MOAC. Check. Breakfast. Check. Honor First. Coffee Second. Away we go.
The wake up at the BAF transient billeting was quite pleasant. It was warm in the tent, the heater was blasting, and the tenting let just enough of the outside sunlight in for visibility, but not so much as to disturb sleep. I wandered out of the rear door in search for the showers and latrines. All flat surfaces here are covered in a large aggregate gravel, maybe about 3" rocks. This necessitates hard-toed shoes in transit to the hygiene facilities. Our higher headquarters has mandated the closed-toe rule, so many of the Soldiers have Crocs or simply wear their running shoes to and from. Just something to think about, a walk across a large gravel parking lot to get to the bathroom first thing in the morning. You get used to it.
Shower, shave and brush. Uniform changed and back into the tent ready to start the day. Let's check out this dining facility (DFAC) [Editor's Note: I've noticed a lot of the Soldiers say "DFACT" (pronounced dee-fact). They are wrong, and sound extra wrong. Don't worry, I'll let them know.] This DFAC was nice. All of the typical military breakfast stuff weird from-powder scrambled eggs, bacon/sausage (patties AND links)/some type of hash brown deliciousness, hard boiled eggs and even breakfast burritos. I think we'll survive. Moving through the DFAC is a lot of civilians, US, Czech, Polish, and French military. Our group eyeballs them all, checking out their uniforms, their weapons, and the fact they are allowed to wear beards. Obviously everyone stays in little pockets of their own.
With chow officially validated. Next is coffee and roaming about the area to see what's around. The previous night, the Liaison Sergeant First Class (SFC) who picked us up told me "You will not be flying out of here tomorrow. Actually you will have nothing tomorrow, as I figure out your training requirements". So, on that I called a 1000 meeting for our group, just to make sure everyone woke up and to put out the plan for the day. We're mostly sitting around the tent watching movies, or playing games on our computers and just before our meeting, say 0950, that same SFC strolls in. He's brought along the Liaison Sergeant Major (SGM) and we all huddle around him as he speaks training and other tips about BAF. "You're going to have to do x, y, z training…unless you have documentation showing you've already completed it." Mind you, we've spent the last 45 days doing this exact training and having it blessed off on, in order to make it this far. "OK SGM, I'll call back to Texas and see if I can have these documents emailed to me. Is there a schedule for when this training starts? Just in case I'm not able to pull the paperwork together?" "No." They depart, taking two from our group with them to try for a linkup at another unit's area. 19 drops to 17.
Told multiple times that we won't see any type of movement until the next day, at the earliest, I give the thumbs up for everyone to go about their business. Some catch a shuttle to the Main Post Exchange (PX), some go right back to the rack and curl up, some meander around doing a whole bunch of nothing. Three hours go by, all is well. Unannounced, the SGM rolls in and shouts "I'm looking for the South Dakota guys; we're trying to get them to fly tonight. There's a 1530 show time, pack up." Luckily, all three of these guys decided to stay in the tent and were in their bunks hanging out. In a whirlwind they are packed up and on the move. Safe travel, best of luck. 17 drops to 14.
Impressed and feeling lucky that in quick fashion we dodged that bullet, I went back to watching The Wire: Season One (an excellent show, you should if you haven't). McNulty, Avon Barksdale, my favorite, Omar, and I, all cuddled up in a community bunk tent, nestled around the center poles suckling from the electric outlets. Just as Bubbles is putting the red hat on the drug dealers to spotlight for B-More's finest, the loaner cell phone in my pocket starts "blowing up" (a term to use sparingly in this environment, as things are often literally blowing up). It's the Liaison SFC again, "Hey Sir, the SGM wants to try and get all of your guys out to Sharana tonight…at the 1730 show time." "Well, OK, I've got people scattered all over (because you said we DEFINITELY wouldn't be moving anywhere today, due to required training [that I called back to TX at 2330 requesting]), but I'll do my best to gather them up and have them ready to move." "Great, great, SPC So-And-So will be over to pick you all up very soon, with a bus." Roger that, got it. I called him back, promptly. "SFC, CPT K here, ummm, yeah, I've got Soldiers out, with no way to contact them. With less than an hour of lead time [Editor's Note: Using "New Math" and sound story following you'll notice it is now approximately 1630. Thanks, onward.] I don't think this is going to happen. I'll get everyone I have my hands on ready to go and we'll work it from there. Are there any other flights tonight?" "Yes Sir, it looks like there's another flight that has a show time of around 2000. We can split it if we have to." Awesome, backup plans are cooled than the other side of the pillow. "Excellent, I'll work it and we'll all get there, one way or another."
By the powers of all things magical, sprinkled with the Grundle Spice of a Unicorn Steed, my two Soldiers, who were out adventuring, show up not 5 minutes after I hang up the phone. "Pack up your stuff, we're out!" "But, wait, I thought you said…" "Correct, I'm taking the crazy pills too, just roll with it." Still missing two, but I have an idea. I brief one of my strong SFC's about the plan and I head out on foot for the hunt. Chow hall, ho! It had started to lightly rain, not really drops, sort a Seattle mist. Thick enough to feel as you moved through it. Like a bloodhound on the trail I found my two targets precisely where I anticipated them to be, outside of the chow hall next to the picnic table where the smokers hang out. "Ayo, trying to catch a flight tonight, snub 'em, we've got to pack and roll out." We make it back to the tent, and I feel a little smug as a result of my targeted find.
As the three of us head back toward the tent, the bags are starting to line up outside of the tent. Achievement unlocked: Jumping Through One's Ass. While I am still throwing my stuff together I hear a shout that the ride has arrived and they've started loading up. I walk outside to greet the SPC and let him know that I just pulled two back in and he should load as much as he can and hit the road. They were about 40 minutes from show time. Like sardines in a can, clowns in a clown car, or hippy college students in a phone booth, they Jenga-crammed 11 Soldiers, with all of their gear AND two giant Tough Boxes, into this thing. Impressed by that alone, I sent them on their way. Make it on that flight is the mission, and I'm accepting on your behalf. Happy trails. With another flight around 2000, why rush to throw all of our stuff together and then squeeze into this mini-bus Japanese-train-style? "See you in a bit. We'll right behind you on the next flight." "I'll drop them off Sir, and be right back around to grab you three" says the SPC. "Gotcha, we'll be here waiting."
It only seemed to be about 20 minutes before he was back out front, not a bad time. "They made the flight." 14 drops to 3. We moved with a purpose, but controlled, and had plenty of time to hit chow prior to our show time. We off-loaded all of our bags into the Temporary 24-Hour Storage shed. Could someone just walk up, grab our stuff, and have off with it? Of course they could, but it's all 'Mericans (contractor and military, also COMPLETELY FALSE. Tons of foreign nationals from all over who knows where) and when we're in a sketchy land, not of our own, we have morals and integrity. Believe THAT! As we get back into the party bus, SPC So-and-So chimes in with "So I checked inside really quick…and it turns out that the 2000 flight is 'Cargo Only', so…" At this point I was at: Fraks given = 0. "They post the flight times for the next 24 hour around 2200. We'll see." I can buy that, SPC So-and-So. For $Free-99, I'll buy that.
Stomachs empty, we made our way over to the "Dragon Diner" DFAC, see the "Welcome to Afghanistan" post, dated 01NOV11 [Editor's Note: See? My stories check out. I would never deceive or lie to the 'Merican public]. On top of all of those hijinx, SPC So-and-So disappeared from the DFAC, and I had already given him back the loaner phone. Crud.
It was now around 1930, and we had nowhere to be for at least another 2.5 hours. Luckily, the Pat Tillman USO was right across the street. We posted up there, watched a little of the movie Blow, drank some free coffee and took advantage of the Wi-Fi. This place was like a log cabin Ski lodge, with a room full of phones and computers. Very out of place, almost like a mirage, but it was a soft place to park our butts and space out while we watched the clock tick by. The USO was full of memorabilia from Tillman's NFL career and his military commendations. Additionally, due to its proximity to the Passenger Terminal, it was packed full of Soldiers and Airmen. Packed full. Privates lying all over the arm chairs, Colonels flopped on the love seats, or posted up reading something really important. Sergeants everywhere else, on both ends of the spectrum, either hawkeye-watching everyone or completely knocked out. Boots off, top off, snoring, all the good stuff. My two travelling partners knocked out too, promptly, up on the second floor loft. TKO.
I walked across the street around 10 minutes to 2200 and set up shop right next to the monitor displaying the flight times. Right on cue, a civilian emerges, unlocks the computer box under the screen and starts plugging into the Matrix. After a few minutes he has the new slide loaded into the PowerPoint and sends it back to the display…1700 show time to Sharana. Ugh, not cool, right? Another full day in BAF. Living out of a bag. Sleeping on funky transient bunks. In the same uniform I'd been wearing since the 28th (Correct, 5 days).
Back across the way to wake the others up and ruin their vacation. "Well Sir, let's call the SFC back and tell him we need to get back into the tents from this morning". Well, I don't have his number…because he handed me that phone first thing and it was programmed in. I try calling the SGM, and his phone is busy, at 2230. I try calling the loaner cell phone number, which I did excellently write down, but it's turned off. We have been abandoned. I asked the Staff Sergeant (SSG) that was with me to try in at the Liaison Officer (LNO) desk in the Passenger Terminal, to see if he can get more help from them than I could. I struck out earlier, they barely paused their conversation to field my question. They suck. Sure enough, he comes out with "There's another transient area right here that we can crash in. The billeting office should be right around the corner." We rifle through our gear to grab the bare necessities, stow the rest away, and make our move.
Right around the corner indeed, right in our face. "Hi, we need a place to stay for the night" I say to the Eastern European woman working the counter. "Have you been here before?" she asked. "Absolutely not" I replied. "Please, sign in". I couldn't tell if she was amused, or wanted to punch me in the throat. Eastern European charm. We all signed in. She explained to us the layout of the tents and the latrines/showers. Not further adventures that night, really. I'm not sure if we did Midnight Chow as well, it's very possible, but regardless, it was uneventful. We were tired, kind of grimy, and in a strange place. Time for bed. The tents were right where she described them. We quickly found spots and passed out. What can we get into tomorrow?
To be continued…
