Funston, Camp Funston

We’ve moved to Camp Funston to begin the official train-up for deployment as a transition team.  By Camp Funston, I mean a compound established within Fort Riley for training transition teams.  By transition team, I mean a small Army unit whose mission is to help the Afghan army become self-sufficient.  By “we” I mean the 500 or so other members of my class, and in particular the fourteen soldiers, NCOs, and officers who are on the team I am in charge of.  They are a good bunch who seem to enjoy each other’s company and endure easily the hardships of open-bay living and a packed training schedule. 

Our billets, dining facility, classrooms, and training facilities are all less than five years old.  Camp Funston itself, however, has a long history.  During World War I more American soldiers bound for Europe were trained here than anywhere else.  But now there are no traces of that Camp Funston left, save for a memorial or two.

Life at Camp Funston is Spartan enough, but not entirely so.  We all would wither and die without Internet connectivity, so the whole place is WiFi-enabled.  In the evening, after training is over, soldiers by the dozens stand outside the barracks chatting on their cell phones.

My bunk, my M4, my 9mm, my computer

Base Camp and Convoy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The forward-operating-base, or “FOB,” sits outside of Khost, a city close to the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan.  Dirty brown mountains loom in the distance, but the surrounding countryside is flat and a little bit green.

Khost is poor but vibrant.  The streets are lined with used car and truck lots, firewood merchants, and brick-making kilns.  Also lining the streets are underemployed Afghan males.  They glower or stare impassively at passing military vehicles.

American soldiers travel in “up-armored” Humvees.  The trucks bristle with equipment, and gunners man machine guns from rooftop turrets.   Trucks never travel individually, but as part of a convoy.  Crew members talk to one another through headsets, and everone has a sector to scan.  On watch for ambushes, improvised explosive devices, and suicide bombers, all are on high alert. 

On my first convoy in country, truck crews were compromised of regular Army soldiers, National Guardsmen, Navy and Air Force personnel, two Romanian officers serving with the American forces, and an Afghan interpreter.  They roll as a team down dangerous roads.

There

This post will excite some, scare others. 

In the Army, we often say that you shouldn’t say or do anything that you wouldn’t want to see reported on the front page of the New York Times.  That rule generally applies to moral improprieties or to saying something politically stupid, but let’s relate it to my current adventure.  Within 24 hours of hitting Afghanistan, I was pretty darn close to the middle of events that broke the rule to pieces.  As I was moving to the Forward Operating Base (“FOB”) to which I’ll be assigned, insurgents attacked a second base through which I was traveling with suicide bombers and probes of the perimeter.  The action went on for about 24 hours, and was not over until helicopter gunships blasted the remnants of the insurgents less than a mile outside the fence.  Read about it here, if the embedded link works:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/20/world/asia/20afghan.html?_r=1&hp&oref=slogin

And don’t believe the Taliban hype in the article.  It was a dangerous attack, and could have been even more so, but it was competently beat back by the US and Afghan forces who responded. 

So, I’m all safe for now, and heading back home later today.  I’ll post more about what I saw over here later, as well as some pictures.  Suffice to say that morale among the soldiers I’ve met and observed is sky high–from what I’ve seen competence, courage, and cheerfulness reign.

Other Side of the World

Posting from an air force base in Kyrgyzstan.  Below is a picture of my merry group of fellow travelers (taken in Baltimore, enroute here).  The officer kneeling second from the right was a soldier in the company I commanded at Fort Bragg fifteen years ago.  Now’s he’s almost all caught up to me, rank wise.

Moving Out

Departing tomorrow for a ten-day reconnaissance, or what the Army calls a “site survey.”  At least half the time will be spent in transit to and from, but that’s part of learning the ropes, too.  I’ll be traveling with fifteen other officers who constitute the leadership of my Embedded Transition Team class.

My own team will report to Fort Riley next Sunday, and I will meet them when I return from the site survey.  I’ve corresponded with most of them already, and all seems in order except for two vacancies that have to be filled.

Last night my team sergeant, a sergeant major, came down from his current station at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, to say hello.  He is a big friendly guy with a great resume, so I feel fortunate to have him on the team.  He arrived on his Harley, with his 21-year-old daughter also on board, and when we went out to dinner we were joined by his son (a lieutenant stationed here at Fort Riley) and his son’s wife.  All very cool!

Life/Art Art/Life

In the hubbub of meeting new people and getting ready to deploy, there’s always time for literature and music.

I’m reading Charles Dickens’ Nicholas Nickleby (always wanted to) and listening to Thao Nguyen’s Like the Linen (and I got to see Thao in Lawrence, Kansas, last Friday!).

UPDATE, 21 September:  I finally finished Nicholas Nickleby.  I read the first 600 (of 935) pages on planes and in transient tents on the way to Afghanistan.   On the way back, I stupidly left my copy in Kyrzygstan.  I found a used copy in Manhattan and read it in bits and pieces (mostly on weekends) until today, when I parked my butt at a picnic table and finished it off.  Have met two other soldiers who claimed to have read it, too.

Fort Riley

Just follow the arrows

Main gate from afar

General Custer lived here for a while–hope that is not a bad omen.

 

Been here a week now.  The first three days were crazy-hectic–full of completing paperwork, drawing equipment, going to the range.  The last three have been slow, slow, slow.  One problem is that our flight to Afghanistan for our pre-deployment reconnaissance has been delayed.

Still, it is a kick to be back in the regular Army, hanging out with soldiers and officers, shooting and cleaning weapons, eating in the dining facility, and so on.  Also, Fort Riley is an impressive place physically (save for the 100 degree heat the first three days here).  The facilities we live and work out of are new and intelligently laid out, the grounds are beautiful and spacious.

Akron, Terre Haute, Kansas City

The road to Afghanistan takes me first westward through the heart of America, enroute to Fort Riley, KS, for pre-deployment training.  Nothing but TGIFs for eating and drinking, and Best Westerns for sleeping.

Three More Things I’ll Miss

No time for mountain-bike riding or guitar-playing in Afghanistan, and beer-drinking is illegal.