FIX BAYONETS!

Day 164

Today starts another week of conference activity. You WILL be shocked and amazed, I was. Just remember as you read this, NO U.S. DOLLARS WERE INJURED IN THE COMPLETION OF THIS CONFERENCE. (At least, not by me directly).

The focus of the week is a conference put on by UNAMA, the United Nations Assistance Mission to Afghanistan. It is supposedly aimed at PRT Commanders, but there aren’t many of them available because the new ones have just arrived and they’re in the middle of their Change of Command/Transfer of Authority. UNAMA didn’t plan for that……….. The audience ended up being about half and half military (staff types, mostly) and civilian (Embassy types, mostly).

Anyway, it’s a long, tiring day, even though it’s mostly pretty interesting. The speakers were mostly from the Afghan government. The National Security Advisor, the Minister of the Interior, the Minister of State for Parliamentary Affairs, two Provincial Governors and one Deputy Provincial Governor and the newly confirmed Minister of Education. Non Afghan speakers were the UNAMA Governance Officer and one of the two UNAMA Deputy SRSGs. (Which acronym I do not remember the meaning of…… He’s a high up guy.)

Since today’s session was on the grounds of UNAMA’s compound, lunch was a no host affair at a restaurant next door. (I could have walked back across the street and eaten for free, the gate to Camp Eggers is just about a hundred feet from the UNAMA gate. Not really a public restaurant; it’s walled and guarded, (like virtually everything in this city) and has been investigated and cleared for use by UNAMA’s security people. A fairly pleasant place with aggresively Western pricing. I had soup ’cause I’m too cheap to spend much.

Dinner was hosted by the other UNAMA SRSG (Special Representative of the Secretary General or, head guy). The location was across town so the conference organizer had arranged armored vans to get us there. The vans were provided by ISAF (International Security Assistance Force, i.e. NATO) and the drivers/ForcePro were British and Italian. I won’t say they drove like mad men but …….. they were at least as aggresive as the Blackwater folks I rode with a couple of weeks ago. AND they had lights and sirens, which they used whenever there was anything in their way; a car, a bike, a bus, a bird……….

My normal instinct in any strange place is to maintain sort of a low profile. Consequently, this made me feel like a magnet for any kind of scrap metal that might happen to be flying through the air. The pucker factor was high but the actual danger was low, as attacks on foreigners in Kabul are virtually non existent. We were much more at risk of being run into by a crazed Afghan taxi or bus driver. (You MUST be crazed if you drive in rush hour traffic in this town for very long…) It was rush hour, too. The streets were packed. Being stuck in traffic and running your siren to make people move just don’t work. Oh, well. The British drivers are new here, they’ll chill out before too long.

We arrived at the hotel for dinner and pulled in through the guarded gates, where we unloaded into the courtyard and walked into the lobby. Two separate people used the word ’surreal’ within five minutes of each other, and, they were right. The Serena hotel is one of a chain of five star hotels. They didn’t stint when they built this one, either. Our group walks in wearing our body armor, all the military armed with pistols, and the comparison with the town just outside is just a little mind boggling. Fortunately, we were rapidly brought back to reality. After just a short time out on a veranda, drinking (soft drinks) and eating canapes, the hotel’s contract sniper team passed through the crowd ,on their way to the roof for the evening stake out. (’Scuse me, ’scuse me, mind the rifle, ’scuse me). That made it all feel a little more normal, somehow…….

The dinner was a buffet with all Afghan dishes. Like the lunch down in Gardeyz, it was all excellent. We were done and back in the vans by 9 pm; the ride back to the UNAMA compound was much faster than the ride out because the streets were virtually empty even this early at night.

Day 164

Today, the conference organizer made a major mistake. We were over at the ISAF compound for the conference. She had FOUR Generals scheduled to speak, and really believed that they would keep within their time limits. Ever tried to shut up a General who’s talking too long? Good luck.

Two of our briefers had only been in country for a short time. One told us, “The other guy in my office has only been here five days, and I’ve been here ten, so I’m the one who got picked to give the brief.” They obviously had trouble with their material. One of the later briefers was worse, though. She talked for an hour and I was able to understand only a couple of phrases. She was supposedly speaking English. The Afghans were much better speakers. One Brit leaned over and told me, “Typical Italian, says nothing in only three thousand words.”

Dinner was also at the ISAF compound, hosted by the Commanding General in the nice lounge they have over there. There’s also a pleasant garden with scattered tables and trees. Since ISAF’s outgoing contingent, and Commander, is Italian, it was a very Italian meal. A bottle of wine on every table, (which I couldn’t touch because of my command’s rules). Excellent food.

I sat next to a Kiwi Major who was fun to talk to. He told me that the new Minister of Defence in New Zealand is a Maori, though there has never yet been a Maori commissioned in the New Zealand armed forces. He said that their Navy was the last one to do away with the rum ration, which only happened about seven or eight years ago. And he said that in the Australian Army, Aborigine soldiers can go walkabout if they want to, and continue to get paid for up to three months while they’re doing it! Different countries, different customs.

I was going to get home by walking past the U.S. Embassy to our safe houses and catch a shuttle back to camp, but a lady from one of the NGOs (non government organizations) offered a lift, so three of us piled in. She had us take our helmets off and scrunch down in our seats so we wouldn’t look military; not because of any fear of terrorists but because her organization wouldn’t like her being around the military ‘too much.’

Day 165

Today is ANZAC Day. Originally a commemoration of the landing of the Austrailia/New Zealand Army Corps at Gallipoli in 1915, it’s become the equivilent of our Veteran’s Day in the U.S. The ANZACs here had a sunrise ceremony, very well done, and then a ‘gunfire’ breakfast which included ………. rum ration! Duly authorized by the Commanding General, of course. I went to the ceremony but not to the breakfast as it was too early for me to eat, let alone drink rum.

Back at the UNAMA compound today for courses on various UN functions. Much as I tend to dislike the UN, and much as their higher ups waste millions of dollars and corruptly gather in other millions, most of the people on the ground are pretty hard working and are trying to do some good things. They had some good presentations and were able to show where they were making some good progress in several areas. The day went MUCH better than yesterday!

Except for the fact that I managed to tweak my back. Went back across the street at lunchtime for something, took my body armor off in the office and twisted wrong. AAAAAAAAghhhh! Well, still have to finish the day, so I drag myself back to the conference and spend the rest of the day trying to find a comfortable position to sit. Such a position didn’t exist.

At the end of the day, we left the UNAMA compound and went far across town, (off in the armored Mercedes again!) for a visit to Parliament. We had a speech in one of the meeting rooms of the lower house, by the Speaker of the Wolesi Jirga. Then we were allowed into the main chamber. (Everyone had gone home, of course.) We got to see the upper house, too.

Because of the number of ‘official’ languages in Afghanistan, each position in each house had a set of headphones for translation into their own language Nice, comfortable chairs. Impressive, well built chambers. I got a picture of me on the riser at the front of the upper house, taken by one of the Brit officers.

For dinner tonight, we were hosted by the Political Advisor to ISAF, in his own home. All Afghan food again, but this time, we sat on the floor, just like real Afghans. I sat on the floor like a real Afghan with back spasms and tried to be unobtrusive with my position changes. Only knocked over one glass of water doing it……….

The host had invited a Professor from the University of Kabul, who also taught/teaches at George Washington University in the States. He talked to us informally about who the Afghan people are; the different tribes, the factions, the way of life. The second guest of honor was the proverbial ‘Mad Irishman’, a UN employee for years here in Afghanistan who appears to have gone totally native. And insane. We ended dinner with a turban tying contest, which was won by a Dutchman who’s on his way to Uruzgan province.

My back was pretty much gone by the time dinner was over. Home to bed.

Day 166

Got up, took Aspirin, Ibuprofen and Aceteminophen. On the shuttle, in to the office, not quite dragging my right leg as I walked. Fortunately, by the time I was due over at UNAMA, the pills had kicked in and I wasn’t feeling too bad, unless I sat, stood or walked wrong.

Today was focused on what PRTs (Provincial Reconstruction Teams) do. This is really why I came to the conference, since my office is responsible for strategic planning related to PRTs. They had presentations by the two PRT Commanders who had managed to make it to the conference; one American from the Bagram PRT and one Norwegian from the Mazar-e-Sharif PRT. Both were good speakers, then they were joined by some Department of State and USAID reps who also worked out in different PRTs. They ended with a panel, moderated by the Major General (Royal Marine Commando) who is second in command of ISAF. Good day and a pretty good finish to the indoor portion of the conference.

The function tonight wasn’t a dinner, but there were enough finger foods to make up for it. The Deputy Charge of Mission at the U.S. Embassy hosted a reception on the veranda of his apartment. Nice place, up on the fifth floor of their apartment complex. The veranda was probably fifty feet on a side, with a pretty good view out over the city. Too bad it got dark so fast, not enough time to see much. Plenty of time for socializing, though. Got to meet a variety of the Embassy people and had a chance to talk with more of the people from the conference. By the time I got back to my room, the back was letting me know it was there again, though not quite as bad as yesterday.

Day 167

Every good conference has to have a field trip. For ours, they wanted to show us an actual PRT. I’d been to the Bagram PRT when I first got into country but it isn’t typical, since it’s located right on Bagram Air Base instead out away in one of the provinces. Not much too see in its case.

Our destination was Herat PRT, in Herat City, in Hirat Province, which is almost as far West in Afghanistan as you can get. It’s only about 150 miles from the Iranian border.

We had to be over at UNAMA by 0615 in order to ride the ISAF vans out to the airport. We checked into the ‘airline’, put our bags through the x-ray machines. They didn’t make us walk through the metal detectors, though, because all the military were packing heat, if only pistols.

Our high speed transport was a Luftwaffe TransAll C-160, which looks sort of like a C-130, but with only two engines instead of four. The flight was nearly two hours in the standard web troop seats. The Aspirin, Ibuprofen and Aceteminophen didn’t seem to be having much effect today, so getting comfortable was out of the question. At least things had improved enough that I didn’t have to worry too much about dragging my foot. All walking was going to be very slow, though, with the occasional dip as a spasm tried to take my leg out from under me…………

Anyway, we took off from Kabul International Airport and started climbing. I had no way to know how high we were when there was a BANG, like something had hit the tail. There wasn’t any effect on how the plane was flying. Interesting………… The second BANG, a few minutes later, had me looking the right direction and I saw a bright light out one of the windows. Ahhhhh, they were popping flares, just in case someone made a try with a heat seeker. (Nobody did). Then, two hours to Herat.

When we landed, it was significantly warmer than in Kabul. The elevation in Herat is only about 3200 feet, a little over half of Kabul’s. The countryside reminded me of Eastern Oregon. No sagebrush, but the same sere, brown appearance you see out past Lakeview. But, also, there are plenty of small waterways that create bands of bright green. Life here is centered around the waterways, even the smallest. Looking down from the plane on the way here, the land was a lace of small waterways, small green bands separated by blocks of brown desert.

They had “the finest” Afghan busses available to take us into town, according to the PRT Commander. This was about a 25 minute ride. The busses were, of course, no better than any other motor vehicle in this country. They were rough and worn. Vehicles wear fast here, because they’re used to the limit from the time they come into the country. It’s not unusual to see a Toyota mini van that seats eight (if you squeeze) actually carrying twelve or more. You very seldom see one with ‘only’ eight in it.

The ride in was fast but with no lights or sirens. We were escorted by a couple of Italian armored scout cars but the area really doesn’t seem to need that precaution. A completely different style of driving than the ISAF vans in Kabul. It isn’t a national thing either, because this PRT is manned by Italians and the ISAF vans in Kabul were partially manned by Italians. Probably just different philosophies between commands. Force protection people in Kabul seem to take the attitude that there’s a sniper or bomber behind every flagstone. In fact, attacks are extremely rare. Much nicer out in the West. (Wait a minute, it’s nicer out West back home, too….. Is there a connection?)

One of the real amazing differences out here is the incredible lack of potholes. Most streets in Kabul have at least a couple of car swallowing holes every block or so. Out here the pavement is …. smooth. Relatively speaking, anyway. Not new, but not very old, either. You don’t have to worry about losing fillings from constant jarring.

Slightly different style of architecture here, in the mud houses at least. There’s sort of a top knot on the roof that may be a chimney but looks more like the knob on a cookie jar. Otherwise, there’s the typical mix of hovel and mansion, often side by side. The town is very green, with several parks that we passed containing actual trees, and lots of trees in the median of the highway we came in on. Lots more traffic, too, including private vehicles. Cars, trucks, motorcycles and some interesting three wheelers; motorcycle fronts and (small) pick up rears. Haven’t seen any of those in Kabul.

Sidebar: The vast majority of vehicles in Kabul are taxis. Very few private vehicles, at first glance. Most of the taxis, though, are not company cars, they’re owned by individuals. Instead of letting their car sit in a parking lot while Dad’s at work, older son, or nephew, or someone spends the day trying to make money with it. There are busses but nothing like a regular service, so LOTS of people use taxis to get around. I’m told the going rate is about 20 Afghani, or 40 cents. That doesn’t sound like much, but if you cram 6 or 8 people into a Toyota Corolla, you can make it pay.

We arrived at the Provincial Government compound, which looked green and breezy, almost like a park. It was breezy, but warm enough that the breeze really didn’t help much. Another point like Eastern Oregon. The Provincial Council had a special session to greet us (because PRTs are IMPORTANT to these people and they want to make sure everyone knows they’re appreciated), in a large chamber with plenty of fancy paint and varnish. There were at least three women sitting as members of the Council. After the speeches, we were shown their Provincial Control Center, which would be their version of 911 EXCEPT……. It’s so new, they don’t have procedures figured out yet. No Standard Operating Procedures written down. And, most importantly, very little communication infrastructure with the rest of the province. So, it really ends up being more of a 911 from the Province to Kabul if there’s some kind of big disaster. Day to day things like we call 911 about, the citizens deal with on their own or with the help of their neighbors.

Lunch came next, and for it, we loaded back into the busses and headed across town to the PRT base itself. This is reputed to be the nicest PRT base in the country and I believe it. The dining facility was big enough to seat all of my group that came, plus quite a number of the Council members, plus, apparently, most of the PRT members. Close to a hundred people in there eating very good Italian food. I’m definitely not losing any weight on this tour. Every time I start, somebody feeds me again.

After lunch, we were scheduled for a presentation by the Commander but we were running late. He told us he would condense his 90 minute PowerPoint presentation into about 25 minutes, and he very nearly made it. They are doing most of the same things here that PRTs are doing through most of the country. Projects that are urgently needed to improve daily life, or trade, or education, are funded and/or supervised by the PRT members. This helps improve life for the common people and, since it involves the Afghan government, improves the impression people have of that government. The biggest project being funded and supervised by this PRT is a new bridge on the highway between the city and the airport. The rest went by in a blur of schools, clinics, and ?????

By this time, we were definitely late. The PRT Commander had called ahead to have our aircraft wait for us, which certainly caused some aggravation on that end. Pilots like to be on time. Even when it really doesn’t matter, they’ll try to be on time because it’s a habit they’ve gotten into for safety and scheduling reasons.

Remember which country was flying our aircraft? The Germans.

We headed back to the airport at a high rate of speed, significantly faster than the trip in. When we arrived at the airport, it was obvious that the crew was anxious to get us loaded and get airborne. So they get us out of the busses and we head for the bird single file. I was toward the end of the line and just as I was about to step up on the rear ramp of the plane, I heard a shout behind me. I turned around to see one of the aircrew, with his back to me, conducting an expressive two armed gesture that clearly said, “What the #$%^ is HE doing?” One of our group, (a Belgian diplomat) had stopped on the tarmac and was talking on his cell phone. Two other crew were headed toward him and their body language suggested they were willing to drag him on board physically. I just turned away…… Didn’t want to get involved, you know……… Cell phones are a plague, even here.

We got buckled in and were airborne in a very short time. When the flares discharged this time, I was expecting them and again saw the flash out of a window, thereby confirming to myself that there really weren’t pieces falling off the plane. Quiet flight back, everybody was fairly tired.

No fancy dinner or reception tonight. Just take my back home and go to bed. Sleep in a little bit in the morning and let it relax and stretch out a little bit. It HAS been getting a little better since I twisted it………

Day 168

Slept in on Friday but woke up with the dumb back still aching. As a health care professional I KNOW how to take care of myself. But, I’ll just wimp out today. Gimped in to post and went in to sick bay, where they completely examined me and finally prescribed some muscle relaxers. (’They’ in this case being a doctor of the female Hispanic variety, which was NOT how my Army was built a few years ago. I will have to issue the standard gripe about women in the military in a future posting.) I can’t gripe about her, though, because she was quick and competent and highly professional.The muscle relaxers worked, too.

My back wasn’t responding to the normal regimen of one each Aspirin, Tylenol and Ibuprofen, so around one in the afternoon I took one of the muscle relaxers. After a little while, it started having an effect on my back, which was good. It also started having an effect on my posture and motivation and I spent a good portion of the afternoon with my head sort of wobbling around on my shoulders and feeling that managing to stay upright in my chair was a major accomplishment. I went home early and went to bed. By Saturday morning, I felt MUCH better.