Lost But Not Forgotten

From Michael:
July 20, 2008

I had the opportunity to venture outside the wire yet again. I left on a Monday morning, with the understanding that I had a multi-purpose trip. I wasn’t sure how long I would be out, so I packed my large pack, which carries enough to allow me to stay out for several weeks. I suppose one of the benefits of hot weather is that you don’t have to pack as much, because you need very little in the way of clothing. In fact, all I need at night is my sleeping mat and a pillow, which is basically my folded-up towel.

As the Marines who made up our larger-than-usual convoy gathered around to go over the mission plan, discuss contingency plans (What happens if we lose a vehicle? What happens if someone shoots at us? etc) and conduct a final roll-call. These are all requirements for every convoy, so it can get a bit monotonous. I was standing next to one of my fellow officers, and a fellow passenger on the convoy, Jason. We exchanged “what’s up’s” and “pounded knuckles”, which is the younger generation’s version of the high-five. I have known Jason since I arrived in Afghanistan , and have gotten to know him pretty well over the months. He has an easy-going nature and is easy to get along with. On the previous night, he had been poking fun at me for being such an exercise addict. He said that in Iraq last year, he was the same way, and had been in the best shape of his life, but just didn’t have the motivation or energy during this deployment.

As we got into our assigned vehicles, the convoy paused before departing the safe confines of our camp, and the vehicle commander in the lead vehicle offered up a prayer for safe travel. This was a new twist on things, but certainly not one that I disapproved of. It gave me goosebumps as each vehicle commander chimed in with an “Amen” before hitting the gas and moving out. And yet there are those who still claim that we are not a Christian nation at heart.

My destination was one of our units who had been experiencing some disciplinary issues, namely, several Marines in that unit had been caught using drugs. It didn’t surprise me one bit. This is, after all, the world’s largest center for opium production. In addition to the opium-yielding poppies, there is also marijuana and hashish. That is an awful lot of temptation for a young Marine who feels alone, afraid, and far from home. But, we all know the rules, and we all swore an oath to uphold those rules. An investigation was commenced and I was sent out to assist. Luckily, the investigating officer was an intelligent Marine, and quickly grasped exactly what needed to be done. So I wasn’t terribly busy. I spent most of my time reading books and, you guessed it, working out. Time passed far too slowly, however, and I found myself trying to make time pass faster. But time is constant, and it goes at its own pace. There is no air-conditioning to speak of outside the wire, so shade is about the best one can manage during the hottest hours. No ice to speak of either, so we put our water bottles in a wet sock, and the evaporative effect works to cool the water to a palatable temperature. The outpost where we stayed was shared with 3 stray dogs. These were not mangy mutts, but were actually very good looking and good-natured dogs. It seemed like the Marines had unofficially adopted them.

One morning, the commander of the unit I was visiting asked if I wanted to accompany his unit on a patrol. This is like asking a starving man if he would like some food. A patrol is the quintessential combat activity. We would be foot-mobile, and would be marching into the heart of enemy territory. I was excited and a bit nervous, but I accepted immediately. The patrol was uneventful, thankfully, but it was a great experience to get out and see the locals face-to-face. I observed with amusement as the dogs led the patrol, going everywhere the Marines went, and wondering if they would be a liability. In retrospect, I think having them with us was good, as they could deter attackers or even signal danger.

Once my work with the investigation was complete, I moved to a new location. FOB Delhi is a post that is manned primarily by the British, with a handful of Marines present/ I like it at Delhi , because the British chefs are the cooks, which means that the food is freshly prepared, and is usually curry. I had an outstanding curry with fresh-baked bread (another rare luxury out here) for lunch one day. For dinner, it was fresh chicken pot pie with vegetables. Delicious!

My stay at Delhi was for the purpose of conducting the assessment of local governance that I had mentioned earlier. I was quite successful and was able to gather a lot of good information, which pleased me. My stay at Delhi , however, was cut short by tragedy. On 17 July, we received word that one of the bunkers back at Dwyer (my permanent camp) had collapsed and killed a Marine. Details were fuzzy, but we knew that we had lost one of our own in an accident. Then, the word came that it was Jason who had been killed. Jason had been sleeping in his bunker while some engineers were working on the roof. For some reason, the structure collapsed and he was crushed instantly. The only redeeming fact is that he probably died instantly and felt nothing. I am glad that he did not suffer. Jason leaves behind a wife, who is also a Marine officer, and a little girl. This is the first time in my life that I have personally known and been friends with a fellow Marine who died. We all know the risks of our line of work, and we know that deploying to combat puts us at risk. But nobody expects to die in a senseless accident. My heart broke for Jason’s widow and his daughter. I cannot delve into too many details at this time, as I am actually part of the investigating team. But rest assured that Jason’s loss is a big one, and although he is lost, he will never be forgotten.