tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53205392399095464362012-02-14T02:12:35.533+04:30-noun <br></br> a state of freedom from emotional disturbance and anxiety; tranquillity.Alexander Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13099852091721509010noreply@blogger.comBlogger101100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320539239909546436.post-9581996936505604162007-08-06T13:55:00.000+04:302007-08-06T14:01:17.073+04:30

This was our catchphrase up at the FPB. Whenever someone was about to do something stupid that could get someone hurt or destroy something we needed, I would just throw out there that it was in fact "a bad idea."It began when we had to take down our old roof. It consisted of a metal tent frame sitting on top of the HESCO walls with a tangled tent hanging all over it. We began to cut all of the

Alexander Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13099852091721509010noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320539239909546436.post-56912026905765418842007-07-22T13:29:00.000+04:302007-07-22T14:10:47.931+04:30

Author's note: I will now pick up where I left off during my two weeks at the FPB.It's a totally different kind of life out here. Join me in a tour of the Forward Patrol Base.We live in a self built aid station. The walls are HESCOS filled with dirt. The roof we made when we arrived using all the crappy wood we could find. The door is simply a tent flap hanging over the opening. The floor

Alexander Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13099852091721509010noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320539239909546436.post-83425582266502859742007-07-15T13:36:00.000+04:302007-07-15T14:21:04.602+04:30

Authors note: I will return to the FPB story in my next blog or so. I just couldn't wait to post this one.Not with a knife, of course, as that would have made it difficult for me to write this. I was stabbed in the chest with eleven needles. The eleventh of these needles penetrated my sternum creating an opening to the cavity inside full of my bone marrow. The other ten merely pierced the

Alexander Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13099852091721509010noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320539239909546436.post-24335698669636558582007-07-09T14:53:00.001+04:302007-07-09T15:40:29.466+04:30

Two weeks without internet, a real shower, or my bed. Two weeks of meals out of vacuum sealed plastic bags. Two weeks of hiking up the mountain ranges of Afghanistan in 100+ degree weather with a combat load of 65 lbs. Two weeks at a base known for being mortared with nothing more than a canvas tent over my head. I couldn't have been more excited to get to Mehtar Lam's forward patrol base.I

Alexander Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13099852091721509010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320539239909546436.post-10729682899460606412007-05-21T01:12:00.000+04:302007-05-21T01:19:40.934+04:30

"Tomorrow morning, you are going out on convoy," my sergeant told me.A grin spread across my face. I had been working hard nearly nonstop on building and stocking the new Battalion Aid Station here on Mehtar Lam. While I found the work rewarding, I was dying to go outside the FOB on mission and see more of the country. The moment had come, and I couldn't hide my satisfaction."Sounds awesome

Alexander Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13099852091721509010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320539239909546436.post-80607412073458602882007-05-19T15:58:00.000+04:302007-05-19T16:13:01.990+04:30

Names have been changed because of security rules.It was our fifth night of tower guard. So far the week had been pretty quiet. A few nights before an Afghan National Army soldier had accidentally fired off a burst of rounds inside the FOB. We usually don't expect gunfire from inside the wire but once we found out it was an accident we relaxed. Night fell.2400 hoursMy guard buddy Gurd and I

Alexander Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13099852091721509010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320539239909546436.post-44326445811577534032007-05-11T10:32:00.000+04:302007-05-11T11:59:18.290+04:30

Usually when someone describes a year or years as "the longest of their life" it kind of has a negative connection. Example: "The year I spent in prsion was the longest year of my life." I, however, mean it in a very good way.I turn 22 today and when I look back at my 21st birthday it feels like it was three years ago. I attribute this to the many many experiences I went through over the last

Alexander Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13099852091721509010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320539239909546436.post-25714535330361888702007-04-25T00:05:00.000+04:302007-04-25T00:48:02.054+04:30

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

Alexander Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13099852091721509010noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320539239909546436.post-76364353386835677152007-04-07T04:57:00.000+04:302007-04-08T06:39:51.184+04:30

"So when are we leaving Bagram?" I asked. "We are taking a helo out tomorrow," my sergeant replied. "Oh ok cool... wait what? We're taking a helicopter there?" "Yep, Chinooks." Now I had never been on a helicopter in my life. Let alone a gigantic twin rotor military chopper. Needless to say I was rather excited. We woke early the next morning to prepare for the flight. We had our rucksack and our

Alexander Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13099852091721509010noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5320539239909546436.post-25947289614806437222007-04-04T03:16:00.000+04:302007-04-07T04:55:15.055+04:30

"So are you nervous?"I thought carefully. I didn't want to rush to answer this question even though I had now been asked it about 25 times. I didn't want to play everything off like I was hard, like all the wannabe super-soldiers I had met who couldn't wait to, and I quote,"Kill a fucking hadji."I'm not Rambo, nor do I wish to be. I feel mildly sick every time I hear someone talk like the

Alexander Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13099852091721509010noreply@blogger.com5