Hey everyone. I decided to put a blog together and load some occasional stories about my experiences here. I think I'm going to make this a private blog so I'd appreciate if you kept it to yourselves. If you want to share it with someone else, just email me at Jasrneff@gmail.com and I can add them.
So, where to start? Let me describe my environment first. I'm in Bagram, Afghanistan. It's the largest base in Afghanistan and the residence of 30,000 people. Military personnel are outnumbered 2:1 by civilian contractors. So it really doesn't feel like a typical army base. There are so many normal looking people that I'm the minority in my uniform. People from all countries make their home here; Polish, French, Korean. It's nice to be around some variety. The ground is either large rock gravel (outside my barracks) or super fine dust. One big road goes down the center of the base. It's called Disney drive, named after someone who was killed in Afghanistan. It is busy most of the time; stop and go traffic is normal. The buildings here look like they were dropped from a plane two thousand feet up in random places. The whole place is a garbled mess.
My living quarters are called Bee Huts. Where I sleep consists of a 7x8 plywood cell. Actually I love the private space. It's a hot commodity in the army. The plywood room is one of about eight in a small wood building with a tin roof. I'll put up pictures on another post. But to give a few details; my room is unfinished plywood (not very well done really), thrown together with about 6 foot high walls. A one and half foot gap exists above the wall, making it a large wood enclosed cubicle of sorts. A hallway sits lengthwise down the middle of the building. And there resides our heat and air units - hence the shortened walls.
Okay - I know only about half of you cared to read all of that. I digressed, I know.
Now to my actual story:
Around these "Bee Huts" are bunkers. These bunkers are essentially cement structures with sandbags designed to withstand the blast of incoming mortar or rocket attacks. These attacks happen on a semi-regular basis. But remember, Bagram is enormous. If you get hit, it was your time. So some people have a rather casual attitude towards these attacks.
Well, I had only been here for a couple of days and was not familiar with normal procedure.
In the early a.m. I was sleeping in my wood cell, when I heard what I can only describe as one of the most annoying sirens imaginable. The siren was extremely loud and lengthy and was followed by a mechanical sounding voice that said "IDF (indirect fire) impact, don your vest and bunker in place". This was followed by a repeat of the siren and the same instructions. I was determined to do the right thing and follow these instructions. The nearest bunker was only 20 or 30 feet from my Bee Hut. I hopped out of bed. I was still in my pajamas; an all tan sweat suit designed to be worn underneath your uniform in cold weather. Normally I would never wear this outside, but there was incoming. So I began to put my boots, vest, and helmet on in the dark as the siren sounded. In the other plywood cells live people who have been here for a number of months. As I geared up I listened to them interact: Casually each one said, "I'm all right. You all right?", "Yeah I'm all right. You all right?". I noticed none of them were getting up to head for the bunker. Still I was determined to worry about my own welfare, even if they weren't worried about theirs.
I grabbed my M4 assault rifle and headed outside. I headed into the bunker and leaned against the cement. I looked around and noticed that no other US soldiers were around. A small group of Polish soldiers were congregating in one part of the bunker, taking accountability of everyone. Otherwise I was alone in my pajamas and protective equipment. The siren had stopped, but normally it would give us an "all clear", indicating it was safe to go about your business. I stepped out of the bunker to look down one of the rows of Bee Huts. No one was outside moving around. It was dead quiet, as if nothing had happened. I thought how stupid I must look, let alone how stupid I felt. Heading back to my Bee Hut, I hesitated at the door handle. Wait, Jason. The right thing would be to check on the other soldiers you know in this area. One of my soldiers was staying only a few Bee Huts away. I headed over.
Stepping into his Bee Hut hallway, I noticed how still and calm it was. I stood at his door and said "hey, do you have your gear on?" He was sleeping on the top bunk, so he could see over his 6 foot wall into the hallway; me standing in my pajamas and combat equipment. Again I said, "hey Eric, do you have your gear on?" He woke up and looked at me over his wall, and asked "why would I have my gear on?" I paused and said, "because we took indirect fire." He responded "oh, ok...yeah I guess I should put it on." The siren hadn't even woken him from his slumber. He hopped down and began to gear up. Across from Eric lives a man who has been living on Bagram for years. He's a civilian and knows the ropes. A medium build black man with a low, gravelly voice, he's always willing to offer advice. I liked him the minute I met him. As Eric was getting ready, his housemate stepped into the hallway wearing casual pants and a graphic t-shirt; a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He stood there for a second looking at me and said, "now, when the big voice says 'bunker in place' it means put your vest on and just stay in your room". "Oh", I said. "I thought it meant go to the nearest bunker." "Nope," he responded. "Just stay in your room, and pull your vest over yourself". "Right..." As he walked to the door to go have a smoke, he patted me on the back and rasped through his cigarette, "Welcome to Bagram."
