Below is a Navy Chaplain's report about his short stay in Afghanistan. He's a Rabbi assigned to care for the spiritual warfare of Marines - assisting with the jewish holidays. Thought you might find it interesting: Thursday, 24 September Finding a computer is a real challenge – and then hoping the internet is up is the next challenge. They do have an internet tent which is very hot, crowded and very slow…so, this borrowed account is my best chance. Getting out of Camp [redacted] was the last event I last wrote about – and I have since learned that this is the norm. So there we were, having missed the 3:30 p.m. flight and told to wait until 5:00 p.m. or so, when we were then told that 7:05 p.m. would be the next possibility. Now, if you want to walk about 2 miles across the runway to the other airfield that launches planes (not helicopters) there should be a C-130 transport plane that is supposed to fly to Camp [redacted]. Was it the heat, the dust, the walk or that I just didn’t believe anything anyone said, and that they just wanted us to stop bothering them? So we stayed put and we waited... ...The “lounge” is a sand pit with a torn tarp covering a portion of it and chairs which must have been a joke when constructed. They took pieces of plywood and created a kind of deep “X” pattern where your back rests on the back of the “X” and your butt is down in the “V” part and then your legs are lifted up the left side of the hard wood “X” – so, as one walks by you’d see a surreal scene of all these legs in the air like an Afghani gynecology office. And, after sitting in the chair for an hour or so, getting out means rolling off to the side into the dirt and then getting up off your knees. Anyway, after we loaded up, shuffled through the dark to the helos – blasting dust and sand all over us – we were waved off and told they were taking no passengers…and they would be back. The delay was to be until 01:30 a.m., so we had five more hours to kill. I suggested that we go grab some dinner in the mini-DFAC – where they had warm drinks, cereal (no milk) and some cake. Maybe not SouthBeach, but a way to kill some time in a tent with A/C. So, I sipped the water (ice was non-potable) and positioned myself under the hole in the large tube blowing air, when “click” – off went then air conditioning. I went up to the man in charge (it turns out he was from Nepal) and asked what happened? He said, “No air, my friend…no air.” My puzzled look asked “Why?” He said, “After 8:00 until 5:00 next morning…we have no air.” It felt like I was on Apollo XIII trying to find a corner of the room with air, so we just left. The Marines in the ADOC (waiting area) said they would find us a tent with a cot to rest for the 5 hours, so we began to walk around barbed wire and down paths to a tent with its lights still on, and this was to be our home. I had no pillow, blanket or jacket…but spread out on an available cot and tried to get some rest. At first, I thought it was comfortably cool until it got colder and colder. After an hour my “curling up technique” was not keeping me warm against the A/C, so I rolled off the cot and made my way to the flap and outside. Reaching for my flashlight, I tried to remember which direction I came from to get back to the airfield, so I walked. With my flashlight waving light before me, nothing looked familiar. I was leaving the tented area and heading toward an unfamiliar wall. It was dark everywhere and now only the distant lights of the tents were behind me, so I stopped. So, I turned around and with four hours to make my way back to the flight, I thought, what’s the hurry? So, standing before the tent again…I walked the other way, following barbed wire until I saw the chem lights of the airfield…and I was back in the “doctor’s waiting room” of wooded chairs. Sipping water and making regular trips to the full porta-potty helped pass the time until we were told to present our hands to have "[redacted]” written with the permanent marker so the aircrew could put us on the right helo and get us off in [redacted]. Finally, at 0200 I could hear the CH-53 in the distance and saw two of them making their approach. The “moon dust” (as it is called) blew everywhere as they landed. Now my concern was to get on the right one. So, with hands extended, we marched past the air crew who shone a red light on our hand and mouthed something amidst the roar of the engines. I had goggles down, collar up and with flak and helmet reached into the helo and yanked myself up. Now, a dry seat…hmmm. I looked up for drips and down for puddles, then for seats that were not stained with hydraulic fluid and there it was. I buckled in and got ready for the 30 minute flight as we took off in darkness, with only the occasional light of a village to be seen. We flew and flew, for 45 minutes, and we flew. I didn’t want to take a snooze, so I could be alert if need be…so peering through my fluid stained goggles we rolled another 15 minutes until I could see [redacted]. As we touched down and the dust flew in the air, I unsnapped my belt and was ready for my rack. The ride back in the beaten-up van was 30 minutes,...
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Posted
Sep 30 2009, 03:20 AM
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BLACKFIVE