The Dumb Dumb Club
10 Nov
Minus 2.6 degrees Celsius. That is what my watch told me when I woke shivering before dawn, and I have to say the knowledge did nothing to make the cold more bearable. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, I got up and dressed as fast as possible. Nearby the ANA had a small fire going, and pulling my armour on I made straight for it. 1SG had decreed that no Americans were to build a fire, and so they probably wouldn’t go to an ANA one, but I’m not a bloody soldier and I was freezing. The ANA soldiers made room for me in their circle, and we went through my Pashtu repertoire. It is amazing how useful it is to be able to say good morning, how are you, I’m fine, I’m freezing, thank you for your fire, I am a photographer, I am not American, and most of all, when things get confusing, to say I don’t understand what you are saying. Throwing in a few swear words and questioning the sexual practices of the Taliban had the ANA laughing and cheering, and soon I was offered a cup of sweet Chai and some Naan bread.
Returning to the March or Die (MOD) camp, I was told that there were some helicopters inbound. An engineer had twisted his testicle (don’t ask, everybody was so busy making fun of him that no-one could tell me how it happened) and was going to be Medevaced out. Then there would be a series of Chinooks delivering various items of heavy equipment, including a battery of 105mm howitzers. So, I made my way down to the helicopter landing zone (HLZ). I talked with the Captain in charge, and got the low down on where they would land. Of course I should have remembered that helicopters tend to land wherever they want, not where directed, let alone come in from the planned direction.
Thinking about the rising sun in the East, the still hanging mist, and the dust that would be thrown up by the helicopters downdraft, I chose my spot carefully. I hoped to get a nice silhouette as the bird flew in low, and then catch the beautiful golden light through the dust of the landing. Soon enough I heard the whoop, whoop, whoop of a helicopter’s rotors. It came in over the village exactly as I expected, but then banked off the south, turned, and approached the HLZ. Now I was right under it’s path, which wasn’t ideal, as I would be covered in dust before I got the pictures I wanted. I followed it in the whole way with my video camera. As it neared me it got loud, and then as it was coming over my head, boom, boom, boom. The flares that are used as counter-rocket measures had detonated, and frightened the life out of me. As it happened I ducked my head, so I didn’t see exactly what happened. Another soldier watching did see though, and came running over to me. “Hey Dude, are you ok?” he asked, his concern written all over his face. I shrugged my shoulders, and said yeah. But he explained what he saw, when my head was down, and watching the video tape later confirmed it. One of the flares had impacted just inches from me. If it had hit me I would have been very seriously burned, but instead I had had a lucky escape. Imagine the ignominy, being wounded by a Medevac!
More helos came and went, and after I had moved to a safer location, I got some great photos and footage. The dust storms blown up by the downwash of the birds, especially the twin rotors of the Chinooks, looked spectacular. Pretty tough though for the guys who had to run forward and unload the helicopter’s deliveries.
Once I had enough of the HLZ I wandered back up towards the school, to March or Die’s patrol base. But on the way I noticed a commotion going on with a bunch of Afghan kids. The kids had turned up for school, despite the fact that several of the rooms had been occupied by the ANA, and now, outside, the US ETTs (Embedded Tactical Trainers) were playing games with them. There was a beach ball being kicked around, and also a Frisbee. The kids were going crazy, but it was good fun to watch.
I ended up spending hours with the ETTs. After the kids went back into school I sat and chatted with them, and eventually it got dark. They had a large fire going, and it was warm against the night’s chill. Stories seem to flow more readily around a fire, and they talked about their experiences both here in Afghanistan and also Iraq. A lot of the stories revolved around the huge cultural differences they encounter. For example, in Iraq one of the guys had witnessed a serious fist-fight break out in a queue of waiting men. Knives were drawn before the fight was broken up. When asked what had started the fight, it transpired that one man had insulted another by suggesting his wife could not cook. So enraged was the second man that he was prepared to kill the first.
I was impressed by the commitment that came out in the ETTs stories. They have been in country for a while, and have been involved in a lot of action. I had heard some pretty bad stories about ETTs from some of the regular Army recently, which saddened me, because I always will remember the work that Master Sergeant B did with the ANA up in Nuristan earlier in the year. I think the work the ETTs do is hugely important, and they have the ability to be especially effective because they are not constrained by the same tight regulations that the Army suffers from. Most of the ETTs are older, in their 30s, 40s, and 50s, and so they have a lot of life experience that is useful in the field. These particular ETTs were from the Alabama National Guard. Part time soldiers, the regular Army would say. Doubly qualified, the National Guard would say. With their fires, and their relaxed attitude to uniform, and their extra comforts, I can see why there can be some resentment towards them, especially from the younger soldiers who don’t understand the ETT role. But the truth is these guys were working hard. And if they spend less time worrying about bloused trousers, and more time on getting their ANA up to a standard to take control of their own country, then great. Yes, they had brought cots to sleep on, and yes, they eat local food, but I see all of these things as a positive. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Any fool can be uncomfortable, but it takes a little more thought and planning to achieve better living conditions. And if you are living better, and sleeping better, it can only improve the way you work.
So there we were, all sitting or standing around the blazing fire, telling stories and making jokes. I had some coffee, good company, and the war seemed very far away. But it never is. And soon enough, it barged in again, and spoiled our party. One of the ETTs had been in the building for a daily report by radio, and when he returned to the fire he said he had some news. Earlier in the day, up in Nuristan, there had been an ambush on US and ANA forces. 5 US soldiers and one ETT had been killed, as well as 3 ANA. Another 8 US were seriously wounded. This was a huge loss. My heart went out to the families of the dead men. Over the next few hours many more lives would be destroyed, with the news that they had lost sons, fathers, brothers. And on a personal note, I worried about my own girlfriend and family. Nuristan was where I was shot back in May, and I knew that as soon as Helen heard the name on the news, she would worry about me. Now I realised what a mistake I had made, not bringing my sat-phone on this mission to keep my packing light. I had no way of knowing how long we would be out here, and I had no way of contacting Helen to let her know I was alright.
For a while people were lost in their own dark thoughts, as I was in mine. But after a while two of the ETTs announced we were going to play a campfire game. They said it was called the Dumb Dumb Club. It was a silly game, but perfect for the situation. You had to observe what they did, and listen to what they said, and then repeat it. It seemed simple, but wasn’t. Quickly we were all absorbed, and as one after another of the participants figured out the secret code, the rest of us became more obsessed. I never did figure it out, much to my frustration, but it certainly lightened the mood that night, and I was grateful. But later, as I went to sleep, still trying to solve the Dumb Dumb riddle, I also thought again of the families of the men killed earlier in the day. There would be no games, no laughter, no distractions for them from their pain. Looking up at the stars, I thought about how I had so recently written that I love this place. Well, sometimes I fucking hate it too.