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 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.