Some things never change

Moon Dust

Different year, different deployment, different country, but some things never change. Whenever you put several thousand Soldiers, Marines, Airmen, Sailors, and Contractors together in a combat zone you'll observe and experience the same things. Bagram, while a long way from the FOBs in Iraq I became so fond of, shares many of the same features I like to provide commentary for. The similarities are inevitable. The geography, latitude and longitude may be unique but when you grind it into a melting pot of military personnel, equipment, and construction it takes on that familiar feel. Throughout this massive complex can be found all of the mundane observations I've made on other FOBs and perhaps a few more. I'll make mention of a few that I've found so far.

Moon dust resides here too. I remember in the summer of 2007 I found some of the most incredible dust I'd ever seen at a place called FOB Warhorse in Iraq. It was such fine powder of an incredible depth that made for footprints reminiscent of those left by Neil Armstrong on the Moon. Quite logically, I referred to my find as "Moon Dust". Since then, I found this talc-like substance populating various other bases. It is almost akin in appearance to Betty Crocker cake mix. It's origin is heavy military vehicle traffic that grinds dry soil into something similar to Turkish-ground coffee. Every footfall makes a poof of dust that floats and lingers for incredible periods of time. The flip side of this stuff is that in the rainy season it becomes a mud so pasty thick that it is like spackle on your boots. But in the dry season it is simply a sea of light brown that gracefully chokes everything and everyone when trod upon. Yes, Moon Dust, my old friend resides abundantly in Bagram. I am not looking forward to the first rains and the mess that will follow.

The ironies of everything. There are multiple Dining Facilities at Bagram. Every one of them provides its unique flair of flavorful abundance. The variety and quantities of food are staggering. It is obvious the great dietitians in the sky are wanting to promote healthy eating for our boys and girls in uniform and rightly so. But walking into a DFAC is such an irony. Yes, there are healthy choices galore - fresh salads, fruit, and lean meats. But then there are also lots of fried foods, fatty side dishes, and oh the ice cream - loads of ice cream. Granted, not every servicemember needs to watch the waistline. The majority of the Soldiers I see in the DFACs average in age anywhere from 19 to 29 so their metabolism is at a high rate. Certainly the amount of calories they burn on an average day are in the thousands due to the intensity of our requirements. It is a war after all. But my personal irony is simply this - why can I not have any real butter in the DFAC? I want real butter. Instead all we get is little packets of Promise Spread. Really? It's okay for us to pile on the ice cream, chocolate sauce, and all the other fixin's but I can't have real butter to put on my toast, potatoes, or veggies? That's just one of many ironies you'll find and Bagram is no exception at all.

Aside from the fact that I'm in Afghanistan, day-to-day observations in Bagram are almost identical to what I've grown accustomed to over the past ten years of deployments. There are many more to discuss but I'll save them for future commentary. On a side note, it has been 27 straight days since I last had a beer.


IDF to remind us

Bagram is such a large installation that it could almost pass for a base somewhere in the western United States. As a matter of fact, with just a little spit and polish, this place would be a reasonable base just about anywhere. It has all the trappings of a normal military air base - sans alcohol, commissary, bowling alley, and all-ranks clubs. Other than that, it is a healthy combination of old and new with a lot of construction projects ensuring the lasting modernization of the garrison. Before long the base will have a very nice two-story gym, a modern MWR (Morale, Welfare, and Recreation) facility complete with two movie theaters, and state-of-the-art dining facilities (DFAC). Soldiers based at Bagram currently live in a mixed bag of anything from containerized housing, tents, rickety wooden "B-huts", and more modern - albeit spartan - barracks. However, with the ongoing construction projects, coupled with the downsizing of the current population due to the drawdown of forces, everyone based here will be in new, hardened buildings very soon. There will be an internal power-generating plant providing electricity to the entire base (as in no portable generators), water plants that feed an internal, pressurized water system feeding every building, and updated road networks that safely route traffic on hardened surfaces. By the time it's all done a person could swear he or she is on a base in Colorado. But then there's the IDF...

IDF - Indirect Fire. It's a nasty animal that frequently invades the serenity of our peaceful Bagram. IDF reminds us all that we are in a war zone. It brings us back to the reality that there is a huge perimeter fence of t-walls and razor wire that surrounds this entire base. Beyond the perimeter fence are a lot of people who like to cause trouble to both the people of Afghanistan and the NATO forces here to defend them. These nasty folks are normally affiliated with the Taliban and Al Qaeda or both. They know they can't get into Bagram (and they've certainly tried in the past). So another way to cause potential death and destruction is to drop explosive ordnance inside the perimeter of the base. It's impossible to simply walk up to the wall from the outside and toss explosives over - a person with hostile intent would never get within 500 meters of the base without getting dropped by a hail of death. So the easier thing to do is to employ a weapon system that provides some "stand-off" capability - ie a mortar or rocket. When I was in Iraq the insurgents would employ both. Here in Afghanistan the weapon of choice is a rocket. Typically, their rocket of choice is Chinese-made 107mm rockets. But they typically don't have the correct launching platforms, which forces the bad guys to improvise simple racks that can't be adjusted. This, coupled with the fact they have no spotters to see where their rockets are landing, means aiming is impossible. So when they launch a rocket it is anyone's guess where it will land. As a caveat, many times the fuses are faulty or improperly attached so the rocket fails to detonate upon impact. Regardless, the rockets are a risk to life, limb and property and we have to be on our guard. Several times over the past few weeks the radar systems detects a launch, which will set off the base-wide alarm with it's claxton sound followed by "incoming! incoming! incoming!" This forces us to the ground to take cover until notified over the speaker system that it is "all clear." A daily reminder of this threat can be found just about anywhere on the base - bunkers made of reinforced concrete and sandbags. They are adjacent to just about every building serving notice that danger lurks just beyond the perimeter fence.

Fortunately, the nights have been very quiet the past few weeks. There have been a few random attacks but no damage and, more importantly, no casualties resulted. But they were enough to get our attention when the alarm sounded. IDF is there to remind us that this isn't a base in Colorado. It's Afghanistan.

Mayor of Bagram?

As I mentioned before, Bagram is a huge place. It's easily the largest single base I've seen over the past ten years. Victory Base Complex (VBC) in Iraq was larger overall than Bagram, but VBC was a series of smaller bases that were linked to one another. Bagram is a stand-alone installation. It is like a medium-sized city with a population that fluctuates between thirty to forty thousand. Just as you would find with a city of that size there are all the trappings of SIMCITY. There is a power plant, wastewater treatment, sewage, garbage collection and disposal, emergency first-responders, hospitals, veterinary services, road networks, public transportation, and just about anything else imagineable. The airfield is the busiest in the entire Department of Defense, with an aircraft landing or taking off about once every three minutes. The base is a staggering operation and the central hub of everything we do in eastern Afghanistan. All of the responsibilities of keeping this military city running fall under my organization either directly or indirectly. That makes me, as Garrison Commander, the equivalent of the Mayor of Bagram. As a result, I am finding that I am in high demand for better or for worse. My first few days of command have been an almost endless procession of meetings and hand shakes with the command teams of multiple units and organizations who reside here. They all have needs that need to be met. My role is to help them prioritize what they actually need versus what "needs" are actually just a convenience and fitting those priorities into what my organization can truly provide.

I'm finding that Coalition Partners are also an integral part of the day-to-day experience here. Just like my American counterparts, the Coalition organizations are equally interested seeing their needs met. Their approach is a little different. The Polish forces sent me a congratulatory certificate, with two of their Colonels presenting it to me personally. Meanwhile, the Korean contingent invited me to their hospital for a tour and some traditional food. The Jordanians were hoping to "pimp-out" their tent accommodations and get some fitness equipment. At the same time, the good folks from UAE were looking to harden their existing buildings to be more resistant to indirect fire (IDF). After paying a visit to a worksite where some new facilities were being constructed, the Turkish construction company working on the project fed CSM and me baklava and invited us to a traditional meal at their compound. My social calendar is filling up fast and I am finding that "social" IS business here. It's like I am a politician and, at the same time, a military commander. While I am the latter, mixing politics with commanding would make someone like General William T. Sherman roll over in his grave. But I am adjusting and getting used to this very quickly. In case anyone is wondering, CSM and I will definitely enjoy some of those traditional meals in the coming weeks.

There have been hiccups. Most notable for me was that I could not move into my permanent billet. The former commander refused to move until the day he flew out headed home. His flight out departed the day after the change-of-command. But that evening when I tried to move in I found the place an absolute mess. It took two more days of cleaning and hauling out boxes upon boxes of junk before I was finally able to move in. Almost two weeks after I arrived here I was finally able to unpack my dufflebags and retrieve the boxes I'd mailed myself and get them unpacked. At last I can start to develop some normalcy to my routine. That's a good thing because in a place like this you need to be focused on the job at hand and not distracted by off-duty challenges. Now I can wear my mayor hat without interruption.

Taking Command

 

Inherent in every change-of-command is a transition time period known as the Transfer of Authority, or TOA (pronounced TOE-UH). The TOA involves several days for the outgoing commander to orient the incoming commander to as many aspects of the unit mission as time allows before the actual change of command. Whether or not the TOA is successful really is a hit or miss. When it is a hit, it can be a spectacular success. But when it is a miss, it can be a very painful process that creates a lot of friction and, in the worst case scenario, a lot of resentment. Normally the success of a TOA falls somewhere in the middle. Often times, the outgoing command team will have a difficult time letting go, handing over the reins, or releasing their grip. For the purpose of my latest change-of-command there were some unique circumstances. The most obvious difference is that this TOA only involved the command team. My CSM and I were here to replace the outgoing commander and CSM. Everyone else would remain, which created an excellent continuity. However the TOA, which should have been easy in this case, was stressful because the outgoing commander simply did not want to let go and was extremely resentful towards me. CSM and I had nine days of orientation leading up to the change-of-command ceremony. During that time the outgoing commander had very little to say and when we'd be touring the installation with one of our staff sections he was nowhere to be found. The outgoing CSM was exactly the opposite. He, in contrast, was extremely professional and ready to help at every turn. But the outgoing commander simply did not want to let go and seemed in denial all the way up to the end that his tour was up. It was a very awkward thing to be a part of. Fortunately, it did not detract from a very successful TOA provided by the staff and subordinates of our future command. By the time the ceremony arrived we were both more than ready to take charge.

 

Our change-of-command ceremony took place on the morning of 18 September. It was held in a "clam shell" tent across the street from our headquarters. The event was well attended. Every brigade-level command team on Bagram was in attendance. There were also several garrison command teams from other locations that had flown in to attend. Our task force Deputy Commanding General was present, along with the TF Command Sergeant Major. In true Coalition spirit, a Canadian Brigadier General presided over the time-honored tradition of passing the colors from outgoing to incoming commander. My speech was short - the incoming commander always keeps the talk down to three minutes or less. But it felt amazing to be taking command again. For me, this would be my third command over the last six years, with two of them, including this one, in a combat zone. Nothing beats command. It's the best job to have.

 

Immediately following the ceremony CSM and I hosted a reception that was well-catered. It was also very well attended. There was an excellent vibe to the event and an electric intensity to the moment. I genuinely felt embraced by the Bagram community. There is a lot of work to get accomplished over the coming year. If done correctly, it will completely transform Bagram forever. As soon as the reception was over we rolled up our sleeves and got started. A year will go by fast. I believe this coming year will be extremely rewarding. It will certainly be challenging. But that's what leaders embrace - a challenge.



Welcome to Bagram

Not even multiple tours in Iraq could prepare me for the size and scope of Bagram. It is a massive base situated near Kabul. Occupants of Bagram have chronicled their experiences through web pages like ILoveBagram.com and various other means. The base is situated around 5,000 feet elevation and is surrounded by scenic mountains. But don't let the scenery fool you, as Bagram is also at the center of a war that has raged for over a decade. It's also a former Soviet air base from their war against the mujahideen back in the '80's. When the Soviets evacuated the base they deliberately left it a mess and planted extensive minefields that are still being cleared today. In the time we've run the base there have been a number of improvements in terms of infrastructure, building construction, airfield modernization and expansion. But there is still a long way to go. The base is overcrowded with military, civilian contractors, and their equipment of all types. Coyote Creek, a putrid, contaminated, mine-infested mess, winds its way from one side of the base to the other. The Taliban still routinely attack the base with rockets and are always scheming to do much worse. It is a place that is teeming with activity day and night. The air traffic alone makes it one of the busiest airports in the entire region. This is the place I will call home for the next year.

Gratefully, CSM and I were afforded the opportunity to sleep in a little on the first morning. This was a futile attempt at overcoming jet-lag. Given the nine and a half hour time difference from the U.S., it actually takes several days to make any degree of reasonable adjustment. Regardless, around noon on September 9th we began our orientation of Bagram and the organization we would be taking command of. It started right away with an in-depth briefing of the current OPTEMPO and force protection status. Then we were off on the first of what would be many tours around the base. There is an east side and west side with the airfield in the middle bisecting the two. The west side is noted by a long road called Disney Drive (in honor of a Soldier who was killed early in the conflict here). Disney is lined with various headquarters, billets, offices, gyms, DFACs (dining facilities), the PX, and extensive modernization and construction projects. Our HQ is also situated on Disney, conveniently across the street from a gym. Meanwhile the east side is a vast expanse of equipment storage yards, a huge Ammo Supply Point (ASP), workshops, a coalition detention center, and the usual acronyms like CRSP, RPAT, AFSB, DLA, etc, etc, etc... There are several concrete plants operating almost continually making t-walls and other all-important structures that are so familiar to combat zone bases. The east side is also home to numerous construction projects building new, hardened billets, DFACs, gyms, and other facilities that are part of the enduring requirements of the base that span beyond 2014. As we drove around the place I was simply astounded at how big this place really is and how much equipment and containers are crammed into every nook and cranny. Retrograde from here will be much more difficult than Iraq because there is no overland route out of the country for military convoys. As a result, a lot of what's here has to be flown out, which is why it's all coming to Bagram. But air shipment costs at least four times as surface transport (ie convoy and ships). That makes for some very sad compromises happening here that were not needed in Iraq. A big example of this is the activities at the DLA (Defense Logistics Agency) yard. The folks at DLA are destroying major end-item equipment (such as MRAPs) by cutting them into little pieces utilizing plasma torches. A $1.5 million piece of equipment is turned into a $400 pile of scrap metal in just a few short hours. The reason is that it is much cheaper to simply destroy the vehicle and sell the scrap than it is to ship it via air back to the U.S. It is just the logistical fix we are in here but, regardless, we'll get through it all over the next year.

The evening of the first full day at Bagram provided us a reminder that we were in a combat zone surrounded by people who'd like nothing more than to kill us. We had stopped by the gym for a workout. The gym is a converted "clam-shell" tent full of free-weights, weight equipment, and cardio equipment. It is the type of hard core exercise facility I love because it is no-frills. Anyway, I had finished my run and was about to do some pull-ups when the alarm sounded warning us of an indirect fire attack. Those crazy Taliban were rocketing the base. The sporadic attack lasted over an hour and kept us hunkered down along the t-walls waiting for the "all-clear" to sound. I guess it was our welcome to Bagram. Ah, life in a combat zone...

Fifty-plus Hours of Pain

Traveling from the U.S. to the other side of the world is never easy. The military finds a way to make it excruciating. I've made similar trips to Iraq in the past but flying to Afghanistan proved even worse. There were around 80 of us making the trek. It began at Briggs Army Airfield, which is part of Fort Bliss. We arrived there around ten in the morning and proceeded to go through customs. Then we were fed prior to getting a series of briefings. Amazingly we didn't have to wait long to board our flight. It was a military-contracted Boeing 767 flown by Atlas Air. Since there were so few of us, we were all able to spread out. That was really the only comfortable part of the whole journey. At 1430 on September 6th our deployment began with the big aircraft lifting off from Briggs Field.

Around 1830 we made a refueling stop in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. This provided us a rare treat that few Americans are even aware of. The various Veterans' organizations in the area coordinate with the airport management to provide military flights a heroes' welcome whether they are coming or going. There must've been 200 or more people there to greet us. They provided food, phones, drinks (non-alcoholic of course), and wonderful conversation. They held an amazing ceremony in our honor. When it was time for us to board they formed a long line to shake our hands and provide hugs. These people are true patriots and make everyone feel a little better just for knowing them. When it is time for CSM and I to come home at the end of our deployment I hope our flight is routed through Portsmouth again. At 2100 we were airborne and headed to Germany.

The flight from Portsmouth to Hahn, Germany took around eight and a half hours. Due to the time difference between Germany and the U.S., it was around 1400 on September 7th when we touched down. The terminal we were escorted to was an old Cold War-era U.S. Air Force figher base. Most of the buildings were boarded up and abandoned. The terminal was full of Soldiers because another Atlas Air flight had arrived before us. These Soldiers were on their way home from a year-long deployment. Inside the terminal were snack bars, gift shops, pool tables, lots of seating, and a pay-for-use wireless network. Unfortunately, the air conditioning was on the blink and it was hot as hell. So we sweltered for a few hours waiting to reboard our flight. I had a coffee and paid the five Euros to use the wireless while I waited. There was a distinct difference in the attitudes of the Soldiers headed home as opposed to the folks on my flight. The Soldiers headed home were happy, joking, and very relaxed. In contrast, the people on my flight were just plain tired and quiet. After a couple of hours on the ground to refuel, we reboarded our flight. Sometime just after 1600 we were airborne again. Our next stop was Kuwait. I loathe Kuwait.

Around 2100 we touched down on the military side of Kuwait City International Airport. Deja Vu! How many times had I flown through this place? I lost count. But here I was again walking down the stairway to awaiting buses and being told not to pull back the curtains. Once we loaded on the buses we were driven over to a holding area to await our escorts. Due to a communication error, we ended up sitting in the dusty holding area for over two hours. Fortunately, the temperature was bearable. The notorious Kuwaiti heat had subsided a bit. Finally, sometime just before midnite, we loaded our buses again and made the hour trek to Camp Arifjan. Wait, Camp Arifjan? Why in the world did they take us to Camp Arifjan? There is no airfield there. We should've gone straight to Ali Al Salem. But, no, we were taken to Zone 6, Camp Arifjan and ushered into a big briefing tent to be segregated according to our follow-on destination. CSM and I were given a hard time of 0530 to be back at the same tent to load a bus taking us to Ali Al Salem (where we should of gone in the first place). Since it was so late it wasn't even worth trying to get a tent to sleep for an hour. So we went to the 24-hour Starbucks for coffee. Then we dutifully reported back to the briefing tent. Shortly afterward we loaded another bus for another hour-long drive. Around 0800 on September 8th we arrived at Ali Al Salem in the middle of a howling sandstorm and were ushered into another tent.

Ali Al Salem had changed a bit since 2011, which was the last time I was there. The big tent city was now gone. Either that or we were in a completely differenct part of the base than I was used to. Regardless, we were put on lockdown in our tent and had to sit and wait. All the while we were wondering if our tent would survive the sandstorm raging outside. The AC in the tent wasn't working well and as the sun rose higher in the sky the temperature began to soar. I tried to get some sleep by laying across three or four padded chairs. That proved futile. The only food we were offered was MRE's. It was yet another miserable experience courtesy of Kuwait. We've been at this war for over ten years now but the experience of flying through Kuwait seemed even worse now than ever. Once again, the best part of Kuwait was having it in the rear-view mirror. At around 1530 we were finally loaded onto an awaiting C17 transport that was headed to Kandahar first and then on to Bagram. Since there were also cargo pallets that needed to be loaded as well, it was around three hours later before we finally took off. In the meantime, there were a lot of people taking potty breaks on the lone bathroom inside the cargo hold. Sleep was hard to come by. Finally around 1830 we were airborne and on our way to Afghanistan.

Our first stop was Kandahar. About half the passengers onboard got off, as well as a couple of the cargo pallets. All the while, CSM and I sat and waited. A short time later about thirty or so new passengers boarded followed by another cargo pallet. After around an hour on the ground we took off again. At last we were in route to the final destination. At around 0100 on September 9th CSM and I walked off the C17 onto the tarmac of Joint Base Bagram. My feet were screaming at me, as the new boots I'd been issued in Fort Bliss were not working out at all. After hobbling across the tarmac to the passenger terminal, we were greeted by a couple of folks from the garrison. Strangely enough, the outgoing Commander and CSM were nowhere to be seen. Regardless, the two folks who met us helped us load our dufflebags and gear into a waiting vehicle for a short trip to our temporary billets. This is when another "bad form" moment surfaced. Rather than providing the incoming Commander and CSM individual billets they had crammed us into a tiny room divided into three smaller bunk spaces. I was too tired to protest. The bed awaited. It was just after 0200. Our journey to Afghanistan was complete at last. It had been fifty-plus hours of pain. Either that or I'm just starting to show my age.

 

CRC via San Antonio

After departing my parents' house on August 22nd I flew to El Paso, Texas. That's the home of Fort Bliss, which is the host installation for the CONUS Replacement Center (CRC). Soldiers who are deploying anywhere in the CENTCOM Area of Responsibility have to spend a week at this place in order to complete administrative inprocessing, medical screening, and theater-specific training. Even though I just went through the CRC one year prior (and had spent the past year IN the CENTCOM AOR) I was still required to do it all over again. But, fortunately, I would get a mild break in the action because I also had to spend a week on temporary duty for additional training requirements at Fort Sam Houston. This meant that I checked in with CRC to ensure my pay was properly processed and then on August 24th I flew to San Antonio. My Command Sergeant Major (CSM), who reported to CRC on the same day, accompanied me to San Antonio.

The folks at Army Installation Management Command (IMCOM) had made reservations for us to stay right on the famed San Antonio Riverwalk. This was quite a nice touch, as it offered us the opportunity to enjoy life in a great atmosphere. The training at nearby Fort Sam Houston was low-stress and dealt mainly with some of the nuances of being a garrison command team. It was primarily conducted in a classroom environment and the hours were short. This meant we had time to enjoy San Antonio. I even had the chance to pay a visit to the Alamo, which was a place I had always wanted to see. Essentially, I spent the week enjoying good food, live music, and a festive environment. While the Riverwalk is a bit touristy, I will admit that I enjoyed the place and will visit again. The training was, essentially, just a familiarization event but worthwile given the location. CSM and I enjoyed the week. But it ended rather quickly and on August 30th we returned to Fort Bliss.

CRC can't ever figure out the best way to do anything. Even after twelve years of war a Soldier reporting to CRC has no idea what to expect. Some things about CRC are constant - medical screening, administrative processing, and weapons qualification. But some aspects change as often as the wind blows. For this iteration of CRC, we would be treated like children who required adult supervision. We were immediately informed that we could not drink alcohol, were not permitted to have a rental car or personal vehicle, were not authorized to go off-post for any reason, and that we could not have any off-duty fun of any kind. Those are such encouraging rules to slap on men and women who are a few days short of spending the next year in a combat zone. But regardless of what protests any of us may have had, those were the rules and we would have to abide by them.

As for the training, much of it is nothing more than a haze requirement to keep us busy for the whole week. A prime example is that everyone is required to complete around 15 or so online courses just so you can get the training certificates. Never mind that only one or two of these courses are an Army annual requirement, we still have to complete them. So for the third (or more) time in the past few years I found myself spending hours in front of a computer terminal completing courses I had already done multiple times. The sad thing is that nobody in the computer lab was really learning anything. We were just going through the motions so we could get the certificates checked off our training paperwork. Some of the Soldiers in my latest iteration of CRC were still completing these course as late as the day prior to our flight. The rest of CRC was like a broken record for me. I think this was the fourth or fifth time I'd gone through the process at Fort Bliss. In the process I got my annual anthrax booster shot, which hurts like hell. This time around the joy of a typhoid and smallpox booster joined in on the fun. I can't say CRC is a fun place. The best part of the week is when it's over. CRC is always best in the rear-view mirror. But I will say that Fort Bliss has the nicest PX I've ever seen. That's the one positive I can put on the week.

On the morning of September 6th we loaded up our dufflebags, drew our weapons from the arms room, and boarded the bus for the airfield. It was time to say goodbye to the United States again. An arduous marathon of travel awaited us that would find CSM and me arriving in Bagram, Afghanistan.

So here I go again....

My Mom cried when I left. It's been over ten years since my first deployment back in 2003. Since then I've been to Iraq four times, once to Liberia, and, most recently, spent a year in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. All told I believe I've spent 42 months so far in combat zones and a further twelve in Saudi Arabia. This time I'm off to a place called Joint Base Bagram, Afghanistan. It's the largest coalition base in the country and is a central cog in a war that has been ongoing for twelve years. I'm sure my Mom was upset when I've departed on previous deployments. But this time she cried. I promised her this would be the last one. This time around I'll be gone for a year.

So what is it that has motivated me to take on yet another deployment? The past year in Saudi Arabia was good. It was a great assignment. I'd consider service there one of the best kept secrets going. Life was good, work was easy, we could drink, there were no 24-hour operations, and travel to nearby countries was a snap. I lived at a place called Eskan Village, which is just south of Riyadh. I had my own fully-furnished villa. Yes, life was great. I had intended to extend my tour there an additional year. From an outsider's view, I must be out of my mind to leave there for Afghanistan. Hell, just a month ago I was enjoying a fabulous four-day weekend in Dubai. So what could have possibly triggered me to leave such a relaxed environment for a combat zone? Very simple. I was selected for another command. In my profession, at my level of rank, you simply don't turn down a command. But I must admit that I accepted my new assignment with a heavy heart. It was a tearful departure when I departed Saudi Arabia last month. At the same time, I departed with a bit of excitement at my challenge ahead. And I know from experience that command is where it's at. For the next year I'll be the commanding the garrison at the largest base in Afghanistan. It will most likely be my greatest challenge.

I departed Saudi Arabia on August 19th on my way to the CONUS Replacement Center, Fort Bliss, Texas. It seemed really ridiculous leaving the CENTCOM Area of Operations to go through the exact same training at CRC I just did a year ago. Anyway, I programmed in a couple of days leave back in the beautiful mountains of North Carolina so I could visit with my parents. I'm so glad I did. My lovely daughter and granddaughter were there visiting at the same time, which made for a wonderful two days. But I could tell the mood was a little more somber this time around. I sense my family is growing very weary of my continual deployments. My parents aren't getting any younger and neither am I. The couple of days at home flew by. I shared a lot of personal updates with my parents and caught up with my Dad for some of his valuable professional wisdom. But in private with my Mom I also did something I've never done prior to heading off to war. I broke down and cried a bit too. It just isn't easy to leave people you love behind. It is gut-wrenching. The separation of a deployment is almost absolute. It is good that my work load for the next year will be very heavy because it will help the time go by quickly.

On August 22nd I walked out on the porch. My rental car was packed. It was time to go - again. My Mom cried. I promised my parents this would be the last time. With that I departed, once again on my way to the sound of the guns.