You and your fear are fenced in together. Nowhere to run to (Photo: Loesche)

A week after our return to Germany I’m still pretty knackered. Our embed with the Apaches in the dusty country called Afghanistan just lingers there, hasn’t completely sunk in yet. It was a physical and mental challenge, bigger than I had anticipated.

For now, I have found refuge in the microcosm of the work office, where things are orderly and clean and predictable. This is the settling back into “normal” life, the Western world wants the Afghans so desperately to share with us.

I like being back in Germany where people stand for five minutes at the red lights at the pedestrian crossing even though there are no cars to be seen for miles. On the other hand, I hear, the army sends their soldiers to some Mediterranean resorts to decompress for a week. I could have lived through that, no question!

Dust

Kicking up dust. A convoy of MRAPs on the main road from Sar Howza to Urgun in Paktika Province

I still have a cough that comes and goes, which I refer to as my Afghan dust lung. The fine dust is certainly a big challenge, especially for your respiratory system – and all technical equipment. The headquarters team looking after the computer work stations in Sar Howza had their little air spray cans they used to clean the keyboards and fans with.

I spent most of the three weeks with sinusitis and couldn’t sleep for a few nights because of a extremely bad cough. I knew I should have gone to the medic earlier, when one of the private contractors, an electrician living in the next compartment, came knocking with some cough tablets. He probably got woken up by me coughing my loungs out.

Conditioning

I think it’s also down to the challenge of the body having to constantly adapt to the air conditioning. All tents, barracks and vehicles are cooled down – which certainly makes it easier to bear the heat in general, but is very hard on the body as it has to switch from hot to cold all the time.

From what I was told, many soldiers get ill after they arrive in theatre because of those conditions. What certainly didn’t help things was the burning pit right by the perimeter that on a regular basis emitted toxic fumes that clouded the camp.

Altitude

One thing I hadn’t anticipated at all were the effects of altitude, which turn a stroll up the hill into a marathon up the K2 like experience. The area of Sar Howza doesn’t really look like a challenge because it’s more hills than high peaks but the whole plateau is very high up. The air is thin.

It’s utopian to think you could get used to the conditions in less than three weeks. It probably takes more than half a year until your blood produces the needed amount of white blood cells. Next time, if there is one, I would certainly make sure my level of physical fitness is much higher.

Danger

Kicking up dust big time. A Blackhawk helicopter has landed in the COP delivering the brigadecommander Colonel Edward T. Bohnemann

The second major challenge is keeping an even keel mentally. Although I felt pretty safe in the combat outpost behind hescos and riding in the MRAPs behind mine resitant steel, there still was a nagging feeling of danger that I couldn’t escape. There could be a mortar or rocket attack, you could run into an ambush or you could get blown up by an IED.

Thankfully, during the time we visited we had no major incidents. One of the MRAPs of first platoon in the other COP Mata Khan ran onto an IED but nobody was hurt. Only after we had left, two soldiers of the same platoon got hurt in such an incident and were flown back to Germany.

We were very happy we didn’t get into a fire fight – although that’s what many journalists actually want. But the subtle pressure of some uncalculated threat was constantly with us. Along these lines, I think the non imminent threat can be more nerve racking than a threat right before you. It wears you down.

Nowhere to run

And there was nowhere to run, you couldn’t just move around on your own outside the wire. Your and your fear were fenced in together. Somebody in the know explained to me the other day that a perceived threat causes high adrenalin levels, which could be brought down by movement and physical activity, but on an embed in a COP you can’t just go for a long walk to clear your system.

This is probably the reason why the gym in Sar Howza was in the evenings constantly packed with soldiers working out to the sound of Rammstein (all US soldiers no matter where they’re from or what they listen to otherwise seem to have a few Rammstein tunes on their iPod: Next time I will do a survey of the favourite Rammstein titles).

The three weeks as an embedded reporter with the US Army were an unforgettable adventure, even without a major incidents. But it was much more of an exhausting challenge than I though it would be.

We only got sketchy information about one service member being killed in Paktika late on Saturday. I haven’t been able to confirm any such news on the internet after it came back on this morning.

Mortars

Saturday night fireworks, bring ya ear plugs! (Photo: Heimken)

On Saturday night we were standing right next to the mortar pit when they were firing illumination rounds out of their 120 Millimeter tube, lighting up the three Kilometre corridor between the base and the town of Sar Howsa. They shot at least ten rounds into the night sky – for show of force more than anything.

The assistant gunner steps to the mortar. The NCO tells him to “hang it” and the gunner will place the round into the tubes opening. After he’s commanded to fire, he simply lets the round drop into the tube. Where the rounds initial charge explodes and the grenade is violently propelled into sky. The loud explosion makes the area the pit tremble.

The illumination rounds break into half over the destined area. The part with the phosphorus substance glides to the ground on a parachute. They changed the direction of fire slightly once. Axel took some awesome pictures of the live firin exercise.

Ceremony

Have a patch, son! (Foto: Heimken)

The 10^th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks on Sunday didn’t cause too much of a stir. But for symbolism’s sake Captain Perkins held a so called Patch Ceremony on the parking space. The soldiers of Apache Company have now been in theater for more than 30 days and those who didn’t have a patch already were given the brigades insignia to stick onto their right upper arm.

Perkins set the ceremony on this day, so the soldiers would be reminded of why they were fighting this war. I asked Perkins whether the combat outpost had been put under higher alert. To which he responded, that they had parked MRAP-vehicles as additional barricades in front of the entrance.

But, he added, the Taliban had actually distanced themselves from the deeds of what they perceive as a foreign organisation, the al Quaida, ten years ago.

Bazaar

3rd platoon on shopping tour in Sar Howza bazaar (Foto: Heimken)

For the first time we ventured out with one of the platoons into a built up area. Staff Sergeant Neal Nuñez let us join the soldiers of 3^rd platoon on their patrol into Sar Howsa bazaar, which is actually located on the outskirts of the town.

We drove the three kilometers in a convoy of MRAPs. We dismounted at the entrance to the town and walked up to what is considered a police station. The building looks like a bombed out garage for trucks. Part of the roof has collapsed. In one corner a man was pulling freshly baked Naan from an oven stacking it on top.

We picked up three police officers and walked some hundred meters to the bazaar, which is made up of flat mud buildings housing little shops and businesses. Garbage was all over the place, some well trodden into the ground. A little stream of filthy water trickled across the street.

The shopkeepers didn’t seem very welcoming but neither were they hostile towards the soldiers and civilians visiting their market place. A guy from human resources interviewed a carpenter who stood in front of his workshop putting the finishing touches on an impressive gate. He was making a good living he said. His shop smelled of pine tree from Kunar province.

Presence

Another trader selling fruit and vegetables was pretty dodgy when answering questions about whether he had knowledge of outsiders in this area. After a while he just answered that the local populous wouldn’t turn in any aliens, they feared retribution from the Taliban. After it started to rain the bazaar quickly deserted, the shopkeepers pulled down their shutters.

We spent two hours up there. Nuñez was adamant that it’s always worth going up there. If they didn’t show up, the people would start feeling neglected. In this war just being present can be more useful than using force.

Dinner at the police chief"s compound (Photo: Heimken)

“I’m so full, I can’t breathe when sitting down“. That was my commentary after our first adventure outside the wire.

I had just finished my last blog entry when Axel turned up behind me at the computer booth with a piece of news: He had talked to Captain Perkins and we were invited to join him and two of his lieutenants for a meal with the local police chief in an hours time!

The problem was that we only just had dinner. Two man size burritos with loads of meat and sauce and rice. My first thought was that I couldn’t possibly go have a meal with Afghan dignitaries with the imminent danger of throwing up.

I went back to our hut and lay down to digest the burritos and prepare for some goats meat.

At 7.00 p.m. we met the by the TOC. Axel said Lieutenant Martin had tried to bottle out of the soiree, but Perkins had then directly ordered him to tag along. We picked up the interpreter from his shack and walked with headlamps lighting the way through the concertina wire out to the pretty banged up and run down police building.

We walked in took of our boots off and walked into the little dining room.

The police chief had two visitors himself, from Orgun to the South West from here. Two pretty wild looking guys, who held some sort of official positions in that city. A little TV set was running in one corner in the other stood an AK-47 assault rifle. We all took a seat on the cushions on the floor along the walls.

A guy with a silver pot and a water can came in we washed our hands one after the other.

One of the chief’s deputies came in with a plastic table cloth with Naan bread in it that was spread out in front of us. Then they served rice with raisins, self made French fries and bits of goats meat. Each of us got a can of 7 Up to go with it.

We started eating with our fingers trying our best not to loose half the pay load of rice between tray and mouth, trying hard for it to somehow look natural. Through the interpreter Perkins and the chief started firing off one compliment after the other.

We started feeling like one big family.

The police chief was adamant he would like to invite his friends over for dinner every night if he could. To top things Perkins invited the police chief and his men for a big BBQ with flares in some days time.

Our engagement ended after an hour and some glasses of heavily sugared green tea, served with extremely hard nuts. Our first intercultural encounter was a lot of fun actually.

The Afghan DJ in his studio in the combat outpost Sar Howza (Photo: Heimken)

Today, we did an interesting story on an Afghan DJ who runs a radio station on camp, for the population outside the wire. The station was set up by ISAF. Interestingly Iranian music seems to be all the hype. It’s what the 20-year-old plays a lot.

Apart from playing music he also reads out news he gets from the 3-66 Battalion headquarters in Sharana and he reads out jokes every now and then. It must be hard for him living on base with all the Americans, the only company he has are the interpreters working for the unit.

Lobster and Steak

Captain Perkins and his two platoons came back inside the wire, the outpost, from their five day mission yesterday evening. The company’s cook made them a special welcome meal – lobster and steak – to greet the men that were living without showers and good food for almost a week.

When the MRAPs and armoured transporters came rolling through the gate and the soldiers started dismounting we met a couple of familiar faces. Some greeted us recognizing us from when we last met them at the casing of the colours ceremony in Grafenwöhr in Bavaria at beginning of June.

The Burning Pit

The burning pit (Photo: Heimken)

We’ve been in the combat outpost for three full days now. On a normal day it’s already hard to breathe at 2700 meters above sea level. Today it’s almost impossible. Thick toxic fumes billow through the outpost.

It’s trash burning day. All waste goes into a pitch by the perimeter of the outpost. A sergeant pours fuel onto the black plastic bags that have been collected from all over the post. The wind carries the fumes of burnt waste through the base.

Southerner

Earlier in the day, I had long chat with mechanic and shop foreman Sergeant Bruce Anderson, sitting on the wooden veranda just outside the tactical operations centre. Here the soldiers congregate to smoke and have a chat. They even built a rocking chair. They’ve got a big black plastic box with a frog and a pet tortoise called “Little Mac”.

Sergeant Bruce Anderson, mechanic in the combat outpost Sar Howza (Photo: Heimken)

Anderson is 37 and has a broad southerner drawl, he likes beer and rides dirt bikes in his past time. He joined the army in 2004 and was first deployed to an unusual area of operations – the 2005 debacle in New Orleans caused by hurricane Katrina.

He says the hardest thing about being deployed is being away from the family, or rather making your loved ones worry for such a long time. He’s got two kids and a wife. He, likes most of the other soldiers here, have been very welcoming.

Beyond the Wire

We feel pretty safe on the combat outpost. It doesn’t really feel like a war zone here. The world behind the barbed wire seems remote. We haven’t left the wire, the COP, since we got here. But company commander Perkins has promised to take us out, to see the village of Sar Howza and the outposts, they have set up during their mission.

In the evening the sub-governor of Sar Howza, the local police chief and the deputy chief of the afghan intelligence agency in the district came to visit and exchange some courtesies on the veranda in front of the TOC.

Our location an a map (Photo: Loesche)

The sun’s out. It’s a little after 9.00 a.m. Axel and I spent our first night in our new home. We slept in a wooden hut without windows, the interior divided into smaller rooms with every compartment having their own door outside. Shortly before midnight we were told off by the one of the mechanics, we weren’t supposed to have our light on because of black out rules.

The combat outpost is about as a big as three football fields. It’s guarded by four Towers. They’ve got cameras on all of them. One of the towers is unmanned and has a remote controlled machinegun on its roof. The perimeter of the compound is made of so called Hescos, huge square blocks made from wire lined with fabric filled with rocks and sand.

Heavy Metal

Soldiers chillin out in COP Sar Howza (Photo: Loesche)

They’ve got everything they need on the base. A kitchen container, a dining facility, a gym where the soldiers were working out last night to heavy metal when I was sitting just outside the exercise room, on one of the computer workstations connected to the internet. They even have a laundry facility where Axel washed his T-Shirts this morning.

Three platoons of Apache Company live here, more than 100 men in total. I haven’t seen any women, like on the bigger based in Bagram or Sharana. The company commander, Captain James Perkins left the compound with most of his men late last week. So we haven’t seen him yet. They are busy setting up check points and observation posts at a vital crossing a few kilometers from here.

When the district governor is not in the provincial capital Sharana he resides on the outpost, the district centre is located on base. So when there are shuras the town elders come to the base to hold the meetings here. We’ve been told that after more than 100 insurgents were killed by US special forces in July just North of here in the mountains they transported the bodies here for biometric screening.

No TICs

A mechanic (Photo: Loesche)

The soldiers who were left behind at the COP seem pretty chilled out. None of them are wearing their flak vests or helmets. The outpost didn’t get attacked for a while. That might change after Ramadan is over since last Friday. Everybody seems surprised there haven’t been any attacks or TICs, troops in contact – fire fights with insurgents.

Where Perkins and his platoons are setting up the posts the insurgents had established check points of their own they just gave up because most fighters went home for the holy month of Ramadan. It would make sense for the insurgent fighters to now come back and fight the infidels and the Afghan National Army (ANA) to regain control of the area.

At one point it looked like we might be able to join Perkins and his men and spend the night out in the field. A convoy with fuel was going to be sent out with resupplies. They didn’t drive out after all so we stayed on base.

Axel later pointed out that this was a good thing. Before we left Kabul we were talking to a first sergeant of the US marines. He had been deployed four times and his motto was: “Don’t get killed on the first day – and don’t get killed on the last”. This wasn’t the first day of our journey, but the first of our stay in Sar Howza. We need to settle in first.