The Year of the Leg

*Be warned, this is going to be a long post.*

Well, this is daunting, to say the least. How do I sum up a year in a single blog post? Here's what I came up with: Don't make it a single blog post.

I recently redeployed from a year long deployment to Afghanistan. This is the story, as well as I can remember it all.

When we were preparing to leave, nothing felt real. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I would be gone for an entire year. It all seemed fake, as if there was no way they'd make us actually leave the States and fight. I had no one there to see me off, which was a little disappointing, but I think it helped me cope better. We left almost exactly a year ago to the day. If I had known what I know now... I don't know what I would have done. I think I would have been a lot more depressed leaving, but prepared better.

The plane ride to Manas was the single longest flight of my life. I couldn't sleep due to nerves, everyone was anxiously talking, it was miserable. We stopped in Ireland, and I remember ordering a burger, thinking "This will be the last good food I have for a while." Man, was I ever right. We also made a quick stop in Germany to refuel, then off to Manas.

When we landed there, it was a mess. No one knew what was going on; no one could find their bags; the tents were freezing. We saw a company of Airborne soldiers ending their deployment, and even though we had just gotten there, I couldn't wait to be in their shoes. We stayed for about half a week, then it was off to FOB Champion. That was my first ride in a C130, and I've got to say... I never want to ride in one of those again. Imagine sitting on a lawn chair with three other people. Then imagine you're sitting in it during an earthquake. And you really have to pee.

When we arrived, it was a clusterfuck all over again. On the short walk to the FOB, 3 people accidentally dropped the magazines from their weapons, and one tripped and fell. You can imagine I was feeling pretty optimistic about the whole combat thing at that point. We eventually got settled into the tent where we would eventually spend 4 months.

About a month went by before we went on any patrols, getting acclimated and used to the routine. During this time we had way too many equipment layouts, spent way too much time prepping the trucks, and generally hated life. Every one of us was anxious to get outside the wire and start doing our jobs, we were feeling very cooped up. Eventually our day came, though.

I still remember the first mission. I was the gunner for my Platoon Leader, 1LT Moscow, in the second truck. We drove about 4 hours down to the staging area, where we were to meet the Afghan Police precincts we'd work with for the year. When we got there, they told us about a Taliban commander using a nearby village as a hideout. We formed a plan, and headed toward the objective. To this day, I will remember it as the hottest day of my life. It was upwards of 110°, and the air conditioning in our truck was broken. A tribute to superior American technology, I suppose.

As we drove along the worst roads I'd ever imagined possible, flanked by Afghan Army commandos and US Army Special Forces, it really hit me that I was in Afghanistan. This wouldn't be the last time that I was overcome by a wave of "holy shit I'm deployed," but it was the first time I really realized it. I was in the middle of this realization when a shot rang out right next to my truck. There was a moment of panic where no one knew what was going on, and I ducked my head and got behind the gun, only to find out it was an Afghan soldier accidentally firing his weapon into the ground. The first shot of the deployment was an uneventful one.

The rest of the mission went uneventfully, barring everyone in the truck coming close to passing out, until that night. After we provided security and had the Afghan Army sweep the village, we began heading back. It was dark, with very little light from the moon, when overhead I heard what I thought to be a jet. The only thing was, it was followed shortly after by an explosion. Then as I heard a second, I looked up and saw what I would come to know as a BM-1 rocket. It was really an amazing sight, disregarding the lethality of it. Both rockets hit very far away and cause no damage or threat to our forces, but it was another wakeup call. The Taliban was out there, and they wanted us to know it.

That night, we slept with the wagons circled on a hill. I'd be up for an hour pulling guard with my night vision on, jumping at every dog that walked by, and then down for 3 hours sleeping in a damp, uneven rice paddy, freezing with my body armor on. We got up way too early, and began our trek back to the staging area. On the way, a truck broke a tie rod on a particularly rough patch of the road, and had to take up positions where it lay to wait for a supply convoy to bring us parts to fix it. We sat for about 10 hours waiting, but were finally able to make it back before dark.

The remaining 2 days of that mission were spent familiarizing with the local Police, at this point still completely oblivious to how hopeless and corrupt they really were. We'd find out pretty soon, though.

More to come!