Out of the Wilderness
Hi everyone,
Well, it’s been quiet since I wrote last. The day after I returned from “Mountain Terror” (30 Nov) I slept late, my first lie-in since I got here. There wasn’t much happening at Wilderness so I had an easy day, which was just as well as my knee was still very painful. The previous night I had made my way to the toilets and slipped in the dark. I sort of twisted my knee and I heard a loud crack. Ouch! So the next day I had the Doc look at it properly, and she reckons I either dislocated it and it is now back in place, or I possibly have hairline fracture. She said I should have an x-ray as soon as I get to a bigger base with an actual hospital, but she couldn’t do much except give me anti-inflammatory tablets, and cold-packs to wrap around the knee to reduce the swelling. It is a pain in the arse, as I am limping around like an old man, and feel very stupid and weak. I am sure the soldiers would just suck it up and not limp at all.
1 Dec
The first day of December, and I should be on my way home, but I am at the mercy of the weather and transport to get out of these mountains. Being December, my thoughts have really turned to Christmas, and I’m not the only one. The guys here talk about it, but of course it is in terms of what their families and friends will do at home, not what the soldiers will do here. I would imagine it will be much the same as their Thanksgiving, marked briefly on the day, between filling sandbags or some other work detail. It really makes me realise just how much these soldiers give up when they volunteer for a year’s deployment.
My other big news today came in the form of several “Herograms,” the old newspaper phrase for a telegram of congratulations. It turns out that I had the front page of the New York Time and the International Tribune with one of the photographs from “Mountain Terror.” I had emails from several AFP bureaus, which gave me a massive head and made me unbearable I’m sure. I am delighted though, as it means the work I am doing out here is getting noticed. The guys here are thrilled too, as they hope it helps people understand the difficulties they are facing in their operations out here. They also sent word to the unit that the soldier is in, so hopefully he can get a copy of it.
Yesterday (2 Dec) there was a big ceremony at Wilderness. It was the official raising of the Afghan flag at the base, which means it is now officially an Afghan base, but with an American presence. It was snowing like crazy all morning, which meant that the helicopter I had hoped to catch a ride out on was cancelled, and the various US and Afghan dignitaries would have to travel in by road convoy. Security was very tight as the local leaders arrived, with even fighter jets roaring overhead. The whole camp was tense, as this ceremony was fairly common knowledge, and would have been a tempting target to the Taliban. The terrible weather meant some road convoys had to turn back so the affair wasn’t quite the big deal it was meant to be, but it went ahead nonetheless. With the snow falling and no wind, the flag raising was barely visible.
I did manage to get a seat on a convoy driving out, so it was quick goodbyes to all the guys I had hung out with for the last two weeks, and in no time at all I was gone. It was strange to leave what had become home in such a short time, and the friends I had made there. The base was not much more than an excavation site when I arrived, and when I left it was a fully fledged, well defended base. It is a testament to the work that 3BSTB did that the place came together so quickly.
My ride out was with some of the soldiers from 1-32, the same guys I had been in the mountains with for “Mountain Terror.” They already knew about the NYT front page, and they wanted to see it, so I had to tell them when we got to their base I would show them a pdf file of the front page that had been sent to me. They were as excited about it as I was, which made me feel less of a gobshite.
The ride back was much more comfortable than my last time in a Humvee, as there was plenty of room in the back. All my luggage was dumped into the boot (or trunk, as it is an American Humvee) so I could actually move a little bit. I had to remind myself that the convoy was no safer than any other trip, and just because I was on my way out, and therefore on my first leg of the journey home, I still was travelling on a very dangerous road. Then the guys told me that there had been a roadside bomb that exploded beside then as they drove up a few hours earlier, but thankfully it was ineffective against their convoy. However there was heightened security all the way back and the sleep I had hoped for never happened. When we got back I checked in with the Press Officers at FOB Salerno, who told me it could be days before I get out of here. Even though I am almost 3,000ft lower than I was at Wilderness, we are still affected by the weather. They found me a place to stay, and told me to make myself at home. I had travelled in with another soldier from Wilderness, and we agreed that the call of freshly cooked hot food was far more urgent than a shower, even though neither of us had showered in 15 days. I couldn’t smell him, nor he me, so we headed for the scoff house. Apparently other people had a finer sense of smell than us, because there were more than a few stares, but I didn’t care. I just wanted some real food as opposed to MREs, and I tucked in like a little pig.
I met the Sergeant (First Sergeant actually) who had help me up from my fall off the ledge a few days prior, and he offered to show me around. I apologised for smelling so bad, but he said it was good for the people on the base, most of whom never go outside the wire, to realise that my smell was one of the realities of being in a combat zone. He said he loved coming in from operations and offending the POGs (People Other than Grunts) with his filthy clothes and stink. Afterwards he showed me where the PX was, and joy of joys, there is also a Green Bean here. The Green Bean is a coffee shop chain that is on most US bases, and is a little piece of heaven with its great coffees and muffins. He brought me to the CP (Command Point) for their unit, and I met the soldier from the NYT front page photo. He was getting a real hard time from the other men, but some of them were honest enough to say they wished it had been them. This guy is a really good guy, and admired by the other soldiers, so it is great that he has got a bit of recognition. He wanted to se the picture himself, but he seemed more worried about whether he had been wearing all his issued uniform and kit correctly, as he might end up in trouble if he hadn’t. Everything was correct and present, and we managed to organise a printout for him.
After some chat I decided it was time for that shower, and I headed back to my tent. I stripped off the socks, underwear, and top and bottom thermals I had been wearing day and night for 15 days, and climbed into a hot shower. In no time at all I felt like a human being again, with clean hair, and no clothes sticking to me. Having been fed and washed, I was wiped out, and it wasn’t long before I was panned out in my tent, almost asleep before I zipped up my sleeping bags. It was such a nice feeling to be able to get properly undressed before getting into bed, and to know that I had a huge base spread out around me, and that if we did get attacked I was pretty safe. Avery different sleeping arrangement than I had had for the last couple of weeks at Wilderness.
3 Dec
Still no change in the weather, so I’m not likely to go anywhere for a few days yet. This is exactly what happened to me at Bagram, but there is no way to drive to Kabul from here, as it is way to dangerous, so I just have to try and be patient. I hooked up with the guys from 1-32 again today, and hung out at their CP. I’m hoping to get out with them if anything come up while I’m hanging around her, to try and at least do something productive rather than sit on my backside. I mentioned to the First Sergeant that I would like to do some battlefield first aid training, and he said no problem, and the next thing I knew I was in the medic’s tent. They pulled out the first-aid kit they carry, and one of the medics gave me a very in-depth course on the various typical combat injuries and how to assess and treat them, from small burn to sucking chest wound. Then he started talking me through how to give a patient an IV to replace lost blood, and before I knew it he had another medic on a table and he was demonstrating how to find a vein, insert a needle, and how to attach the IV. Then he said it was my turn, and I thought he was joking. He wasn’t! Then the First Sergeant behind me said that everyone of his soldiers had to learn to do this, and the battlefield was not the best place to try it for the first time. So, they made me stick a needle in the poor medic’s arm, although he assured me he didn’t mind, and that they did it to each other all the time. Well, I am not the greatest fan of needles, and I didn’t think I could do it, but then my instructor started saying ”Come on, the guy’s dying, get a move on” and stuff like that, and I just did it. I’d love to say I got it perfectly right first go, but I didn’t. I got the needle in ok, but then I hit a valve, which I didn’t even know existed in veins. Anyway, they made me do it again, and this time I got it right, and it was actually fairly easy. What made me laugh was as I looked like I was going to hesitate, my instructor said “Don’t worry about hurting him, he’s already wounded badly and in pain, so a little bit more won’t make any difference.” A tough bedside manner, but effective no doubt. After I had carried out the procedure correctly I was afraid they were going to make me practice depressurising a sucking chest-wound, which entails sticking a horribly large needle into the chest cavity through the chest and ribs, but thankfully they said that I could sit that one out. I’m pretty proud that I managed to get the whole IV thing done, but I hope I never have to try it while under fire. I t old my instructor this, and said I had total faith that their medics would never need my assistance, to which he replied, “You never know, the guy lying on the ground, screaming and bleeding, might just be your medic.”