Seeing The Sights & The Road Back

Saturday March 21, 2009

(Facebook message between my daughter Morgan and me)

I'm flying out tonight to visit a couple of forward operating bases so you may not hear from me for a while. Love ya always, Dad.

♥ love you daddy ♥   Morgan

I love you to sweetheart. I'm away from the base for a while so I'm not on here much. I'll chat with you soon, Dad

Wednesday  March  25, 2009

Yesterday I trained four of the NCOs.   Without that, they would not be able enter the control area to supervise their troops.  I had to conduct the class after hours (1800) since they were all busy during the day. 

Today I went to the front gate (ECP) to look around and watch the trainees.  An Afghan interpreter was there.  He asked me if I wanted tea but I pretended not to hear him.  When I looked at him he asked me again.  I said “No thank you.”  We started chatting.  He asked me what I thought of his country.  I told him it was very beautiful like my home in Colorado.  He was pleased and said “Thank you” with a big smile on his face.    I told him his country is a jewel.   Then I said “It’s a shame that some of the people cannot live peacefully.  America doesn’t want to be here.  If we could be sure that people from here would no longer attack America, we would leave.”  He just smiled but I don’t think he believed that. I asked him what language the locals speak.  He said “Pashtu.”  I told him I’d like to lean Pashtu but I think he thought I said that I knew Pashtu.  He said excitedly, “I spoke to you three times in Pashtu.  Why didn’t you answer?  I lied pointing to my right ear and said “I don’t hear well.”  Oh I’m sorry he said sincerely.  

I asked him if he was from around here and he said he was from about 60 miles north.  We talked about the walls around the houses nearby.  He said they were for privacy to hide their women and for protection.  He asked me how long I’ve been here.  I answered, “Not long. I just came here to look.”  Then he asked me what my job was.  I answered “To look.”  “Ah, Interrogator” he said.  I didn’t correct him.  I’m not supposed to talk about what I do, especially to local nationals.

Thursday  March  26, 2009

Yesterday I flew into FOB Orgun-E from FOB Sharana.  I’d been in Sharana helping to train the new crew that flew in 2 weeks before.  I stayed in a tent with three other guys in our crew, an Army Captain and his interpretor and a group of “jingle pilots.”  That’s what they call the helicopter pilots that fly for Afghanistan.  They are mostly Turkish and Russian with a few Afghans included in the mix.  There was some tension between us.  Americans don’t like them because they smell like sweat and alcohol and won’t speak English, even if they know how.



"Jingle Air"


 

I’m allergic as hell to something up here (7500 feet above sea level) and my nose is running like a faucet.  I took some antihistamine and an Actifed to dry it up.  Now I’m just waiting for it to take effect.

11:30 am – I finished lunch and stopped by the HLZ to check on out-bound flights to Salerno.  The HLZ NCO said there was a flight waiting to go but was on weather hold until 1300.  He told me to check back then.  As we were walking out I noticed that his crew had chem-lights dumped on the floor to count and sort.  I asked him “What does it take to get a couple of those chem-lights?”

He thought about it then reached down, grabbed four blue ones and handed them to me. “Thanks” I said.  “These will come in handy.”  Later when I returned to check on the weather hold, I gave him a new pair of safety sun glasses.  He said “What have we got here?”  “Nothing special.  Just a pair of sun glasses to show my appreciation.”  “Thanks again” he replied.  Just let me know if you need anymore.  We don’t use them much around here.”  “Well I use the hell out of them” I replied.  Some bases only have porta-Johns and a chem-light helps keep things clean; If you know what I mean?” 

8:32 pm - its 12:03 pm on the east coast of the United States.  The FOB is firing artillery over the mountain toward one of our COBs.  I don’t know the exact meaning of COB but its small camp about 5-10 miles over the mountains from where we are.  It just started raining and thundering. I hope the rain makes it too miserable for the Hodgies to continue attacking our COB.  I’m watching Apollo 13 the movie.  When that happened I think I was in eighth grade in Groton Connecticut. 

The COB and Pakistan is over that mountain

Friday  March  27, 2009

I’m in Selarno now.  It was about the only thing flying today.  All other destinations in Southern Afghanistan are socked in due to weather; mostly rain and sleet.  As I was getting settled in, I began to think about a 36 year old woman that I was dating when I left the states.  It wasn’t serious, mostly sex and my pay check (she liked that I had a decent job).  She pulled away from me when I told her that I was going to Afghanistan.  She said that “it’s like you are dying or something.”  I guess that means no future for us, at least not the immediate future.  I understand how she feels.  I see that a lot out here; Girl friends and wives dumping guys in favor of a steady partner to sleep and live with.  My mother waited 4 years for my Dad to return from World War II.  I wonder what happened to that kind of love and loyalty.  Have we really changed that much? 

Are we really that shallow?  America is my home and I love her, but it’s people don’t have a clue.  They blindly live out their lives believing that “Heroes” new episode matters.  I guess it’s that naiveté that makes her the country that I love.

We had Steak and lobster tonight at the chow hall.  I appreciate the gesture, but cooking that much food at once takes the flavor out of it.  

9:20 pm - Mortars just flew in.  Got to go

9:30pm – It’s already over.  It was just three rounds.  The Apaches are up and looking but probably won’t find anything.  Things are heating up all over the country.  Two reasons:  1^st - New brigades just rotated in and the Hodgies will test them until they know what they can get away with.  2^nd – it’s getting warmer. 

It’s strange.  The attack was surreal.  We listened and went back to what we were doing when we figured out that they dropped 100 or so yards away.  Tonight I’ll sleep in my clothes.  I guess in that way the Hodgies scored a small victory.

Monday  March  30, 2009

(email)

Dear Patty and John,

 

I've attached a picture from a small FOB I just got back from.  It's a reminder to me that as calm as everything seems most of the time, this isn't a game.

Yesterday I caught a Blackwater flight back to Bagram.  It was a lucky break since I was 50^th on the waiting list.  The small Swiss plane the Blackwater pilots fly dropped onto the runway unannounced with a load of mail. 

This a Blackwater plane about to leave Salerno

All but me and an Army chopper pilot on the waiting list had left the terminal for lunch or other pursuits.  I jumped at the chance rushing to get my battle gear on and grab my backpack.  You don’t have to wear battle gear on the Blackwater flights but it’s easier to wear it to the plane then carry it.  We helped them load/unload mail them hopped aboard.  The pilot wanted to fly at 16000 ft instead of skimming the mountains but the chopper pilot and I didn’t have oxygen packs.  The pilot chose the lower flight path.  We all would have preferred flying higher but there was no other choice.

I had intended to start catching up on paperwork today but I fell dead asleep after lunch and didn’t wake up until 5:30pm.  I didn’t realize I was that tired.  I’ve spent the last few hours listening to Irish music and reading “SSN” by Tom Clancy.  I’ll do laundry later after everyone has gone to bed.  There will be fewer people in the laundry tent so I’ll be able to finish quickly.

Before I went out on my trip I had a dream about Dad.  I was petting and feeding a yellow lab when he showed up. He looked old and tired; more tired than I ever remember seeing him when he was alive.  He was wearing khaki pants and a light flannel shirt.  I said, “Dad I just got promoted.”  He sadly nodded and said, “I know.”  Then I woke up.  Like the last dream I had about him, when I woke up I could smell Old Spice and cigarettes.  He hasn’t appeared to me since shortly after he died.  I put it out of mind and went on the trip south to FOBs near the Pakistan border.  I got shelled once but nothing serious.   Next week I have to go to another series of bases.  One outpost is guarding the Pakistan border.  It gets shelled 2-3 times per day.   I don’t want to die here.  I just want to get on my feet then come home and retire; God willing.  I’ll stay in touch as much as possible.

Love ya, Jim

Tuesday  March  31, 2009

(email from my sister Patty)

Hi Jim,

Am still in my work out clothes from this morning. Took my old truck in for an inspection, just realized tomorrow is the 31st:) Though it was a good idea as I was driving it the last year the inspection was overdue. Glad you are taking care of yourself, always admired Maverick on tv, do you remember all the old shows? Didn't remember if you did since you are younger. 

I went and got my chain saw and scheduled the guy to come and pick up my riding lawnmower for servicing. Lots of engines seem to be having trouble with the "new" gas. It has been raining here since I got back from Canada expect for a day or two here and there. I usually like to get some of the yard work done in the winter because it is not so hot and no mosquitoes but not this year with all the rain. Will just have to try and get a bunch done now that it "appears" to be settling down.

I got a Mac book when I was in Canada. Their dollar is .80 to ours so it was a 20% savings and my computer was driving me nuts. Taking awhile to get used to it but I do like it. 

A friend bought one yesterday and so she came over for a couple hours as we went thru some things together.  

Guess I should shut this thing off and do a bit of yard work.....I could play with this computer all day and almost have. 

Take care please, keep visualizing Colorado. 

Love you Jimmy,

Patty



Thursday  April  2, 2009

(email from my brother John)

Hey Jim,

Just got your picture...I don't check this account everyday so sorry for the late response.

Hope everything is going well.  If you send me your address, I'll send you some goodies....got bocu books...SSN was a good one...a little too close to home for some of the sub drivers...we have enough problems with the Russian diesel electric boats without giving tactics away.  China and Iran have both purchased these boats and they are very quiet. 

Be Safe...Love Ya
John

(my email reply)

Thanks John,

 Here's my address. (deleted)

The Army provides nearly everything I need except perhaps generic Aleve.  A bottle from Wal-Mart would be very useful to help keep the swelling in my knees down.  If you run into any chem-lites those are great for the porta-jons at night when the FOBs are blacked out.

The Army is supposed to be this great new organization with great people; the best ever.  Well the people may be the best ever but the system is still screwed up.  I wonder what it was like in the 60s & 70s when we were in the military. 

There are more Navy personnel here than I expected.  The Army doesn't have the large number of high-tech people that the Navy does.  With the recent move to more unified commands a lot of sailors get sucked into this ground war.  I'm just glad none of our kids are in the military.

Jim

Saturday  April 4, 2009

(email from John)

Roger that...we served and didn't know any better...as today you do what you can with what you have...SOS.  The old Navy saying..."We've done so much, with so little, for so long, that we can now do anything with nothing" 

I'll get some goodies together and post them this week.  Let me know if your need anything else.   Socks (they didn't have the moisture wicking type in those days), foot powder and WD-40 were hot items for my buddies in Nam.  Let me know if your unit needs anything as well.

Love Ya....be safe.

PS  You should consider reviving your photo skills...you’re very good at it.

John

___

I ordered a coat of arms and ring set today.  It was $2000.  What the hell?  If I ever get a house of my own I’ll put it up.  If not I’ll pass it on to Sean.  I also ordered my house plans today.  What’s that quote, “A poor man can’t hide his money and a rich man is always pleading poverty.”  I guess I’m just another cliché.

Monday  April  6, 2009

A company will be submitting me for a job in Idaho today.  I’m fairly sure that I won’t get it, but it pays the same as being here without having to be here!  Yeah!   As a wise man once said, “We’ll see.”

Sunday  April  12, 2009

(Easter Sunday)

Things I no longer notice: 

-The Muslim religious singing coming from the Egyptian compound next door  

-The nearby mountains, (most of the time)

-The jet and chopper noise from the air field

-The length of my hair

Everyone is always thinking, waiting, wishing.  Most people keep it to themselves; others complain.  I avoid the complainers.  They just make it more difficult to be here.

The birds here mass along Disney Lane every night near sunset.  Thousands of birds fill the few evergreens and others sit on the ledges of buildings along the road.  It’s like some strange Alfred Hitchcock movie. 

I found out how the main street through the base got its name “Disney Lane”.  It’s not some clever geek thing or a statement about the strangeness of Bagram.  It was named after a soldier that died early in this war.

Things I miss:

-A shower and toilet in the same building where I live.

-Privacy

-The Sci-Fi Channel and NFL Network

-A decent internet connection

-Grocery stores

-Riding my motorcycle

-The intimacy of sex.

(email to the builder I’m working with to build my house)

Hi Joe,


Since today is Easter, a holiday, I thought it was appropriate to tell you about the "spirit" of the project.  The question probably crossed your mind, "Why?"  Why 76 acres? Why so remote? 


Well my family has been nomads since we arrived here from Ireland two generations ago.  We are spread all over the United States.  What would happen if something went wrong? Well this project and this house will be a safe haven for my family and the generations to come.  It is named after the movie and book Brigadoon.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brigadoon   It’s a place to come and survive well if the world turns to crap for anyone in my family.
Given that spirit, I’ve purchased a huge coat-of-arms complete with shield and swords to be placed in the foyer of the house.  The house itself must be able to keep my family safe even if the lights go out, the power grid drops offline, the propane supplies cease for whatever reason or there is no fire wood to heat the home.  That’s why I’ve place so much emphasis on radiant geothermal heat, on efficiency, on stability.  This home must survive me as my legacy to the Family.


Happy Easter Joe.  I wish you all the love and luck for you and your family on this holiday.


Sincerely,
Jim
(note:  Joe went out of business shortly after I returned to The USA)

The Road Back

Sunday  April  19, 2009

(03:00)

This week I flew to Sharana on my way back to FOB Orgun-E.  I spent 36 hours in Sharana waiting to catch a chopper to Orgun-E.  Friday night after waiting in the dark at the edge of the runway nearly two hours, 2 Chinooks dropped in to get us.  They always travel in pairs for security and redundancy. We need to do a training class here in OE to get the new command up and running with the equipment.  While I’m here I have to do an OIC briefing.  It’s a 15 minute brief/Q&A session with the CO of the FOB informing him of Army regulations and requirements for use of the system.  Most Army officers have no background in such matters and need to be briefed to help avoid safety and security problems.

At Sharana they put me up in a tent with 8-10 other guys.  Here at OE they give me my own room.  It’s a plywood cubicle more like a garden shed then a real room, but by Army war zone standards, it’s practically the Ritz Carleton.  I’ve had nothing to do since I arrived here; watching recorded TV shows I brought with me and staying up late to surf the net is the biggest part of my day; and of course, always thinking….

This is a blacked out base also. Tonight on my way to the MWR( The recreation hut) I found a door propped open to the outside.  I closed it.  I guess it’s been too quiet here for some of these soldiers to appreciate where they are.  An open door can be seen up to 20 miles away in the mountains.  It can be used as a reference point for Hodgies trying to setup a mortar or rocket launching position in the dark.  I’ve been mortared twice in two months.  I found out today that a soldier died in the attack in Bagram when I first got here.  I don’t want to be a victim of such an attack.  If I’m injured or die they’ll be no honor guard, no metals and no ceremony.  Just a metal box and customs tag to send me home.

Most of the time everyone, including me uses a small tactical light to illuminate their path at night.  It can’t be seen well at a distance but provides enough light to move.  I’ve been practicing my night vision.  I’ll step out and wait in the dark about 5 minutes.  Once my night vision has adapted and I can see shapes under the starlight, I begin walking slowly to my destination.  If I come upon someone I flash my tactical light for a second on the ground so they’ll know I’m there.   I’ve startled a few soldiers.  I’ve been practicing for a few weeks and it really helped when we flew in a few nights ago.  I’ve noticed I now walk as quietly as I can whether day or night.  I practice with all of my equipment; knife, light, helmet, Armor, gloves, etc., so I can deploy them in the dark with no lights.  It’s not that I’m fearful; I just want to be prepared for the unexpected.

(22:00)

I conducted the OIC briefing today.  Tomorrow I’ll conduct a training class.  Once the class is over I’ll have nothing to do for the next 3 days.  That’s when I start thinking.  It’s strange, but I surf the internet looking for toys; amplifiers, speakers, DJ equipment; computers to run my business with.  There is something about the DJ work that I’m drawn to.  Creativity, and acknowledgement; I like that. 

During those endless boring hours that fill the days for the deployed military (or their civilian support group) I begin thinking again.  I have a suppressed list of things I want, and another list of things I need to accomplish to achieve financial and personal security.  The poor boy in me urges me to spend while the rich boy in me says “SAVE”.  Wants and needs.  In the long hours alone here in Afghanistan the two tend to merge and priorities become lost or hidden.  It’s difficult to be completely rational about it, so I’ll be passionate.  I swear I’ll stay here as long as it takes to purge myself of the poor boy shit and make my wants irrelevant.   Brigadoon must happen and it is up to me alone.

Monday  April  20, 2009

(email to John)

Hi John,

Every day I'm here I'm reminded of what I am not; not young - I almost twice the age of almost everyone here; not a soldier - I have eyes and instincts but few combat skills; not bonded - I've always been alone. I've frightened some people, confused or put-off others. I walk around here in the pitch black practicing my night vision skills and walking as quietly as possible even on rocks. I practice with my left hand (I'm right handed) quietly drawing my knife and opening it any where especially in the dark. They won't let me carry a gun, but that's not a problem. Every soldier here carries a firearm and I know who around me has what if push comes to it. I check my supplies, my gear and know where it is in my room/tent with the lights out.

I guess I'm a freak. The kids here don't seem to get it. They leave open lighted doors and windows as if they were safe back in the states. They stomp around in the dark as if they are the only ones out here.  I've been here 2 months and been mortared twice. For some of these kids, it's been so quiet they've let their guard down and they think I'm a crazy old man.

One last thing I'm not; I'm not crazy.

I miss you John. I've always missed you.

Love, Jimmy 

Tuesday  April  21, 2009

(email from John)

You are in one of those places where you have to listen to your inner-self....but you also have to listen to those around you. It may sound curious to you, but I am not bonded either. I do not have one close friend. Carl was my closest friend growing up, but I realized early on that we were on different pages. His family was upset that I did not attend his funeral when he passed last Christmas, but my answer was that I should have come to see him when he was alive. I have always been one step ahead or behind everyone else. I think this is the main reason for my success, a different view of the world....one without judgment or expectation for anyone but myself. It's not that I'm not disappointed at times, but I try not assign "good" or "bad" to different actions...they are just that ...different than what I would do. Helps in not transferring or projecting bad internal images to other people.

I have worked with many special operations guys and the one thing they are is bonded. They have to be to do what they do....protect each other to the death. They have always respected my skills as a diver (not many people on this earth who can look or "feel" a propeller and tell if it will have signature). They have covered my ass (my dive team) cause it was their assignment. These kids have the same responsibility for you. They may not understand what you do...don't have too....but they have to respect your assignment in order to carry out theirs...covering your ass. If you hit most of them in the head with an axe, pussies and mag wheels would fly out. That's what young guys think about. Try to remember and relate. Listen to them, their mortality is an abstract thought....something that happens to someone else. Their nonchalance is a cover for the fear that they are not dealing with. Your perspective is different based on your experience and it can help them deal with their fears.

You have to be aware that we Kennedy's project strength, people feel it when you come into a room. It scares some, pisses off others, that's their problem. Be who you are, but try to help these guys (kids) deal with who they are.....probably very different from the way they really feel. Love ya very much....be good.

John

(email reply to John)

John,

I've always remembered something you said to me when I was a teenager; "Depend on yourself. Everything else is gravy." When alone with my thoughts I'm a teary-eyed sentimentalist that sees mutliple layers in everything, especially old John Wayne movies. In my profession I'm rational to a fault. I see the world as if I'm not really apart of it and can feel shifts before I understand what they are. I've been cold, calm and methodical. Everything I've tried I've been good at but something has been missing. When I made Chief in the Navy I thought "This it it! I've arrived." But I felt empty, so I left. That's happened over and over again until now I'm old, broke and here.  My financial and career opportunities are growing rapidly so it won't remain that way. I simply have to stay the course.

I've changed here John. I'm no longer what I do. When I come home I'll eventually retire to my mountain desert house as the old Gringo in my small Colorado village. My house will be grid tied but it won't need the grid to operate. I'll always have a warm house, food (if you like elk meat) and water on the table, and an open door for my family and theirs, especially when they are in need. That's me. That's my purpose in this life. I only hope God will send to me a woman I can love and trust to share it.

In a few days, I may be out of touch for a while. We'll see. I'll write when I can.

Jim

Tuesday  April  28, 2009

I gave notice to quit today.  I had a long conversation with the project manager Frank and Mike my Iraq counterpart. The program here is screwed up, due mostly to Frank’s mismanagement and he is trying to avoid dealing with the problem.  Logistics here are a crucial factor.  Nothing moves if the weather is bad, or the pilots even think it may be bad. When a flight does go out, mail and cargo have first priority, military next and lastly civilian contractors.  After a prolonged (2-10 days) stretch of nothing flying, people and cargo are stacked up waiting to travel.  It can take days or even weeks to get where I need to go. 

I have 26 different locations at mostly small FOBs that have our equipment.  All of those sites need calibrated equipment and regular change-outs.  Each FOB is supposed to handle their own equipment program, submitting a request to Redstone Arsenal for equipment to be sent directly to them. Somehow, my Program Manager has taken over equipment issue for the entire country.  Because of the logistics problems, they usually receive an intial issue when we train them and nothing more until they rotate out of the country 12 months later.  This is due to a shortage in man-power.  Frank pulled my predisessor off his duties and assigned him to do Field Engineer work.  With the emphasis on field support, little things like paperwork were mostly ignored.  When it was completed, it was done incorrectly and dropped into a pile or piles to be sorted out later.  The result, stacks of paperwork that rarely matched reality. 

When I arrived, I began setting each FOB up as the program was designed.  They were to receive their equipment via mail each quarter.  That seemed to make sense since mail moves more reliably than people.  It’s the only chance they have to operate as regulations required.  Frank saw this as a loss of control.  If he controlled equipment issue and use, the Army would be dependent on us to operate and thereby ensure the contract.  I didn’t care if the Army was dependant on us, I wanted the program to actually function; to have some chance of success.  

I thought about it and decided to go home.  I can’t be here in a war zone, deprived of all the comforts of home with no chance of success.  Support issues are only a concern to the Army during an inspection and then only if someone is about to fry.  When the division deployed they simply ignored the fact that federal law and the Army required them to have an trained officer here to run this program. Without an Army Officer assigned, Frank simply stepped in and took over the Army responsibilities.  He gave no thought to the manpower required or that no soldier would take orders from a civilian.  The Army simply ignored the Program and Frank.  Frank is ex-Army.  Most of the guys here are ex-Army.  This crap is normal operational procedure to them.  To many of them, it makes sense since it’s all they’ve know most of their adult life.   Silly me; I actually expected to do my job.  The program is dysfunctional and will continue to be so unless or until the Army steps in.  We are supposed to support them, not relieve them. I made my report through channels as required.  The Army will probably never see a copy  The soldiers need this equipment. It will save lives so I won't push the issue.  I have to move on.  I can’t be responsible for this program. 

P.S.  My contract required that I give 30 days notice before leaving.  I spent the next 30 days trying to clear up or finish paperwork and waiting for my relief to arrive so that I could brief him.  I stayed at Bagram airfield.  I saw no need to risk flying to a FOB with all the risks that entailed.  It was a VERY long 30 days.  I ate, worked out and read books.  May 24 2009 I finally departed Bagram for Al Udeid Air Force base in Doha, Qatar.  I stayed there three days before catching a 22 hour flight to Houston Texas.  I missed my connecting flight to South Carolina and had to stay over-night at a Hotel.  I arrived back in South Carolina May 28, 2009 almost exactly three months after I departed.  Looking back, I realize that I should not have gone to Afghanistan.  It would be easier to believe that we need to be there.  As of September 2009, they were still trying to get someone to go to Afghanistan as my replacement.

Epilogue, Christmas 2010

A man I've known for almost five years unexpectedly spent a few revealing minutes with me a couple days ago. He’s an Iraq war veteran.  We talked about war and coming home. He won't own a gun because he doesn't trust himself to not blow his head off. He isn't a pussy or one who often feels sorry for himself but I saw a familiar look in his eyes.

The conversation ended when neither one of us could bear to say another word for fear of exposing more than we wished to share. Life is a paradox. We learn to be happy and sad and not make it mean too much. God blessed us with love, laughter and crying.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

Tourists like me walk through a war zone and are immediately shaken to their core. Workers walk through and focus on the money or their career. Soldiers run or crawl through and thank God for state-side leave. Years later we see each other and share a moment of recognition; almost like escaped convicts.

Sincerely, Jim Kennedy

[end of input]