I’m Outta Here!

Early this evening, I indulged in my final BAF Surf & Turf night.  After dinner, a postprandial cigar with the boys.  I broke out the really good stuff, the top-shelf Padrons.

Tomorrow morning, I get to load my bags onto a C-17 and head out for Qatar.  There, I’ll out-process and then fly to Frankfurt for my post-deployment vacation.

My friends know I’m a geek for old rock music.  If I knew the intelligence business as well as I know my arcane rock lyrics, I’d probably be occupying the Director’s office at CIA right now.

But I don’t.  So I’ll stick to my music.  A stanza from The Ballad of Dwight Fry, from Alice Cooper’s Love It To Death LP, is running through my head:  “I was gone for all those days, but I was not all alone … I made friends with a lot of people in the danger zone.”

It wasn’t much of a danger zone here, what with the DFAC being a bigger and more persistent hazard than Taliban rockets, but I did make a lot of friends here, professionals with whom I’d gladly serve were I to head off to another war zone (which is highly unlikely, but that’s a subject for another post).

I’d like to take this opportunity to deliver a special tip of the hat to Brian (my former boss in Kabul), Spence-oire, Carmelita, Dirty Red, and a couple fine Army NCOs who demonstrated singular professionalism and leadership.  It’s been great, guys!

But I can’t end on a maudlin note, so …pop quiz time … without Googling it, who was Dwight Fry?

Things I’ve Been Grateful For

No man is an island, contrary to Paul Simon’s plaintive assertions.  No man stands alone.  The past six months would have been a grinding existence, mere subsistence, had it not been for the support I’ve received.

When I arrived in-theater, I got thrown into the deep end of the pool.  No time to get settled in or acclimatized, I got off the plane in KAIA and got to work.  Within days of taking over as chief of the IJC Knowledge Management Cell, I found myself getting my ass chewed by an O-6 for the first time in 30 years.  Not since I was on the bridge of a warship, as a young Lieutenant and Officer of the Deck, had I so incurred the wrath of a senior officer.  It was a tough slog and a steep learning curve, but folks like John D. and Kathryn and Keon helped me keep my head above water and my spirits out of the dumper.

At Bagram, I inherited a similarly capable and professional crew.  A singularly shit-hot team, folks who will gladly work outside their comfort zone and do what it takes to accomplish the mission.  They talk a lot of smack and engage in the silliest antics (At this point, your honor, I’d like to submit Exhibit A, the female cartoon character mud wrestling debate.).  But when work needs to get done, be it a new installation or O&M, they’re on it, working until the problem is fixed.  I’d be proud to serve with them again … just not in Afghanistan.

Most important, my bride.  She’s borne the burden of separation like a real trooper.  Didn’t grouse or complain.  Kept the household running like a fine Swiss watch.  Juggled work and the EYC board and racing a J/24 without once dropping a ball.  Completely redid the master bath all by herself.  Kept the Black Beast running (despite her initial aversion to driving a car so big and unwieldy).  Did all the research and made all the reservations for our post-deployment vacation.  Humored me and all my silly requests for things to include in CARE packages.  Did everything in her power to keep my morale up, including sending batch upon batch of marvelous cookies.

One last item.  A year ago, given my back problems, I never would have thought I’d be capable of deploying.  Thanks to a miraculous and minimally-invasive procedure performed last August at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, I’ve been physically able to perform everything I’ve need to do.  I’ve been able to scurry about with 40 pounds of body armor with no ill effects.  I’ve been able to stay active and lose weight.  All because a very skilled neurosurgeon gave me the Bionic Back.  Thanks, Doc!

Readjustment

Readjustment to life in CONUS has been problematic at time for our troops.  The stresses of combat and life on the edge can make it tough to transition to life with the wife and kids, and PTSD can make things downright unbearable for some.  Having spent six months in the rear with the gear, not having toted a gun and chased bad guys, I don’t foresee having massive readjustment issues when I redeploy.  However, I suspect I’ll have a few small issues to cope with.

Things I’ll have trouble adjusting to:

• Holding a conversation without dropping the F-bomb
• Holding a conversation not laced with acronyms and jargon
• Paying for a bottle of water
• Commuting to the DIAC
• Wearing a suit and tie instead of cargo pants, boots and a polo shirt
• Beltway REMFs who don’t understand that DIA is a Combat Support Agency
• Weekends off

But on the plus side, there are many things I’m eagerly anticipating.  They can be roughly categorized as family, friends, and creature comforts.

Things I’m really looking forward to: (except for #1, in no particular order)

• Curling up with my beloved
• Brewing a pot of Ethiopian Sidamo to start the morning
• Steak, medium-rare
• Craft-brewed beer
• Sushi
• Taking the Black Beast onto US 50 and winding it up to just under the State Troopers’ radar threshold
• Trimming a jib
• Hanging out and holding court at Davidus
• Brunello di Montalcino
• Draper’s Little Puff (I already have my ticket reserved!)
• The Oyster Riot
• Weekends off

Things I Won’t Miss

On the flip side (this is continued from yesterday, remember?), you’ve got the less desirable aspects of deploying into a combat zone.  There are certain things you accept when heading downrange.  When you volunteer to deploy, you know (or should know) it’s not going to be like your typical week-long TAD trip in a Doubletree Hotel on Uncle Sugar’s nickel.  There’s no maid to clean up after you and leave a mint on your pillow.  So you man up, shut up and deal with it.  While I freely accept the degradations to my quality of life, it doesn’t mean I have to like them.  Or bear my burdens meekly and in silence.

I won’t miss:

• Separation from family and friends
• Food that tastes like ass
• Long hours with no days off (177 straight work days as I write this)
• Oppressive heat
• Toxic dust blown into my every nook and cranny by high-velocity winds
• Overpriced and unreliable Internet
• The dicks upstairs with their inflated sense of self-importance
• Interminable conference calls with long-winded nimrods at Tampa
• Barbers whose repertoire begins and ends at “high-and-tight”
• G.O.-1
• No beer
• Body armor
• The pervasive smell of sewage
• Getting rousted out of bed in the wee hours to fix the chiller at the data center
• Rocket attacks
• Wondering if the Hajji who scoops my ice cream by day spends his nights hosing off rockets in our general direction
• 40-grit toilet paper
• Cheap mattresses
• Punching in a cipher code or combination to open any door (including the laundry room)
• Living in a tent
• Eating with plastic utensils off a cardboard tray
• Man-Love-Thursday jokes
• Pairs of F-16 taking off at full burner at 2AM
• Duck Butter
• Standing in line for 20 minutes at the DFAC on Soul Food Sunday or Surf ‘n’ Turf night
• Overcooked meat, pasta and veggies (okay, they overcook everything but the tubs of Baskin-Robbins)
• Did I mention “no beer?”
• The overtime

Things I’ll Miss

As I wrap up my time here and prepare to start the long journey back to civilization, I’ve had plenty of opportunity to reflect back on my six months downrange.  There are clearly some things I won’t miss, and others I will.  So, in a move reminiscent of amazon.com’s “Listmania,” this post and several that follow will features lists of my favorite … and not-so-favorite … things (cue Julie Andrews singing “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music).

Let’s lead off on a positive note with the more enjoyable aspects of this deployment.

I’ll miss:

• My team and the camaraderie
• The mission
• The sense of accomplishment
• The 90-second door-to-door commute (yes, I clocked it)
• My daily MOAC
• Being a hero in the office when a box full of cookies arrives
• Hajji pizza
• Saturday night Herfs
• Writing this blog
• Asking Hajji for extra bacon at breakfast
• www.ilovebagram.com
• The overtime