I have been embedded with U.S. Army in Paktya province, Afghanistan, near Pakistan, for the past week. Above is the view from a dusty humvee window.
(Sorry mom and dad. I didn't want you to worry.)
It took a few weeks for the embed to be approved--I went to Kabul not knowing if it would come through at all. But on Nov. 25, I received notice that the embed had been approved and that I was expected at Bagram Air Field the next afternoon.
From Bagram I was transported the same day to Salerno Foward Operating Base in Khost province, where I spent Thanksgiving and the following day waiting for a helicopter flight to FOB Herrera in Paktya province.
So first of all, I haven't been shot at. Just fyi. I haven't come across any IED's, haven't been at the FOB for any rockets or indirect fire. According to the soldiers here, things have calmed down considerably. September was bad. October was quieter but not great. By the time I arrived at the end of November, it was starting to get cold and hopefully the Taliban will go into hibernation or back to whatever country they came from for the winter.
Being able to talk to the soldiers who put their lives on the line everyday has opened my eyes. The soldiers joined the Army for different reasons: ROTC college scholarships, to find some direction in life, and because they believed in serving their country. After 8 months here in Afghanistan, most of the people I have talked to just want to go home. Many of them are on their second or third deployment. Most have been to Iraq for a year or more. They have experienced IED explosions, rocket fire, bullets and ambushes. They have all experienced the pain of losing one of their own.
Having said all that, they are quite honestly doing the best they can. They go out every day and try to keep each other safe, but with courage, toughness and dedication.
I have accompanied two different platoons on missions every day since I arrived. The Calvalry Scouts are part of the 1st Squadron, 61st Calvalry, 4th Brigade, 101st Airborne Division. They are trained to find and kill "the bad guys," as many of them put it. They travel in convoys of humvees. Above, a gunner looks out from the gun turret of a humvee.
A few days ago, one of the missions got sidetracked when one of the platoon leaders saw a group of men parked next to the FOB, taking photographs with a cell phone. They appeared to be taking photographs of the convoy of soldiers as they drove down the road next to the FOB. Photographs of certain aspects of the FOB or the soldiers could be a serious security risk.
When confronted, the group was uncooperative and acting suspicious. They refused to give up the cell phone. Then they took the battery out so the soldiers couldn't see what photographs had been taken. They said they were Afghans, but they could have been Pakistanis, as the border is a short drive.
The man in this photograph was the one with the cell phone. He was actually staring down the individual soldiers. Obviously not a friend of American forces. He was also on his way back to his madrassa, a religious school.
The cell phone was confiscated for a week, and the men were questioned, but other than that, they couldn't be detained further. Being suspicious is not enough. This situation just illustrates one of the many difficulties of this war: the enemy doesn't wear a uniform.
The other platoon that I've spent time with is the first platoon from the 549th Military Police Company. Traditionally, the military police were "combat support," meaning the infantry would be on the front lines and the MP's and many others were in the back, supporting their work in various ways.
In Iraq and Afghanistan, the Military Police have been moved to the front. They are conducting missions similar to the Cavalry Scouts. Both platoons that I have been following have conducted many "key leader engagements," meaning they visit a village, seek out the tribal/village elders and talk to them. They ask about the welfare of the villagers, security threats from Taliban and foreign fighters, education, health, basic necessities like food and water, power and road projects and voter registration. Often, they end the visit with a distribution of HA: humanitarian aid. Hearts and Minds missions. Above, the MP platoon leader, Sgt. First Class Hermes Acevedo, chats with elders in a village.
I accompanied the MP's to another village, one that hadn't seen many visitors at all. We were there for a long time and the villagers, especially the children, were interacting a lot with the soldiers.
The little girls were very camera shy and the first few times I approached them, they scattered in all directions. I don't think they were less curious about what was going on, but girls just don't get the opportunities for education, fun and outside contact that boys do. It's a cultural thing, but it really sucks. My opinion. The excuse is that they are "protecting" the women, but really it just comes across as selfish.
The girls and women here are incredibly beautiful, even when they are completely covered, because they dress in bright colors--red, green, hot pink, purple, orange. They decorate their scarves and dresses with little mirrors and sparkling jewels. They are the splashes of color in this land of brown and grey.
This particular village was very poor. They were very nice though, and welcomed the soldiers with smiles. At one time the village had a river nearby, which helped them irrigate their crops. But recently a neighboring village built a hydroelectric project and the river dried up.
When the soldiers starting unloading the humanitarian aid, the people immediately began fighting and grabbing at items. Unfortunately, the soldiers had to separate the people from the food, radios and toys until it was all unloaded.
Some of the soldiers occupied the crowds of curious children who gathered around to ask questions and make friends with them. Above, one of the children asks by pantomime if these soldiers are the ones with aircraft that fly overhead.
One little boy, an 8-year-old named Khan, was having trouble walking because he had stepped on a land mine a few days earlier. The platoon medic, PFC Colin Thon, cleaned and dressed the infected wound and told him how to clean it. Some villages are doing better than others and even have their own medical clinics. This village had no medical help nearby.
One of the times I approached the group of girls with my camera, one of the interpreters helped me out by saying something to the effect of: "She's not going to hurt you. Don't you want your picture taken?" A little while later I noticed them smiling and motioning me to come to them. Some of the girls still ran away, but a few stayed right in front of me and let me make some photographs. They loved seeing the pictures on the LCD screen on the back of the camera.
Then the boys came over and told the to go away and shook their fingers at me. It's like they don't want the girls to have any fun at all.
This is Spc. Ernie Ruiz, a gunner with the MP's right before a test fire of the rounds in the humvee gun turret.
The MP's and Scouts have been taking good care of me and watching out for my safety. I am thankful for all of them.
Afghanistan is actually a beautiful place in many ways. Too bad it's so messed up.
The first assignment I worked on in Kabul was a two-part series with National Public Radio's Soraya Sarhaddi Nelson about Afghanistan's growing drug addiction problem. You can see NPR's web presentation of Part 1 here. (Please listen to Soraya's audio piece. It's good.)
Karima prepares her morning fix--a mixture of heroin and opium rolled in a cigarette.
Rika, 3, sits next to her mother and watches the process.
Karima said that her husband got her hooked on the drugs. That's 5-year-old Raisa (the one Karima tried to sell) on the far right and 3-year-old Rika, playing with her mother's cigarettes.
Fahima, 12, watches her mother. Karima makes Fahima go out and buy her drugs for her.
Rika, 3.
Fahima sits calmly while her grandmother Fariba, left, and Karima, right, giggle from the effects of the drugs. Both of Karima's parents are also drug addicts.
Pooh and cigarettes.
Fahima answers the door. Her hair is falling out in chunks and she has kidney stones. All of the children suffer from their exposure to heroin and opium smoke, as well as malnutrition.
Karima reaches for her few cooking utensils so she can begin to prepare lunch. Private donations to the Nejat Center were used to buy Karima a small stove and some gas for cooking, as well a few cans of food and cooking oil.
For lunch, potato soup with a little onion.
Arun, 7, and Raisa, 5, wait while Karima slices onion and potato. Karima's addiction means that sometimes there is just enough food to stifle the hunger pangs, but not enough for the children to thrive. And sometimes no food at all.
The youngest, 1-year-old Ghodratullah, sleeps soundly in his crib.
Karima hands off her still smoking cigarette to Fahima. The Nejat Center counselors recently discovered to their horror that the 12-year-old girl also smokes some of her mother's heroin and opium.
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