Wednesday, December 8, 2010

My Review of Men’s/Women’s Fort Lewis Uniform Boots


Photographer in Afghan winter

By Jake the Photojournalist from Canada and Afghanistan on 12/8/2010

 

5out of 5

Sizing: Feels true to size

Width: Feels true to width

Arch Type: Low Arch

Pros: Water Resistant, No Break-in, Great Traction, Good height, Warm, Comfortable, Sturdy/Durable

Cons: Too warm for hot weather

Best Uses: Light Loads, Harsh Terrain, Long-Distance Hiking, 20c to -20c, Everyday, Heavy Loads, Wet Conditions, Cold Weather, Day Hiking

Describe Yourself: Professional/Guide

Was this a gift?: No

These boots were great when the weather got colder in Kabul. Even in Stockholm at -15c there was no feeling of cold. The Gore-tex regulates the moisture so you never get that cold foot feeling when you constantly go in and outside during cold weather. The boots are not stiff and would be bang on for hunting and hiking. These boots work best with wool socks, I added green inner-soles but the originals are great to. Don't mess with another boot these are the best and you look professional too.

10000ft in the Afghan mountains with the 173rd

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Tags: Using Product

(legalese)

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Night Patrol in Qualat

A day or 2 had passed and I had not done much with my time at Lagman but there were murmurings about a night patrol. I had turned down a night patrol in Salar with the 173rd guys from Carwile and I missed watching a Hell Fire missile take out 2 shit heads (a term used to describe bad guys who aren’t Taliban). I was not going to miss another opportunity here in Lagman with the 2nd Striker Cavalry. I knew that I couldn’t take any photos at night and video was useless too, but this was like a grown-ups version of hide and go seek. This was urban exploring where the security guards have AK-47s and shot first and never asked questions.
I was in my bunk talking with my Special Forces friend as he told me his plans to move to PEI and leave American behind one day. At 21:30 a less then pleased Sgt. Moralas came to the door and asked why I wasn’t at the rendezvous area. Well as usual I was late and this didn’t look good for me. I was going for once without my cameras and junk. For this mission I flagrantly broke the rules and wore my Multicam gear as to render my self as close to invisible as possible. Some clothes reflect infrared light and quality material will not do that. The bad guys can use IR lights to spot us and reflective clothing makes you shine like a beacon.
Moralas is a short but scrappy Sergeant who is a career soldier and he is the first guy to actually make his men line up in formation before an opperation, I liked that. He was in a bad mood because he had found someone’s night vision goggles lying around and was not pleased. We soon loaded into the M-ATV armored vehicles and headed out to meet the Afghan National Police. We roll into Qualat, there are few street lights if any, most lights are powered by generators. I dismount and try to adjust my NVGs, I have used the goggles before but these things are fitting right, finally I get them dialed in and my green 2D world comes to life. The other guys are dressed in ACU pattern and standout more then I do. We are in a mixed residential and commercial neighborhood, the streets are dark and dogs bark their warning as we walk by. If there are bad guys they know we are here.
In Afghanistan, if you are out after 10pm it’s because you are up to something, farmers who work late know to carry lanterns so they are not attacked by ISAF. The streets here are empty and quiet, investment money has funded the construction of gutters and new roads. The roads are lined with 15ft stonewalls to define property. There are 30 of us in total and for a group that size we are pretty quiet. Moralas keeps asking me where I am because I keep following the wrong guy, they all wear the same shit and all look Latino in the NVGs. The ANP don’t have NVGs and make do, I have to flip between the 2 because some areas have too much light (1 porch lamp is too much) and it messes with the NVGs. I am ever vigilant and scoping out doors and roofs. These young guys are a little too complacent I think, but I am not sure, maybe I am paranoid after they tried to kill me twice. The ANP see a man snooping around and question him, half the ANP think he is lying about coming outside to pee so we follow him to his house and sure enough he is not up to anything.
We progress down this main street in the pitch black. I stick to the walls, good advice given to me by my old French Foreign Legion guy, there are gutters that run parallel, great places to hide in a firefight. I hear some angry chatter and another American soldier says to Sgt. Moralas “what the hell, this is not how to do a patrol, this is not what I learned in the 10th Mountain Division when I was there, we are going to get fucking killed if we run into trouble.” I like this guy. The 10th Mountain is a serious outfit and are equals to the 173rd. We come to a intersection where there is a mosque we can hear noise near by but not sure what it is, just then a friendly, bearded Imam comes out, he chats with the ANP. The Americans make it clear that they are not looking for trouble but trying to bring security. The translator helps exchange niceties and we move on. I press my ear up to the Mosque just to hear if there are fighters inside but it’s dead quiet.
Further on up the road we meet a boy and his son, they question the man to make sure it’s his actual son, child molestation is a past time here and most of the Americans are fathers and have zero tolerance for buggery. Checking the ID of children is not a mandate but for moral men it is. We move on and half the group stops at the next cross road, we hear noises and I dive into a gutter barely big enough to fit me I have decided to stick with the guy from the 10th MD he is ever vigilant and instructs 4 others to man each street corner. Lights come on outside the house with the noises, now our NVGs are useless and we still don’t have enough light to see. The guy from the 10th MD tells me his name is Absence and he wanted to join Special Forces but he just had twins so it’s out of the question now, I laugh and tell him my Special Forces buddy in my bunk has triplets. I think it’s a prerequisite for SF.
Up the road, the second half of our group has stopped and there is commotion but we have no idea why, five minutes later the group is coming back. The ANP have noticed that one of their men is a stranger and has no ID. We are now at yellow alert and they have seized his weapons now we are escorting him to the ANP compound. Taliban in the past have stolen uniforms and infiltrated ANA and ANP waiting for their chance to kill.
Back at the ANP base our questions are answered and the guy checks out but is in shit for not having ID. I talk to a older American on the compound who is a retired cop from Queens NY he is here to help train the ANP on civilized policing techniques. Little did I know that in a week I would be living on that compound too.
It was a good night. The only casualty was a soldier stepping into a pit a foot deep in human shit. The patrol offered next to no journalistic value but as an adrenaline rush it was worth a million bucks.

Reply to Don Martin National Post



http://fullcomment.nationalpost.com/2010/11/26/don-martin-safety-a-canadian-mp-in-afghanistan/?plckFindCommentKey=CommentKey:5f6e9fff-63ee-4839-9cb3-194999937c24

Photos from Kabul Chicken Street (point and shoot)

Kabul Market small point and shoot cam

Friday, November 19, 2010

mizon photos

Qualat Market chosen

FOB Mizan, a learning experience

It was Sunday the 14th when my Public Affairs Officer Major Hoover informed me that I was going to a small remote base called Mizan. I had requested that I go to a rustic, smaller, and more dangerous outpost here in Zabul province. Maj. Hoover suggested I go to Mizan, had a bad feeling about Mizan and wanted to go to FOB Baylough high in the Arghandab Mountains, but Major Hoover was insistent. Who knows why that little voice pops up in our heads but it seem to happen to Tom Selleck several times per episode of Magnum PI and it happens to me out here. This Little voice was saying that Mizan was the wrong place to go, no clue why but I kept suggesting Baylough and yet I knew nothing of either base except Baylough was picturesque and the Talbin often sent new recruits to attack there to test their metal.
I hopped on a Chinook Tuesday with 2 Military Intelligence guys and flew 20min to Mizan, we landed at a small simple base nestled at the base of 3 small mountains. A Hispanic Staff Sergeant driving a Gator greets us. He is hyper and high strung. The Staff Sergeant is confused why I am at this base and looks concerned, he explains to me that he wants me to sign some letter of agreement that he will draw up regarding what I can report and with whom I can talk, he is also insistent that I show him everything I write and shoot. I have been on the base 3 minutes and not sure what to think. The Staff Sergeant tells me that the guys are paranoid and concerned that I am going to burn them. I was a bit taken back and tried to explain that I was not here to burn anyone, I am here to take photos and to get to know them, the Staff Sergeant just looks at me and says “ok we don’t want to get burnt by you, and if you see something wrong tell us before you burn us.” I explained again I didn’t come here to burn anyone or dig up controversy.” Once again, “ok we don’t want to get burnt by you, and if you see something wrong tell us before you burn us.”
What ever I said wasn’t sinking in one iota and it was becoming frustrating, I was also getting looks from some of the other guys, I just arrived there, what the hell was going on? People back in Ottawa know that I have never gone out of my way to make anyone look bad and MPs know that I never gossip about their private lives and we can party together and they can say what they want and it goes no where. These soldiers don’t know who I am or the work I do. I meet Lt. David Anderson a fresh out of school, gold bar, Lieutenant, which is the lowest officer rank and he is in charge of the base. He explains that there are about 40 men on base and that they are a close nit family that has seen serious action and constant threats and bombardment from the Taliban. The one thing that really bothered them was a visit from a reporter from the Global Post, according to them reporter XXXXX embedded with them and became very close with the troops thus sharing personal stories and photos of loved ones. The Lieutenant explained that XXXXX wrote about the unauthorized “morale patches” that some of the men wore and other troops suggested that XXXXX insinuated that their mortar fire during a battle almost killed him.
I am pretty sure I had coincidentally met XXXXX in Bagram and had lunch with him, he was roughly the same age but unlike me he had seen plenty of action in Iraq and Afghanistan. I was under the impression that he was more of a writer then a Photographer that puts me in a different book as far as I was concerned. As far as the soldiers on Mizan were concerned I was a liability and I was there to expose and humiliate them. This couldn’t be further from the truth and my efforts to encourage those whom were concerned to read my blog and see what the guys from the 173rd Airborne had to say about me fell on deaf ears.
Moral patches are pieces of art that affix with Velcro to a soldiers’ uniform, they say things like “warriors for Jesus,” or “Zombie Killer.” The brass who rarely see action from their desks frown upon that and harsh punishments can be handed out to those who violate the dress code, for those who wear them it’s a little bit of personal fun in a harsh unwelcoming place. After XXXXX’s story the soldiers from 3rd Platoon, Fox Company in Mizan got in a world of trouble. According to the troops they were really hurt and took it personally, I read XXXXX’s story and it’s not for me to judge if he was trying to expose them or if knew that there would be punishment if they were caught with these badges. Either way these guys were not happy that I was there, I tried to joke with them but they thought I was trying to goat them into saying something revealing.
I went to bed that night figuring their fear was temporary and tomorrow would be “I Love Jake Day.” I stayed that night in Lt. David Anderson’s room I had a feeling that it was for my own safety and that no soldier would feel comfortable having me in their hooch. I was woken early and told to suit up, we were off to do a patrol into a town, and we were going on foot. I was still bleary eyed when we headed out. We were on a patrol to find a new observation post for a Canadian Private security company that I won’t name. Tim (not real name) was the company’s rep and he was former 1st RCR and in his early 40s was the easily the oldest person on base. Tim’s skills and knowledge of unarmed combat was extremely impressive and his patrolling skills were first rate. The American’s respected him and he cared about them. I was a bit slow and as usual my heavy vest didn’t help, I also didn’t have time to eat breakfast not a smart move on a patrol.
We headed down in to the town from the hills, and started to hear a lot of gunfire, there is a Taliban town 10km from our position but the shooting was just the ANP celebrating Ide. We walked across a stream and made our way through an orchard where the Lieutenant stops a man and his son. The nervous man is searched and the Lieutenant makes a point of thanking him and wishing him a happy Ide. A bit further the group hands out shoes and some candy to villagers. The Village is tiny and the people are shy yet we know that many of them are Taliban. Just then I-COMMs contacts our patrol and warns us that the Talban are watching us. Tension rises and we proceed with caution. We see families of men butchering goats for a holiday dinner and young kids but no women. I am running low on water now and it looks like we have another 10km to get back to the base, I could be in trouble.
We continue further and I see the base in the distance, my bearings were off and we were closer then I thought. We return and I feel like a million bucks but my clothing is soaked in sweat. Later that night I try to talk to a group of guys smoking cigars in their bunk house but they are not pleased I am there, I try joking with them and one mustached guy gets angry at me and I am left wondering if this guy is for real. I head out and watch Tim teach more unarmed combat. I leave the gym and I am greeted by the high strung Staff Sgt that I had met when I arrived, he was still concerned about me being there and I ask Tim to come over and explain to him that Canadians don’t have a history of burning soldiers and that Canadian media was different. Despite my sales pitch he wouldn’t believe me and suggested that I was also not just a photographer but a writer too because I had a blog. I asked him if he read any of it and suggested if he did then we wouldn’t be having this conversation, just then the guy with the mustache arrived and started freaking on me and threatened to kick my ass. I was confused as to what the fuck was going on?
I realized that night this was not going to work but it was going to be almost a week until the next chopper returned. I was woken early the next day by the nervous Staff-Sgt and he said to me “ok man I am not going to lie to you a chopper is coming and it could be 2 weeks before the next one comes,” ya right. I had to scramble as I could hear the helicopter flying over and I couldn’t see strait and I had to pack all my gear. We scrambled to the fight line with boots untied and clothing hanging out of my backpack. I was not pleased to be leaving because I felt cheated by nonsense and fear, yet I wasn’t really angry and I tried to figure out what happened and to whom.
The guys from 3rd Platoon, Fox Company, 2/2 Stryker Cav. Regiment had been involved in a pitched battle months earlier and the enemy out numbered them 3 to 1, they used all their skills to defeat the Taliban in grand style. Some members had 5 confirmed kills and the Taliban after that avoided direct contact with them. The fact that not one American Soldier was hurt was nothing short of miraculous. When they received flack because of XXXXX’s story it was a hard slam for the now seasoned soldiers. I honestly think the brass should have given them a pass on the badges, as there were bigger fish to fry. The troops in Mizan that welcomed me were probably hoping that I would bring attention to the fact that they were under supported and had to resort to sharing night vision goggles while on patrol and had only 2 partially working vehicles while the jerks in Kandahar were parading around in new gear and hogging all the nice toys while never leaving the wire. Instead their story will not be heard and I will not be there to write it.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Kids Day in Qualat, my adventure to a girls' school and the poor part of town.

I wake up at 9am and scramble to get my vest and helmet on, I knew today wasn’t going to be dangerous but it was my first time really going to the towns near my new home at FOB Lagman. Lt. Moher a 25 yr old tall, half Asian, half white, American officer had setup a Women’s outreach program and it involved going to Girls’ Schools and poor areas in the town of Qualat. I walk to the rendezvous point on base where I see 40 Romanian soldiers and 40 American soldiers milling about with 1 pissed off Lt. Moher. She turns to me and explains this was supposed to be small and low profile and now it’s become a “cluster fuck.” I am not sure what to think all I know is we are travelling in a M-ATV and these 4 door vehicles are cool but are not the best in a IED attack, plus they are not friendly to 6’2” men.
We head out the gates of the base and on to the main road. Qualat like many other towns has plenty of small family businesses and shops. Scrap metal and farm produce seem to be the flavour of the day. Someone has put effort into the infrastructure and the roads are nice. Our convoy enters a compound with pine trees, which is a sight for sore eyes in a country unusually devoid of trees and greenery. This compound must have been an old Soviet base and has a derelict tank and real buildings. The Americans have been here longer then the Russians and have only built temporary structures all the best bases have Russian buildings. I dismount with the 2nd Striker Cavalry’s Sergeant Major Williams who is a tall older black guy with a fancy gold tooth in the front that doesn’t befit a Sgt. Major. The troops show him respect and give him little back talk and call him by his rank. We load US Postal boxes marked “for the girls” on to the back of our truck, gifts from Americans gifts from people that will never see or meet an Afghan, ever.
We arrive at the girls’ school and I feel a bit embarrassed arriving in such a convoy but the locals pay it little attention. The Romanians are already there and pulling security. I make haste for the front door but I don’t expect to get in, last time I was at a girls’ school it was with Barb Star from CNN and we had to negotiate with school officials to let male reporters inside. This time the door was open. The compound was white and blue in colour and had grass. I noticed the older girls wear burkas and the young girls wear white headscarves. There is no prosti-tot clothing like back home in Canada. A old woman chases away young unschooled boys with a stick, the school yard has guard towers and is under the watch of the ANP who are nervous about the combat camera guy and I shooting photos of the girls. I tell the translator to tell the ANP to relax and that we North Americans are not interested in 7-year-old girls, just then a US soldier yells to the translator and ANP officers “ya the only sick perverts here are you guys not us.” I chime in with “ a bunch of boy raping sickos.” I don’t like to be told I can’t shoot photos of something.
Lt. Moher and her cute friend Sgt Bladen hand out gifts to the girls that line up for what ever the boxes contain. As I sit on the wall a dejected 3yr old girl leans up against the wall like some old sailor, her eyes tell of pain and true unhappiness, I snap away secretly from the hip as to not alarm the ANP, it’s a killer shot, she stairs into the camera perfectly. A soldier that sits next to me says that he loves this place, I question his comment and he explains that he loves the grass and the cleanliness. I like the desks placed in the basketball court outside, I wish I had grade 5 class outside like they do. I open up a box of gum and the girls grab at the gum like thieves, I was thinking that these Southern girls were a lot ruder then the Eastern kids, I would soon find out how bad the kids here are when we leave. We hop back in the M-ATV and head out to our next event in the poor area. As we leave the school and drive past the unschooled street kids they start to throw rocks at the armored vehicles, rocks hit the Sgt Majors window and he barks “son of a bitch, those little bastards, keep it up and I am going to stop this truck and get out, then you be sorry.” Just then another rock hits the windscreen and cracks the 4 inch glass “ mother fucker I swear, oh no you didn’t, you lil shit,” Sgt Major Williams is now losing it and he is ready to bring the pimp hand down on this whole village. We speed off and climb to the top of the hill in the poor part of town. I dismount and there are already 300 kids in this open area waiting for us, a hand full of ANP hold them back but some swarm me and want chocolate or pens. I am not giving either Sgt Maj Williams spots the stone throwing kid and says he will grab him when he gets close. There are no adults except for us around, one kid pretends to pick up a stone and throw it right at my lens as I look through the view finder and I jump back in shock, now I have 200 kids laughing at me including Afghan Cops. I feel silly and keep a straight face and pretend not to care and ignore them for 20 seconds, like the kids don’t exist, then like a bolt of lightning I jump forward with a Scottish battle cry and 200 kids flee in terror and come back laughing as they know I got them really good. The Cops can’t stop laughing and give me high 5s. All I do is make things worse and now the kids think I am a jester with a camera. For some reason I give one of the brats my camera and he makes a lil film, it’s cute, and maybe the last time the kid ever uses a camera.
With 200 kids in tow I head with the women’s team into the warren of alleys that make up the poor area. Unlike Central America people here have some pride and don’t live in shacks they still make the mud and straw walls that are found around the country. Girls dress in nice colours, boys in earth tones, the young girls all have babies in their arms, and they take care of their younger siblings while their mothers are never seen. The soldiers are cautious due to the nature of the area, it is perfect for an ambush and our slow movement has given any possible evildoers time to get their shit together. We stop at one home and the American women head in to talk to the women in the compound to make sure they are ok. Some of the MPs bring out special cameras to finger print and retina scan. Afghans rights are a bit of a joke and soldiers can search homes and cars at will.
With the first house done we move on and the kids follow, I am getting annoyed at 1 kid that wears a ball cap and is desperate for me to give him my watch or pen. The cops do their best to keep the children at bay and even try to lock one in a compound. The young girls look down trodden and sad while all the boys are happy, it’s like some how they know hell awaits, and sad is too mild of a word. The one good thing is that the young girls love the American women and gaze at them with stars in their eyes. Perhaps one day one of those girls will get others organized and they will say no to oppression. Lt. Moher picks up a baby and holds it in the air. The baby boy is not sure what to think of the fuss.
We start to head back to the convoy and for once I am in the lead, along with now 30 kids in tow like the Pied Piper. The kids are starting to grab at me, attempting to steel my camera and knife. I am starting to get annoyed and I know I need to get these kids under control because some are now taking punches at me. So I get their attention by marching goose step style, they start doing the same, then I put my arm out strait in a salute and yell “left right left right!” The kids love it and don’t want to stop. Shop owners and passers by on motorbikes stop to look and laugh. The American troops are now giving me oh grief looks. I get to the top of the hill and I am the only westerner there and now I have to fend off 30 kids who want chocolate and pens. One takes a swing at me and I turn around and tell him no in Afghan, I point at him and let him know I will smack him if he tries it again.
Finally the Cavalry arrives… haaa wait they are Cavalry, I will never get to say that ever again. Sgt Major Williams has a look like he is ready to call in an air strike on the kids and tells the others to start handing out the clothes. The troops have to gesture as to hit the kids with the butts of their rifles as the crowd loses control. T-shirts and hats fly through the air as the children like piranha attack the worthless clothing. The Sgt Major yells to leave ASAP and I spend no time getting back into the M-ATV. I am glad to leave but I feel that there is more for me to do in this country.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Letter of Praise 2 from SSG Cobb. "has been in the top two photographers that we have had embed with us"

Jake Wright has been in the top two photographers that we have had embed with us.

His willingness to cover, document and write about the Sky Soldiers has been impactful,
relevant and appreciated here.

As the NCOIC of the Public Affairs shop, here at the BDE level, it was my job to coordinate
media support here in Logar and Wardak Provinces.c

I consider Jake to be a trusted colleague, producer and dependable asset.

He understands time to value and is motivated to cover stories - ranging from
shuras to kinetic battles.

I wholeheartedly recommend him with enthusiasm.

Bruce Cobbeldick
Staff Sergeant
USA

Monday, November 1, 2010

A letter of Praise from the 173rd Airborne

This is from a Lt-Col who is a West Point Grad, Airborne, Ranger School qualified and Special Forces!!! I take his word as Gold.


To RC-South Public Affairs Officer (Attn: Media Embed Director)

This message is in support of Mr. Jake Wright's request to embed
with a unit and report from your area of operations. Before he went to
RC-South, Task Force Bayonet had the privilege of hosting Mr. Wright for
several weeks. During that time he was a complete pleasure to work
with. He was understandably flexible with different travel
opportunities in our AO, and we received nothing but positive feedback
from the units with which he embedded.

His coverage was accurate and helped tell the "Sky Soldier" story
to a broad audience which brought pride to the covered unit. Finally,
he took some excellent photos during his stay and offered to allow us to
use them for our command information productions. In short - I would
have Jake Wright embed with my unit again anytime.


Sky Soldiers!


Thomas Gilleran
LTC, SF
TF Bayonet Public Affairs Officer

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Grenade Attack full story

The story I am about to tell you will take some lengthy explanation. All wars are multi facetted, there is always intellectual debate about who is good or bad, evil acts can be justified as good, mistakes seen as genius, brave men become cowards. The acts of the Taliban and ISAF are always under debate. The simple villagers are victims of this war 99% of the time. The average Afghan will put ISAF members lives at risk and they are less then honest with Afghan officials and can even assist the Taliban in planting IEDs. These dangerous acts are often performed under threat from the Taliban that reside in their town.
The town of Salar in Wardack is different. These people are “shit-heads” a nomenclature given by the troops here to Afghans that are not organized combatants, not respectful of the rules set in the Quran, lack any morals or cause and often kill indiscriminately with little purpose. If you have see the movie Mad Max Beyond Thunder Dome then you will have an idea of what kind of town this is. Jingle trucks roll through the town and get shot at, the drivers are killed and the contents pilfered. The number of truck hijackings has increased to the point where the US Military feel that they have to do something about it. At this point I was stationed at COP Carwile and could watch the actions of the bandits on the RAID camera. The citizens of Salar had attacked 2 fuel trucks in an attempt to steal their load and inadvertently set fire to the trucks thus accidentally burning down all their market stalls and some homes, the blaze was an act of Karma for the murdering and thievery. Later the town’s folk would approach a translator on patrol with the Americans and ask, “hey, you are going to give us money for new market stalls right?” The translator in a moment of rage told them to go screw themselves and yells at them “you did this to yourselves, you are bad people and this town gets nothing!” The people in the bazaar are left literally with their mouths hanging open.
A few days pass and the chaos becomes too much for my American friends to bear and they send out teams from Carwile to Salar to recover the burning jingle trucks so that the bandits won’t be able to steal the parts or contents. During one of the late night recovery operations 2 Taliban thugs decide to ambush the American team from Carwile as they use a crane to lift a burnt jingle truck onto a flatbed trailer. In the darkness the 2 Taliban get within 100m of the soldiers operating the crane, the Taliban sit and wait, the Americans are lead by Lt Brasher a young tall guy who has already survived a grenade attack. The American crew knows that removing the trucks at night is super-dangerous and they are sitting ducks. On one side of the road there is the green zone a wooded area and the other is the village with it’s burnt out market stalls both are perfect for an attack on unsuspecting ISAF troops. What Terry doesn't know is that the American's have some tricks up their sleeves, tricks that that I am not allowed to disclose. The Taliban are unaware that eyes are upon them, suddenly the two Taliban are hit with a hell fire missile fired from the sky, one fighter is hit square on and obliterated, the other flees in a daze as he bleeds heavily. Lt Brasher and his men take chase and follow a heavy blood trail to a AK-47 that is hastily hidden, the blood continues to a irrigation ditch where it turns the little river red, from there the blood goes to a Collet. The US soldiers break off chase because they would need permission from high up to go in the collet plus they figure with that much blood the man is sure to die.
The next day I watch the funeral and the hole town shows up, those in Carwile’s TOC express disappointment at the size of the crowd and wonder why the town would grieve for such a bad man. Captain Panian, Carwile’s CO watches with dismay and calls the ANA to shake down the Talban big wigs that are reported to be at the funeral. I suggest we show up with funeral food like potato salad and ladyfingers, my suggestion is met with laughter and serious ponder. Hell I think that would be a hoot having a few armored vehicles show up and I pop out “I made a bun cake and cucumber sandwiches.”
Later that day I would return to Sayed Abad, I couldn’t do any work at Carwile with no Internet access and I wasn’t really feeling it there. I was originally moved for what I consider political reasons because Battalion Seargent Major Bagby was disciplining some guys from Attack Company and they didn’t want Press around for that. At the time I figured there must be bigger reason to send me off to another base and I wasn’t pleased with my move. I like the guys at Carwile but my buddies were back at Sayed Abad. When I returned Sgt Major Bagby got on the radio and announced to the TOC the “crazy man Jake has returned.” I was almost emotional, I had a name now and Bagby said that with love…. And chewing tobacco.
I shacked up that night with Sgt Casey a combat camera guy from Shank who’s father served in Vietnam, Casey was 42 and skinny his sister had died and he was in the middle of adopting his 2 nieces, he returned to duty due to the economic crisis in the USA. We talked that night but I had to wake up early to participate in a small show of force in Salar. We were going to be the A-Team. (yes I was Face) That morning I rendezvoused with 15 guys lead by Sgt Beauchamp Colleagues pronounced “Beach Ham.” My buddy Ken Medley, medic Pedro Benavidez and translator Rocky are along for the ride too. We drive 20 min to Salar and the only thing we know to expect is a cold reception. We dismount the M-RAP and I quickly get my bearings, I look up and my crew is already 50M a head of me, I am thinking oh shit don’t fall behind here, not here. We are walking on the main highway and to my left is a scattering of homes and a burnt out Police trucks, on the right is open farmland. Armed private security men line the route, they look like well dressed Taliban but attempt to guard the trucks along the highway in Barter Town, often the Private Security firms cause more trouble then good and Hamid Karzai wants to ban them due to their wreck less behavior.
I catch up to my 4 man group and attempt to snap photos while running, I am not looking around enough or paying attention, I look up to see another 2 armed men and wonder where they came from? Medley has moved closer to the walls of the Collets on the route and I do the same, my friend Peter Warchow 78, a former French Legionnaire told me to always keep my back to the wall, that was the rule in Africa and I figured it was safe advice. Medley and I were far left and Beauchamp and the other 2 were walking closer to the road, I should have stayed against the wall but that would put the Beauchamp and the gang to far away to help me in an emergency so I started to move closer to them but it also left me open to be shot from the Collets and the other side of the road where we only had our 1 M-RAP to defend us. This was starting to become a very vulnerable situation for us.
I paused to take photos of goat herders crossing our path the kids and mother guiding them looked spooked, were they afraid of us or what was coming? We walked further and I stopped to “see” it’s a technique I use when planning or scouting out a shot, I will say “think think.” I spy 2 kids on a roof but they are too far away for my wide angle, my curiosity turns to hunting dog alertness when their actions suggest they are scouting us and relaying our moves. I yell to the group to stop, something a civilian shouldn’t do when on patrol with a experienced Airbourne unit but I knew something was up. I tell Beauchamp we are being scouted and he dismisses it as curious town folks I voice my strong disagreement he tries to assure me this is common just then from the house a grenade flies in my direction and explodes 6ft away. POW!!! I whip around thinking that Medley has just shot his rifle but all I can see is a wall of brown dirt in the air, I yell “holy shit” and dive into the ditch I keep calm and whip my camera around and snap shots as quick as I can. Mean while Benavidez, Beauchamp and Rocky are still up the embankment looking stunned I yell to get down here and they follow suit. The 2 soldiers instinctively take aim at the Collet with the kids, Beauchamp yells to me “where the fuck were those kid you saw, what house!” I franticly try to describe a house that looks like every other house in Afghanistan, just then I realize that Medley is not with us, I panic a lillte as I grip the hill ready to spring up and save him and I yell for him to let us know he is ok, he doesn’t answer and I yell again. A pissed off and perturbed looking Medley walks through the cloud of brown dust and I thank God. Medley glares at the house and tells us he saw someone throw stones, I ask if that was a RPG they say no it was a grenade, I pat myself for wounds that I may haven’t noticed and feel none. I say to Beauchamp “those sons of bitches, lets go up there and kick their ass’, what assholes, they tried to kill me.” Beauchamp orders us all to sprint to the M-RAP for safety. I am relieved to go but increasingly getting angrier with each step. I realize that I am the only one in the back of the vehicle and yell to the driver and gunner that the others are still out there and he explains that they are doing a quick search for the grenadier. I am upset now, they can’t go hunting this guy without me, I yell for them to give me a pistol and they laugh, I say “no I am going to kick this guys fucking ass, let me out.” The rest of the guys hop back in the armored vehicle and we head for the safety of Carwile, Medley manages to smoke 10 cigarettes in 15 min and I am screaming like I won the Stanley Cup. Everything I am wearing just became a good luck charm, pants, watch, and vest.
I feel so pumped with adrenaline that I have nothing to compare it to, I walk into the TOC and tell everyone how we were grenaded and lived. At the time I was unaware that there were 20 unlucky men who didn’t make it through Salar with out a scratch and that this grenade tossing "shit head" had injured those 20 people over the last 2 years one of them was Lt Brasher who was standing behind me and he tells me that he has BBs still lodged in his leg that are too deep to pull out, he then takes me to his office and shows me the 2 types of grenade that this guy uses and that the Pineapple version cut the jugular of Sgt Woods. I felt even luckier to be alive and proceeded to act like I won the Cup for the next 2 hours until I found out that we had to return to the town that night and walk the whole length of the town again.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Grenade!!!

Well there we were walking in Salar the worst place on earth and this guy chucks a grenade at me and the boys and it lands 10ft away and goes off, it was a miracle no one was killed. Full story tomorrow.... after Church.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Afghan School Story

It’s not all bullets and bombs here in Afghanistan sometimes there are good deeds too. I was on my way to bed when Staff Sgt Cobbeldick said CNN is showing up tomorrow maybe they would be interested in some “B-roll” from your video? Who? CNN. The next morning Barbara Starr showed up with a cameraman from Australia, a British sound guy, and an American editor. Barbara’s parents were from Winnipeg so that makes her Canadian in my book it was like a Commonwealth get together. CNN was here to interview soldiers regarding the awarding of the Congressional Metal of Honor to Staff Sgt. Salvatore Giunta, for rescuing a wounded friend from the clutches of 2 Taliban during a close quarters ambush high in the mountains. Author Sebastian Junger featured the story in the book WAR.
The CNN gang was professional and fun. Barb was the serious one because the project had her name on it. Barb made a suggestion to Lt-Col Gilleran that we do a story on the Jordanian female soldiers that are in Afghanistan doing out-reach to women. My first thought was ok maybe I will get the now elusive burka shot I need for my collection. The look on the Lt-Col’s face said oh boy I have to call the Jordanians and get this thing working. The next day we show up at the Jordanian compound where a dozen armored vehicles would meet us, I mentioned to the Commander that I had met their King in Ottawa and they looked a little surprised and maybe a little envious. The Jordanian ladies show and I am expecting something like our women soldiers but these ladies were unarmed, wore makeup and had a tan… hummm I will call it a Nun’s outfit on with badges adorning it.
We drove out of Shank on to the main road and into the possibility of an IED. I am cramped in a M-ATV that is universally despised by the Americans for their weak armor, but that’s a story for later. As we drive through the small towns I get an idea of life in Wardak Province. New shops dot the route, shops that wouldn’t look out of place in the Caribbean if it weren’t for the multitudes of garbage and dirt. There are sides of beef and lamb hanging out in the open and vegetables for sale, plenty of beat up Toyotas and motorcycles move around. You can’t help feel that this new commerce will help defeat the Taliban. One thing that struck me was some of these collets (walled homes) are so big that they can be considered castles or mansions. Where does all this money come from and how do they get away with what ever they are doing? These houses would cost millions in Canada. I thought this country was poor?
Despite the distraction we move on to a dirt road where we dismounted and get out and walk. I am with an American girl named Martin who is a medic. She is tall and has puffy lips that hide crooked teeth she is cute but married. Lt-Col Gilleran walks with the Jordanians and CNN crew. We come to this walled school that the UN built and wait to get in, the gate of the school is kept but two 80 year old men that seem disturbed that we have shown up with a huge entourage. Eventually we are let in and are greeted by 200 girls and boys, CNN and I scramble to make heads or tails of what’s going on. The kids are ecstatic to see us, outfits aside the kids are just like any other children around the world, and laughter and giggles surround us.
The female students are supposed to flock to the Jordanian ladies but instead they hang out with the American girls who are sitting quietly off to the side. The young girls from the school surround the 2 American like they are rock stars, the kids have the look of amazement and hope in their eyes and are in shock that a women can be more then some burka wearing hostage. Eventually the Jordanian and American women hang together as to not divide the attention of the schoolgirls.
One of the A.N.A. soldiers was uneasy with us from the start and constantly tried to block shots and bark at kids, my thought is that he was Taliban and one of those strict grouchy assholes. The A.N.A. guy eventually starts to freak out and tell us leave ASAP, the CNN cameraman was in the middle of filming when the soldier tried to push his camera away which almost set off a fist fight, I tried to make a joke to break the tension but I realized this was not Parliament and he didn’t speak English. We left and the entourage of girls followed the female soldiers to a neighbouring field and continued to gaulk. We walked away from the school to a near by mosque where we handed out Qurans. We ended up causing a traffic jam due to kids hanging around, the old school master tried chasing them away with a stick but he was too slow. We headed back to our armored motorcade and sped back to Shank. I couldn’t help but think about the reception the girls gave the female troops and the impression that were made. These kids were just like North American kids in the way they acted and played it made you wonder if they could really grow up to be like their parents with soulless eyes and quiet demeanor? How could this generation be anything like the last, these kids are so bubbly and fun, I couldn’t see any of these cute children picking up a gun or wearing a burka. Maybe I will have to return in 20 yrs to see.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Attack company Photo

The full story of the shootout in Daimerdad

It was suppose to be a safe and easy mission, fly into a remote town and help Elders distribute project money, things didn’t go according to plan.
Daimerdad was a small town nestled in the crux of 2 mountains. The area was rarely visited by ISAF troops and was not known as a hot bed of Taliban action. Our mission was to take several Government Officials, Elders and a small contingent of ANA and U.S. Soldiers to a Shura that was set up with locals to help distribute money for projects. The hope of the Shura was to show transparency and put the money in the hands of the Elders.
We were wheels up from Sayed Abad in the morning, we would fly in 2 Chinook helicopters to FOB Airborne and pick up ANA commandos and a Deputy Governor. Our flight was short, less than half an hour to Daimerdad. We landed in a potato field at the base of the mountains in what they call a “Green Zone,” orchards and forest covered the valley floor that was patterned with irrigation ditches that were fed by one main creek. As the big birds left we were pelted with rocks and stones as usual. Our trek was to the city Centre building that doubled as a ANA base and Police station. We walked past 2 dozen villagers that leisurely hung out in empty market stalls on this main road, they seemed curious but by no means hostile, hell our arrival was nothing short of a volcano eruption and would send most people into a panic. The town was home to maybe 200 people but it had the charm of a Hobit shire, well that was until I saw the bullet riddled police truck and the three destroyed Soviet tanks that were in our path to the City Center building. As we walked past the war relics a yelled to my American friends “ I think this is an ominous sign and a warning that these people might not be so friendly?” One of the officers rebutted my comment and assured me this was a low trouble area.
The City Centre was the same two-story building that I had stayed in Chak but this one was completed and clean, in an Afghan way. Several sandbag gun pits marked the corners of the walled compound. Upstairs we entered a large room where very friendly Afghan Police and 6 met us or so Elders, we would wait on another dozen to show. While we waited for he others lunch was served, naan bread and lamb shank cooked in tasty thin onion gravy. The mood was jovial as we sat on the floor and dined, I was privy to this meeting but the soldiers were not. Lt-Col McFarlane who to my great disappointment didn’t go to West Point (inside joke), was leading this operation in cooperation with the deputy Governor who wore a well fitted Afghan style suit and well groomed beard, he looked about 55 and had a air of power to him, he reminded me of an Iranian Mullah with his glasses and poker face. I was informed by someone there that this guy was high-jacking most of the money coming into the region and he drove a armored Lexus and had several big houses. The other key players were elders from near by towns who during this Shura would decide how they would direct project money and the sheer numbers of them would hopefully insure accountability.
I felt that I should leave the Shura as to give these men privacy and not have a Westerner distract their talks. Out in the hallway ANA and U.S. solders waited. I started talking to 2 ANA soldiers who spoke English well, for some reason just like in Chak the Afghans thought I was some sort of celebrity and insisted I have my picture taken with them, it was a little embarrassing and confusing, who did they think I was? Why did they keep doting over me with food and tea? Was it the beard, my height, the shamang, or being a Canadian Photographer? I always made a point of being engaging to all Afghans regardless of status and offered a respectfully hello all the time. I entered all events like I was on the red carpet at the Grammys, throw in a firm handshake, sudden look in the eyes and easy smile.
Eventually the dealings outside seemed more exciting then the ones inside so I headed to the main road without my vest and helmet. I asked Sgt-Maj Bagby if he thought it was safe not to wear it, he seemed indifferent to my choice. What could go wrong in such a peaceful village? I was among a half dozen U.S. soldiers at the gate of the compound one of the men had given a little 3 yr old a small stuffed tiger, the little boy thought it was a dog having never heard of a tiger before others were envious and wanted one too but our gifts of school bags and school supplies were to be given out later to two Head Masters. I remarked that the simple gift of the tiger to the boy was going to win us more headway then the bombs we dropped, he will remember Americans as being kind and not the monsters of Taliban rumors. We then proceeded to stroll further to a medical clinic that was in short supply of medicine and the troops could make no promises on that and explained to the clinic operators that it would be a while until we return. We continued further with our entourage of curious children in tow I came to a Mosque that looked like any other home, I was warned not to go inside so I didn’t. That was far enough for me and I started to make my way back past the Russian tanks to the gate of the compound.
On the way back Bagby posed with curious children and I showed them their photos on my camera. Sgt-Maj Bagby was a man of few words but you didn’t want to cross him, he had busted down some guys in Attack Company just for allowing Afghan scarves to be worn by troops, he was in the Army for 30 plus years and was now the head NCO for the 1st 503rd Battalion. As grey and hardened as he was he had a soft side and he felt for the kids, he turned to me out of the blue and said “I agree with what you said back there,” I was surprised that he listened to any of my jibber jabber I was shocked. He felt strong about a soldier’s impressions on the public and knew that when that boy hit 15 and was asked to join the Taliban to kill evil Americans that he would know different. I was concerned that we show these kids how real men act and that we were not like the boy molesting shit heads that they had to deal with at home. Many of these kids would be abused and become abusers in a sexually distorted society.
Back at the gate more kids were gathering, along came a black bearded man on a motor bike who yelled at the kids to leave he then told us he was a teacher and was coming to pick up the bags, we told him he could have half not all and he hastily grabbed them and left on his motor bike and showed little to no thanks. There was something wrong with him, his greeting was dishonest and he was mean looking, I told the troops something was wrong with him and he was trying to shoe the kids because he knew of an attack. No body seemed concerned but I can read people this guy was not right. Meanwhile Bagby had pointed out a tiny boy he wanted to give a backpack to, the boy surrounded by envious peers came over to accept the gift, tough old Bagby knelt down and like some gruff Grandfather with a secret soft side handed the boy his gift, the boy’s eyes lit up his face read of stunned disbelief as did mine 2 seconds later when the whiz and crack of bullets flew over the heads of the children, Sgt-Maj Bagby and I. No questions were asked I knew he and I were being shot at, I ran quick behind the compound wall, the old Sgt-Major turned and glared at the Hill’s with daggers in his eyes. The ANA instantly returned fire with their belt fed machine gun, then another soldier breaks out the window on the second floor so they can also shoot back. Men scramble and a mortar station is setup. I yell to a near by Yank if I should have my vest on Bagby replied, “I don’t know what do you think.”
I made a break for a sandbag tower and sat with some troops on the supposed safe side, just then someone brings me my vest and helmet. We are informed that there are Taliban in the Green Zone which is in plain view of where I am sitting, I couldn’t figure out why no one was moving so I said fuck it and took cover where I thought it was safe. I come around the corner of the second building on the property to find a group of Afghan Commandos standing around their Colonel who is sitting on what looks like a throne. I was shocked, he was sitting there as guns roared picking his nails, I couldn’t bring myself to take his picture because I know he would freak out if anyone saw his slack jaw posture. Americans took charge and hit back with mortars thus silencing the Taliban guns.
Our ride was on the way and with chaos still on the menu we rallied what elders didn’t flee and prepared them for ex-filtration. Just then an old man carrying a one-year-old baby appears at the front gate, his eyes filled with sheer terror. Shrapnel from a Taliban bullet had hit the baby. Her head was bleeding. The old man was brought into a safe doorway medics worked fast to bandage her head and put ointment on. Somebody yelled, “We gotta go now!” The old man was starting to cry and that almost made me cry, as he left I slipped him $15 it was all I had but a month’s pay to him.
We ran past the razor wire out back of the city centre compound and scurried 500m up hill to the landing zone. As we walked I yelled to the Governor or what ever he was that he knew how to throw a real party. He just looked at me. We could hear the Chinooks they were coming in fast, the piles of sharp pointy rocks turned I to a hurricane of needles pelting all exposed flesh, I was relieved to be in the big bird and I knew I had captured some compelling stuff, I wanted to scream but realized that as fun as that was for me it really might have been upsetting for those who organized this shura. I would later find out that many of these guys had been out 2 dozen times and never shot at. I am not sure if I am suppose to feel privileged or not?

Thursday, September 30, 2010

operation purge video part 1

Operation Purge Photos

Operation Purge By Jake Wright

After resting at Bagram Air Force Base it was time to depart to Forward Operating Base (F.O.B.)Shank. Bagram was big, impersonal, depressing and a wasteland for Soldiers who joined to fight but instead ended up pushing paper or walking around aimlessly. After a 5-day wait I was on a plane and headed to Shank. When the plane landed I noticed we were higher in the mountains on a much smaller base, Shank was the size of the Glebe without the fancy homes.

I was met at the Airport by a 47 year old Staff Sgt. named Cobbeldick. He was all Sir this and Sir that, I thought "oh great one of these guys". It wasn’t long after he and I were doing impersonations of the Drill Sergeant from Full Metal Jacket and Al Paccino. Cobbeldick was going to be my handler here in Shank, he and his boss Lt. Col Gilleran would find me a mission, and for my sins they did. That night Cobbeldick insisted I drink 6 bottles of water and get hydrated for the mission so I did, at 3am I got up to go outside and go to the washroom but I noticed I had been locked in the hut, I was now in a panic and really had to go, I danced back to my room and found 4 empty water bottles, in desperation I filled them up to the last milliliter and prayed that was the last time I had to go. The next day I would fly to Sayad Abad by Blackhawk. On flight, I met Lt. Hall a former Canadian and now the leader of Attack Company that would be the driving force in the mission. Lt. Hall was a natural leader he showed me around Sayad Abad and briefed me on “Operation Purge,” he was young maybe 29 thin with a shaved head and lacked the Hill Billie accent that the other soldiers have. Lt. Col. McFarlane was the man in charge of Sayad Abad and Operation Purge. Some younger NCOs were uneasy with his firmness and hands on approach but others saw that as his strength, McFarlane is a tall well-groomed West Point man who looks and speaks like an officer. Purge was a multi group effort but it was as sure as shit McFarlane’s show.

Operation Purge was to be run out of a much smaller base called Sayad Abad, the stars of the show were to be the 173rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team, Afghan National Army Commandos and various specialty elements, in total 340 men would be brought in by Chinook helicopters and 2 Blackhawk helicopters. We would leave at midnight by helicopter under the cover of darkness and land 30min later high in the mountains in a small town called Chak. Chak was along a highway in an area where Taliban have always had free reign, it was nestled in a green, orchard-laden valley between two long ridges of mountains. The Taliban terrorized the town and kidnapped Elders for money and prevented Afghan Police from delivering ballot boxes back to Kabul to be counted. There was intelligence that big wig Taliban were stationed in Chak and this was a tempting prize.

After finding me a room in Sayad Abad I wandered the base looking for advice and direction in regards to midnight’s operation. I would need food, water and Night Vision (NVG). I asked and received all three. Under Cobbeldick’s advice I took my cheap small backpack and 1 camera, the small backpack would become a serious issue later on in the mission. With very little sleep I donned my helmet and heavy body armor and headed to the HLZ (helicopter landing zone) as usual I was late and with all this gear and water I was huffing and puffing like mad, I thought I was going to faint, the vest was tight and the high altitude was causing issues. I arrived at the HLZ and lined up, I was wondering what had I got myself into, should I bail out, will I slow these young fit kids down, am I going to fall behind and get captured? I remained calm and reminded myself that this is what I wanted, but yet unlike these kids I didn’t have years of training, psychological and physical conditioning or 50 of my friends along to back me up, I would have to gather my own strength from within.

Through the full moon lit sky 2 large Chinook helicopters appeared, blades smashing the air with a deafening slap, the troops on mass turned away from the blizzard of dust and small rocks in the HLZ. There was no turning back; we bolted for our designated chopper, and through the warm air of the exhaust run up the ramp of the big bird, I did my best not to stumble as I looked though the NVG goggles and found my seat. This was it, too late to turn back, I am sure the others onboard were nervous too, this was to be the biggest mission of their deployment and enemy contact was assured.

We flew over the mountains and I looked out the gun pit window as we passed by mountain peaks and dove through valleys, after 30 min or so the helicopter landed and the crew screamed, “go go go.” We ran out and dove to the ground to avoid the flying dust, rock, and possible gunfire. We were on top of a big hill miles away from our objective that we called the City Centre. We would have to hike through the hills to the green zone and then through the town to get there. We were now at 8500ft and the air was even thinner then back at the base, my heart sank as I noticed each breath was fruitless. McFarlane then ordered Attack Company to head down to the near by group of Collets. Collets are the walled compounds that you see on the nightly news, these Collets were huge like mini castles and villas, their size makes you question the notion of poverty here, these homes would cost a fortune to build in Canada if they weren’t so simple. While Attack Company went to the Collets, Battle Company was to head to a dam built by the Nazis, yes the Nazis. The dam was impressive and grand by Afghan standards, to get the dam online would mean electricity for everyone from Chak to Kabul. I was with Tactical Command and proceeded through the hills to a better position where we could over look the town before we dove into the orchards of the green zone and possible ambush.

We started our trek down the steep, sharp broken shale slope, no one dare fall for risk of injury and ridicule, I was slow and cautious, I wasn’t use to the NVGs and I am naturally not a fast walker. Even walking down hill was exhausting, my heavy ceramic plates sat on my chest and hampered what little air I could muster, that damn backpack was packed to the rim and hung too low and unevenly, there was no time to fuss with it I had to keep moving or be lost in the night. I desperately tried to keep up with the 60 or so men I breathed at an alarming rate yet too little oxygen to cause hyperventilation, my helmet tilted and teetered with the heavy NVG goggles and any semblance of cool or ego disappeared really quick, this was not my chow hall stroll, I was in hell and there was no way out. Reprieve came 30 min later as we took a break along a dirt road near a farm. I panted out “thank god” and sat down on the dusty embankment, finally a place to rest or so I thought. I had sat on a small thorn bush, fuck it hurt so I lifted myself up and moved over only to put my hand on another thorn bush and sat on a third one, “God Damn It! Shit, did anyone else sit on a thorn bush, what no one, you have got to be kidding me.” With thorns in my ass and hand we continued our journey through the hills and stopped at a grave yard on a hill, at this point I was really bad and they sent a medic to make sure I was ok he asked me how long I was at this altitude I told him 2 days, he was shocked and told me it took him almost a month to acclimatize, the medic looked at me and told me I was actually doing well considering they had been there for 9 months and I was keeping up. We rested for 5 min and got up to move out of the grave yard and over to our first over-watch point, as I stood up I realized I had sat on another thorn bush, this time the thorns were up and down my pants and in my ass. I tried to walk and fruitlessly pull thorns out.

McFarlane took the lead and told me he wanted me to stay in the front, oh ya I was purposely staying in the rear because the conversation was better, he then said we were going down hill as we climbed a steep slope, I was praying for death now and wondering if I could just hide somewhere. Fatigue was only offset by my determination to continue on and not be the last in the group we mounted the hill where someone beckoned we would be stopping for 4hrs, thank you Jesus… err Allah. The sky was still dark but the sun was coming soon and we would be exposed to attack I tried to rest but thorns were all over me, I even had one in my neck, as I went to pull it out I was horrified to find they weren’t thorns this time, I had sat on a Ant hill and these giant ants were in my pants and vest. I jumped up and started doing the jitterbug while soldiers from the US and ANA looked on, “fucking ants in my pants.” After my little show I sat down next to a guy with a belt fed machine gun and watched the sun come up. Lopez was a big, very soft-spoken guy from the South West and had a girlfriend in the Philippines, Lopez kept watch as we got organized to make our decent into the green-zone. I was finally able to take photos and video, just then we heard large explosions and gun fire, McFarland and Captain Shin got on the radio and started talking to the guys on the ground and circling Apache gunships.

Attack Company had finally cleared the Collets and freed a captured Elder and found an American bulletproof vest. We were now clear to proceed down to the Green Zone. We walked for another 30min and stopped outside another farmhouse. I noticed there were now 5 helicopters overhead, I asked what the delay was and McFarlane told me that General Townsend was coming in to see how we were. I laughed and said it would be funny if the General got shot, they didn’t think it was funny. Townsend arrived in a Blackhawk amidst a storm of brown dust out of the dirt blizzard appeared this 60 yr old tall man, friendly and curious he questioned McFarlane and handed out special coins to the men, the coins were an old tradition. The General hung with us and we talked for a bit but I felt it was important that he get face time with his men and not me, so I stayed clear for a while. I was a little disappointed that he didn’t wear pearled handled Colt 45s or a silver helmet. Apparently the Generals of old were gone. General Townsend left the same way he arrived in a storm of brown dust.
While the General was there Sgt Beauchamp a well liked man in Sayad Abad had time to talk to me, he pointed to one of our ANA partners who took it upon himself to stand guard in a defensive position to protect the General, he said “see that’s progress, right there we are making headway with these guys.” The ANA had a reputation for being undisciplined slobs with unlaced boots and a slack posture. These Afghan soldiers were making an effort.

We now headed out to the base of the valley called the Green Zone for its trees and irrigation ditches. The feeling of impending doom increased as we received word over the comm. that the Taliban knew we were there and moving in. Tension was high as we entered the terraced orchard. We tried to space out and looked around like startled cats yet there was this peaceful calm that contradicted the moment. Each plot of land was outlined with irrigation ditches or 7ft walls of dirt, these were energy draining obstacles for the troops laden with almost 100lbs of ammo and weapons for myself I greeted each ditch with a hesitation and a prayer not to break my ankle while jumping the gap. The dirt embankments were interesting the troops would wrestle up these things and I being lazy would walk further to the proper stairs, someone yelled “smart man.” Donkey and human poop was everywhere and I skillfully avoided all of it. At one point we stopped in an apple grove and held our position as the radio operators received and coordinated information. We ran into the odd farmer who were all cool and calm, some kept their heads down unwilling to look at us, I waved hello to one man who was well dressed with glasses and sat under his veranda calmly drinking tea and reading, he looked like a professor and out of place.

Lt-Col McFarland stayed standing and calm as the other troops stayed alert, he took a apple from the tree, “Jake you like apples?” I was a bit edgy and in a hurried voice replied “uh what, ya sure?” The Lt-Col handed me a fresh apple “here these have no pesticides, great tasting, wow what a treat.” The Taliban were around and we were picking apples, it was like that scene in Apocalypse Now where Col Kilgore talks about surfing when bullets whiz over his head. We sprinted across the bridge and finally made it to the road and in sight of the City Center, I was exhausted and now and had my vest unzipped and started to feel dizzy, my legs had strength but that internal battery was running dry. I motored on, with the troops through the market and past confused and staring shopkeepers. Some of the soldier were running out of steam and falling behind I could see our objective and its looked beautiful as it sat there looking like a burnt out High-School surrounded by razor wire. Ah rest was near.

We quickly found rooms to rest in and ditched our burdensome packs many collapsed onto the floor anywhere they could find, the officers went to another building, a small Police station behind our building. I stayed with the grunts, as I felt more at home with them. We were a mix of 70% US troops and 30% ANA soldiers staying on the compound. The medic handed out prescription strength Advil to reduce sore muscles, the over dose of IB Profen would relieve my sore legs but set my stomach on fire for the next 4 days. I knew better then taking blood thinners because my blood is already unusually thin. We ate rice that night made by locals and pounded down tea like Chinamen. Tea played a important part in bringing Afghan and US forces together, 22 year old Yanks back in the states would never drink tea let alone eat rice cooked in goat fat, these guys of the 173rd were breaking down barriers with tea. Our translators played a critical role in our communication with the Afghans; they translated radio info from the Afghan Commandos in the Green zone and relayed requests from McFarlane to the Afghan Commander. Cell phones were used all the time and often more reliable then the fancy radios the Americans had. It was funny to here mortars explode in the background and have cute hello kitty ring tunes going off every 30 seconds.

I slept well on the concrete floor and felt like a million bucks the next day, I walked over with no helmet or vest to the Police station where Attack Company was preparing to launch its assault in the Green Zone and kick in some doors. We received word that a Mullah was killed and several others including a moneyman were captured. Battle Company was at the dam taking heavy fire and close to running out of mortars. We had snipers in the mountains backing them up and you would hear the odd pop of a .50 cal rifle. There was only one black guy in Attack Company and I teased him and said it was like the movies where he was the token black guy and as soon as he starts talking about when he gets home and plans to open up his own business and settle down with a family he was going to get shot. Everyone burst out laughing, especially him. I had broken the tension between this group and me, after the mission they would ask me to shadow them and go on more operations.

I moved with a half dozen guys to an overlooking gun nest where radio operators coordinated air attacks for helicopters and jets. I helped out by looking for explosions and spotted fleeing cars. Things were pretty relaxed at the top of the hill, McFarlane skillfully juggled 2 phones and 2 radios while working with Rock the Translator. Mean while Attack Company in the orchard was ambushed, bullets whizzed everywhere and apples exploded above their heads making it rain applesauce, later the guys would find that funny. The gunmen were never caught. Over at the dam things calmed down just in the nick of time for Battle Company, as they were about to go black on ammo and mortars. Thanks to air assets the insurgents firing on them were taken out giving them safety to leave.

Night fell early in the valley as the sun dipped behind the mountain, I lost a bet with Medley a career soldier and a self professed Hill Billie from the Smokey Mountains, he said the sun would be up for another 30min and I said 90min. We got word that 30 Taliban were 500m from our position and waiting in the Green Zone for night to attack us, ANA commandos were summoned to head them off, I put my vest and helmet back on. Lt-Col McFarlane got on the radio back to Sayad Abad and ordered artillery to fire illumination rounds over the battlefield. The shells came in with thunderous fanfare and lit the entire valley up in a warm orange glow. We all watched with amazement as each round slowly drifted down. The Taliban either left or we were the victims of bad Intel and no attack happened. The different Companies were called in and we made plans to leave by Chinook. The ballot boxes were seized and no one was seriously hurt, the operation took out several key Taliban and made ISAF presence known in the Chak valley where before it had no previous presence.

The officers huddled in an office at the police station where they reviewed the mission and listened to radio chatter. McFarlane was pleased as was everyone else, one death would have changed everything, but the mission went smooth. We all knew that our time in Chak was too brief and that the Taliban would return as soon as we left and the residences of Chak would bow down in the interest of their survival. This issue bothered some more than others and despite the day’s victory there was lost potential. Lt-Col McFarlane who was not always popular with the lower and younger NCOs ran a good show and understood the goals of ISAF and was very cognizant of civilian loss and it’s effect on the war. I had little to say at the end of the day, which is unusual for me. I just laid on the floor of the unlit Police Station and listened to U2 in Sean’s iPod.

It was 1am and we were organized into groups, that same black guy I teased took it upon himself to be my chaperone to the HLZ. McFarlane gave one last order that no American soldier was to touch any ballot box for any reason and with that we were airborne again on our way home in the dead of night to a plywood and concrete outpost that felt less welcoming then the village we invaded.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Operation Purge

Guys this is the official story from the Army of what happened, my 2 cents will come tomorrow. The uy who wrote it is a good guy. My version will be longer and more like my other blogs.

1-503d, Afghan Army Conduct Air Assault in Chak

By Army Staff Sgt. Bruce Cobbeldick
Task Force Bayonet Public Affairs


WARDAK PROVINCE, Afghanistan (25 SEP 2010) – The Paratroopers of Task Force Talon, Task Force Brawler and their Afghan National Army partners conducted a clearing operation in the Chak District of Wardak Province, known as Talon Pakawul (Purge), the largest air assault mission conducted during this deployment by the Sky Soldiers of the 173d Airborne Brigade Combat Team.

Task Force Talon’s staff, in coordination with planners from 3d Kandak, 1st Brigade, 201st Corps, the 6th Afghan Commandos, Task Force Brawler, 2d Platoon of TF Rock’s Battle Company, and other units who supported the operation, planned the most extensive Air Assault mission of this deployment in just over 48 hours. Coalition Forces (CF) also worked closely with Afghan National Security Forces partners (ANSF) to ensure their participation and integration in the plan. The planners worked almost non-stop during the 48 hour period to develop an operation that would maximize success while mitigating to threat to coalition and ANSF participating in the operation.

The commanding officer of Task Force Talon, Lt. Col. Matthew McFarlane, and his staff conducted a back-brief to Brig. Gen. Townsend, Deputy Commanding General-Operations of CJTF-101 and RC-East to gain approval to conduct the operation, and all units involved in the operations participated in communications and map rehearsals prior to execution.

The combined action operation involved more than 340 Afghan National Security Forces and TF Talon Paratroopers interdicting insurgents in Chak to facilitate ANSF security operations. They inserted ground forces using four CH-47 and two UH-60 helicopters from TF Brawler at five landing zones across the district in the span of five hours.



McFarlane said, “due to the untiring efforts of the entire combined team, including multiple SOF, aviation, and ground units, the Task Force was able to successfully execute a complex mission with minimal time for planning. The people of Chak Valley and Afghan Government leaders were pleased with the removal of key insurgents and an increased Afghan security presence in Chak.”

McFarlane pointed out that residents in Chak witnessed their Afghan Commandos and Afghan National Army fight and protect them. Wardak Afghan Uniformed Police and elements of the Afghan Army increased their continuous presence in Chak to build upon the success of this operation. In the coming months, TF Talon will continue to work with the ANSF to increase their capacity for securing the people and Afghan Government efforts in Chak.

“The operation demanded a lot of the Paratroopers, NCOs and officers involved,” said Maj. Damien Fosmoe, the Talon Operations Officer, “but it was a great feeling to see the professionalism with which the officers, NCOs, and Troopers developed, rehearsed and executed a complex and dangerous mission on such short notice, as if it was routine.”

“I have the good fortune to work with many outstanding Troopers, NCOs and officers. It would be hard single out individuals who were more important or more impactful to this operation. The operation was a team endeavor, and could not have succeeded without the efforts of all involved,” he said.

“The plans officers worked long hours to develop the plan; the scouts spent two days on a cold windy ridgeline providing eyes on for the ground forces below; the ground forces forced the insurgents into hiding, capturing equipment and inflicting losses while not taking any themselves; the aviators moved the ground forces to HLZs, some difficult and dangerous to land at, so the ground forces were in the best position to conduct the operation; and the attack aviation, both fixed and rotary wing, provided air support to ground forces throughout the operation.” Maj. Fosmoe, from Davenport, FL, elaborated.

Army 1LT, Platoon Leader, 3d Platoon, Attack Company, from Boston, MA said, “It was exciting to be part of such a large operation. Because of the assets provided for a mission of this size, I feel that my platoon was able to accomplish more than we would have on our own. In addition, I felt confident focusing on one area of Chak, knowing that on all my flanks I was covered by my fellow Sky Soldiers.”

“In the background, Troopers in the tactical operations center coordinated and synchronized all support for the ground forces and the logistical support personnel executed resupply to the ground forces. None of the individual elements or units would have succeeded without the help and support of the others,” said Fosmoe.

The results were undeniably felt by the enemies of the Afghan government. A senior insurgent leader in Wardak Province and several of his subordinates were killed during the first day of the operation.

The insurgents operating in Chak received a strong message that CF and ANSF can and will execute operations to ensure the enemies of Afghanistan cannot operate in their "safe haven" with impunity.

Army Sgt. Bradley Mora, Squad Leader, 3rd Squad, Second Platoon, Attack Company, said, “It is one of those things that we came in there secured key locations and fought it out with the Insurgents without backing down. They have to realize that we can and will go into any area in this country and defend the Afghan people’s ability to pursue democracy. Mora, from Las Vegas, NV, said the impact was definitely felt in Chak. Coalition forces will support the Afghan people and we will not allow the insurgents to effect elections for Afghanistan.

Playing a large part in the operation was Attack Company, commanded by Captain Kevin Ward of River Forest, IL. Ward controlled three rifle platoons, a Company Headquarters, and attached ANSF forces during the Operation. He air assaulted into Chak Valley and remained on the ground throughout the operation.

Attack Company’s Commander, Cpt. Ward said, “this operation is served as another reminder that I am extremely fortunate to find myself in the company of the best that our nation and that of Afghanistan has to offer. I am humbled by the bravery, endurance, and abilities of the men of Attack Company, the attached 2nd Platoon from Battle Company, and our partnered Afghan Forces. Down to the lowest level, every member of our element faced extreme danger with no reservation or hesitation. With the unmatched dedication and efforts of Soldiers and leaders such as this, there is no mission to difficult and no opposing force that can stand against them.”

While the long-term effects are yet to be seen, the enemies of Afghanistan will likely hesitate before acting as boldly as they previously have. The insurgents now know that ANSF and CF have the strength and resolve to insert directly into their base of operations in Wardak, controlling the area and inflicting losses.

The insurgents learned a hard lesson that attacks on our ANSF partners and attacks to threaten the stability and efforts of the GIRoA will be met with overwhelming response from ANSF and CF.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Good things come to those who complain.

A good chunk of time has been spent waiting and as people know I am very calm very patient, ok that’s not true, I have spent my time snooping around Bagram, nothing to serious, no off limit areas there is no sneaking involved, but I do have 70s cop show music playing in my iPod when I do snoop. I stroll along the main road wearing a shammang around my neck and a Tilley’s hat or one of those Tajik hats that Massoud wore, but you must compliment Afghan garb with at least 1 piece of American kit, like my USMC boots, or Multicam pants, this confuses people, I don’t walk like a Afghan yet the garb says I could be, the boots are Marine Corps but I am not clean shaven. Not a lot of people will question a mean looking 6’2” guy that walks like he owns the show. When I flew into Bagram a Chief Warrant suggested I go to the supply depot for a better helmet, my PAO (public affairs officers) said no way no how, so in true Jake style I walked into the supply office and inquired, they looked at me and asked if I was special forces… no I can’t lie, I told them I was a reporter, the nice lady said I can’t help you, I was cool with that. The lady suggested I go next door and inquire, I walked next door and they said you need to see the Captain, the Captain was a 50 plus retired officer, 5’5”, who’s office was in a Sea crate that housed a desk and TV tuned to the Food network, I walked in and started to plead my case, she stopped me and said in her firm voice “wait who are you and why are you here?” God I was screwed, I walked into a lion’s cage with Bertha the housekeeper from Two and a Half Men, I had to salvage this situation or I could be in trouble, she asked where I got all that fancy clothing and what unit I was with, great here comes the truth and she is just going to love that I am a reporter that is not even American. I did my best apology for not introducing myself I told her who I was and that I had a big head and this old helmet from 1991 that won’t stop bullets. The Captain stared at me and didn’t look amused, she barked let me see that, she looked inside the helmet, “well it aint part of the recall.” Just then a Colonel walked in and the Captain said "watch what you say he is a reporter," now when people say that I have a whole comedy routine setup to defuse people, I have been using it for years because Photographers are not vultures like writers and people have less to fear from us. The Captain and Colonel laughed at my little speech and 2 Sergeants walked in and started joking with me and we talked as if we were old friends, they asked if I was giving the Captain a hard time I said “ are you kidding I am more afraid of her then she is of me.” The Captain looked at me, picked up the phone and barked in the receiver, “bring me 2 helmets, a large and extra large.” My God this working, for the next 30min I sat there fussing with pads and straps on this $600 helmet.

I walked back to the hut where I am staying and sat down rather pleased with myself. Later on that night when the sun had dipped behind the mountains I went to the MWR (what ever that means) to do laundry and watch movies, the room held 2 washers and 4 dryers that would take 3hrs to dry, I watched 2 movies while my wash went though and dried, black Soldiers played dominoes in the background and others hung around the 2 beat up pool tables, I could barely hear the TV over all the loud Southern drawl. I've been having a hard time understanding many of the American soldiers as they have a heavy accents and are overall soft spoken, it’s odd because I am use to the Americans and their way of speaking but either through fatigue or thin air I often find that I am asking them to repeat themselves or I just nod and laugh like some confused Chinaman.

Back in my room I tried to figure out this blog thing that Tom Elliot had setup and attempted to move content to it. My blog is at http://jakewrightblog.blogspot.com/ I think it will be hard to get people to move over from facebook where most of my crap goes, because the Blog is more efficient. I sleep well at night and I welcome the cold air that comes with it, due to the water I consume I have to piss in the middle of the night and for me that’s unusual. For most people using the washroom at 3 am is a matter of walking down the hall to the bathroom, this on the other hand requires me going to another building. There is also the added threat of Scorpions and big spiders that come out at night I wear sandals at night and being stung in the foot is my fear, so I kind of Monty Python funny walk past the sand bags and bomb shelters to the latrine looking like quite the fool.

I slept well and woke at 430am, which was late for me, I typed up some emails and went back to bed and woke up at 520am and went to the chow hall for Sausage McMuffins. As usual breakfast was breakfast and other then a dose of CNN and Fox news I ate and left. As I left I spotted the badges for the helicopter support crew and hit them up for info on how to get off this base, they pointed me to a near by building. I walked over and ended up shooting the shit with 2 guards and talked war and politics for 2 hours. I never did get to talk to a officer about catching a ride out.

After my chit chat I went back to the building where I met the Sergeants from Vermont 2 days earlier, they weren't in but their staff gave me a brand new Stanley wheeled tool box the size of a small bath tub, there were dozens outside, there were even these expensive looking smaller wheeled boxes that were very expensive and looked like they held stinger missiles but they were too small, I had to resist the temptation to take one. I pulled my new toy back to my hut like a little boy with his red wagon. I could now amalgamate most of my luggage and vest into one wheeled box. The timing was perfect because as I returned the PAO officer informed me I would be leaving for Forward Operating Base Shank at 5am tomorrow.

Where I stay in Bagram

Video of Day 1

Day 1 Picts

In Country

I have purchased some Afghan clothes and have not shaven... Starting to look very local, ok look very serious. Now I know why Denis Hopper's character was the way he was on Apocalypse Now.

Day 2

Day 2 of Bagram started with the my bed shaking like mad, I figured the guy up top couldn’t sleep because he tossed and turned for a good 30 seconds, it was accompanied by the sound of fighter jets taking off every 20 minutes or so, the sound of their after burners roared the whole valley. Fighter jets aren’y the funnest thing to hear at 2am but you can’t help but think how cool that is.  I got up at 4am and went to the PAX (airport) to see what the schedule was like for going to Shank, as I entered the airport building I walked through the luggage area where hundreds of bags, back packs and boxes are piled, the odd civilian contractor lay sleeping on a pile. The contractors slept there out of desperation to get a flight to where ever and regardless of their Rolling Stone concert ticket camp out their attempts are often futile. I was on the list and failed for all three flights that day, I hung out at the USO next door and fought with my laptop to connect to the internet, I went outside and started talking to random troops to get a lay of the land, I started talking to one guy around 25, social and also waiting to leave, his name was Midget, I started our conversation with “man you must get bugged a lot” he laughed. Midget was from Illinois and he wasn’t a Nazi in fact he was a wrestler, his cauliflower ears gave it away, I started to laugh and said to him “oh man your name is Midget and you’re a wrestler… a midget wrestler!” Midget was easy going and laughed too, he said he and his brother wanted to open up a school and call it Midget Wrestling.

After my socializing I walked back to check on the flight situation still not good, I talked to a soldier I had met the day before and gave him a cigarillo from Cuba and he was so pleased, he asked me what I did and he looked surprised and told me because of my fancy gear, top of the line clothes, unshaven dark beard and size that people were speculating that I was “out of shape Special Forces,” I burst out laughing and said that was a compliment.  I knew I had to bust that gut now, because in shape Special Forces would have been a really cool cover. I knew I looked badass and I made a point to walk strait and authoritative, hell it’s a game I would play while I waited. Finally my laptop was working and the battery was down to 3% so I scrambled to send out a Facebook message and a email to my handlers ie: PAO officers here in Bagram.

A while later I received word from my PAO people that they were just a little ways south down Disney, well what the hell is a little ways, 50 meters or 2 miles. I started walking and no one had any idea where their office was. Eventually I came across a office that dealt with media and they told me where to go, outside I ran into 2 older NCOs from Vermont, they were unloading a truck of brand new wheeled bins that are the size of small bath tubs, if I had this I could put my damned duffel bag that weighs 100lbs in there and my camera bag in there and wheel it from point to point instead of dragging it along the street like a out of shape Special Forces guy. The SGT and specialist both said come back in a day or 2 and they would see if they could give me one. I continued down Disney, past the other chow hall and finally found the WWII style hut that contained the Public Affairs office, I walked in side and saw that there was 6 desks with rather relaxed crew behind them, SGT Dion my handler looked up and said “oh it’s you.” SGT Dion was a short woman in 30 and 3 kids her boss a Major is a 6’4” tall heavyset black man from Atlanta, he talked to his staff like they were old friends and he sits at a central table where her would eat and oversea his staff. I could never figure out if the staff in there were talking to each other or me as they would just start talking and not look at me or address me by name, it was a little confusing and I just started asking who are you talking to? Sgt. Dion printed me up an ID card and gave me the pass code to my room that was in a identical WWII hut surrounded by old green sand bags, this place looks like Vietnam. The sign on the door of what they call the hotel reads Hotel California. I have a bunk and single bed in my room, a TV, refrigerator and a desk, finally a decent place to work.

The room next door housed a older guy Steve from Vermont Public radio we talked quite a bit he was heading to some other area with a whacky name and was attempting to get out of here to and cover some Vermont national guard bit. I was driven back to the PAX airport to get my bags that seemed lighter as I was now acclimatizing, but still these bags, vest and helmet were becoming an issue yet I needed all my stuff. In Germany the guy manning the counter for Safi Airlines wanted me to pay $200 because my gear was over weight I was pissed so I told him I would rearrange it and all I did was place my foot under my bag on the scale and held it up. The bag went from 35kg to 18kg wow a miracle, take that you Safi asshole. Maybe I will be able to get one of those wheeled bins and make life easy.

The guy driving me was my age and mentioned that I shouldn’t wear my multicam gear into combat, I brought up the fact that the Taliban or who ever don’t give a fuck and want to kill whom ever. If you are hard to see you are hard to shoot, the soldiers and other reporters from ABC news agreed with me, when you dress like a soldier (which my outfit does not look at all like) then you are 1 of 20 guys when you wear a blue vest and a black helmet you become a valuable target, they know if they shoot a reporter it will end up on the news for months. Plus being the guy who held all 3 shooting records in High-School I know if I have to choose between shooting a vague outline or a big black and blue dot I choose the easy one. Not to mention reporters have always worn olive drab or similar clothes.

I get my bags back and setup in my room and in no times it’s messy like home, ah what a relief. I drink a dozen bottles of water a day and that fills the garbage quick. I am spending more time on line and blogging thanks to Tom and Bryan. I have new neighbors who are a father and son team from ABC news in the US, Mike and Carlos is the son. These guy have seen some serious shit, I watched footage of pitched battles and footage of a rocket attack that hurt 2 kids during the election.  That night I went to bed at 730PM and woke at 330am.