27December2004

I picked up my first digital SLR in August 2004, while I was home on leave from Afghanistan. By the beginning of September 2004, I was back in theater – taking photos (some bad as I forced myself to remember the relationship between shutter speed and f-Stop) that survived one external hard drive crash and two decades of periodic reorganization and backups.

Not too long ago, I wrote “Twenty Years Later,” which was supposed to be the first of many from that time; an attempt to provide the background to some of those images which would be favorable to the basic function of this blog – posterity and to capture stories which have not been told or have been forgotten no matter how many times I have told them.

Today, 27Dec2024, is the anniversary of one of the dumbest fucking missions I was part of during those 12 months. In retrospect, however, in looking up where I was at that moment, these were sights I probably would not have had a chance to photograph on our typical missions:

We were chase for this mission – to pick up the security detail and other administrative folks to the then-President of Afghanistan, Hamid Karzai. At the time, it was to be just another VIP flight – our prime raison d’être for that deployment. And, as per my usual attitude at the time, my focus was whatever the mission dictated: how many passengers, how much crap they might bring, and whatever S2 (intel) we were given about where we were going to be flying.

For some reason, the latter facet – intelligence – brings to mind a couple substantial questions two decades later… but more on that in a bit.

Since this was the second time into the HLZ (helicopter landing zone) that day (pictures from the first go-round were underexposed and dark), I had more time to scan and take photos from the hip – unaimed, autofocused, and in bursts. This technique at the time made the most sense, but there were times when I was reviewing the photos taken with a telephoto lens when I had to zoom in even more to study what was in a person’s hand a bit more – something damn-near impossible to catch from 400’ AGL and 120KIAS, but quite easy from the comfort of one’s B-hut at the end of the day.

The Arg – the Presidential Palace of Afghanistan, was unremarkable. Everything was unremarkable, after enough exposure: the burned-out hulks of BMPs, BRDMs, and T-55s just became more of a benign part of the scenery than testaments to the most recent foreign expeditions into the land so very aptly described as “the Graveyard of Empires.” The Arg had scars from indirect fire in the forms of mortars and rockets, and burned-out sections from the more successful hits.

Thankfully, things around 2004 were relatively quiet for us, and the pick-up of Karzai and his entourage went without a hitch. It is noteworthy that “relatively quiet” does not imply entirely uneventful– our first mission in-country was to pick up the body of a fratricide incident who turned out to be Pat Tillman.

Once we started cruising east over Kabul, I started my fuel check, only to be told that there wasn’t going to be time to even finish writing – we were a few minutes’ out from landing to drop off our passengers.

“In Kabul? We picked up Karzai to fly him to the other end of town?”

Yep.

“…Interesting… Is there a reason?”

Dentist visit.

“…Dentist… DENTIST… visit?!?”

Yep.

“Two ‘Hawks… FOUR Apaches… two Kiowas… for a trip to the fucking dentist?!?”

Yep.

Ever since news got to us in late 2002 that we were going to Afghanistan, I was relatively ambivalent – I had a job, this would be an experience, and this was what I had trained to do. Politically, I really was more of a pedestrian than a registered voter aligned with either party. Geopolitically, I remembered the sense of dread and anger from 11Sep2001… and the wariness when prolonged ground presence in Afghanistan became more and more of a reality. I had ideas as to the dangers of being on the same soil that Alexander, the Mongols, the Brits, and the Soviets could not effectively occupy for any significant period of time. My possible solution – to crate a modern Feudal state and let the regional powers govern within the limits established by Kabul and UN…. that was a wonderfully naïve perspective, devoid of any understanding of Contracting, NGOs, and regional influences.

…But a trip to the dentist? My mind essentially reset at that revelation – from “Sure thing…” to “Are you fucking serious this time?”

Perhaps this was the beginning of many things for me: the sneaking suspicion that I might need to start paying a lot more attention to the goings-on in the world and my severe dislike of beige and anything painted flat dark earth (seriously… stop it – FDE is a shitty color which became all the rage due to shitty foreign policies which WILL reverberate for decades, if not centuries).

Back to the issue of S2: I don’t recall getting a specific brief for this mission – perhaps due to the level of importance, or perhaps I did and it was so utterly unremarkable that I don’t recall. This level of complacency – in 2004 – makes my skin crawl to this day. The focus was all on Iraq, after all. Most folks forgot we were in Afghanistan (and Kosovo), still.

However… and these are the best points saved for last… I would relive those days. Even as miserable as it got… it was fascinating to be part of something much bigger than myself and to serve with folks who were there in the “suck” with me. It was a time when a prank, a stupid pose, and a smile all carried more meaning than our garrison lives back then.

…Even Steel Beach, with those Soviet-designed, ankle-rolling slats and questionable traction due to MIL-H-83282, JP-8, dust, and stray 7.62×51 casings that always seemed to pop up when carrying something heavy.