From Afghanistan

The past few days have been a rollercoaster of adrenaline with extreme highs followed by quick lows and I've come to the conclusion that Six Flags has nothing on this country. I recently volunteered to take a crew down to a Forward Operating Base (FOB) that is undermanned and under constant attack to assist in their current situation. Little did I know that this was going to be like a ride you hated to be on and hated even more to get off.

The night prior to going down south to assist with this mission, my commander took me into his room and sat me down to get my input on a situation that required a critical decision on his part. He had been told by his own chain of command that the FOB in the south is undermanned and has been under attack and we are to send down a team to assist them in anyway possible. He wanted to know my thoughts on the tactical aspects of such a mission.

I told him (since I was in the room with the door closed) that he was basically telling me to volunteer. He then gave me the speech of: "You're my first choice and I trust you to accomplish the mission." For those who don't know me, I don't politic very well, so I called him on his speech and asked for the real reason. He then gave me the truth and said he is sending me down because he knows I will do the right thing and I won't be pushed around by the command down there to do crazy missions.

Later that evening he brought the whole team together to update them on the current situation. He separated the officers and sergeants and from them requested volunteers for the mission. I sat in the meeting wondering why he was requesting this from the officers since we had already established the outcome on my part and I had a funny feeling he had already chosen two sergeants. He was feeling out the officers and sergeants to see who would do the right thing and volunteer. As for the sergeants, they all stepped up to the plate and almost started bidding to be on the team.

The next morning I had my team and we were set to go into the unknown. We said our goodbyes and promised to be safe and return in two weeks. It was nice to see the faces of your fellow soldiers feeling the compassion for you and in that moment I knew if I needed any assistance from them it wouldn't be a question of if they could do it; they would make it happen no matter what.

Upon hitting the ground I was expecting the command to give us a day to assess the FOB and our new surroundings, yet they had a different game plan. I was to immediately go out on two upcoming missions, so we had time enough to throw our gear on an empty cot before we left. I told the commander that I was ready to help - knowing the best way to get our feet wet was to jump right in. Quickly, it was clear to me how desperate for support the team was and I knew right then that I would do everything in my power to help.

The other captains convinced the commander that they would take my shift for the day and I would stay behind to assist with command back at the FOB. He agreed to their suggestion for the day, but reminded us that since my team made the trip down to help, he was going to use us as much as possible to give his guys a break. I thought this was wise because it gave me time to acclimate to my surroundings and ease into the missions at a pace where my team could get to know the rest of the new team. They knew the upcoming schedule and my team was on the roster for all the missions.

As soon as they left for their own Humanitarian Assistance drop, I told my guys to prepare the vehicle for immediate action drills and dove right into the security of the FOB - a task of immense importance to protect the FOB from direct attack with ground forces. It was manned 24/7 and everyone, including the commander, had time assigned to guard the walls. I was not surprised to see my team put into the tower's guard schedule prior to my arrival.

About an hour after I came to the FOB and the teams were out on a mission, I received a quick lesson about the reality of being on a small team in the middle of nowhere. A vehicle pulled up to the front gate, stopping at enough distance to notify us they wanted help but not close enough to attack us. I grabbed an interpreter and ran to the gate to find out what was wrong. A man had been shot and lay wounded in the back seat. I called the Doc, and took security out to the vehicle to assess the situation. Doc reached the vehicle and the men had already taken the man out to lay him on the ground. Doc took his pulse and gave me the international sign of, "he's dead and there is nothing we can do." By this time a crowd was gathering and the people were getting upset.

A fellow officer started taking statements and I took over security. I first told everyone to step away from the vehicle and the deceased. I then had everyone who was in the vehicle come around the front to sit on the hood so we could take their statements. This also allowed the passengers to separate themselves from the deceased. This way they wouldn't incite the crowd any further by standing over the body screaming and crying.

I respectfully requested some of the fellow police to cover up the body with a sheet and place the body in the trunk of the car. This was to give the body some dignity and also took the body out of sight of the surrounding crowd. Without a body to physically see and focus on it was easier to disperse the crowd. Let's just say that for the next few days my fellow soldiers wouldn't let me forget my state of origin and the fact that I had requested someone put a body in the trunk of a vehicle. I will tell you the same thing I had to repeat to them, "No, I don't know anyone in the Mafia."

Eventually - after processing all the witness stories, we had a better picture of what had transpired. A convoy of non-American Allied forces told the vehicle to get off the road and out of the way of their convoy and the vehicle tried sliding back into traffic between the convoy. Because there are so many suicide bombers that use their vehicles as a mobile explosive, the rules of engagement are to use an escalation of force. This means to try to wave the vehicle away with your arm signal, and then point the weapon if necessary. If the situation requires it, you escalate to firing a warning shot away from the vehicle in a safe manner and finally if the situation persists, you are authorized to use deadly force. In this case when the warning shots were given, a round ricocheted off the ground into the vehicle. It went through the windshield slicing through the driver's earlobe and ultimately killed the rear passenger sitting directly behind the driver.

To make matters worse, the Afghanistan people don't distinguish between the Spanish, Italian or any other forces and the American military. So in the eyes of the people, this unfortunate situation was the fault of the Americans - despite the fact that this was not in fact the case at all. Such a situation is damaging to our relationships with the community here when we strive to take two slow hard steps forward and in one quick moment, the actions of another country - even inadvertently - push us back six steps.

Our report was submitted to the chain of command and we expressed our heartfelt sympathies to the fellow passengers. While American forces were not responsible for this occurrence, they acted honorably nonetheless. They made retribution with the deceased family and extended apologies. The pitiful state of affairs was the deceased family ultimately accepted the death and understood why the death occurred. The people of Afghanistan have come to accept this way of life and unfortunately this has become a norm for these people.

The drivers in this country understand the rules and laws of the road when it comes to the military and this death was a tragedy overall. The driver was wrong and because of it an accidental death occurred. The professionalism of the police during the situation gave credit to the force on a whole and in light of the tragic event; they upheld their training and took control of the situation the best they could. It was also a reminder to all involved of the long road ahead for this country. At the end of the day, it becomes one more prayer I add to my ever-growing list. A few more incidents like this and my rosary beads will be worn to nothing.

Welcome to the adrenaline ride and please make sure your seatbelt is on. When I look back on the events of the day, I am horrified at how calm I was and how unfazed I am by the situation. I am still waiting for the reality to kick in, but I guess I have to get off the ride and relax for everything to hit. Until I do, I'll take the advice of the commander when he returned and got our reports; he placed his hand on my shoulder and said, "Welcome to the ride of your life; don't worry this is just the beginning."

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