Goodbye Afghanistan.

It's Sunday night, my last night here. I'm leaving tomorrow. Unless something remarkable happens on the trip home, this will be my last entry.

I can't even think of anything interesting to say, and I've had a lot of time to think about it. I considered writing about my opinion of the progress we've made here, but it would be only a narrow view of my small part in the big picture. Instead I'll just cut to the bottom line: twenty years. I think it will take another twenty years before we make a difference here.

I've done my part for the war on terror. Now, unlike the courageous men & women in the military, I can go home and not look back. Our soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines will likely be back--either here or Iraq. Hopefully I've been able to make a small contribution in the last twenty-two months with MPRI in Afghanistan.

I'm going home to a new job in Dallas; to my beautiful wife Julie; to my family and friends; and to the safety, comfort, convenience, and civility of a modern society.

Fair winds and following seas, my friends.

Out.

I've been thinking about how to best wind down this blog. Yep, I'm leaving. I arrived in Afghanistan on Jan 7, 2007 and I'll be leaving for good on Nov 10, 2008. Which, coincidentally, is the Marine Corps' birthday.

I was looking back at some of my first entries to try to find something to tie this all up and provide some closure. My very first entry is here. However, all I'm finding is that my first few weeks here seem like years ago. Actually it was only twenty-two months. I also looked at some of the first pics I took with my crappy little camera. I remember thinking how exciting, dangerous, and adventurous the whole thing seemed. I even optimistically started a separate folder for Afghanistan pics here, and now there are thousands of pics in my Photobucket.

Is it still exciting, dangerous, and adventurous? Somewhat. I feel the need to start out by once again explaining that I am not a soldier. There are thousands of true American heroes here, men & women of the US armed forces, who face real danger everyday. If they read this they'd probably laugh. I'm just a contractor, living and working in the relative safety of the Afghan capital Kabul. However, compared to my former occupation and to the casual reader browsing this from the comfort and safety of his home or office in places like Rapid City, South Dakota or Irrigon, Oregon this is a dangerous place.

Just last week, the Ministry of Interior was attacked. Within walking distance from where many of us work and live, most of us didn't give it a second thought. Taliban attacked the guards while one of them ran in and detonated his suicide bomb. Five people were killed and the building suffered major damage. That day, just like any other day, I traveled with my team down Jalalabad road to the depot, we worked all day, had lunch, went back down Jalalabad road, I went to the gym, got a go-plate from the dining facility, and went to the house. Just another day.

Each day before we travel, we call the BDOC (Base Defense Operations Center) for the road conditions. Alert conditions are set for each route according to the threat, which means the possibility of hostility. Amber means caution, Red means essential travel only, and Black means no movement at all. Our usual daily route is almost always Red--essential travel only. So on the way to work each day we're looking for possible threats such as vehicles that seem to be tailing us or trying to catch up to us; stalled, unoccupied vehicles; the absence of people/pedestrians (locals almost always seem to know when something's going to go down); and anything out of the ordinary. In addition, we instruct our drivers to drive like bats out of Hell, which they are happy to do. A moving target is harder to hit.

We have pre-prepared "accident cards" in each vehicle. If we should have an accident or wreck, we hand the card to the other driver and depart the area. Under no circumstance will we allow ourselves to be boxed-in or stranded. We always travel with at least two vehicles so if one becomes stranded we can get in the other one and get away.

You get used to it. Much like the cops who can stand around a gory crime scene telling jokes, you begin to get a little numb to the danger around here. I remember the first time I went home on leave. Julie picked me up at the airport (a six-pack of Shiner Boch waiting for me in the truck, God bless her). On the way down I-635 toward the house I remember feeling a little uneasy. We were in a lone vehicle, miles from "safety." I wasn't wearing body armor. There were no pedestrians. We stopped several times (for traffic lights). All of the overpasses seemed particularly threatening--good places for the bad guys to drop stuff on you--there are no overpasses in Kabul, probably all of Afghanistan.

It's going to be weird for a while when I get home.

Per MPRI’s contract with the US government, the military is responsible for our life support. That means housing, food, medical, security, etc. We eat in the dining facilities and go to the medical aid stations aboard military installations like Camp Eggers and Camp Phoenix, etc. However, our living arrangements are a little different in Kabul.

There just isn’t enough room to billet everyone assigned to Camp Eggers. Of course, the military has priority. Although there have been some exceptions, for the most part, all US military assigned to Camp Eggers live on post. Most of the billeting consists of conex (shipping) containers converted to living quarters. Two soldiers share a 10X20’ space. Community showers/bathrooms are in separate buildings. With few exceptions (primarily KBR), contractors don’t live on Camp Eggers.

MPRI contractors live in the city; in houses we call “safe houses.” They are big homes converted to billet between twenty and thirty people. They have names like Falcon House, White House, and Big House. The houses are surrounded by hardened walls, HESCO barriers, concertina (razor) wire, and security guards. The security guards are locally contracted Afghans with AK47 rifles.

Most rooms in safe houses don’t have bathrooms, but there are usually one or two bathrooms per floor. Some houses have kitchens that are shared by the whole house, although most people hardly use them. There is usually one refrigerator on each floor, and many people buy small refrigerators for their rooms. Most windows are taped up and/or covered with Styrofoam in the winter to help insulate against the bitter cold. Windows to first-floor rooms facing the street are typically covered by a wall of sandbags for additional protection.

There are crates of bottled water stacked in a storage area or in the halls, along with an emergency supply of MREs. Some houses have common areas with couches and a TV. Each house has its own washer/dryers.

Staff are hired to clean the houses and rooms. They empty trash, clean the common areas, clean the rooms, and do personal laundry once a week.

Vehicles, mostly vans and a few SUVs, are parked at the houses. Drivers rotate duties throughout the week. Most of them are on-call; when an MPRI mentor needs to go somewhere, he calls the dispatcher and a vehicle meets him to take him where he needs to go. There is a driver on duty until 10:00 PM each night.

We have evacuation drills regularly. Every resident keeps a “bug out” bag with essentials handy in case of evacuation. A bug out bag usually has things like a change of clothes, toiletries, copies of essential documents like passport/visa and ID cards, flashlight, water, snacks, blanket, etc. During a drill, which can happen at any time, residents grab their bags, body armor, helmet, passport, and a blue chemlight. They meet for a quick head count and keys to the vehicles are distributed. The plan, in case of emergency, is for a military force protection unit to come to the house and escort us to a safe area like Camp Eggers, an ISAF (International Security Forces – Afghanistan) compound, or the US embassy.

Except for the security guards, sandbags, evacuation drills, etc., living in a safe house is a lot like living in a college dormitory without the beer, parties, loud music, and girls. Most of the MPRI contractors are over 40, many are over 50, and the work day starts early so the house is dark & quiet by 8:00 PM.

The water is pumped in from a well. The water is treated with chlorine, and sometimes the chemicals are so strong they cause your eyes to burn during a shower. You must use body lotion to keep your skin from drying out too much. Electricity is provided by huge generators that run on diesel and hum all night—except when they break down, which is quite often. When the generators go down, the water pumps stop too.

All in all, it’s not so bad. You tend to get into a routine. Some folks go to the rooftop after work and watch the kite fights during the day or look for rockets and tracers during the night. Some folks meet in the yard for a smoke and gossip before dark. Some go straight to their rooms and you don’t see them again until the next morning.

On Fridays, which is our day off, you’ll see people coming and going to the bazaars, ISAF compound (for their European dining facilities), or in to work. Some folks will grill, some sunbathe on the rooftop, and few guys even set up an archery range between the houses.

One day I’ll probably look back with fond memories on my time living in the safe house. Not right away, but some day.

Out.

I was attacked by a wild dog today.

Well, actually a puppy. Mason, as he was named by the Navy personnel, lies in wait for me whenever I exit my office. Luckily, this morning I had sausages with which to distract him long enough to make my escape, but only after suffering some playful bites from his razor-sharp puppy teeth. Things are getting pretty dangerous around here...

Recently I learned that over a hundred new positions for MPRI were approved. I'm getting nine of them, eight of which will be mentors for Combat Service Support Kandaks (Kandak = Battalion) in Gardez, Kandahar, Herat, and Kabul. The ninth position is for someone to develop an automated logistics management system.

I read where Obama said "Let the market work... and then just tax the heck out of people at the end and just redistribute it." Comforting, isn't it, to know that a Presidential candidate thinks he should "tax the heck" out of us. Better yet, then he's going to "redistribute it." Redistribute to whom exactly, I wonder? Hmm... I guess you know how I'm voting.

Out.

Like many government agencies and other businesses, at the end of the fiscal year if there is still money left in the annual budget a call goes out for year-end purchases. I submitted the following request:


-----Original Message-----
From: Lanicek, Richard E USA Mr USA CSTC-A (MPRI)
Sent: Thursday, January 24, 2008 9:18 AM
Subject: Year-end buy

Year-end buy requirement: One (1) broadsword.
No NSN identified. See http://www.coldsteel.com/88hnh.html.

Justification:

1. Per MPRI corporate guidelines, employees are not allowed firearms for personal protection. As identified in the 012308 PM meeting, the threat level for MPRI employees billeted in the Big House and the White House is elevated, as evidenced by the change/evolution of tactics demonstrated by the recent insurgent attack on the Serena Hotel. In lieu of a firearm, an edged weapon would be an acceptable alternative. Many MPRI employees currently carry pocket-sized knives and/or lock blade type edged weapons for utilitarian and personal protection purposes. A broadsword is widely viewed by those in the sword community as the best all-around and durable weapon for close combat.

2. Worldwide news agencies typically include scientific reports detailing new, mutating viruses/germs as threats to life and health. Recent increases in genetic and embryonic research have accelerated the possibility of new, unknown viruses for which we have no antidote, cure, or methods of prevention. Infection is imminent. Many researchers have determined that the most likely new viral mutation will result in a world-wide epidemic, causing zombie-like symptoms, including the preference of living human flesh as a food source and resistance to all defenses other than decapitation. Ergo, a broadsword is the logical sidearm against zombie attack. Considering the poor sanitation and high air pollution of Afghanistan, I surmise that this country will be one of the most susceptible to a zombie epidemic.

3. A broadsword would be commensurate with the MPRI logo and, as such, greatly enhance the reputation and respect of MPRI.

Rick Lanicek
L-3 Communications/MPRI
Kabul, Afghanistan
Local 0798-254-581

Amazingly, despite the eloquent verbiage and painstaking research evidenced above, my request was denied. Hmpf.

Out.

Dave “TFB” Bremer went home today. (That F___ing Bremer).

Dave has been in Afghanistan for three years. The first year he was deployed as a member of the Maine National Guard. He worked with some MPRI contractors and applied after his deployment. Came back as a civilian and stayed two years, until family obligations called him home. Every other story he told (and he told many) started with “back when I was in uniform” in reference to his time here as a soldier.

I first met Dave back when I was the curriculum developer at D-1 supply depot. I had to go to Logistics Command to recruit students, and since Dave was the LogCmd mentor and I asked him to take me and introduce me to the right people. On the ride over, he told me how he acquired a tough-looking scar on his face. He got it as a young soldier (back when he was in uniform) horsing around in the barracks. I suspect adult beverages were involved. He fell into a wall locker and got a cool gash below his right eye.

Dave was the joker in our office. I had to log off my terminal whenever I left, or I’d return to find that another guy received a love letter from my email account. He was always ready with a story or anecdote, usually from when he was back in uniform, about some foolish thing he did at one time or another. Along with “back when I was in uniform,” another favorite saying of his was “that’s gay,” which was applied to almost everything anyone else did, implying latent homosexuality of the victim. Come to think of it, maybe Dave had some issues with his own masculinity...

Dennis, Dave’s interpreter Wasi, & I took him to the airport where he took off his body armor for the last time, handed it to Dennis, shook hands, and walked to the terminal. Afghanistan is probably one of only a few countries on earth where heartfelt goodbyes include the departing saying, “I hope you guys don’t get killed on the way back.” How sweet, I think I’m going to cry.

Fair winds and following seas, Dave...you homo.

Out.

Several people have asked me what I'm doing here in Afghanistan after spending the last five years working as a Mortgage Loan Officer. I served in the Marines for fifteen years, my last command being the S-4 (Logistics Officer) for the 8^th Marine Corps District in New Orleans, Louisiana. I left the USMC in 2000 and got my securities, insurance, real estate and mortgage licenses, and worked as a loan officer for Mercantile Mortgage in Plano, Texas until last month.

I like a little adventure from time to time, so I decided to take a year off from the mortgage business and go to work for MPRI in Afghanistan.

Let's see if I can explain what I’m doing here in Kabul.

I work for a company called MPRI. MPRI stands for Military Professional Resources, Inc. MPRI is an L-3 Communications company. It is considered by some to be a PMC, or Private Military Company. PMCs exist, in part, because of decades of reduced military budgets and troop numbers. As our politicians have reduced the number of uniformed military, the military has explored ways of coping. They started contracting out essential but non-combat related jobs. When I was in the Marines, I remember about ten years ago our dining facilities (chow halls) were run by Marine cooks, and augmented by Marines on temporary assignment. Remember the cartoon antics of Beetle Bailey peeling potatoes? But then we transitioned to civilian-operated dining halls. A civilian company was contracted to run the Marine Corps dining halls which freed more numbers of Marines for combat specialties. That worked so well that the services began looking at other areas in which civilian contractors could help. Using civilian contractors was also cost-efficient. Now companies like Halliburton-KBR build, operate, and maintain roads, buildings, dining facilities, etc., all over the world on military contracts. Companies like ITT run military communications. Companies like MPRI are training, augmenting, and recruiting military forces.

MPRI is here, in part, to support CSTC-A (Combined Security Transition Command – Afghanistan).

CSTC-A works with the government of Afghanistan and the international community to reconstruct the Afghan security and defense sectors. CSTC-A is reconstructing the Afghan National Army, and the Afghan defense sector by recruiting soldiers, training Afghan recruiters, organizing the Ministry of Defense and mentoring its senior leaders and the General Staff, acquiring weapons, uniforms and equipment, as well as developing the policies and processes needed by a modern army to establish viable acquisition, personnel and other systems required to establish a working military infrastructure.

Afghanistan has been at war for decades. As a result, their military was decimated. CSTC-A is here to help rebuild it. I work for the Logistics Branch of MPRI. One of the things we're doing is establishing the ANA (Afghan National Army) supply system and training their soldiers to run it. CoreIMS is a tool we're using to automate inventory management and control. My job, specifically, is to develop a Program of Instruction (POI) to train ANA soldiers to use a Supply/Inventory software program called CoreIMS. One of the challenges, of course, is that the lesson plans, training materials, exams, etc., must be translated into Dari, the Afghan language. I have two ITs (Interpreter-Translators) who work for me--Aimal and Abdullah. I am qualified to do this because of my prior fifteen years experience in the Marine Corps as a logistics officer and training analyst/curriculum developer.

Entry for January 18, 2007

Been sick for the last two days. During our in-brief, they told us it was only a matter of time before we got sick because everyone does. Mine came quickly. We didn't go into work yesterday because the roads were Condition Black, meaning only mission-essential vehicle travel allowed. But Black was upgraded to Yellow around noon so Log personnel at D-1 and D-2 (Supply Depot One, where I work; and Supply Depot Two, where Greg & Mark work) went into work. My supervisor, Dana Cook, realized I was sick and told me to stay in bed. I stayed in bed today also. Only missed a half day today though, since the Islam weekend started at noon. Greg came into my room when he got back from work to check on me and take me to lunch, since we have to travel in pairs. Greg is a good guy.

We first met in Alexandria, Virginia, when my group of new hires arrived at MPRI headquarters for orientation and processing. In his late forties, Greg Johnson is a retired Army Sergeant Major. He spent 26 years in the Army, 23 of those in 82nd Airborne. His wife is a school teacher in Atlanta. His first job after retiring from the Army was with KBR in Iraq. Not the first person I met who previously worked for KBR, he says MPRI is a much better company--better management, better pay and benefits, better working conditions. Although is is competent and professional, he makes me laugh with his constant complaining. Not true complaining so much, but the way he does it. His voice and mannerisms will suggest utmost pain, sorrow, & humiliation over the smallest thing.

For example, last night we walked to the Aid Station to get some cold medicine for me on the way to dinner. We arrived shortly after 1700 (5:00 PM) and opened the door just as the medical personnel were about to leave. They said they were closed and I'd have to come back in the morning. I was a little perturbed because it didn't seem like it would be too inconvenient or time consuming for them to reach into the cabinet and hand me some meds, but I wasn't too upset because I could buy some Robitussin and Vitamin C at the PX after dinner. (Has to be after dinner because we aren't allowed to bring bags of any sort into the DFAC--could be concealing IEDs ). But Greg talked about that for the rest of the night, and reminded me of it this afternoon.

Another example was today. After lunch and a successful visit to the Aid Station for the aforementioned medicines, we stopped at MPRI Admin because Greg was expecting a package from his wife. His package was there. She mailed his goodies in a printer box. While all of us are thrilled to receive packages from home, Greg complained the whole way because of the size of the box he had to carry: "Why did she have to send such a big box?"

Walking back to the Falcon House from Camp Eggers, Greg griping about his big box, we were greeted by the usual assortment of children trying to sell scarfs, phone cards, and gum. I liberated an orange from the DFAC earlier and I gave it to "Flipper". Flipper is a kid with deformed arms. Afterwards I felt bad--I wonder how he's going to peel it? Next time I'll get an apple...