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.

How to sell agricultural lessons. Teachers at Mata Khan boys highschool (Photo: Heimken)

Today, we first drove to Sharana and then on to Mata Khan, a much smaller combat outpost than Sar Howsa. I had fun listening to Frank Sinatra, Black Sabbath and some country tunes on our way over via an iPod connected to the intercom.

Mata Khan is home to the 1^st Platoon of Captain Perkins Apache Company 2-28. The country side surrounding it is completely flat, unlike the Sar Howza region. Although it’s only about 15 to 20 kilometers away, the climate feels different too. It’s much warmer, at least 15 degrees Celsius more.

There’s much more arable land here. We drove past some really impressive castle like Qalats, big square compounds with high mud walls and small turrets on each corner. I guess they reflect the mentality of the people living in this region. Everybody who is wealthy enough protects their fortunes out of sight. Their home really is their castle here.

It might be a testament to the fact that there is no centralised authority, called the nation state that has vowed to protect private property and enforce sanctions against people who don’t respect that right. By now there are such institutions in place in Afghanistan, but they are young and not welcome by everyone. The province of Paktika is known for being stubbornly anti-government.

Hate the state

Even in mainstream US politics there are prominent political strands that hate the idea of a powerful centralised state and love the individual’s right to fend for himself. And, in the US you find gated communities of wealthy people who rather opt to protect their wealth by private security than to trust the state to do that for them.

I don’t have a clue what the people here really want (That’s the downside of being embedded, you don’t get to meet the common people a lot). Perhaps many of them would be very happy to have a functioning state that will protect their citizen’ rights. Perhaps they would love an independent judiciary along Western lines that doesn’t know any family, clan, or tribal affiliations.

Shortly after we got here to Mata Khan we visited a boy’s school right next to the compound. Here a Lieutenant Colonel of the reserve Air Force, who is an agricultural adviser based in Sharana, met with the police chief and the governor of Mata Khan district and representatives from the school, the headmaster and some teachers.

Fisherman’s Friend

The plan was to have agricultural classes set up to teach the teachers in giving classes on how to improve agricultural techniques in the area. The simple equation being, that if farmers here improved their yield, they would become more prosperous and less susceptible to the insurgency. Peace through prosperity.

The basic idea is sound. The Western led or financed reconstruction efforts have moved on from just setting up projects like the girls school we visited yesterday without really checking sustainability, to going out and asking what the locals want to be done and then teaching them to help themselves. They shall own their projects.

However, as we witnessed today the problem with this is that the locals are still more interested in having concrete infrastructure projects financed by the Westerners than having contractors teaching them intangible knowledge that doesn’t bear immediate gains.

The officials who had gathered in the boys school either didn’t quite grasp the concept of teaching a man to fish or they simply wanted fast and tangible aid. I have now often heard or read that Afghans after 30 years of war cherish the short term over the long term gain. It sounds simplistic but actually would be quite understandable, because in Afghanistan there still is no peace and security.

This might show in the Afghan’s thinking, especially in the run up to the pull out of foreign troops. If tomorrow isn’t promised you tend to get what you can lay your hands as long as you can. Why plant trees whose fruit might take decades to harvest.

I was wondering yesterday when I saw some unkempt trees that could have been olive plants, why they weren’t growing this fruit in this country. I’m not an agricultural expert, olive trees might just not grow in this climate – or they indeed take to long to carry fruit.

Specialist Gloria from Michigan looking out towards One Tree Hill near the village of Gulridin (Foto: Loesche)

Today, we went out on a mission for the first time since we got here. Lieutenant Chad Christian, 24, from Alabama took us with him in his MRAP to see for ourselves what Captain Perkins and his two platoons had accomplished on a previous five day mission.

A convoy of MRAPs and some Afghan National Police vehicles drove down the asphalted street to Gulridin where a check point by the street and two observation posts high above up in the hills had been set up.

Half way we stopped.

Suddenly the gunner in the turret fired a volley of shots from his machine gun. Empty cartridges tumbled into the air conditioned armoured truck. Shots were going off in front and behind us. The Police had dismounted from their pickup trucks and shot their AKs.

It was a test firing exercise, shortly before we reached the end of the asphalted road. Perkins told me yesterday: “The insurgency starts where the asphalted road ends”. Todsay’s mission was to further fortify the check point to be manned by the ANP – to build a shelter for the police.

While some of the guys started unloading building materials from the cargo truck Axel and I followed Lieutenant Christian up the hill. On the way, we met Staff Sergeant Neal Nuñez, 33, from Los Angeles of 3^rd platoon 2-28.

One Tree Hill

He had a whole case of energy drinks. We grabbed some cans, Nuñez explained where we could find the mortar team securing the area from one of the opposite hills. We started first down through a dry wadi and then up the hill to where the soldiers had set up their position to secure the works.

At this altitude (2500 metres) and carrying a vest and a helmed a minor hike turns into a major mountain climbing exercise. Completely out of breath and sweating we reached the mortar team who had trained their tube on an elevation dubbed “One Tree Hill” (no, not this one).

Staff Sergeant Arias and Private First Class Gloria at an elevation of 2528 meters in the district of Sar Howza

We stayed long enough to catch our breath and then made our way further up the hill, where we were greeted by Staff Sergeant Marciel Arias, 29, from California and Private First Class Carlos Gloria, 26, from Michigan.

The 360 degrees view from the top was breath taking. Axel and I stayed up there chatting to the soldiers for three hours. They explained to us the complex relation ship between a platoon Lieutenant and his non commissioned officers.

Basically all platoon sergeants by definition are more experienced than their officer counter part who never the less outrank them. A good platoon lieutenant will always heed his sergeants advice. Sergeants can make or break lieutenants.

Check point

At 4.00 p.m. we went back down the hill because we heard that down below they were now stopping cars together with the ANP and doing iris scans and taking finger prints with the HIDE-System. When we got there, they just stopped a red Mitsubishi pickup truck with four guys in it.

They seemed understandably less than elated to have to go through with the procedure, especially because the machine wasn’t working properly, not recognising the iris. Slowly a queue of lorries and cars was forming.

One pair of guys who had a the whole car full of loose grapes seemed outright scared by the soldiers and the police. At the end, the procedure seemed useless as the ANP, who were in charge, waved through many cars and lorries or just searched them sporadically.

Cars with women were a no go. Anybody smuggling goods or weapons would be well advised to take a female passenger with them.

The Kuchis

The most interesting and intriguing people of all are the Kuchis, Pashtun nomads. They travel with colorful tractors pulling carts, full with elderly passengers, women and children, stuffed with goods of all kinds, dogs and goats.

All women hid their faces with scarves from us some of the very young children seemed frightened. At least five of such vehicles past the check point. The police stopped none of them, because of the women on the open trailers.

It was a truly astonishing and intriguing sight. I would like to know much more about these people, who seem like from another planet, whose rights are guaranteed by the central government in Kabul.

I had first heard about the Kuchis from an analyst from Human Terrain System I interviewed two days ago in the COP. The nomads stand accused of smuggling weapons for the Taliban, which they apparently hide among their herds of camels and goats.

We saw one of those flocks from the peak where we had stayed. Some of the Kuchis, who live in tents, must shepherd the herds and others then follow in their tractors and carts.

Combat Medic Badge

In the evening we witnessed how the platoon’s medic was awarded the Combat Medic Badge for saving three Afghan police’s lives at the end of Juli, after their pick-up truck was shredded by a roadside bomb.

We passed the truck on the ANP’s compound on our way into the base twice today, where it sits as a reminder that this still is a war, in which people are killed and maimed. I was totally knackered after nine hours outside in the mountains.