This post is to just catch up. Since my last post on the 22nd of January I have been very, very busy. The last few days at Shank were a far cry from the dull days and shear boredom prophesied by those "in the know". This turned out to be a mixed bag of blessings.
The week where our replacements were supposed to arrive was heralded by the first snow in about 2 months. Between Shank and Bagram is a series of mountain ranges that have to be crossed by helicopters that due to not being pressurized try to stay below 10K feet. Already being up at 7K doesn't leave much room for just going over the top. There are some tight passes and I don't blamed them for not wanting to navigate these with zero visibility. With hard movement dates the next week, getting our replacements to Shank from Bagram was starting to get just a little scary.
Fortunately for us and unfortunately for the Afghani policman who was hit by a car we were able to get our replacements down on a MEDEVAC helicopter and start our transition. This transition was assisted with several casualties over the next few days. It was an interesting transition, to say the least. We didn't spend much time telling them how to take care of patients. The team replacing us has plenty of experience from the civilian world and they will be just fine. I won't say much about the patients because they were either Americans or related to a very touchy subject and situation. Let's just say, if you are an Afghani Army unit and you get into a firefight with a US Ranger platoon, as soon as you realize this, break contact. It is all fun and games until the Spectre gunship arrives on station.
It was very surreal to be leaving Shank. The tents and dust had really come to feel like home to me and it was actually uncomfortable leaving that all behind. My small, cramped room, shared with two other guys, lit by over a thousand Christmas lights (we liked the light better than the fluorescent ones issued by uncle sam), had become my refuge in the madness around us. We pretty much left everything that we had accumulated over the past six months: 32" TV, microwave, coffeemaker (hot water for hot chocolate), movies, books, electric blanket, all kinds of stuff. We just wanted to get home. Loading the helicopter and watching Shank fade into the background of the Hindu Kush was like breaking up with a girlfriend. It was just time to get on with bigger and much better things.
Once in Bagram we went through a bit of out processing, very painless. We were given our tour awards and made our escape out of Bagram to Kuwait as fast as possible. The key movement was getting to Bagram and from Bagram to Kuwait. Once in Kuwait, the rest is just a matter of waiting. Did I say "waiting"? It was pretty weird to be in Kuwait when it wasn't blistering hot. On the way to Afghanistan through Kuwait, we arrived at 0200 and it was 100 degrees and 100% humidity. It was suffocating and miserable. During the day, a south wind would pick up and with the 130 degree temperature it felt like a convection oven. On the way home, every time I stepped outside of the tent or building I braced myself for the onslaught of heat and each time I was surprised to feel the cool air. We waiting around in Kuwait for 4 days. Lots of waiting, and waiting. Did I say "waiting"? The real waiting began Saturday morning, so close to going home you could taste it, but then the waiting. We were up at 0200 in the morning and had to have all of our stuff out in front of our tent by 0300 to get it transported to the meeting area. Then a quick breakfast and formation at 0500. Waiting for customs... I don't think I have ever seen people have all of their belongings dumped out and rummaged through by customs officials on civilian flights. This task was accomplished by 1100, and we were sequestered in a compound to nap and watch TV until 1600. Another formation, and onto the buses to the airport. You could feel and anticipation of boarding the plane. On the way to the airport we pulled off to another muster area. Were we proceeded to wait for another seven, yes seven hours, only to be informed that the flight was delayed due to weather in Ireland. We were bused to a hanger and fed the airplane food that we were to have on the plane and waited some more. So now 0300 Sunday morning, we board the plane and after an ambien and benedryl we arrived in Ireland were I had a wonderful hamburger! A relatively quick two hour wait and back on the way to Atlanta. This leg was made to disappear by another chemical induced coma and I was back on American soil. From Atlanta and the obligatory 2 hour wait for the buses, we made the 2 hour bus ride to Fort Benning GA. I became reacquainted with my iphone and I absolutely loved getting plugged back in. I called home, checked email and made a hotel reservation for that night all in 15 minutes! After turning in my equipment, I caught a ride to the hotel and I just couldn't believe the comfort, the pillow, the bed, the shower, the toilet and high speed internet. I didn't know what to do, so I slept!
The next day seemed a blur to me. In true Army fashion, I boarded the bus to Atlanta at 1100 for my 1800 flight to Fayetteville. Once again, the iphone came through and I discovered a earlier flight. Immediately, upon arrival I went to the Delta counter and was changed to the 1455 flight, only 2 hours away from home now. Walking through the Atlanta airport was awkward and nearly overwhelming. All of the people, the noise, everyone living their own lives. No look of fear, no look of one struggling for their mere existence against waring governments and ideologies. No one expecting the blast of an IED or report of sniper fire. Everyone looking so clean smelling, beautiful and hopeful. I just hid in a corner and thought of my own homecoming.
The flight to Fayettevile was quick and painless. I was afraid that moving the flight up, even with some advance notice had thrown Sarah a curveball. Did I say the theme of this whole ordeal was waiting? I had dreamed of coming off the plane to a waiting family, cheers and hugs. Nothing, no one. I walked down to the baggage area, again, no one. So I proceeded to wait, yet again in front of the airport for another 1/2 hour for Sarah and the kids. It was frustrating, but this quickly evaporated when they pulled up. It was wonderful to hug my kids, kiss my wife and just feel their hugs and love.
The transition home has been interesting. All of this feels like it should be normal, but it just isn't normal yet. Shank is so far away from this place. It almost feels like it was a long dream. Like when you wake up from a deep sleep and intense dream and you can remember ever last detail of the dream. But you wonder if that place exists in some far off land. I read the news about the new offensive in the south, and there is this part of me that longs to be there and be part of something big. Many of my patients were in the news and it was funny to read what the press wrote about them and know what actually happened. It has been a long journey to Shank and back with a quick detour down in Delaram.
Some how I think that some bit of Shank will always be with me now and a bit of me left behind. This is a part of life; where ever you go and with whom you ever interact you will always leave a bit of you behind. We learn from our surroundings, adapt and overcome the challenges and trials thrust upon us. We are resilient and as we surmount the obstacles that we face, we leave hope and inspiration in our wake.
Picture 1: The last sunset over Shank...
Picture 2: Shank, fading in the background looking out the back door of a Chinook helicopter.
Picture 3: 8th Forward Surgical Team, on the Dust Off HLZ.
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