Day 207: The whistle and the bang!

It was 5:45 a.m. on a typical Wednesday here; it's cold as the mountains begin to fill with snow. I had just returned from the shower -- and began peeling off the sweats I use to keep warm during my trek down to the facilities -- when I heard that eerie sound. 

It was a whistle from overhead, high pitched at first turning to a low, weaker version as it seemed to descend on the camp. 

For a split second as I stood there in my birthday suit, the sound vanished. And just as quickly, the "BANG" erupted from the silence. 

It's a jolt you can't help react to; I knew alarms would be sounding soon, so I scrambled to throw on some warm clothes to sit out the events (whatever they may be) from the bunkers on base. 

As it turned out, it was one mortar round that came in ... close enough for me to hear that whistle. 

It was the third time such incoming has come up a few hundred yards short of my "hooch" which, being on the second floor, would only serve to protect those below from the blast.

It's going to get interesting here very soon.

Day 183: Can you hear me now?

I’ve been in Kabul for just shy of seven months now and the routine, while still routine, has begun to nip at my nerves a bit.

Let me explain: First, the early morning bathroom trips to facilities about 50 feet away which, during the summer months served as a nice escape from my quarters, is now into a 40-degree chill – right around the corner snow will make it even more “fun.” As the Afghan National Army major I mentor told me; “It’ll get much colder here,” and he used his hand to show how much snow is possible – extending his hand from the ground, stopping just under his knee caps.

Secondly, each time I “phone a friend” I’m faced with the typical three or four tries – network failures, lost signals etc. – before a successful call. Once a cute cultural disadvantage, “Can you hear me now?” really has taken on a life of its own here. Members of the team can be seen moving in crisscrossing patterns around the camp, with each step hoping to bring a better signal. “Go outside the gate,” one tells me. “No, behind the piss shack,” another yells.

I describe my living quarters as something comparable to those serving a year’s sentence at a minimum security prison – though prisoners have access to indoor plumbing.

My “living area” is 7x9 feet worth of Little America – slightly smaller than I had given it credit for initially. On occasion the cramped quarters has me, first, banging my head against the underside of my bunk bed; then backing up into my wall locker and spinning around just in time to smack my toes on the ladder that takes me to my bed. Again, initially quite comical, but now tend to piss me off a bit.

After multiple such instances, it's become aggravating – though I find myself laughing about it all in a twisted sort of way. And I continue to tell myself it could worse … and it surely could be, as our young troops across Afghanistan are living in much more austere environments, dodging bullets.

At work flecks of yellow dust float down from the ceiling whenever someone on the second floor moves; I presume it's paint as it settles on my keyboard, computer, chair and hair. At the base of the walls little yellow "ant hills" grow in size as the weeks pass. I sometimes wonder whether the Russians or Taliban noticed such things when they occupied my chair. 

Every night I call my lady friend back home, and I repeat the process in the morning. It's just to say "Hi." But she too notices the difference in my demeanor on occasion. I'm an easy going "Guy" but with each passing day, I look for a new hobby or vehicle to expend some energy. It has become such that I look forward to laundry day.

Anyone need some laundry done? Can you hear me now??

French Camp Alamo

The French contingent at Camp Alamo, Afghanistan. Part of a multi-national, multi-service coalition force that makes the days a little more livable here. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Day 161: A Soldier's Soldier

Army SGM John Spisso, above right and at top, provides personal security for the commander of Camp Alamo's Training Assistance Group during a village visit. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Living a dream: Sergeant Major mentors future Afghan National Army leaders

By G. A. Volb

Camp Alamo Public Affairs

CAMP ALAMO, Afghanistan – At first glance he looks like he was shot out of a womb in full battle rattle -- an Army Ranger before the doc slapped his pink backside. 

In truth, Sgt. Major John Baptiste Spisso joined the Army at 18 to pay for college. Then learned the Rangers did things “others only dreamt of,” an excitement he felt worth investing 10 years of his life in. It was that decade with the 75^th Ranger Regiment out of Ft. Benning, Ga., that molded him into the high-energy soldier and mentor he is today.

Now 42, the square-jawed, athletically built Sergeant Major doesn’t as much wear the uniform as he lives what it represents -- Army core values including loyalty, honor, integrity and selfless service.  “It’s about personal challenge and honor,” he said, now serving as the Training Advisory Group’s advanced combat training brigade sergeant major here. 

They’re values he’d like to think he’s instilled in other soldiers during his 24-year career as a drill instructor at Ft. Benning, an instructor at West Point, with New York Army National Guard’s Officer Candidate School and now as a mentor to Afghan National Army soldiers at Kabul Military Training Center.

“I liked them all for various reasons,” he noted of his assignments. “I could run and gun with the best of them in my early years as a drill instructor and member of the Rangers. And in the last part of my career I’ve been able to train, coach and mentor some great people at West Point and OCS.” 

His latest challenge, however, has him mentoring senior ANA leadership, specifically five command sergeant majors for their advanced combat training team.

“It’s enjoyable to help a cause I believe makes our own country safer,” said Spisso, on his current deployment to Afghanistan. “I don’t want our children serving here, so I’m focused on ensuring the ANA is ready to take the lead.” 

In Spisso’s case, that means mentoring a brigade, combat arms, combat support, combat service and support, and basic officer training course sergeant majors. 

“My goal is to instill the fire, courage and discipline in their senior non-commissioned officers so they can train, coach and mentor their own soldiers,” said Spisso. “They have to fight this fight on their own. They have to face the enemy in battle with the technical and tactical skills necessary to win.

“I challenge them everyday to forge the foundation for their own success just as the early colonial leaders did in our Army,” he continued. “I consistently tell them they need to take this challenge seriously so their children can live in peace.”

It’s a challenge he prepares for early in the morning with some physical training. It also helps with the nearly 40 pounds of extras he tends to carry with him on missions. A quirk of his not lost on his wife, 1^st Lt. Lona Spisso, who describes him as a “gear junky.”

 “He’s very knowledgeable when it comes to both military and sports equipment and, of course, when he sees something new and improved he’s got to have it,” said the lieutenant. “We’re avid scuba divers as well, which he’s also made a gear-intensive hobby of ours. And we have enough paintball gear to outfit a small army… our entire basement of the house is dedicated to gear only.” 

The Greensburgh, Pa., native said he tries to prepare for each day with some type of workout. No doubt at 5’ 8” 174 pounds and 13 percent body fat, Spisso would be considered a gym rat by many.

“Typically, I work out five days a week in garrison, but in this environment I’ve been going six or seven days a week,” he said. “I do strength training five days a week and cardio at least four. My goal has always been to be an athlete … a warrior-athlete.” 

His lifestyle meshes well in his role as operations sergeant major for the New York Army National Guard’s 106^th Regional Training Institute at Camp Smith. 

And if hard-work and dedication isn’t enough to ensure success, the superstitious noncommissioned officer never goes on a mission minus the rosary his wife made him out of parachute cord. 

“It’s commonly given to Rangers and special forces soldiers,” said Lieutenant Spisso, herself serving a deployment to Afghanistan not far from her husband. “I wanted to give him something to keep with when he’s out on combat patrols. He hasn’t taken it off since we left Ft. Bragg.” But it’s not all about “luck” for the sergeant major.

“He’s always in the right place at the right time,” said Army Capt. William Hart, who worked with Spisso at OCS for five years. “He’s always looking for new ways and better equipment to accomplish the mission … training, developing and mentoring young officer candidates and lieutenants.

“JB is in constant contact with former comrades and new officers in the field to find out how the enemy is fighting, what gear works, what doesn’t and which leadership styles are effective,” the captain continued. “He incorporates all of this into scenarios for the students so they’ll have an idea of what they will face in combat. The training he develops is not in any Army manual, it comes from more than 20 years of service and dedication to being a complete war fighter. He’s a soldiers’ soldier – no one comes close to the dedication he demonstrates in leading and training soldiers.”

It’s a dedication Sergeant Major Spisso hopes will help “newborn” soldiers and seasoned warriors alike become better professionals for several more years to come. 

Day 146: Patience is a virtue

An Afghan National Army recruit is finger printed so sign for his equipment. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

But their first step is determining boot size. Here the recruit has his boot size written on his hand. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

It’s 90 degrees in the shade as some 90-plus new Afghan National Army recruits make their way into Kabul Military Training Center’s in-processing building here.

Like the practice stateside, recruits fill out paperwork, have their educational history reviewed, and are given a physical to ensure they can handle the rigors of army life.

To ensure the process of inducting a healthy force into the ANA has the best chance of succeeding two American Air Force mentors routinely observe their methods, offering feedback and advice honed over the years to help make it all more efficient and effective. And patience throughout is very much a virtue ... something those in the west find hard to understand sometimes.

“I work directly with the medical providers and quartermaster to coach them in anticipating their logistics and administration requirements,” said Maj. Ron Greenaway, a medical administrator and chief of medical manpower for Headquarters Air Combat Command at Langley Air Force Base, Va., now serving an Army “in-lieu-of” deployment here. “Logistics is probably the most challenging aspect of their system.”

Greenaway has already noticed some improvement since his arrival in February though. “The ANA medics now routinely process recruits for induction without relying on mentors for direction,” he said. “They have completely taken over the vaccine administration process and require very little in the way of direction from us to maintain the process. Our goal now is to refine and streamline their procedures, while adding additional disease screenings.

“In the short term, we’d like to establish a more robust disease screening process and build complete medical records during in processing,” said Greenaway. “Long term, we’d like to improve their logistics processes – helping them to anticipate needs and address them before they become emergencies.”

“Infection control,” is another priority, said Capt. Matt Hayes, physician mentor at the in-processing center. “We want to begin working on standard precautions like hand washing, wearing gloves, and disposing of needles properly.

Hayes, who is deployed here from Charleston Air Force Base, S.C., where he’s a primary care physician with the 437th Medical Group said “their medical technicians have already begun wearing gloves on a consistent basis during immunizations,” which is a step in the right direction.

The quality of the ANA starts with recruiting, emphasized Greenaway. “As their screening process becomes more robust, efficient and effective, the already high caliber of recruits will improve.”

Istanbul: Final mosque shot

You can't beat the view from the top of the hotel; but I'm not being paid by the hotel so you'll have to check them out on the web for those with a similar view. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Istanbul:Wild Art

Sights along the Bosphorous Sea. Turks are patriotic, with large flags dotting the landscape. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Nightlife in the Sultanhamet district. The Blue Mosque visible in the background. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Boats tied up on an island 90 minutes south of Istanbul by ferry. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Fishing, as you may have guessed, is a major industry. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Historical images can be found throughout the city. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

The Blue Mosque during the day. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Yes, cotton candy has made its way to Istanbul. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Day 122: Exotic Istanbul

First, for those who were thinking about Istanbul for great prices on jewelry, leather and gold ... well, not so much. Since turning to the Euro, and probably well before that even, the prices here are much more in line with that of any big city USA or Europe. Dinner for two averages $55, adult beverages $3-$5 and leather, gold and any other previously good bargain is now at big city prices.

It is, however, still very much exotic -- with the daily prayers and mix of old Asia with modern day Europe.

If you like Mediterranean food, you'll love Turkish cuisine. If you love exploring ancient cultures, you'll love Turkish sightseeing.

If you're looking for bargain shopping, you may want to look into Korea, Philippines, China or other Middle East locations.

For me, however, it was about getting away for a bit of R&R. And all I needed for that to be successful is a nice hotel, good food and some sights. All of which Turkey has.

It's day 122 as far as Kabul is concerned, and this much needed break from the realities of war there has been good to me. I've enjoyed living again -- waking when I want to, exploring where I want to, just feeling free to come and go as I please. To use a knife and fork. To use a bathroom located in my own room. To walk the streets without fear of who was watching.

I may take another three or four days in Dubai at the end of this. But for now, I'm feeling pretty good about the vacation.

Day 102: Blanks aren't for kids

There's thousands of miles of open terrain in Afghanistan; rock, sand, and mountainous terrain greet the ANA soldier who, even during basic training, is asked to hike the rugged ranges. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Initial entry into the home comes fast and violently. Select this photo and read what it says on his canteen. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Then the rest of the team begins their entry into the home. Security is stressed with each member of the team covering a specific area. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Being prepared for the unexpected is what this is all about. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

They were blanks, sure enough, but they caught me by surprise.

I was standing in front of the large main window to a "home" being used by the ANA to conduct house-to-house search training when they opened up. As if to take the house by any force necessary, the sound of many rounds echoed throughout. Since nobody let me in on the fact this would be happening, I jumped out of my shorts.

On this day, the ANA commandos were in "town" to select a few of the best troops to join their ranks. I stood by as they had them running up and down the hills in sweltering heat; I remember thinking it was nice to be a retiree. The fact is, as an Air Force guy I rarely had the opportunity to experience live fires, commando training etc. And I'm glad I didn't.

Yesterday, there was a sand storm that came through the camp. It reminded me of those days when it rained so hard back on the east coast that you couldn't see two feet in front of you. The only difference is you never had to worry about chewing on rain. Here, bits of sand and dust fill up your eyes and mouth -- you spit and rub, rub and spit for hours afterwards.

In two weeks I'm taking a much needed vacation. I'm looking forward to a stress-free week or two in some exotic location.

Day 98: Sneakin' and creepin'

Loading the SPG-9, the training is carefully watched over by a member of MPRI. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Hands-on experience is a must when dealing in lethal weaponry. Select the photo and read the munitions. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Prepping prior to live fire of the SPG-9. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

It should come as no surprise, given Pakistan's inability to control its northwest territory, that things are picking up here in a bad way. Simply put, the Taliban are "sneakin' and creepin'" up on Kabul.

Attacks on coalition forces are taking on a more aggressive posture, closer to Kabul proper and intelligence on surrounding villages tells us Taliban "recon" teams have been spotted on several occasions.

All this points to one obvious change in the environment here, that things are about to get ugly very quickly.

In other "news," the ANA held it's bi-weekly graduation ceremony which is always a treat for me. There's a hope that comes with hundreds of new troops heading out to meet the enemy of democracy.

Back in the states, prior to my arrival here nearly four months ago I was quite the health freak. The same applies here, as much as I can given the local cuisine and limited workout facilities. Anyway, I've reached that point where I nice cold adult beverage would be nice -- quite a few actually. And I'm looking forward to visiting some exotic location in a few weeks.

Day 91: Boom!

ANA prepare to enter a "home" for a search during training. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

As his comrades secure his back, one ANA peaks out from his cover to check on things. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Once inside the outer perimeter, the team prepares to enter the interior of the "house." (Photo by G. A. Volb)

On Monday an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) went off just down the road from the "cubicle" I call home. As soon as I scraped myself off the roof of my kingdom, I ran outside to see what had happened.

The plume of smoke rose off in the distance ... it looked like it was set off on our side of JBad road (Jalalabad road) just on the other side of the camp. In reality it was about 1,300 meters away, but on a road we all travel quite often.

You might have seen the news reports of the suicide car bomber who hit a British convoy here in Kabul; well, that was it. The convoy left our base only minutes earlier, but that's life here. Each day you're reminded that you may end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. In this case, a suicide car bomber found a convoy to sacrifice himself near in hopes it would take out coalition troops.

The truth is, however, that in most cases, as was the case here, these attacks kill or maim many more innocent Afghans than coalition. This, somehow, remains out of focus in the news.

Anyway, yesterday being Wednesday I ventured out to the ranges again. The ANA was holding training to include small arms tactics and house-to-house searches.

They are still new to the business of building a professional army, though five years into it. But I see promise if only in the numbers themselves. Hundreds each week are brought in; some look like they're 12 while others look as old as me --- many though join to serve their country, which is a good thing.

Today was massage day, an hour of physical therapy that offers enough relaxation I can plant myself in some exotic local, if only for a short time. I've noticed I'm up to 219lbs now. It's not sloppy though, which is the goal. In fact, I'm looking to hit 225 before long. We'll see how that goes.

Day 78: Countering IEDs

An ANA troop following the instructions of counter IED instructor Brandon Williams. Select the photo for a better view of the tank in the background. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Training on the range takes place among old Russian ruins. Select this photo to see what the concrete sign says just prior to the bridge. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Students learn how to search suspicious cars. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

I had the opportunity to spend a few days with the new counter IED classes being held here. It's pretty explanatory, but learning how to detect and react to possible IEDs when out on missions or during everyday ANA activity is crucial.

I give the ANA troops a lot of credit for stepping up to the plate with regards to such matters. It takes quite a lot of courage to actively search out and cordon off IEDs no doubt. 

To help them out, there are contractors with EOD and counter IED backgrounds sharing their insight. This includes the flags that should alert them to possible attacks or areas that may have been compromised.

The photos here were taken during such training on ranges nearby. I won't go into specifics for obvious reasons -- wouldn't want the game plan to get out, but suffice it to say it's nice to know they have a leg up on it all.

It's humid here today, has been for the last week. Feels like Florida to me. As I jug down a pot of green tea, I'm glad we have air conditioning ... sometimes.

I bought a nice multi system TV recently with a very good picture. I live off of movies, late runs of baseball games and shows from various outlets back home. Tonight's steak and lobster at the dining facility.

Day 69: Obsessive compulsive me

I'm not a pig at home, I like to keep things relatively clean and orderly, but I'm no clean freak either. Which is why I find it somewhat disconcerting that I wash my hands somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 times a day.

Every time you eat, every time you visit the bathroom, every time you exit the building, every time you grab a bottle of water, after taking a shower, before getting dressed, just prior to turning in for the night etc. etc. I'm on the verge of washing my hands before I wash my hands.

In the late 80s I had the opportunity to live in S. Korea of nearly two years. The Land of the Almost Perfect as I called it came with some challenges. Your system had to get used to the food and environment which, sometimes, meant feeling like shit for a while -- the Korean crud if you will.

Well, here in Afghanistan it's the same thing. Many of us have the remnants of colds or have the full blown deal. You're chewing on dirt, it's hot as hell and environmental "cleanliness" isn't the best as of yet. Call it the Afghanistan crud.

So, just as soon as I publish this post ... well ... I'll be washing my hands again.

Day 65: It's all urine pee pee

There's nothing like a Port 'O John in 110-degree heat ... in the shade. It's a necessary evil here in Afghanistan, but you never get used to it. It's the quickest trip to the bathroom you'll ever make.

I bought two paintings yesterday, both are very nice. The artist is a doctor, though not practicing as being a painter is a better occupation here. One depicts the ruins around Kabul and the other from a canal looking out into a courtyard of sorts.

Bargaining is the name o' the game here: prepare to spend several minutes over each item you buy. It's like visiting the local used car dealership, they just don't let up.

Time for a protein shake.

Day 56: Weekly massage

When you're this far from "home" you tend to fall into certain routines to help pass the time. Recently, I've added a weekly hour-long massage courtesy of a Russian and Dari speaking masseuse.

Last Thursday, my first visit, I told the young lady I liked hard massages. I just figured she'd have to work pretty, well, hard on me given her size. Anyway, about 40 minutes in I realized she took her work seriously. She must have put each of her 120 lbs into her elbows as she dug into my back.

I tried to suck it up, but eventually had to call off the beast --- begging for a little mercy. Today, day two, I requested a "medium" massage.

"Hi, do you have time for me now?" I asked, showing up a half hour early.

"You want now?" she replied.

"Yes, I pay now too," as I slid my money to her. "Oh, and this time I'd like a medium massage." I used my hands to demonstrate medium, between hard and soft.

"Medium," she replied with a slight grin.

"Yes," and for a second I wondered if she new she put the hurt to me last time.

Anyway, with the weather somewhere in the high 90s or low 100s, it was a nice 60-minute vacation of sorts. As with any other relationship, business or otherwise, it takes time to feel each other out. She, I think, now knows how to handle me -- but will learn even more in the future.

"Do you speak Russian," I asked her on the way out.

"Me Russian? Yes," she said.

Hmmm, she looked Chinese but spoke Dari and Russian. The world is an interesting place.

Day 49: Memories

An ANA soldier sits guard on packs that will be used by the new recruits for the day's activities. Select this photo for a closer look at what each soldier lugs around in 100-plus degree heat. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Following a hard morning of work outs, the recruits head to "chow" where bread, muffins and other "goodies" await them -- all made in this facility. Select the photo for a closer look at the fires burning below. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

At 4:30 a.m. the recruits fell out for a nice 30-minute runn. Here an ANA instructor stands by, watch in hand, to track the recruits times. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Back in 1983 I joined the USAF as a young college dropout. Having spent the better part of two years in the game room at my local state university, I had finally determined it was best to get a job and cut my losses. Either that or wait for the Dean to up the ante and move for dismissal as I was already on academic probation at the time.

I had "earned" a very unimpressive 2.00 GPA, with about half of my credits falling below the cutoff for transfer to any other university.

Anyway, the move was the right one though basic training was quite an interesting time of my life. I grew up a bit then and, this past week, had the opportunity to watch as young Afghans who made the same decision headed out for a day of basic training ANA style.

It was 4:30 a.m. when I arrived at the training camp ... the ANA was making their way out to the track for about 30 minutes of running. A good choice I thought given the 100 degree heat in the afternoon.

Anyway, the photography provided offers a few examples of what that training day looked like. Believe me, I wasn't missing any of it.

In a completely unrelated story, it was so hot here today I singed the bottoms of my feet on the steel walkway outside my piece of paradise.

Day 37: Seh Qaleh village delivery

Kan Mohamed, 52, and Mohamed Yosif, 70, tell me they'd like to see a new school built for the village. There are some 700 boys and 250 girls in the local area. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Young girls look on as our team lays out clothes, shoes, food and medical supplies for the villagers. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Faroq Ahmed, 20, keeps watch over the younger village children. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Many of the children waited in the doorway of a nearby home. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

This one lonely goat stood guard over a new Mosque. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Men of the village line up to get their share of the goods. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

A grave site just inside the village of Seh Qaleh with children playing in the background. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

There were many children of all ages at the village center when we arrived. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

The village of Seh Qaleh lies about 5 miles north of "home base" for us, just northeast of Kabul; we made the early-morning journey there via back roads filled with huge ruts and pits that had gray matter bouncing off the inside of skull.

Always on the lookout for the Talib (Taliban), or students, it took us about 30 minutes to arrive. We would have made it there earlier had it not been for a wrong turn into what one of the coalition troops told me later was a mine field. "Glad you told me after we left," I told him, as I'm sure I'd prefer not to know while driving through it.

The village is home to some 600 people, many of which were young children and all of whom seemed quite happy we arrived. The mission was to drop off food, clothes, shoes, school supplies and medical kits.

I had some time to talk with the village elder Kan Mohamed. At 52 he served as the spokesman for Seh Qaleh. He said he was "very happy for the visit." That he knew it was a long process, but knew we'd return. We had visited the village a month ago to determine what they needed. And this was the back end of that earlier visit.

Mohamed said he would like a school built too, which is a typical request and one we (the coalition) like to try to provide --- funds permitting. It's 100-plus degrees here now, so you're never too far from a bottle of water. As we left, I could see the kids doing what kids do ... playing soccer with the many balls we dropped off. It was another successful visit to help reach out to the local Afghans who, in the end, will decide if their adventure into democracy will succeed.

Day 30: We lose our first

Air Force Dr. (Capt.) Matt Hayes, a family doctor out of Charleston Air Force Base, S.C., looks on as Afghan National Army Dr. (Capt.) Sayed Zaman gives an eye exam to 18-year-old recruit Rahman Ullah, June 9 at the Kabul Military Training Center. Ullah is being in processed during day one of his journey into the ANA and is from Kunar Province. Zaman, 28, graduated from Kabul Medical University as a general practitioner, but received specialized training in optometry. Dr. Hayes is sharing his insight with a team of doctors at the ANA in processing facility to help improve the process. Hayes is serving an Army "in-lieu-of" tasking at Kabul Military Training Center and Camp Alamo as part of the Training Advisory Group. Stateside he's assigned to the 437th Medical Group. (Photo courtesy MPRI/G. A. Volb)

The 57 year old arrived in country a week after I did; last week he lost his life --- not in an insurgent related incident -- but due to a freak accident. Apparently, while overseeing the delivery of propane to one of the facilities nearby, a spark ignited a fire and then explosion of two delivery trucks. He was caught in the middle along with his Afghan translator ... it reminded us all of our own mortality. He was the first from our company to die here. He left behind a wife, children and grandchildren. I have yet to start a family.

The memorial service was held Saturday, attended by a cross-section of military members and company employees. For myself, and I presume most in attendance, the thought of "there but for the grace of God go I" passed through my mind. He was me, only caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. The fact is, you're never too sure of who is driving next to you. Or who is standing next to you on the streets -- should you venture out. Who is friend or foe. And should I meet a similar demise, it wouldn't come as a surprise to anyone here. It's the dice you roll each day you wake up for work. I'm quite impressed with how the average Afghan goes about their daily business.

Yet, I find myself looking for low-sitting vehicles weighed down by explosives. I study the faces in crowds looking for tell tale signs of their disdain for coalition troops. I look for those wearing a bit too much in the 100-plus degree heat to cover up the suicide vest they're strapped into. I tell myself a bit of paranoia is a good thing here.

But the mission continues. Slowly, by virtue of baby steps, the Afghan government is solidifying its power and extending its reach further and further from Kabul. Security is a must here first if the people are to experience democracy at its best.

Day 27: Sacrifices made

For the last three years I sat in my apartment watching coalition efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan unfold. What struck me the most was the age of those making sacrifices --- they were youngsters separated from loved ones, walking into harms way daily.

At 44, I couldn't help but think I was somehow cheating. That I was circumventing the rules so to speak; shouldn't I take on the hardship so the younger generation could enjoy their lives for a while longer? The reality is, at 44 I've lived a pretty good life ... I've seen a lot of the world, enjoyed happy times on several continents. I'm single with no immediate family to worry about me. To watch the youngest members of the U.S. effort in the Middle East step up to the plate ate at me enough that finally, well, here I am.

And I continue to be impressed with their strength of will and character. For those of you who look on at the evening news with indifference, take the time to study the faces, forget the politics. Then ask yourself, "How would I stand up to a similar challenge. Could I show the fortitude to step up like these young soldiers do daily? Could I handle the pressure?"

New topic: There's an old saying that goes something along the lines of, "Stick six economists in a room and an hour later they'll emerge with seven different theories as to where the economy is headed."

And we've all heard the saying, "It's the economy stupid." Especially during campaign time. Here in Afghanistan it takes on a whole new level of importance. The economy is, in my mind, the key to success here, but to ensure a viable infrastructure is in place for such progress to take root takes a reasonable amount of national security. Hence the coalition's challenge, to provide enough training and support to the Afghan government so that they can make it happen. Security will be the beginning of a domino effect.

National security equals economic growth; economic growth equals individual prosperity; individual prosperity equals regional stability; and regional stability leads to global security. It's a small world people.

Day 21: Road rage

Well, it took a few weeks to finally see one, but today was the day. An SUV collided with another vehicle and pedestrians were caught in the way.

On my way back from a local "staging area," we came upon a group of people (including Afghan National Police) who had gathered following an automobile accident. It was bad, but not the worse that I've seen. And the police were doing their part in keeping things from getting out of hand.

With one side of the road essentially blocked, traffic started coming straight at us instead. Odd I thought, but it is Afghanistan ... where anything can happen on the road.

In all honesty, I was more than a little surprised it took this long to come up on a collision. There are no rules of the road here and people, cars, troops, trucks, heavy equipment and everything else just mixes in the streets. It's chaotic at best, and a death trap at worst. On several occasions my driver had to slam on the breaks -- the tires letting loose with a squeal each time.

They drive extremely, EXTREMELY offensively. I'd like to say I'm used to hit, having lived in some similar places before, but it still takes time.

It was 110 in the shade today; so if you want to drop a few pounds, you may want to schedule a trip when things are safe enough. Though I hear Dubai, Qatar and Kuwait reach the 140s.

Wild Art: Photography

Mud walls are the norm, with internal structures dividing up living space. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Rocks outline territory, whether family or village owned. Select this photo and you'll see an Afghan National Army troop standing guard on the small hill to the left. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

The mule came first, then a motorcycle and then a U.S. armored vehicle. Select this photo and you'll notice the up-armored HMMWV to the right and Afghan National Army light vehicle on the hill for security. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Wooden doorways and window frames fill out the typical mud and brick home. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Day 20: Laundry day

Like I said before, it's the simple things that will get you through living and working in Afghanistan. Fridays are for laundry, which takes up a good portion of the afternoon. And as long as time is slipping by smoothly, life isn't bad here.

I also took the time to help three others build bunk beds for their small piece of paradise. Anything to create the appearance of more room in their -- room.

It's twisted, but I kind of like being able to stand in the center of my "estate" and turn on the lights, computer, poor green tea or shave without ever moving. If I could high jump five feet, I'd also be able to launch myself into bed without moving.

It's another hot one, I'm thinking three digit range again. Nearly bought a watch that provides the temperature too, but after misreading the price tag (I thought it said $275), I decided against the purchase. The 275 I saw was actually in Euros, so the price was closer to $400.

We're not allowed to drink here (among other things), which doesn't bother me even a little. But watching our French counterparts partake in an adult beverage or two kind of had me wondering what a nice cold Corona would taste like in 110 degree heat.

Day 18-19: Playing catch up

When you take time out of the week to visit operations outside "home base," it tends to put you behind the power curve so to speak. Day 18-19 for me were days I used to play catch up -- which I did nicely.

As there's only a limited number of choices to entertain yourself here, you find work a viable option to do just that. In the end, it doesn't seem much like work anymore but a more of a way of life here, of focusing on something other than being away from home, family and friends. For me, it's not having options to attend professional sports events, see a movie in town or travel openly.

It's living in such situations that you realize just how well you have it back home. Things you thought important really aren't here.

Day 17: Driving course

Training the ANA isn't about control, it's about ensuring they have the ability to train themselves. In the end, the program hopes to develop a self-sufficient, professional army. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

The training is difficult as drivers are taken over the course, dry and rocky terrain of Afghanistan. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

It was an exhausting day, but not due to any one reason. It was more the combination of three-digit heat, being on the move over rough country all day and trying to adapt to the 6,000-foot altitude in which we operate.

Much of the morning was taken up by visiting the driving course for ANA regulars. The ride there comes with the gratuitous bumps and ruts in the road, large rocks and clouds of dirt from vehicles in front of you. Should "dirt" replace oil as the global fuel that runs nations, the quality of life here would sore overnight.

There's thousands of acres of dirt and rock used by the ANA for training out here -- you can literally see for miles (through the dirty haze in some cases). It is, I think, a perfect place to teach the ANA who are quite comfortable among the rocks and dirt of the landscape. Here they learn to drive armored vehicles which, in the wrong hands, can be quite dangerous on poor terrain.

The ANA seems eager enough to learn and advisers/mentors have assured me they're improving. It'll just take time which, out here looking over the vast emptiness, seems to be all we have.

In the afternoon we made a trip to the "mother camp" in Kabul proper. The ride always reminds me of driving in S. Korea, Turkey or Honduras -- there seems to be no traffic rules and the biggest car or truck typically gets its way. The number of fatalities on the roads here must be high, though that's just an educated guess.

It's nice to see the children walking home from school and small businesses open. There's a relatively "normal" economy taking shape here, but much more needs to be done to ensure stability so that their economy can flourish. If the coalition has the strength of will, Afghanistan can and will succeed as a democracy.

Day 16: Mondays are painful

Mondays in Afghanistan, so it seems, are as boring as those in states. This, even though my Mondays are really Tuesday by my work week since I have off half a day Thursday and all day Friday (the Muslim work week so I'm told).

In any case, there was little going on in my world this Monday. And when that's the case, eating and working out take on a new level of importance. In fact, I'm due to head to the gym in 15 minutes.

It is important to note, at least for me, that I now sleep through the night and wake refreshed. I find it odd how fabulous the weather is knowing the serious nature of the business here.

Day 15: Sheenza Wer

Abdullah Rauf, at left, requests help for his ailing eyes. Our "terp" suggests he gets glasses. Select this photo and check out the troops in the background providing security. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

The young girl, at left, takes care of her younger brother and then asks me for a cigarette. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Afghanistan is full of irony; here an elderly gentleman sits outside a mud home with a new motorcycle parked nearby. Select this photo and check out the licence plate on the bike ... some things never change. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

It was a 40-minute or so trip east of "home base" toward Jalalabad. The village, Sheenza Wer, is home to some 400 folks. It's a newly built village the residents of which are in need of the customary medical care, wells and clothing among other things. My understanding is they were mostly Pakistani and moved into the area some two or three years ago.

It sits in a valley surrounded by small mountains and rolling hills; had it included some trees and/or snow, one could argue it looked a lot like Utah. But it didn't, and the rock and dirt and mud homes ensured everyone making the trip didn't confuse it for a resort stateside.

Afghanistan is full of irony: a mud home with a motorcycle propped up next to it; an outdoor kiln with a brand new Toyota pickup truck being loaded with bricks; dark, deep creviced faces under Arizona Diamondback baseball caps, and a donkey replacing a four-wheeler at the local store.

A four-year old asked me for a cigarette -- though probably not to smoke herself, but to sell. At least I'm hoping that was the case.

The mud homes are built within high walls of, yes, more mud. They're smooth walls and quite sturdy as the winters are harsh here. I'm impressed by what Afghans can do with mud. Each wall sits next to a large hole in the ground that was dug up to make the walls.

An old gentlemen stopped by to talk with our medic; our "terp," short for interpreter, said the old man complained he had a hard time seeing. When asked how old he was, the gentleman replied, "Ninety-five."

At which time our "terp" said, "You are very old, that's why you can't see as well as before. You should use glasses."

Which the old man responded with, "I'm not old enough for glasses."

There were a lot of back aches --- from lugging around rock and dirt; sore or broken ribs, headaches, sleep deprivation etc. They all seemed in relatively good spirits though, especially the children who, like anywhere in the world, were busy running around seeing what trouble they could get themselves into.

Looking out over the valley there was a healthy mix of U.S., British and Afghan troops securing the area. The big event for the day -- humanitarian "give-aways" including sandles, jeans, shirts, blankets and asorted other clothing. It was a good day.