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.