Duck Season, Happy New Year

One of the nicest things about the gift of living in another culture is the chance to see how much we are alike, despite the very human tendency to fixate on the differences that set us apart.

Such was the discussion I had in the back of an MRAP (the rolling bank vault we use like the family station wagon) as I made my way to work one day.  Turns out that the soldier I was riding with was a duck hunter back home, and he explained to me how duck season work in Afghanistan.

It turns out to be strikingly similar, with some variation like the concept of needing governmental permission to shoot an animal which would definitely be lost in translation, or perhaps they would simply consider that to be covered under the Afghan statute which allows any adult to own (and carry in public) a single assault rifle to be used for self-defense. Lesser weapons are probably treated like bb guns in the U.S., and can be found at the Afghan equivalent of Walmart (though there isn't really any equivalent).

Open Season!!!
(just kidding)

Anyhow, the technique is the same.  You make a duck blind (hiding spot), try to lure the ducks with decoys or calls, and then blast away.  While I have to question the wisdom of firing any weapon in the neighborhood of a military installation (and a good portion of Afghanistan could be considered to meet that criteria), my new friend was clearly impressed. They had apparently gotten a good look at some of the decoys, which he noted were not what you'd get from a Cabella's catalog, but were pretty impressive for being made out of sticks and garbage bags. Indeed, we passed a flock of decoys on our trip which were plenty good enough to fool me (not a duck hunter). High-quality decoys or not, he was certain the Afghans went home with far more game than the average Cabella's customer.

Sometimes The Ducks Shoot Back... (note holes on drivers door)

(actually an Afghan April Fools Day joke, it's a sticker)

Along with duck season comes New Years (March 20) - which seems a far better time to make a fresh start than the dead of winter.  It is celebrated by going outside for picnics as a family enjoying fresh fruit and green things with the idea tha everything is reborn fresh and new. Unfortunately, I have not had the chance either to duck hunt or to go to a New Years picnic, but I have enjoyed the changing season.  Of course a dust/ice storm blew through during the holiday break, in the Afghan equivalent of the thunderstorm that seems to kick up right before you start the grill on the 4th of July.

 
Regardless, spring is marching forward, and the demoralizing events of the past weeks are slowly fading away, though the spectre of fighting season looms on the horizon, and the insurgents included us in their celebrations by rocketing BAF.

The Soviet Method of Duck Hunting

(a HIND helicopter - think Rambo III)

It will be an important and difficult year for Afghanistan when its citizens and leaders will need to make hard decisions and take on heavy burdens. Despite the frustrations and setbacks, this is a country that often eludes my comprehension by commands my respect, and I'm honored to play a small part in their struggle to find peace.

A Sense of Urgency... Or Not

As spring arrives, troops prepare for a rotation, and the withdrawal of coalition forces (CF) draws ever closer, I am sensing an odd mix of urgency and lethargy.

On the one hand there is the urge to rack up tangible accomplishments before hanging up ones boots, on the other is the contrary instinct to fade quietly into the sunset and not tempt fate. In the middle of this mess is the change of season, and the expectation that "fighting season" will soon get started. Taliban don't like fighting in the snow any more than we do and like taking their holiday in warmer climates just the same as us.

Ski Season is Just About Over...

 

Anyhow, I'm trying to just muddle along as best I can without fully embracing the (very American) fallacy that if we just work harder and longer Afghanistan will be reshaped in the next 2-4 weeks, nor the fatalism that often starts with the phrase "it is what it is" and ends with excusing oneself from trying at all.

In that vein, I had a chance for a nice stroll in downtown Charikar this week (going to a KLE not to stop at the corner grocery). I wish I had more of an opportunity to take pictures, as it was charming, colorful, and (at times) friendly.  The highlight was a series of three boys, who were probably 6, 4 and 3 years old, standing by the road (in that order) giving high-fives to the soldiers walking by. Older children enjoyed using the smattering of english they have picked up.

I Stuck by the Medic, Just in Case...

Others were more reserved, but didn't hesitate to return the greeting of a hand on the heart and a brief nod which has become instinctual enough that I catch myself doing it with non-Afghan colleagues. Mostly, our group seemed to get about as much attention as a flashy car driving down the street; enough to catch your attention and merit a comment to your neighbor, but not enough to interrupt business or a conversation with your friend. 

The Ironies of Afghanistan, A Soviet DSHK Machine Gun on a US Humvee

While our guard was certainly up, the guns generally were not, and the only real adrenaline rush came when CPT Esquire showed his soldiering skills by spotting an incoming motorbike with a gun-totting passenger and alerting our group to this event. Luckily, the weapon was not the typical AK-47 (which one is allowed to carry around for self-defense), but something that looked strikingly like a revolutionary war era flintlock rifle with a 3-4 foot barrel, and was probably being used for duck hunting.

On balance, it was nice to see the normalcy of a "city" street, and remember that mostly, people just want to have a job, earn enough to feed their family, have clean water, and go about their business.

Our Welcome Home

Leftover Bits and Peices

There is a widely-told story in Afghanistan that when God finished making the world he collected all the odd bits and peices that did not fit anywhere else, threw them down, and created Afghanistan.

This is a collection of some bits and peices of my own that mark my memories of this quirky, beautiful, troubled and wonderful place.

Cultural quirks

In a twist of logic that remains a mystery to me - my Korean hosts insist on a closed door policy for offices, meetings etc. - but keep bathroom doors open - sometimes including when they are in use (in a gender-mixed building).  So far the one Korean that I dared to ask about the matter seemed to think I was trying to make a joke and offered no explanation.

While proud and fierce - the Governor - who regales visitors with stories of personally defending his compound against suicide bombers, was very comfortable having an impromptu medical checkup in his office with a half-dozen guests in attendance explaining his pains to a bemused but well-poised army doctor who yielded to his insistence that he do a quick examination, and I am simply glad that the condition was a lower back issue, and not a more sensitive region.

He is also very gregarious fellow who follows the Afghan custom of being friendly by getting up close and personal, giving lots of hugs, putting his (very large) hands on your knee, back etc. All this is pretty standard, but in a gesture of hospitality and affection that is hard to top, the Governor paused a meeting we were holding, slowly reached down below the table (luckily a glass one so I knew he wasn't going for his AK-47) and then with a swift and powerful blow, killed the fly on my knee (the far one, since his hand had remained motionless on the closer one).

Texaco Station

At the beginning of my training - and repeatedly since I have been struck by the pride and unity of my military brethren, and often wondered what a State Department version of the Warriors Creed might look like, and even started drafting one until I realized it would probably get me in trouble - so I'll just share theirs and keep my job, for now at least.

The Soldier's Creed / Warrior Ethos / Warrior Creed

I am an American Soldier.

I am a Warrior and a member of a team. I serve the people of the United States and live the Army Values.

I will always place the mission first.

I will never accept defeat.

I will never quit.

I will never leave a fallen comrade.

I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough, trained and proficient in my warrior tasks and drills. I always maintain my arms, my equipment and myself.

I am an expert and I am a professional.

I stand ready to deploy, engage, and destroy the enemies of the United States of America in close combat.

I am a guardian of freedom and the American way of life.

I am an American Soldier.

While there are of course inept (or at least quirky) soldiers, the vast majority of them exemplify this code, and genuinely want to see good things happen in Afghanistan.  Papa Duck, my military counterpart is a fine example of this. Leaving behind a family and a civilian career which he enjoys, he inherited an evolving mission and a shrinking team to accomplish it. Undaunted, he has shaped and reshaped his team to get everything possible done to build up our little corner of Afghanistan and the people who live here. I decided on his title due to his focus on the part of the creed that puts the team first, as he always has the welfare of his subordinates as his priority, and never fails to do everything he can for them. Graciously, he has even taken me under his wing (so to speak) - offering to pick up supplies from BAF, making sure I arrived safely after a trip, teaching me all kinds of useful things about guns, knives, grenades, body armor etc. etc. etc. and generally ensuring that neither I nor his other ducklings wander into harms way.

  

one of my favorite photos showing of our soldiers playing volleyball with afghan soldiers and police