For 16 years he played Army one weekend a month and two weeks a year. Then on 9/11 he came home, silently went upstairs and dragged his gear down from the 3rd floor, expecting the call that evening, I guess. That's when it hit me, "Oh, now I get it..."

Tuesday, May 21, 2002

 
Dear Deb & kids, Here I am back down at Bagram Non International Airport. These guys were shooting "boulders" (Soviet ordnance) at a place called "The Egg Farm" as there are several acres of unexploded stuff. Well, one went off and a piece of schrapnel scrambled someone's knee. What is it like here? We are about 4500' above sea level. There are mountains to the west, north and east. The valley to the south leads to the capital, Kabul. The wreckage of this former airport extends 5 miles north, 2 miles west, and 3 miles east. From the airfield I can see splashes of red which are the poppy fields. The valley from Bagram to Kabul looks like May Day - a valley of red. Every day like clockwork when the sun sets the air drains down from the mountains and blows up big dust storms. One night when I woke up I was coated with dust as though someone had sprinkled it with a sifter. Washing is an amazement as the water is as brown as tea. One has to manually fill the washer but we are lucky as we have a hose. The days are pleasant with bright cloudless skies. Speaking of which, I could use some shorts; I cut down a pair of pants but never got around to hemming them and left them at the last camp. There is only so much stuff you can push forward. Or you pack for one thing and the mission changes and you jet off to some place else where the weather is entirely different like our trip to CA except worse. The houses here are made from adobe and rock and are plastered with straw and mud plaster, which is why when an earthquake hits the villages are reduced to rubble. The houses are joined with walls to combine into a village. Looking up at the mountains one can see other villages nestled into the valleys. If you are doing well here, one has a bike. If one wants to eat then first they have to fetch firewood and water. I am sitting here now and see five Afghans drawing water as ours is the only clean water around here. One finds the importance of washing one's hands before eating because you will succumb to the Afghan revenge if you don't. We have been prepping the last three days to get things further downrange. Once one has aircraft and weight is allotted, it is like the camping trip from hell. Some more items will come in and everything has to be repacked to get it on the pallet. A lot has to happen, get forklifts, get pallets weighed and measured, etc. The true meaning of the detritus of war is this place; a graveyard and junkyard all rolled into one. The rusty artifacts, everything either bent, destroyed, pressed into the earth and jutting out. A round thingy may be an old can or a mine. In the middle of it, the earth gives up the bones of those who have died here. It is almost like living in a big museum/mausoleum. There is always a bright side to life and you guys are the bright side. I always have that pleasant moment at the sunrise/set when I think back on being together. I love you all and think of you every day and in that twilight sleep which isn't dreams or sleep. I hope you are all well. Amanda and Zak, you do not know how good you have it, you don't have to beg, haul water, farm or fight just to live day to day. The moon, especially when full, reminds me of the time we were looking through the brass telescope together. Hugs & kisses all around, Chris