me months to get here and for what?  To work twelve hour days seven days a week.  To cook in 100 degree heat in May.  To not see any green vegetation at all, I mean none, big fat zero.  Actually life on the air field is not so bad.  It is a melting pot with armed forces, civilians, and other personnel from more than twenty countries.  I estimate there to be 30,000 people on the base.  There are enormous dining halls all catering to different tastes.  There's European, British, Canadian/American, and South Asian dining facilities.  There is a really nice gym, and one not so nice one.  There is a large store, a TGI Fridays (built out of containers I think), and other restaurants.  The thing that is most absent from the base is the Afghan people.

There are many quirks/oddities living here.  First, the few women that are here, maybe ten percent of the total, are treated like queens.  But they do so while tolerating a lot of stares.  So good for a one to one ratio.  A brightly colored reflective belt must be worn at night or you will get fined.  No alcohol is allowed.  A veritable air show is constantly going on overhead with several different fighter jets zipping around, the occasional predator drone humming lazily by, and fat cargo planes barely getting off the runway.  The loudspeakers for incoming or rocket attack are called either "the big voice" or "the giant voice"  and speak in a British lady's voice.

There is one stinking oddity about the airfield.  The "poo" pond was built upwind of the camps (the Russians seem to be to blame, or at least that is what I'm being told). The stink has been pretty bad some days, so I can imagine it will only get worse as it gets hotter.  And to think, the pond was designed for about half the population that is currently using it.  I think nose plugs might be more important than ear plugs here.

Rocket attacks are a fairly frequent event on the base, though I haven't experienced one yet.  The base is pretty easy to hit since it covers some thirty square miles or so.  Since I haven't experienced an attack yet, I don't know what they sound like.  I have been getting laughed at, because I keep ducking when I hear fighter jets hitting their brakes overtop of the base.  To me it sounds just like a rocket coming in should sound.  At least I haven't hit the deck yet for no reason.