100 days and counting down

There are times here when it seems as though time stands still. Then other moments when there isn’t enough time in the day to tackle everything we are attempting to accomplish. Somewhere in the middle of this time contradiction is the methodical march of the calendar. It moves to the steady drumbeat of my routine of meetings, Bagram circulation, phone calls, random IDF, eating, working out, and catching a few precious moments of sleep. Today was my 265th of this tour in Afghanistan. There are 100 days and counting down to go. So long as I keep my promise to my Mom – and I will – the logic states that the next 100 days will be the last I ever spend deployed in harm’s way. Looking back on my adventures of the past eleven years, which have all had a story of their own, I can add the cumulative months and years of running to the sound of the guns. When my Afghanistan journey ends in September I will have spent 61 months on various tours. That’s five years with a month to spare. Put another way, that’s 1,856 days enjoying the lovely scenery of the Tigris and Euphrates in Iraq, living here in the shadow of the Hindu Kush, experiencing the deep jungles of Liberia, and sizzling in the blistering Kuwaiti sun. What a decade it’s been. Now I just need to make it through these final 100 days. I’ve certainly got enough on my plate to keep me occupied for that time. None of what I’ve said is meant to indicate I’m also leaving the Army – to the contrary. But my body and my mind are telling me day and night that the novelty of this deployment stuff wore off a long time ago. It’s time to admit that I’ve done my part and move on.

Bagram continues to be the preeminent, dominating, all-consuming entity it always has been. But strangely enough, the battlefield lately seems to be within the perimeter walls. Whereas just a couple of months ago my command was almost going it alone in our efforts to reduce this base, nowadays several entities have cast their lot and are clamoring for the credit of taming Bagram. The problem is that none of them want to accept that any work has been done up to now. And to make that assumption is both incorrect and insulting to efforts of so many people who have toiled for so long to bring Bagram to where it is now. The base is only a fraction of what it was back in September when I arrived. It most certainly didn’t happen overnight. But to the late-comers to this race to an enduring Bagram, the work has only just begun. Regardless, the light is at the end of the tunnel. The work is getting done. When all is said and done I’m not really hung up on who gets credit, just so long as we accomplish our mission.

In the midst of all the base reduction we were able to finally give something back to the tenants of Bagram. They’ve been relocated, endured reduced menus in the DFACs, closure of services they are so fond of, and living a much more “expeditionary” existence. Yesterday we were able to open the new main PX, which will serve the base through the end of 2015. I was invited by the AAFES manager to speak at the grand opening and then had the honor of cutting the ribbon signaling the PX was open for business. A huge crowd was eagerly waiting. I kept my words short and provided ample praise to the AAFES personnel. Then I let everyone know that this facility was for them. They poured in as the doors opened. Smiles were abundant. Many people came up to thank me for the occasion. I deferred praise to others and reminded them that the new facility was for them. I believe it was one of the best days I’ve spent on this deployment. For a few short hours I was in a place where everyone was happy and nobody was complaining or making demands. Then I returned to work.

27 Years Ago Today

May 27, 1987. It was a cool, overcast day at West Point. Intermittent rain was falling, which created a lot of consternation. That day, 27 years ago today, I joined my classmates for our final formation as Cadets. It was the day the United States Military Academy’s Class of ’87, “Our Country We Strengthen”, graduated after just over four years together at our “Rock bound Highland Home”. We transitioned that day from Cadet Grey to Army Blue as we raised our right hands and took the commissioning oath as Second Lieutenants in the United States Army. It is amazing to think that it was 27 years ago. Time certainly flies. As I reflect back, I recall that our biggest worry that day was that the rain would force our graduation ceremony indoors. That was something no class had needed to do in many years. The ceremony is traditionally held in Michie Stadium, which is the home of Army Football (we won the Commander-in-Chief’s Trophy that year). The outdoor football stadium had plenty of room for all of our family and friends who had come from such great distances to be present. If we had to move the ceremony inside Eisenhower Hall it would have limited the seating and forced many to miss the ceremony. So my classmates and I prayed to Odin, the legendary Cadet god of weather, to restrain the rain. The irony being that we had asked Odin so many times in our four years to bring bad weather to cancel parades and other formations. Fortunately, the rain held. We had the ceremony outdoors. General Wickham was the speaker, which was an inside joke for Class of ’87 because he had already spoken to us so many times before. One by one our names were called. We crossed the stage and received our diplomas. Finally, at the end of it all, came the words we had waited so long to hear, “Class of ’87, DISMISSED!” A thousand white uniform hats sailed into the air as we hugged each other, our family members, and friends. We were wearing our Full Dress Grey over White uniforms for the final time. Later that day the sun came out and the temperature warmed greatly. Our family members pinned the Lieutenant bars on our Army Green Class A uniforms. Our chapter at West Point was coming to a close and the next phase of our lives – one of service to country – had begun. No matter what happened from this point on, the West Point Class of ’87 had been forged through the shared experience of what we now always remember as among the best four years of our lives. We are forever brothers and sisters, best friends for life, and bonded in a way few have the opportunity to experience. Our Country We Strengthen! ’87!

I salute all of my classmates today. Many continue to serve our Army. Some have risen to the General Officer ranks. Most have moved on to the private sector. But what I love about my classmates is that they all continue to serve their country, communities, and their families. They are and always have been the best of the best. Like fine wine we have all aged well. We will always remember each other as the raw Cadets we once were.

Today’s anniversary comes at an appropriate time, as it is right on the heels of Memorial Day Weekend.  We had already taken time to honor and remember those who had paid the ultimate sacrifice serving our great Nation. Several members of my class are among those who’ve laid that price down on the altar of Freedom. Their memories will never fade with us. Here in Bagram we had a surprise visit from the President. Around 3,000 of us had gathered in one of the large C130 hangars to hear Country Music star Brad Paisley perform. Some of us, like me, knew what was happening. But a lot of people did not know and it was a huge surprise when the President came out on stage and gave his talk. Afterward, he shook hands with everyone who wanted to meet him. It was a really good event and very fitting tribute to so many of our Nation’s finest who are still making such a sacrifice here in Afghanistan.

I am humbled to serve alongside so many heroes. And I am still incredulous and ever thankful to be a member of West Point’s Class of ’87. 27 years and counting! We’ve got so many good years of service to give.

Side Note:  For those unfamiliar with traditions of West Point I just wanted to explain that Odin in no way is meant to circumvent our true faith. West Point Cadets and Alumni are some of the most spiritual testaments of faith and come from all religions. The “weather god” Odin is a West Point tradition started many years ago – long before Class of ’87. The tradition is that Odin is the Norse God who looks over the weather at West Point. Parades are frequently held at the Academy and while they look great from the stands they are not necessarily fun to be in. Therefore, on parade days Cadets are known to follow tradition and ask Odin to bring bad weather to cancel the parade. It didn’t always work but Cadets will do anything to grab a nap after last class instead of hitting The Plain for a parade.

R&R Zen can only last for so long around here...

Bagram can be compared to the giant planet-eating spacecraft in the classic Star Trek episode “The Doomsday Machine”. It is an unrelenting, unforgiving complexity of challenges that continually find a way to eat at you until it swallows you and spits your remains out the other end. I liken my recent R&R as having charged my deflector shields to the point that I could keep Bagram at a distance. I’ve been calling it my “R&R Zen”. But just like the starships Enterprise and Constellation battling the Doomsday Machine, my deflector shields of R&R Zen can only take so many hits from Bagram before they are depleted. It’s been exactly two weeks since I departed Thailand. My Zen is barely holding on. Just as Thailand has now spiraled into martial law, my R&R aura has been pulled back to Bagram reality. This place is an untamable beast of our own making. The best I can do is keep it caged. Almost everything we do here is reaction to the latest emergency. It’s all we can keep up with at times. But unlike Nigel the farmer tour guide on the banks of Lake Wakatipu, who I met visiting Queenstown on the South Island of New Zealand, I cannot simply smirk and avoid answering questions when asked. For reference, Nigel was telling us all about his red deer buck, who had a giant rack of antlers. The buck was constantly dragging his rack along the fence, which was nothing more than chicken wire. I asked Nigel how often he had to repair the fence and rather than answering my question he went off on a tangent about red deer antlers, their new growth each year, and antler nerve endings. All the while the smirk never left his face. I can’t give non-answers like Nigel did for me. When I am asked about the proverbial fence that I use to cage Bagram I have to be prepared to give a straight answer. There are a lot of general officers who take great interest in asking me lots of questions about Bagram. But we keep the place in order. The recent price of doing so has been the destruction of my R&R Zen.

It has now been 14 days since my last beer. There are 110 days until I reach 365 boots on the ground. I can actually see light at the end of the tunnel. We have come a long way since last September and it is really beginning to show on Bagram. To be honest, I think my team and I have smacked Bagram upside the head so many times that it finally blinked. That’s progress. We’re going to make it.

The Taliban pay tribute to The Doors

It’s official. Fighting season has returned. Those crazy Taliban even announced the date it was to begin anew – May 12th. But they took it even one step further. The Taliban used their public relations ploy of announcing the start of fighting season to also pay homage to Jim Morrison and The Doors. Who would’ve ever thought that those bearded guys with their AK47 rifles and RPG-7 rocket launchers were closet 60’s rock fans? Well their secret is out now. They revealed their love for The Doors by actually giving a name to this year’s fighting season – “Khaibar”, which translates to “The End”. Now every time we get an IDF on Bagram I will be thinking of the opening sequence of the movie “Apocalypse Now” and Jim Morrison’s voice will be the earworm playing in my head. Our local Taliban wasted no time either once the official announcement was over. Just that evening we received twelve rockets. One came around 2000. It missed and the “all clear” came very soon afterward. Then at 0300 on the morning of 13 May the alarm sounded again. “Incoming! Incoming! Incoming!” sounded over the warning system repeatedly. Soon after, the C-RAMs began sending their streams of red 20 millimeter tracers arching across the night sky. I wiped the cobwebs from my eyes, muttered a few obscenities at our enemy, and pulled my uniform back on. Just as I stepped outside on my way to my HQ the little shards of C-RAM shrapnel began to rain down on my billets. I yelled at some folks milling about watching the light show to “get the f*&k in the bunker!” I’m irritable when awakened abruptly under these circumstances so early in the morning. Then I sprinted over to my HQ to monitor our emergency response. Eleven rockets had been launched over a ten minute time span. Thank God we all emerged unscathed, albeit cranky and tired due the sleep disruption. The entire time this was going on the haunting voice of Jim Morrison sang “Khaibar” in my head. We’ve got all summer to go. I’ll be completely sick of The Doors by then if the pace is like this for the remainder of my tour. I’m thankful the Taliban didn’t choose a song by Radiohead to immortalize because I’d be really pissed if by the end of summer I was sick of their music.

Fortunately, it’s been very quiet since that night. I’m sure there will be more IDF. It’s as inevitable as sunshine around here. At least those crazy Taliban gave us the official word that the war is back on. I hate those stupid guys.

Returning from R&R

The “days since I last had a beer” count has now been officially reset. The new count is two days. That’s because I had a beer on my flight out of Bangkok at the conclusion of my R&R. My leave was fabulous. The intent of R&R is to allow someone like me to completely unwind, recharge the batteries, forget about work, and come back relaxed and refreshed. Two weeks in Thailand did exactly that for me.  Prior to departing I told my Deputy and CSM that I would be “off the net” and to not contact me unless it was an absolute emergency. I did not think about work at all from the time I departed until the moment I returned to Bagram. As for my thoughts on Thailand? My head is still there. If you haven’t put a trip to Thailand on your bucket list then what are you waiting for?  My trip included three nights in Bangkok, four in Patong, one on Ko Phi Phi, four in Ko Samui, and four in Pattaya City.  I can’t describe the magnificent beauty, the mix of third-world grittiness, or the pure charm of the tropics. You just have to see them for yourself. My only advice is avoid Bangkok altogether. It is a pretty boring city. Everything else is off the hook and each for its own unique way. I’ll go back.

Fortunately, there were no major issues awaiting me upon my return. I did come back to find almost 500 emails in my inboxes. It took me around three straight hours to sort through them all. But my Garrison team did an incredible job while I was away. They never skipped a beat. My complete trust in them paid off handsomely – they got a lot of stuff done and, at the same time, I got to focus on me for two weeks of relaxation. Their hard work while I was away also makes it much easier for me to transition back from leave into my commander mode.

I did have a pleasant surprise waiting me when I got back to Bagram. The Polish Contingent – Task Force White Eagle – presented my CSM and me the Polish Star of Afghanistan. This is an award bestowed to members of the Polish military who served honorably in Afghanistan and the certificate is signed personally by the Polish President, Bronislaw Komorowski. It was an incredible honor and another moment when I reflect on the very unique privilege it is to serve our Nation’s military during wartime. I’ll drink a toast to my Polish counterparts as soon as I can. That would be in four months based on my newly reset “days without a beer” count. But I won’t forget.