Monkeying Around

Here's a post for Luke. One of the Afghani workers on our FB has a pet monkey (no Luke, you may not have a pet monkey). He brought it to work the other day.

I'm not sure what kind of monkey it is....I'm no "Jeffco" after all (that's a joke that probably only Luke will get). But it was still interesting to watch. The little thing was pretty mean. It was nice if you had food in your hand.

But if you ran out of food, woe be unto you...as Doc found out about 2 seconds after I snapped this picture. It grabbed his hand and tried to eat him for lunch.

Hope

I took this picture the other day while we were at the ABP headquarters. I thought it was a little poignant.




Things are still very quiet out here. I haven't been blogging for a number of reasons. First, our internet connection has been pretty crappy and connections have been off and on. Second, there really isn't anything too interesting to me anymore. I've seen it...been there...done that. So, if you all have anything that you want to see about Afghanistan, make your requests. If the law, Afghan culture, and my SOPs allow, I'll fill them as I can.

Because it's there....Part V

And now ladies and gentlemen, the gripping conclusion.....



The guys in the white hats always win.

Because it's there....Part IV

Our hero is getting closer to heaven with every step...physically and metaphorically. He's so close to the top, he can smell it.....and it smells like sweaty body armor.



Can he make it?!? Will he require a CASEVAC?!? Will there be a T-shirt at the top?!? Tune in next week for the gripping conclusion!!!

Because it's there...Part III

...meanwhile back at the ranch, has our hero met his match? Let's find out...




Tune in next week when our hero mistakenly thinks he's near the top.

Because it's there...Part II

When last we left our hero he was struggling for breath even though he had only begun his journey. Let's see how the continuing saga plays out.....




Tune in next week when our hero says..."Oxygen, bring me oxygen!!!!"

Because it's there.....Part I

While I was stuck in Gardez for the past week or so, I went mountain climbing with a big group from the FOB. I had nothing else to do, so I thought what the heck. Besides, you got a free T-shirt for doing it. I'm all about a T-shirt, especially a free one. And what's that? I have to climb it in full battle rattle (read that as with an extra 50 pounds on)? Sure...no problem. After all, there's a free T-shirt involved.

Please remind me to not ever be suckered into something like this again, even if there is a lifetime supply of free T-shirts involved.

Tune in next week when our hero nearly collapses from a heart attack.....Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel.

Snakes...Yikes!!!!

Here's another one for my boys. We've had a couple of reptilian encounters lately. The other night, one of our interpreters was coming out of the bathroom and almost stepped on this...

He came running in shouting in Pashtu and finally composed himself enough to blurt out "SNAKE" in English. This is a Saw-Scale Viper (Echis carinatus). It is one of the most dangerous snakes in the world. In fact, some argue that it is THE most dangerous because of its combination of a potent venom and generally grumpy disposition. It's venom is a highly potent hemotoxin and it has a really short fuse. To tell the truth, it has short-man disease. They only get about 2 feet long at most and I guess it feels like it has something to prove. I didn't get a very good picture because I didn't want to get too close for obvious reasons.

The other snake is this one...

It's an Indian Rat Snake (Ptyas mucosa). It's essentially the Afghani version of a chicken snake. At first, we thought it might be an Asiatic cobra (Naja oxiana), but it's not. It's about 5 feet long. The Afghan guys who do security here caught it and are keeping it as a pet in a box.

Guns

This post is for Charlie. I asked him what he wanted to see about Afghanistan. Duhhhhhh...guns. Well here you go buddy.

Today, several of the Border Police came over to try out some new machine guns they got and also to train some of their newer soldiers. We were more than happy to arrange the use of our range.

This first video is of them firing the PKM. These weapons are all Russian made. They fire 7.62mm rounds. The commander is giving them a countdown before they fire..."Yo"..."Dwah"...."Drei"...which as you can probably guess is pashto for 1,2,3. I did get to shoot the PKM with them, but it's hard to shoot video and a weapon at the same time. In this video, you can hear the rounds impacting on the metal targets which were between 150 and 300 meters away.

This next video is the same guys firing the AK-47 and the AMD-65. The AMD-65 is a shortened version of the AK-47 and is made in Hungary. Both operate identically and both shoot the same round. I didn't get a chance to shoot one of these but I'm sure I will before I leave here.

More Afghan Roads

I was talking with Mom the other day and told her that it would take about 3 hours to get to Gardez which is about 30 or 40 miles away. She asked why in the world does it take so long?

Here's why....

Mom also wondered if there was anything green here. Here's a short video of us riding through a rice paddy on the way back from Gardez. You can see how bumpy the road is....and this is a good stretch.

Me and My Ride

Hey everybody. Well I got a little break so I thought I would add this one. This is my ride, Bumper # H107. It's an 1151 model uparmored humvee. It's got a lot of factory extras (and a few homemade extras) including Frag 5 armor package, navigation and communication system (think Magellan dash mount GPS on steroids), two radios but no CD player, and A/C believe it or not. The A/C works most of the time. But there ain't one cup holder in the whole thing. I'm thinking about adding spinners to it.

I'm going to bed now....

Camel Cavalcade

I promised Charlie and Luke I would post this. We ran into a temporary road block the other day on the way to Gardez. Can you imagine having pet camels? Well that's pretty much what these are...sort of. These people are Coochies. That's right...I said Coochie on my blog site. I swear that's what they're called. They are nomads that move their herds around and sleep in big tents with their whole family. Their camels, sheep, and goats just follow them around. Well anyway, after a few encouraging words and whacks with a stick from the Coochies, the impediment to movement was resolved and we continued on our way. Is it just me or are the two up front giving us the eye?

On a side note, communication is gonna be a litte difficult for about the next week. I was about to get into a discussion on time differences and stuff, but I haven't gotten enough sleep to figure that out yet. Suffice it to say, my schedule is a little different for a while. Also, we're gonna be doing a little traveling, so I may be out of the loop. I'll holler at everybody when I get a chance. Love you all.

Pretty Little Girl

If anybody asks you why I'm over here doing what I'm doing, tell them this is why. She deserves a future, too.

Latrine Rules

I told you all that our living conditions were spartan at best. Well, even in spartan conditions they are rules for civilized living. The latrine (bathroom) is no exception. I'll warn you before you look, there's a little bit of rough language - it is the Army after all. But I think it only adds to the humor of the situation. I apologize for the bad focus. It's tight quarters in there and the lighting is poor.

The first thing I have to explain is the pump. We don't have a typical home setup where the pump comes on automatically to fill a bladder tank. Nope, our water comes directly from the pump. No pump, no water. So when we're done, we have to cut the pump off or it'll burn up. Hence the reminders throughtout the latrine:

Then there is the general summary of rules:

The other thing I have to explain is that the toilets here are not like at home. They're backwards. At home, they slope from front to back with the hole at the rear. Here, they slope from back to front with a hole at the front. And unlike home, there is no water in them. So we layer paper in them prior to conducting our "sit-down" business. Hence, the next admonishment:

Once you sit down and close the doors, there is the following reminder and encouragement for those who didn't layer the paper first:

Like I said, there are some rules, even out here in a bathroom. I get a chuckle everytime I go to the latrine and read these.

If you ain't Cav.....

...you ain't sh*%. At least that's what they say. Got a chance today to ride horses. The SF guys on our FOB have about a dozen that they use occasionally. They came down and asked us if we'd like to help exercise them today. Of course we said yes. The only thing that would have made it better is if I had my Stetson.

Me and White Devil

White Devil

Pakistan

I know that you all were sitting in your quiet homes wondering what in the world Pakistan looks like. Well wonder no more!!! Just over my shoulder is a line of trees. They tell me that that is the border. Who knows? It's not like there's a line painted on the ground here. Off in the distance (don't know if you can make it out in the picture, it's real hazy) are the Hindu Kush mountains - Rooftop of the World.

But if you ever want to visit here, you better come equipped like this. It's not exactly a tourist haven.

Afghan Roads

The roads in Afghanistan are something else. You never know what you're gonna see. Take this for instance:






Just a boy and his donkeys out for a stroll...20 miles from the nearest town....at around 9000 feet above sea level....temperature around 100. Just another day in Afghanistan. By the way this is the only paved road in Afghanistan. At least it's the only paved road that I've seen so far. This is at Terra Pass. Off in the distance, about 40 miles or so, is Kabul.




Or this....apparently there is some farming to be done...somewhere. Not here. Again, we're in the Terra Pass....9000 feet or so. About 2 feet to the right of Habib's right tire is a drop of about, I don't know, 1000 feet. It's not straight down, but it'd still be a sad-face day for Habib and his three buddies at the bottom. And Massey-Ferguson has a monopoly on the tractors here. I swear everyone of them is M-F. Maybe that's the cause of all the malcontent in this part of the world. They don't know the joys of a John Deere.



And then there's the jingle trucks. You guys won't believe these things. I'm not even gonna start to describe these things. Once I get some good pictures, I'll post them. They defy description.

New Digs

Hey Everybody,

I have finally moved into my permanent post...if there is such a thing in the Army. I'm at Chamkani which is about 7 km west of the Pakistan border. I'm here with my team to mentor the Afghani Border Police.

My conditions are spartan by the standards of most, but really they are cushy. Here's my room.

Yeah, yeah...the windows are bricked up and the walls are concrete and plywood...sure, it was just sectioned off from an old warehouse...the bathroom is outside, 50 meters away, I know, I know...there's dust everywhere, yadda, yadda....but I've got a RUG!!! And a COT!!! And SHELVES!!! And my OWN fluorescent light!!! You come to appreciate the little things.

And, oh yeah (oops, top left), I started smoking again, Mom. But, I'm 7000 miles away. LOL. Yeah, that and I'm 36 years old. You know I love you...I'll stop if you want me to. Or at least I'll hide them next time.

Middle of Nowhere

I used to tell people that I lived in the middle of nowhere. I was wrong.

Homeboys!!

Well it's inevitable that when deployed with a bunch of rednecks from South Carolina you know several and they remind you that no matter what you think of your rank and your job, you're as much (if not more) of a redneck as they are. Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I present Exhibit A.....

SSG Lonnie Russell, Jr.

Flowers in the Dust

Mom had asked me about this flower in my "Bigger Gun" post. Somehow she saw it in the background. Well, I had seen it as well. I thought that the contrast between the dust, chain link fence, concertina wire, and this flower seemed somewhat like a metaphor for Afghanistan. So I snapped a picture and doctored it up a little. To date, this is the only flower I've seen in Afghanistan.

My Maps

I've travelled a little bit. Not as much as I would like. Some of it has been whether I wanted to or not. Here's my maps.

Candy Terrorist

Can you pick out the terrorist in this crowd? It's the boy in the middle....sort of. While we were on patrol the other day we came across these kids. They were very curious but kind of stood off from us. That is until I brought out the candy. They were on me "like a spider monkey". The boy in the middle was the most pushy. He pushed the boy on the left out of the way to get to the last piece I had.

If you look real close, you can see a yellow building in the background. That is their school. They teach older kids in the mornings and the younger kids go in the afternoon. As far as schools go, this one is pretty nice. It's got about 5 rooms and a play yard. With the Taliban out of control in this part of the country, they also teach girls at this school.

Sunset Over Phoenix

Hey Everybody,

The sunset the other night was real pretty. I climbed up to the second floor deck at "Legoland" (Conex boxes that are used as housing) and got this shot. Just as I was taking it, a C-17 came into frame going to land at KIA (Kabul International Airport). As desolate and barren as this place is, you sometimes find beauty. It's usually fleeting, though.

Bigger Gun

Mom looked at the last pic I posted and thought I needed a bigger gun. Well, Mom, to put your fears to rest, I submit the following:

Do you feel better now? LOL. What you didn't see in the other pic was the 12 other guys pulling security around us. Trust me, we had plenty of firepower for what we were doing. Gotta run.

Making Nice with the Locals

Hey Everybody,

A quick one today. We went out on a short patrol this morning (Sunday...7 day work weeks) to meet with a local business man who owns a flour mill. The purpose of the visit was tactical but we do it in a way that gives the locals some ownership of the project and makes them happy to help. Can't tell you what the real purpose of the visit was (I'd have to kill you) but we made sure that his suppliers weren't being stopped at any illegal checkpoints, that his electricity was reliable, and that he didn't have any issues with our nearby base.

Things are otherwise good for me. It's still hot. It's still dry. I finally found out that I am going south to work with the Afghan National Police. I start training for that mission on the 5th. Can't tell you exactly where I'm going (not because I'd have to kill you...I really don't know yet). Anyway, here's a picture from this morning.

Pray for improved communications home, cool weather, and no more Oriental food at the DFAC.

In the 'Stan

Hey everybody! Sorry for no pictures on this one. My laptop battery crapped out and I have to get a new one. Until then, I'm using the MWR computers on post. As you can tell by the title, I have arrived in the 'stan. I've been here for a couple of days now and the main thing I can tell you now is that the only that separates the 'stan from hell is a screen door...and somebody left it open. It is incredibly hot here. Yesterday was around 110. And this is the dustiest place I've ever seen. Rocks and dust as far as the eye can see.

They still don't know what they're going to do with me. I may move down south and work with the Afghani National Police or they may send one of the more experienced LTs and let me take over his platoon and do force security work here. It's 50/50 right now. I've gone on 2 combat patrols outside the wire so far and they were pretty uneventful...thank goodness. It's not so bad here.

Well, it's lunch time here...let's see that makes it 3:30 in the morning there. Hope you all have a good night's sleep. As soon as I know what they're going to do with me, I'll get an address and send it to you all. Until then, I just want you all to know that I'm safe and everything is going pretty good.

Love you all.....
Jeff

FRAGO

There are three types of combat orders in the Army. There's the Warning Order (WARNO) that gives you basic info that something's coming up. There's the Operation Order (OPORD) that details the plan out. And then there's the Fragmentary Order (FRAGO).

FRAGOs are what are issued when there is a change to the plan. In fact, stuff changes so much in the Army that that is what we pretty much run off of 24/7. Well, transportation to the 'stan is no different. Long story short, I'm still stuck in Germany. I may be stuck here for a while waiting to catch a plane. Could be worse I guess. I'll tell you what...these Air Force people know how to live. I guess I can rough it out here waiting for a ride.

So, anyway, here's some more pictures from Germany....

This was a cool looking building on our way into the little base at Hanau.

This was some kind of cargo ship on some river in Germany. These ships are really short and wide. The bridges here aren't very tall over the water for some reason.


I knew everything would be alright when I saw this.

This was a little village between Hanau and Rhine Ordinance Barracks here in Kaiserslautern. The whole trip here was like this. Hundreds and hundreds of acres of neatly kept farmland with little villages scattered throughout.

They have windmills all over the countryside generating electricity. These things are huge. They are probably 200 feet tall.

This is a little Christmas shop here on post at Ramstein. I couldn't afford anything in there and couldn't afford to ship it back to the States if I could. Cool stuff like cuckoo clocks and handmade ornaments.

I'll blog some more if I get a minute.

Quick One from Germany

Hey everybody!!! I'm in Germany. Who ever imagine that some small town boy would ever set foot in a foreign country. Germany is pretty nice. The countryside is beautiful. It was raining when I got here but it's been fairly sunny since. I had to take a taxi yesterday to get to my hotel. The driver didn't know where the place was, so between his English and my German, we finally found the place. Oh, by the way, don't argue directions with someone in a foreign language on the Autobahn. It's not for the faint of heart.

My flight into Afghanistan (hereafter referred to as the 'stan) leaves tomorrow at 1140 EST. I fly into Bagram and then move to Camp Phoenix near Kabul.

To all of you, thank you for the prayers. Keep 'em coming. To my family, I love you and miss you all very much. I'll blog again when I get a minute.

Duty, Honor, Country

On May 12, 1962, General Douglas MacArthur delivered his farewell speech to the cadets of West Point. In this speech, he repeatedly chants the phrase, "Duty, Honor, Country." General MacArthur says "those three hallowed words reverently dictate what you want to be, what you can be, what you will be. They are your rallying point to build courage when courage seems to fail, to regain faith when there seems to be little cause for faith, to create hope when hope becomes forlorn."


This speech has always struck a chord with me. It does poetic justice to a belief in a code of conduct and chivalry that I carry inside me. And I am certainly not the first nor the last person to put faith in these words. I spent this afternoon touring around Arlington National Cemetery. In this place, there were thousands of others who lived their lives reciting "duty, honor, country."


To say that it was a humbling experience is an understatement. Some of America's greatest soldiers and statesmen rest here. There are notable sights like JFK's eternal flame, the grave of Audie Murphy, the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier taking those 21 steps, pausing 21 seconds, turning and repeating it over and over 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.


Yet, the most powerful image to me was this. A simple white, government-issued headstone marking the final resting place of Private First Class Thomas Edwin Bresnahan. PFC Bresnahan was, as far as I can tell, a simple man who lived by a simple code - "Duty, Honor, Country." He was one of the many faceless soldiers that General MacArthur described in his speech.


"From one end of the world to the other, he has drained deep the chalice of courage. As I listened to those songs of the glee club, in memory's eye I could see those staggering columns of the First World War, bending under soggy packs on many a weary march, from dripping dusk to drizzling dawn, slogging ankle deep through mire of shell-pocked roads; to form grimly for the attack, blue-lipped, covered with sludge and mud, chilled by the wind and rain, driving home to their objective, and for many, to the judgment seat of God.

I do not know the dignity of their birth, but I do know the glory of their death. They died unquestioning, uncomplaining, with faith in their hearts, and on their lips the hope that we would go on to victory. Always for them: Duty, Honor, Country. Always their blood, and sweat, and tears, as they saw the way and the light."


It is for PFC Bresnahan and the many thousands of others like him that I do what I do. Their sacrifice demands it. Their cause is the same cause today and tomorrow - Duty, Honor, Country. Edmund Burke said "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." These men realized that the good men started with them. American history is non-fiction. The characters are not characters at all. Rather, they are the most uncommon of common men.


General MacArthur ended his speech with an admonishment to the cadets. While his remarks were tailored specifically for the members of the "long gray line", they could just as easily be applied to any of us in the profession of arms.

"You are the leaven which binds together the entire fabric of our national system of defense. From your ranks come the great captains who hold the Nation's destiny in their hands the moment the war tocsin sounds.
The long gray line has never failed us. Were you to do so, a million ghosts in olive drab, in brown khaki, in blue and gray, would rise from their white crosses, thundering those magic words: Duty, Honor, Country."


And so it is to the memory of these brave men and women - Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, Coast Guardsmen - and the ideals that they helped preserve to this day that I have pledged my service. To ensure that evil does not triumph. To allow my children to continue to live in the America that is "the last best hope" of the world. To carry on the ideals of Duty, Honor, Country.

Turtle Prison

WANTED!!

Trachemys scripta scripta

(Yellow Bellied Slider Turtle)

What is more aggravating than your wife catching a 7 pound bass on a piece of corn? "Nothing" you might say. And you might be right...if it weren't for turtles. These thieving reptiles are the squirrels of the aquatic world. They will do anything and everything to bite the bait off your hook while you are trying to catch that 7 pound bass on, say, a chunk of hot dog or cheese.

So, rather than keep moving our bait around, I decided on a different tactic. We started letting them bite the hook and then put them underneath the swingset. We started turtle prison. I figured this way, they couldn't bite our bait and annoy us. There were a few jailbreaks, but wardens Charlie and Luke were there to round them up and bring them back to justice. A short hearing was held after the fishing was done. All were granted reprieve but after serving some "community service". More on their sentence in the next post.

Play Ball!

I usually enter this portion of the year with mixed emotions. On the one hand, I love watching my boys play ball, watching their excitement when they get a hit or throw someone out. But on the other hand, baseball season severely cuts into turkey hunting as most of our weekends are spent at the ball field.

Charlie spanking one

Luke playing the "half-pitcher(?)" position

Charlie thinking about the "free snow cone at the end of the game."

Oh well, the turkeys can wait I guess.

Big Time

Happy Birthday, Sis... here's a little
lowcountry for you.

There's something about a salty breeze that does wonders for me and my sanity. Yesterday, Heather, Luke, and I went to Calabash, NC to eat dinner (Charlie was at a birthday party) because that's the nearest place that has good seafood. Our favorite little block building restaraunt, The Seafood Hut, had a line wrapping around the entire building, so we decided to go on down to Coleman's. It's right on the river in Calabash along with two or three others. Also on this river are the shrimp boat docks.

After dinner, Luke wanted to look at the boats so we went down on the docks and took some pictures. There were several boats lined up at the docks and the black-faced gulls were swooping around everywhere. There was one little boat anchored out in the river. It was the smallest boat there. Ironically, the name of the boat...Big Time.

And it occurred to me that whoever named that boat had it right. That is the Big Time. How much better could it be? Every day, that guy gets to smell the salt air and watch the sea waves roll. He listens to the gulls laugh and watches the marsh grass sway in the breeze. His day is not ruled by a clock but by the coming and going of the tide. And the food. I could eat shrimp every day of my life for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and not get tired of it. This truly is the big time.

My "educated" uncle also used to own a shrimp boat. One of my favorite memories of my lowcountry upbringing was going out shrimping with him. The boat was already out shrimping around Trunkett (Trenchard's, spell it how you will) so he picked me up in his wood bateau at one of the boat landings on St. Helena. Once on the boat, we dropped the nets back and watched the "doors" disappear beneath the waves. The engine groaned with the extra drag placed on it. My uncle pointed to the cables connected to the doors and said, "everything between those two cables is mine." We hauled the nets up and unloaded them on the culling table. We separated out the shrimp and sorted them by "count". We also kept some crab and a few of the doormat sized flounder. The rest was tossed overboard for the waiting dolphins, gulls, and sharks.

We anchored the boat in the sound just inland from the ocean and started cooking. We boiled the shrimp and crabs and fried the flounder. For musical entertainment, what else but Jimmy Buffet. We ate until we were stuffed and watched the sun go down over Bay Point.

For those of you who have never experienced such a thing, I recommend you try it someday. I could probably open a very successful psychotherapy clinic on a shrimp boat. I think it's because the salt breeze creates a disconnect in the mind that unleashes you from the rest of the world. One that makes you forget, if even for a moment, that the rest of the world even exists. And it's at that point, when you tune in to the natural wonders around you and your troubles be damned, that you realize that yes, indeed, this is the Big Time.