Welcome to Methar Lam!

Finally. Mobilization began on Jan 3rd this year. I flew from Arizona to Ft. Bragg, NC. Then three weeks of training in Texas. Then a month BACK at Ft. Bragg. Then four days in Washington D.C. Then we departed Ft. Bragg for Maine, flew to Turkey, to Krzygstan, to Bahgram Afghanistan, then finally Methar Lam. Afghanistan is almost exactly halfway around the world from Arizona. The time difference is 12 and a half hours. So if I want to call someone back home I usually need to try at about 4-5AM because my work day starts at 6. But I digress.

After unloading the helicopter we formed up on a volleyball court. At least some people have fun, I thought. I scanned the area as our Captain droned on about the showers and types of shacks we would be living in. Immediately around the area was large HESCO barrier walls. The walls were made of square containers that were filled with dirt and stacked on top of each other. Printed on the side of each container in big blue letters was the word HESCO. Hence the name "HESCO barriers." The ground consisted entirely of dirt and gravel. I didn't see a single paved road. Immediately to my right was several rows of dark green tents. These were affectionately known as the "transient tents." Images of homeless bums leaped to mind as I was referred to as a "transient" for the first time in my life. I looked further and saw gently rolling green hills past the walls. Small tan huts and buildings broke up the hillsides as I took in the villages around me. Past those a mountain range rose sharply into the sky. The peaks were frosted with snow even though it was over 90 degrees where I stood. I quickly saw that we were completely surrounded by mountains. It was no surprise we chose to fly out by helicopter.

Over the next few days I familiarized myself with the FOB. There was the chow hall. A small building filled with locals cooking furiously under the direction of Army and Air Force cooks. The gym, I learned, was more than adequate as we had heard back in the states. I visited the Aid Station, where I learned I would be working, and found out we were moving into a new building. There was also the Rec Center with a room for phones and Internet. I am sitting there now, posting this blog. There is also a shower tent, toilet trailers, and a service where the locals do your laundry for you. I still haven't mentioned the most awesome feature of the FOB. One day we were outside the motor pool chatting when I looked past the group and noticed something odd. Inside a large metal storage container I saw two soldiers sitting. One had his shirt off and the other was leaning all over him. Then I saw a row of inks and a mirror. Someone was running a fucking tattoo parlor inside of a shipping container. It was awesome. What appeared to be gay soldier fraternization turned out to be an innocent tattoo.

Outside of our area on the other half of the FOB was the ANA base. ANA stands for Afghanistan National Army. We work with them sometimes but mostly stay on our side of the FOB. We did learn that a week earlier the ANA was attacked at the gate with a car bomb. Several Afghans were killed, including children. It was a very real reminder of what we had trained for. The Taliban are a terrible group who have no problem killing innocent children to spread terror and instability. I had a chance to speak with a medic who had treated the victims of the blast. He showed me the pictures of the dead and wounded. I had seen enough pictures of blood and guts to not be bothered by the images of mangled bodies of those who had perished only a week earlier. I felt a small pang of guilt for not empathizing with the dead I saw and for a lack of feeling disturbed by graphic images. In this line of work you really can't. Any day another suicide bomber could mangle more locals or fellow soldiers. If one came through the door of the Aid Station there would be no room for disgust or empathy. A medic has to be 100% focused on doing the right treatment at the right time.

My life is definitely much different here on Methar Lam compared to home. It's extremely hectic, busy, and at times, dangerous. But at the end of the day, the temperature cools to about 70 degrees. An extremely gentle breeze drifts across the FOB. I sit outside with a chair and watch a reverse sunset of sorts. Instead of watching the sun set, I face east and watch as the shadows get longer and longer until they slowly drift up the mountainside. The aid station is across from the chow hall and soldiers walking by gradually gather around to joke and talk until we have a small crowd. Eventually the twilight gives way to dark and everyone disperses.

As nice as home is, there is definitely some things I love about this place.