By an ETT soldier
"Hey, you want to deploy to Afghanistan as an Embedded Training Team chief?" the lieutenant colonel asked about a year ago, leaning into my office. If I had realised then how ill-prepared I was for this duty, I may have taken a little time to think over my answer. But with my confidence boosted by years of training and hundreds of thousands of dollars of military education, I instantly replied "Sure!" The die was thus cast, marking the beginning of my journey as a combat advisor with the Afghan National Army (ANA). As it turned out, my military skills were fine; it was in other areas that I was wanting.
To say that I was in shock on arrival at the Forward Operating Base (FOB) of Bermel, in the eastern province of Paktika, is an understatement. Looking out the window of the helicopter, the landscape was an even dull brown, with mountains jutting up like bayonets piercing the earth. From Gardez, just to the north of Paktika, we had flown in an ANA MI-8 HIP, a Soviet-built helicopter that leaked fuel and coughed smoke the entire journey, and finally disgorged us onto a flat, high desert scorched by bright sunshine. With the FOB situated in a shallow valley running north to south at an elevation of 7500 feet above sea level, the first sensation upon arrival was a painful awareness of the altitude. The lack of oxygen made it feel as though a physical thing had grabbed the heart and lungs, determined to squeeze the life out of you – a hemmed-in feeling that was enhanced by the serrated mountain ranges to the east and west.
A typical day, if there is one, begins before dawn and extends well into the night. There are no days off. Beyond the eastern range is Waziristan, the heart of support operations for both al-Qaeda and the Taliban. And so I can see into Pakistan every time I step out of the cold, dark bunker in which I live. Superfine dust (called moondust by the soldiers) is ubiquitous, entering and coating everything. When I leave Bermel, tiny pieces of Afghanistan will undoubtedly come with me – bits of the country that have been driven into my ears, pores, eyes and nose by the apocalyptic winds, rotor wash and, particularly, a desire to become one with the ground when taking incoming fire.