Our George on the Stairway of Doom

The other war

The other war: note from a buddy in Afghanistan the evening after an attack on Bagram Air Base:

All,

I'm OK.

I'm not really thinking straight right now, I'm very tired as I spent the day in a bunker when I would normally be sleeping. Then couldn't sleep due to being all amped up - I got maybe an hour or so. They said they'd let us nap tonight at work but I have too much on my plate to even think of that.

Everyone was impressed with how I handled the attack. My LT and I were at the post office (buddy system we call being a wingman) on Camp Cunningham so he could mail a package before bedtime when shit hit the fan. We were isolated from our unit and our emergency rally point. I was maybe a mile from the attack, and not far at all from where Cheney was. I was about a quarter or half mile from my assigned bunker in Camp Dragon.

Hearing a real-world alarm red (attack in progress) come over the PA system changes any desire to go to your assigned bunker when there's another one right next to you. Anyway, the bunker I was in was ankle deep in water and crowded. As I'm a combat communications guy I got to do a lot of "communicating" for personell acountability for the 25 or so of us in the bunker.

You'll be happy to know that the training payed off and kicked in immediately. Although I'm not sure if I heard the bomb or not (I hear bombs all day every day and am completely numb to it) the rest of the noise was phenominal. The F-15's immediately did a "show of force" with lots of high-speed, low level fly-by's that probably scared us more than the attackers.

Most of the casualties and dead are local children who hang out at the gate area to beg from the truckers as well as the soldiers who go out to escort the truckers on base.

So, now I'm at work as usual, up to my ankles in mud. My life at least goes on. I'm sure we will have a "Fallen Comrade" parade in the next few days.

Until then, there is no water on base for the toilets because all of it gets trucked in - and we are locked down.

Take care,

Todd

Long Day

Chopper ride over Baghdad


End of a long day


Combination of making a funny face and glare on the camera -- take two.

The Battle for Baghdad

The mood over here is fairly resigned. George's plan may give us the stability we need to start to pull out, and then when everything goes to hell we can blame it on the Iraqis. But it won't make a bit of difference in the long run, unless we send a hell of a lot more than 20,000 troops, commit to keeping them here for another 5 years, and figure out a way get a dictator to run the place.

In remembrance.

Capt Kermit Evans, USAF
1972 – 2006

(I was just thinking about him again today. Sometimes I do still hear the bag pipes, you know. Late at night. But now I know that they’re not for me)

Sunday Drive Down Route Red Sox

Remember when the whole family would pile into the station wagon and go for a Sunday drive? Maybe we'd stop at that flee market out in Romeo? Or when Dad would take the kids on a "mystery ride" down by the factories on the river front?

This ain't that.

False alarm

The missing BAT guys were sacked out. It must have been a really sleepless trip, because they didn't even answer their door when we pounded on it.

I figured it was something like that.

Two guys from the Biometrics Team have been missing since last night. They supposedly arrived back at BIAP at 2000, and the truck is gone, but we can't find them or the vehicle.

Both my Staff Sergeant and I have white boards behind our desks. I like to use mine to sketch out ideas and we both keep a list of the various projects we're working on. As I walked by yesterday I noticed this at the bottom of her project list:

"Convince the Major that he's not a Marine any more."

It made me smile.

George about town (again)

Brave George at Sniper Ally (don't worry, the picture only took a second before we jumped back in the truck and laid rubber... er, well, we would have laid rubber except I don't think you can do that on a dirt road).



George on top of Commo Hill. Baghdad in background.



Another shot from Commo Hill.



Guard tower on Commo Hill (frequent focus of much insurgent attention)

IED hits John Lavoie's convoy

Here are a few pictures John Lavoie sent. His convoy got beat up pretty bad a week and a half ago but he is OK.

Dead Pigeons

They are outside right now shooting the pigeons that like to roost on the palace because the General doesn’t like the fact that they poop all over the entry way. I am no bleeding heart, but we couldn’t figure out a better way to keep the side walk free of bird shit?

-----------------------------------------
After Action Report:

Well, they killed almost the whole herd of pigeons. Or whatever you call them. I think a tarp or canopy would have worked just as well.

Cut and Run vs. Stay the Course

I am actually pretty conflicted about being here. Being here is obviously the culmination of an entire career in the military – even more so to be out here with the Army. But is what we're doing right? Am I right to support this illegal war by my actions? By NOT protesting? Is it even an option for an officer to question where his democratically elected leadership sends him, and what they have him doing? Or do I just think too much?

We were wrong to invade. That much is plain to every one with a shred of sense. I’ll leave it to the historians to pass judgment on whether or not we could have predicted this mess before hand, but the fact is, now that we are here, are we not responsible for the very mess we helped create? Don't we owe it to the Iraqi people to at least hand them back their country in better shape than it was before?

I will suggest this is a valid debt, and I’ll go even further to suggest that we should make it our principle goal to provide a stable, economically viable country and whether or not this includes a democratic government. After all, freedom is much higher on the hierarchy of needs than either sustenance or safety. The sixty-four thousand dollar question is whether or not this goal is even attainable? And if so, whether or not it is worth any more American blood?

At this point I just want to get home safely.

Counting

77 days to go

Mark's Tattoo

"Peace" in Arabic.

Thoughts about oxygen deprivation

When a bomb goes off in a market place they call the sanitation men to clean up. They use hoses to wash away the blood and left over body parts, squirting it into the gutters so that it doesn’t have to remind people. Sort of like you squirt the dirt off of your driveway.

I was talking to Marc the other day about death. I read an interesting article that claimed, ultimately, almost all death is caused by oxygen deprivation. When a guy bleeds out (that’s our word for exsanguenating) the blood stops carrying blood to the brain. When a guys chokes on his own vomit and blood and his lungs fill up, no oxygen to the brain. Etc. What do you think? Only when a being is obliterated or has his head blown off is this not true.

Is there a soul? Some type of human singularity? Religion says that there are three parts to life: The body, the mind, and the soul. But I also read that the soul isn't a discrete entity, but it's the meeting of the mind and the body. Or was it the mind is the meeting of the body and the soul? But if the mind is merely a series of electrical pulses arcing across a synaptic gap (sort of like the gates in a computer chip), then wouldn't that basically make the mind an extension of the physical body? What is the mind, anyway? Is that where hell exists?

The Surge

From St Cecilia Catholic School in Costa Mesa, CA

It’s been a hectic couple of days. Crappy, actually. The week started slow, but Wednesday we got slammed with a couple of high priority database jobs. No real choice about it, even though I don’t have any database guys, or programmers, or developers on strength. Just do the best you can, the Colonel said – as if all technical skills are just interchangeable. Why does it seem that I am always put in these positions? Give me a truck mechanic to build a brick wall, why don’t you? Set up to fail, is what I call it. God, I wish I remembered more from those database design classes I took at Maryland. Maybe I’ll go over the 67th and see if they have anyone I can borrow for a while?

Everyone is running around like a zombie. Or should I say, the day shift is running around like zombies – the damn bombers were overhead again last night. They were cool the first time, and they’re okay during the day, but now we’re tired. Literally and figuratively. I wonder if the whole city is as tired as I am? I’ve think I’ve drunk a million cups of coffee and another million diet cokes.

We’re having trouble with the video distribution system again too. The digital maps are okay, but the UAV feeds keep freezing – and I think there’s a lens problem causing the screens to cloud over when viewed from an angle. Anyway, it’s been one of our biggest projects over the last 6 months and I want to get it right. There’s this one Army Warrant Officer who sits on the watch floor right up near the screens and he’s always got a snide comment to make. A couple of my guys have complained about him in the past and I have even heard him several times myself, always muttering under his breath. Earlier this evening we were up there playing with the test pattern again and I was frustrated and I heard him. Normally I believe in the old adage to praise in public and punish in private but I was just tired of the VDS problems and tired of this guy and just tired. And so I whipped around and said to him in a loud voice “Warrant Officer, if you have anything constructive to say we’d be happy to hear it. But otherwise I’ll ask you to just shut the hell up.” He walked away and, to tell the truth, I was bit embarrassed. I know at least two of my guys heard.

Ten minutes later I walked back into the office. My Staff Sergeant looked up and said to me “you did good up there, sir.”

Just before midnight. I am sitting in my bed, listening to music. I have the head phones plugged into the laptop. Billy Joel. And Warren Zevone. I’m depressed. God, I want a drink. I am so sick of this.

Fuck you, God.

John's team responded to that last C46 that went down. The route clearing team for his convoy took a couple IEDs and had three killed, eight wounded. John's okay.

Yea!

I have a replacement!!!!! He's a Captain out of Vandenberg Air Base in California. The Colonel isn't so keen on taking a Captain instead of a Major, but I have to tell you - I am just thrilled!! 84 days and counting... still lots of work to do. Take care, all.

Road trip to Baghdad

Mark in an armored SUV


Damage to an SUV (a different one)


More damage

We had some fast movers over head last night. That’s what we call the jets, as opposed to the slower prop jobs or rotary wing aircraft (helos). They were circling real slow and low, for a long time. I know it was for a long time because they kept me awake for half the night. The roar was really LOUD.

They came back again this morning and woke me up. I am hoping this is not going to be an every day event.

[late entry]

Those birds flying around this morning were B-1 Bombers!!! They were back around 1700 and they are AWSOME. They pass you by in silence, and then after a few seconds comes the ROAR of the engines. It gives me goose bumps.

C-130 down

Okay, it's hit BBC so I guess I can talk about it.

An RAF C130 went down south of here last night. We caught it on the UAV feed and were watching the entire time. They were on final approach to land at a tactical landing zone [read flat field] when they took fire and popped chaff – ‘not sure if it was the anti-aircraft fire or a problem with the chaff, the port wing ending up on fire. Luckily, they made it down and only two crewmen were injured, although the aircraft was a total loss.

The good thing about UAVs is that they have very long loiter times, meaning they can just hang around on station for as long as you need them. We watched the site all morning and saw the American rescue teams arrive and take away the crew, then the salvage teams started to strip the aircraft of any classified or valuable parts, and finally the EOD boys laid C4 over the fuselage and the one good wing. Then everyone stood back the whole thing just disappeared in a huge orange fireball.

Sorry, Haji - nothing left for you this time.

We got our balloon back. This time maybe they’ll tie the end of the tether to something on the ground. Everyone feels better.

I just stepped out of the palace on my way to the truck. The double wooden doors are facing a large moat we call Pirate's Cove, beyond which is a guard tower and the East Wall. The space along the wall is often used to park the trucks and SUVs, so that's where I'm heading.

I hear some firing in the distance, somewhere in Baghdad. And just as I am wondering how any husband or father could possibly want to raise a family in the city nowadays, I here phissst! phissst! CLANGGGGGG!!!! Three rounds had come over the wall and hit the palace, up near the second floor.

As their trajectory was well above my head, I wasn't too worried, except for the one that had clangged off of the metal scaffolding we use to raise and lower the large blackout louvres. It would be just our luck that it struck some key part or joint and jammed the dammed thing. That means we'd have to be out there tonight, in full gear, trying to fix it in the dark.

I looked for the hole or mark for a long time but couldn't see anything, so eventually I continued on my way. I guess it'll either work or it won't - I'm not going to worry about it.

GroundFOB Day

Nothing new today. It's a Thursday, which means it's one day closer to being able to sleep in on Saturday morning (so long as there's nothing going on), but other than that all the days blur together. Was it last week that we set up the new server? Or yesterday?

It's been a quiet week, until yesterday when we got slammed with a couple of database projects. We're more of a tactical unit, and I have no programmers, developers, or even database administrators, so I hope the colonel doesn't expect the same quality or timliness he got back at EUCOM, where they had a whole shop to do this stuff. "Ah, well, Just give it to Systems... they'll figure it out."

I don't know what it's like to lead men, and I don't think that I am very good at it. I do have some observations though, even though in the heat of the moment it's really hard sometimes to put them to good use.

I used to think that in the military everyone was interchangeable. No one is irreplaceable, as they say. You cross-train riflemen to fire the machine gun and system administrators to repair a network switch. That way when one man's down another can step in. The problem with this is that it's sort of like treating everyone as a round peg in a world of round holes.

Unfortunately, there are a lot of square holes, or rectangular holes, and sometimes you even have to bust through and make the hole. It took me a long time, but I eventually tried looking at the person rather than the position. Everyone has specific strengths and weaknesses, and to force every person to be “round” in the same way tends to result in more homogenized group, but at the expense of individual initiative. So now I try to fit a task or an assignment to a person's individual strengths, and, even, desires. It may seem pretty basic to realize that a soldier will be more productive doing something he likes than he will doing something he hates, but there you go.

Eventually though, I realized that even this wasn't enough. Different people (always it's the people!) respond to different styles of leadership. Some need only to be encouraged or coached, most do what they are told, and others need to be practically bullied. So my leadership style varies depending upon the maturity of the led. The mature follower I tell what I need done and then ask how they would do it. For the gold brick I would provide much more detailed directions and probably specific reporting procedures. The downside of this is the potential to seek out favorites, and to overload them with tasks. This can lead to their burn out, and is also the best way to ensure the group as a whole has low morale.

As an officer, I need to make sure my guys have what they need to do their job. But another, often overlooked aspect is to make sure they are given the space to do it in. I don’t mean the physical space, but more of a conceptual box consisting of time, the awareness that I trust them (and that they can make mistakes - so long as it’s not the same mistake), and the knowledge that I am doing my best to look out for them. Basically, I try to run interference between my guys and customers who think they know what they want but don’t, commanders who want to micromanage, and a headquarters that labels everything the highest priority and wants it all done yesterday. This is by far the most frustrating part of leadership, but perhaps the one area I think I do really well.

Yes, I try to “lead by example.” This is often confused with knowing everything and being able to do everything that a Corporal or a Sergeant can do. But it’s not my job to program a router; it’s my job to make sure the Corporal has a router to program, is trained to program it, and that he programs it in accordance with any security or configuration policies I have set. To me, leading by example is more about stopping in to chew the fat with the midnight crew at 0330, or going the electrician into the basement of an abandoned palace looking for the main distribution box, or being there to pull cable in a sand storm. Or taking the front humvee when the convoy has to pass by a potential car bomb.

The Army culture is hard nosed - do it or else. But to me that's crappy leadership – a copout where they confuse the authority inherent in a rank or position with true leadership. It’s not about telling others what to do, it’s about looking out for others. Letting them figure out what to do. Instead, of looking out for others, too often I see officers sneaking off early, or being the first in line at chow. My Platoon Commander in the Marines always ate last, and if they ran out of food, we'll, he was satisfied that at least his men were fed. And every single one of us noticed that.

So that’s it. No great insight, just some observations from 18 years of being an NCO and an officer. I just pray that it’s enough to get us through.

A week in the life….

Monday:
0810 - Walking to work & I hear small arms from coming from Baghdad. It’s not close.
1000 - A very large explosion in Baghdad. Probably a car bomb in a market somewhere on the west side. Smoke curls up for about a half an hour
1403 - Small arms fire towards the East Wall

Tuesday:
2004 - Heavy rifle and machine gun fire on Camp Slayer. Several RPGs. Red tracers fly overhead and I take cover behind a cement building. This goes on until about 2050. Periodic gunshots thereafter.

Wednesday:
0730 - Machine gun fire from the west. This may be the first time I have actually heard gunfire from the west
1157 - Three smoke plumes from Baghdad. The largest is still smoking almost an hour later.
1319 – I see a UAV overhead. They fly so slow, it’s a wonder more of them aren’t shot down.
2033 - Heavy rifle fire in Baghdad. ‘Does not appear to be directed at us.
2042 - Rifle fire in vicinity of guard tower on Commo Hill. Now it’s directed at us.
2046 - The fifties open up
2316 - Alert siren. Loud speakers announce “Take cover.” Usually that means incoming, but no explosion this time.

Thursday: Quiet all day long. A very pleasant surprise.

Friday, the Muslim Sabbath:
0600 - Scattered shots during the morning call to prayers
0710 – Possible RPG or small IED near ECP 13.



Saturday:
0713 - Saw a flight of blackhawks popping flares this morning. They were low over the Hayy Al Furat neighborhood, behind the apartments on Sniper Ally. Usually they do that when they’re taking ground fire, although I didn’t hear or see any.
0739 - A pair of gunships circle the area for about twenty minutes.
1030 - Scattered rifle fire from the East
1040 - Heavy small arms fire. They are really going at it now.
1042 - Smoke plum in vicinity of small arms fire
1055 - All quiet
1237 – Loudspeaker announces: THIS IS THE COMMAND POST. THERE WILL BE A CONTROLLED DETONATION IN FIVE MINUTES. CONTROLLED DETONATION IN FIVE MINUTES. OUT. That means EOD is going to be blowing something in place, usually either a cache of some sort left over from before the war or an unexploded warhead. There are lots of unexploded warheads because they usually store their shells in damp holes in the ground. I guess that’s a good thing.
1241 - A single loud detonation shakes the trailer.

Sunday:
0014 - I hear the fifties open up. There’s at least two of them taking turns firing. They call it “talking guns,” and it’s easier on the barrels. Odd that I don’t hear any rifle fire. They must have seen something, but I’m going back to sleep.
2030 - Scattered rifle fire during the evening call to prayer. Sometimes I think they do that on purpose, time it for when the loudspeakers are blaring.
2102 – Twin RPG explosions followed by a fusillade of small arms fire. This is the typical pattern for an attack. Sound like it’s out in the neighborhood. It’ll either peter out on its own, or the machine guns will join in and then it’ll taper off. The Muj don’t like Ma Duce and rarely do they stand and fight.


I remember when I first got here I was almost anxious to hear my first fire fight or explosion. I was going to keep track with a little black tick mark under the brim of my hat – but at this rate the whole brim would be black. It’s certainly become a lot more common now than it was nine and a half months ago when you only heard gunshots once a week or so.

Jack and the Internet

J: Mom, what was invented first - the internet or the computer?

M: The computer.

Jack pauses, lost in thought for a moment.

J: But Mom, what would people do with a computer without any internet?
Oh, I know, they had disks with the internet on it that they loaded on
the computer.

M: I gotta go write this to Dad.

J: Nooooooo

Democracy

"Democracy, unlike manure and rumors, isn't spread, it's nurtured."

-Douglas Herman

Is everyone feeling better now?

Winter is here

Winter in Iraq is really more of a rainy period, than the traditional temperate New England season we think of. I suppose it does actually snow in the mountains of northern Kurdistan, but here it just gets miserable. And cold. I actually had to ask Lisanne to ship me long pajamas the other day.

Today it’s going down to 54 degrees (F). At least it’s not raining. It gets really, really uncomfortable when it rains because of all of the mud. Plus, I don’t like the new Gortex filed jackets they’re issuing, which are supposed to double as rain coats. They make me sweat.

But I suppose it’s better than a month of 120 degree weather. And I do have to admit, the clouds make for rather dramatic sky scenery, especially when the moon is just peeking out from behind them.

Flags

Our Balloon Blew Away!!!

I may have mentioned before about the blimp. Technically it’s a tethered aerostat that carries an optical sensor suite up to a couple thousand feet or so and provides a pretty good view of the area. I am sure anything else about it must be classified, but suffice to say that we all feel safer when it’s up. Because the sensors are mounted in a gimbal mechanism that hangs below the balloon we like to refer to it as our sack and ball.

Occasionally we’d bring the thing down and it would be full of bullet holes, but after a quick patch job it would be back up. Well, we had a pretty serious wind storm the other day and we lost the blimp. Literally, it just blew away and there was nothing the ground crew could do. They found the thing near Taji several days later, and I am told it will be back in a couple of days or a week.

The gun trucks are lined up again. Part of the big push. This time there’s a really, really long line of them, each encumbered with its own assortment of barbed wire coils, orange traffic cones, spare tires, gas cans, bed rolls, and back boards. It’s a dusty, cloudy, crappy day, and it’s not getting any better with all of these trucks adding their diesel fumes to the air. Then, a faint whistle from the front of the line and off they go. The line starts with a jerk, like a train, inching forward until each vehicle finally finds its proper spacing. Engines rumble, springs squeak and the gunners rotate guns out and adjust their goggles. WAIT!! That’s Jack in the back seat window! He’s waving to me – he wants me JACK!! JACK! I want to get out of the truck but I can’t can’t can’t open the door there he is WAIT, JACK!!

I’m outside of the truck now. God damn those doors! Someone inside the humvee pulls Jack from the small window. Lisanne and Anais’ laughing faces in the window now. Laughing. They wave from the window. WAIT! YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU’RE GOING!! I run, no… two people grab me tight and I can’t struggle free HE’S GETTING AWAY!!! THEY’RE ALL GETTING AWAY!! I hate being restrained God I hate it THEY ARE GETTING AWAY GOD DAMMIT!

The blackhawks come in low over the creek, just like they did at Victory the other day. They look very large from this angle. So low, and so damned loud that they DROWN EVERYTHING ELSE OUT for a minute. Loud like it almost hurts again. Then, at the last minute they turn away, towards the city. I look down and the line of trucks rolls through the gate and onto Irish. STOP! It comes out a whisper....

I hear the firing, and smoke… now the fifties. RATTA TAT TAT TAT. THUMP! Get away you bastard! They’re out there! Stop holding me! Helpless.

I wake up covered in sweat. Again.

Fuck. Now I can hear the shooting on Irish.

Is this it?

We were rolling past ECP 13 this morning and the largest convoy I have ever seen was lined up ready to go. Mostly muddy humvees, but also a couple of Iraqi gun trucks (with their huge Soviet machine guns) and some armored cars - there must have been 20 or 25 vehicles, all loaded for bear. This wasn't an escort group, they were going out to roll some folks up. I just waved as we went by - my way of wishing them a safe trip. A couple of the gunners knew what I meant and nodded back.

We sending another group down Irish in about 10 minutes. This time it's just three gun trucks. My guys. Like always, I called the ADOC (Area Defense Operations Center) to check the status of the route. Usually they will list any small arms fire or the infrequent IED - Irish is patrolled so heavily now days that it's really not so bad like it used to be. But today I could hear the radios squawking in the background as the exasperated ADOC controller said "Shit, Major! There's too much going on to even list. The route’s still open, but you all be careful."

They just pulled out. It takes about 10 minutes to get to the ECP and out on to Irish. I'm nervous. For love and honor I wonder if I should call them back in?

Second night back

Second night back and they’re really putting on a show. Tracers and RPGs look like they are coming from between the inner & outer East Walls. WHUMP! WWWHHUMP!! Two more RPGs go off. It worries me slightly that the alert that went out said “small arms fire in the camp.” The QRF sirens scream and I duck as several red tracers fly overhead, but a majority of the ordinance doesn’t seem to be aimed in our direction. It’s ECP 13 that’s getting pounded tonight, I think. I hear machine guns, but no fifties, for some reason. Thunka thunka thunka thunka! BAAM!! I wonder where the fifties are?

The fight went on for about 45 minutes, which is an unusually long time. In fact, the last shots didn’t peter out until another hour after that, although that could have just been nervous sentries letting loose.

Sad News

While I was on leave an American soldier was shot near the chow hall. He was hit in the head and died on the scene. I think this is the first fatality to occur on Slayer since I have been here.

They say it was a stray round. Probably not even something that could have been avoided – just the wrong place at the wrong time. But then, having an American presence in Iraq is the wrong place at the wrong time too. What a waste.

I try not to think about it.

Bomb blast

I think it rattled windows all over the city. They are talking about
350 casualties, but so far no soldiers. Some are coming to Slayer.

I am, as always, safe and sound.

Landing back in Iraq

After we landed at KCIA they crammed us into a convoy of Army buses. Why they can’t just run a C130 shuttle out of the international airport into Iraq I do not know, but they always truck passengers up to Ali Al Salem and fly them in from there. I heard a rumor that Iraqi insurgents have been crossing the border to observe American troop movements in Kuwait, and that there had even been several grenade attacks and an IED, but our convoy had two gun trucks and a Kuwaiti Police escort, so I suppose we were safe. Still, it felt uncomfortable to be traveling without a weapon. I noticed that neither of the gun trucks sported a fifty cal.

In any event, the trip was uneventful. At Salem we picked up our gear and were crammed onto a C-130 along with a US Border Patrol unit. I didn’t even know the Border Patrol had military units, but they apparently do. These guys were fully kitted out and carrying modified M16s, M4s, and even 249s. Very rough and tough looking guys, older than the average soldier or Marine, but you could tell they were new to the theater – they still had creases in their pants. They were headed to Anbar to help seal the flow of men and arms filtering back and forth across the border. Good luck with that – I think it’s going to take more than a platoon of customs agents. I was the only one to speak to them.

As we crossed over into Iraqi airspace the two loadmasters took their positions on special seats that allowed them to look out of two round windows in the fuselage. It took a moment before I realized that they were watching for the tell tale smoke trails from a surface-to-air missile arcing up – a sure sign that it’s time to shit your pants. So far as I know, the only defense a C-130 has against heat seeking missiles is flares, which they launch in an attempt to confuse the missiles homing device. Although I realized that it was pretty unlikely a 130 would be shot down, it was still a pretty weird feeling to know that a single flare might be all that stood between you and , well, an unpleasant landing.

On the final approach into BIAP we made a tight circle over the airfield and just started spiraling down. I’d heard that it was steep ride in, but you don’t realize how steep until you actually experience it. I swear to God that several times I felt as if I was floating in air – only the seatbelt (and the fact that I was jammed in shoulder-to-shoulder) prevented me from falling out of the canvas seat. At what seemed like the last possible moment the aircraft straightened up and we glided onto the runway nice and easy.

As we deplaned I could hear the RPGs in the distance. I won’t say it was good to be back, but it is what it is.