First comes career, then comes marriage ....

I learned yesterday that even when you are at your most frustrated and annoyed, good things can come out of a bad situation.

I had the worst headache yesterday, so after coming into work for a photo shoot that got moved to 8 p.m. I decided to lay down for a bit. Not 10 minutes after I turned off my light, my phone rang, and against my better judgment, I answered. It was work. Bad idea. I got assigned to go into Kabul to do a cultural piece about what Afghans do on a typical Friday, which is their religious day of worship, their day off from work.

As I grumpily gathered my gear, I realized was in no mood to talk to people. This isn’t going to work, I told my boss. We don’t have an interpreter, no one speaks English, etc. But he was determined that we go, so we headed out to the Olympic Stadium, which was built in 1923 by King Amunullah Khan, in celebration for defeating the British; it marked Afghanistan as an independent nation. Under the Taliban it had a less illustrious role – it was the site for public punishment, including executions and stoning. Since 2001 it was gradually gone back to the people and is now used for local and national sporting events. On this particular, beautiful, sunny Friday, it was filled with people playing soccer, having picnics and hanging out.

And of course, the first person that we spoke with, barely minutes after getting out of the vehicle, spoke English. Seriously. There went that excuse, right out the window. As I walked around the field, I started to enjoy the day, the weather and just being out with the people as they played in the sun. We don’t get many opportunities to freely mix with the Afghans without a lot of military people around so this was a nice change. I started taking pictures of people playing soccer and soon, kids started crowding around. The ball came to me and I kicked it back, to big smiles from the players.

We left shortly after to move on to the next spot, where again, we were greeted with smiles, curious glances and eager children. Sometimes the kids want to just talk to you, or be near you, maybe have their picture taken and some want something, anything they can get from you and they won’t take no for an answer. It can be frustrating and sad, but I don’t like to hand out money. I hadn’t brought candy like I normally do, which in this case, may have been a good thing because there were quite a few kids and it could have turned ugly, quick, especially if I hadn’t brought enough.

There were lots of people playing soccer and cricket, this time in fields near the old presidential palace and we stayed for a bit, talking and taking pictures.

On our last stop, on a crowded city street, with lots of traffic, our colonel got out of the vehicle to buy some sodas and bread. I hopped out of the vehicle to keep an eye out and to see if I could get any more photos. The light was going, but it was beautiful too, casting a soft, golden glow on everything. An elderly man walked up to me, speaking in English. As I chatted with him about being a “soldier” and what we were doing here, the line of questioning went down a familiar path.

“How old are you,” he asked. Sigh, I knew where this is going. Sure enough, the next question came out: “Are you married?” I guess to be a 28-year old, single woman with no children is not a common occurrence here, and often my responses are met with looks of surprise. “Why are you not married?,” he asked. Oh boy, how to answer this one. I smiled vaguely and said, “Someday, I hope to be.” This usually works, earning me nods of approval and big smiles. I’d interviewed several people who turned the tables on me with these types of questions – both men and women. This time the man looked at me and said, “You finish being a soldier, and then get married. It is good what you do.” This time it was my turn to nod and smile, and although I think women can have both a career and a marriage, I’m not sure that’s something they are accustomed to here. I guess it was a big step just to have him be accepting of a woman “soldier.” I'm glad he's got it all figured out; at least one of us does!

Regardless, as we headed back toward camp, I realized my headache was gone (although I was starving!) and that I was no longer frustrated by the day, and in fact, was happy that I’d gotten to go.

In my father's eyes

Sometimes it’s the oddest things that can remind you of a loved one, a song, a person, a place. For me it’s the sound of a train whistle or a motorcycle revving, the scent of a cigar or burgers cooking on the grill that bring back memories of my father.

I arrived at Eggers the day before what would have been my dad’s 59th birthday, so he was on my mind a lot during my first few weeks here. While I still think of him constantly, the pace of work soon distracted me, as it did during my first deployment to Afghanistan, during which my dad passed, and at the time I was grateful for return to the deployment tempo. So the other day, I was a little surprised to find myself thinking about my dad while flying down to Helmand province with my boss and his staff. I was in full work mode, writing notes and thinking about what I would try to get photos of, while listening to my boss talk to his staff about the day ahead, and I was reminded so much of my father. They don’t look alike, and while he served in the Navy, my dad was nowhere near the rank of general, but all the same, my dad had a similar commanding presence of my current boss.

My dad was a tall, broad-shouldered man with red hair and large features. When I was young, he was a giant and when I was older he was the man I most wanted to impress, with my accomplishments in school and then in the Air Force. I know he wasn’t perfect, and he had his flaws, but people gravitated toward him. He had a way of making people feel comfortable, to tease them and joke and tell stories until you were on the floor laughing, barely able to breathe. His self-deprecating humor and story-telling ability are things I miss almost constantly.

But even more, I miss something I took for granted when I was young: the opportunity just to talk to him, to get his advice and perspective. I found as I grow older myself (and supposedly more wiser) I valued the inputs my father had on my life more and more, and I wish I could still have him in my life, to talk with him, to bounce ideas off him and to just have him listen and be there.

I wonder what he would think about the decisions I’ve made and how my life has changed in the two years he’s been gone - getting stationed in California, getting divorced, starting my master’s program, running my first marathon - and what he would think about my being in Afghanistan again.

All I know is as I sat on that plane, I was overcome by a longing so fierce for my father, that I had to fight back tears. It took me a long time to be able to talk about my dad without crying and even longer to look at his pictures. It’s been two years since we lost my dad, and while the pain lessens over time, I miss his presence in my life every day.

A hero’s heart

I’m the type of person who finds it hard to sit back and watch, especially when it comes to showing someone how to do something. My friend Nestor can attest to that - when I was training him on design and layout at his first public affairs position, I was not the most patient of instructors, often pushing him aside so I can finish pages faster. I'm sort of like the parent who completely takes over their kid’s science project, because, obviously, I can make the volcano bigger, better, cooler.

So I understood completely when Dr. Lorn Heyne, an Air Force colonel in charge of a medical advisory team at the Afghan National Army hospital at Camp Hero, Kandahar, told me that his team was trying very hard to step back and let the Afghan medical staff take charge.

“We, as American’s, have an inherent desire to do, we want to get in there but we made a conscious decision and effort to have them do it so they could arrive at the right decision and course of action themselves,” he told me.

For the last eight months or so, Colonel Heyne and his embedded medical team has been mentoring the ANA doctors and nurses at the military hospital, with great success. The hospital mortality rate has declined 20 percent and they’ve doubled the number of doctors on staff; no easy feat in itself when staffing is one of the biggest challenges the hospital faces. Kandahar is a dangerous area, and professionally-educated people aren’t exactly jumping at the bit to work there.

But despite the obstacles – lack of qualified personnel, supply issues, inexperienced staff and security concerns, the hospital and its staff are doing amazing things. They’ve created a medical library, host a weekly women and children’s clinic, and have an emergency system in place including inbound patient communication systems and ambulances, and an intensive care ward, which they beefed up in preparation for Operation Moshatrak – their ICU is a source of pride for the hospital staff. On a visit to the hospital, the ANA deputy surgeon general said it was the best ICU capability he’s seen out of the other military hospitals.

There are three other regional ANA hospitals, and the 400-bed national military hospital here in Kabul, all doing their best to create a nationwide military medical system. It’s hard to see the big picture in Afghanistan sometimes, about what we’re doing here and even harder to see the results of all the time, money and energy we’re putting into this country. But when I toured the Kandahar hospital and saw the dedication of the staff, the pride in what they’ve been able to accomplish and where they hope to go, it definitely fills in the gaps. Two years ago, a suicide bomber attacked Kandahar City, killing 100 people and injuring 67; 47 of those wounded were taken to the Kandahar regional military hospital. For two days, they worked non-stop and in the end, they managed to save all but one patient.

The list of accomplishments is remarkable, but what was most impressive to me was the professionalism of the Afghan medical staff. These are people who were either left Afghanistan during the fighting to continue their education or practicing medicine, and have come back to care for their people. Col. Aelaj Basir, the hospital commander, is determined to follow his physician’s code of ethics and insists on treating everyone – civilians, Afghan National Army and Afghan National Police, who are infamous for their rivalry, and even Taliban patients – with equal care. He believes that all patients are human beings and deserve the same care and treatment.

And it is that belief more than anything that will help the Afghan people to have faith and trust in their government and leaders – I’m sure the Taliban isn’t offering their IED or bomb victims medical care.

It's the little things ...

It’s amazing how something as simple as a care package can turn an office full of adults into a bunch of little kids. For the past two days, our office has received a large number of care packages from support organizations in the states, and all of them have been ransacked with savage glee.

It was like Christmas morning, combat style. Gerber’s and knives came out to cut through the tape and hands were everywhere as we dug through the boxes to see what goodies had been sent. Some things were awesome; pistachios, toiletries, tissues, power bars and fruit snacks, while others were inexplicably bizarre … a four pound can of tuna fish for example. I’m really not sure where that one came from and it has been the source of much joking in the office.

But overall, the generosity, money and time that people put into these care packages still amazes me; it’s so nice to know that people still care and think about the military over here. I’ve been collecting things from each care package we get to make other care packages for our Public Affairs mentoring teams who are serving at remote forward operating bases. Those folks are the ones who living pretty bare bones, often without some of the creature comforts we have here, so it’s nice to be able to share the care package goodies.

So thank you to all my family and friends, and the support organizations, who have kept the care packages coming regularly – it is MUCH appreciated and definitely put to good use … although I think we’re good on tuna fish for quite some time.

Just another day in Kabul

As I was sitting at my desk, writing a story on the new Afghan biometrics capability, my email notice messenger went off – Ding! Ding! Ding! Distracted from my story, I checked my email and saw the words: explosions, rocket fire, small arms fire, Kabul.

Random rocket attacks are fairly common occurrence in Kabul so I wasn’t immediately interested but in rapid succession, three more emails popped up – reports of suicide bombers at the minister of finance and justice were coming in. These buildings are just a few hundred meters away … and suddenly I was interested. I walked out to the main office where the TV was on - Al Jazeera reporters were on scene and had more details. A suicide bomber had attacked the presidential palace; a hotel was engulfed in flames and reports of suicide bombers loose in the city and green zone. The footage was shaky and unclear, but it conveyed the sense of confusion and distress felt by a city under attack.

To get a better view, we went onto the roof where we could hear the rapid gunfire and see the billows of smoke. The gun fire was steady and at times loud … it was difficult to tell exactly how far away. The Mongolian’s security forces stationed here were deployed to provide assistance and our commander pulled us of the roof. Back downstairs, the TV had updated news – a suicide bomber detonated himself at the gates of the presidential palace. After a few minutes, I decided to go back to my desk and try to do some more work. Not a minute later, I heard gunfire – this time louder, as we couldn’t hear it inside before. Suddenly the base loudspeaker, or giant voice, went off announcing that the base had to go to amber status – all personnel had to put their IBA on and report to the bunkers.

I grabbed my vest, helmet and of course, laptop. Anyone could tell we were a bunch of Public Affairs workers – all of us had laptops, camera’s, video cameras, notebooks etc. We crowded into the bunker, waiting for further direction. In a way it was extremely frustrating; most expressed the desire to do something … get outside and document what was happening, fight back, help out, anything but just sit there. Our chief, recognizing our frustration, told us that we’re doing exactly we would should be doing but I know if my co-workers felt anything close to what I did, it was a mix of frustration, anxiety and excitement. We were sitting there, talking about what we'd heard outside and on the news before we had to leave. MC2 Horvath helped lighten the mood with a few jokes and soon, everyone was joking and laughing, trying to keep the mood light, when BOOM, we heard another explosion.

After awhile, we got the clear to come out of the bunker since we were in a hardened facility, but had to stay inside; most of us gathered around the television or computers to see if there were news updates. Dozens of emails with details about the attack were coming in – buildings on fire, additional explosions, gun fights etc. The Taliban had already claimed responsibility and said their plan was to attack the ministries of finance and justice, central bank and presidential palace by sending out 20 suicide bombers – some of them were the explosions we were hearing.

I learned from my co-workers that it was exactly one year ago today that a 500 pound vehicle-borne improvised explosive device was detonated next to Camp Eggers, a reminder that while we’re in a fortified area, anything can happen. Today was also the day that Afghan President Hamid Karzai was to have sworn in 14 new cabinet members; I have to wonder if the attacks were a coincidence or not. It seems to have been a well-planned out assault, striking multiple locations within the city simultaneously, and even now, hours later, there is still the sound of explosions, sirens and helicopters overhead. As the excitement from the morning wore off, things in the office settled down and we slowly turned our minds to more ordinary things - if the dining facility was open and our work we still needed to finish - I heard one of my co-workers sum up the day with, “It’s just another morning in Kabul.”

A nurse I am not ...

I'm bleeding. A lot. I'm bleeding and I'm in a war zone. As the blood pours from my arm, I feel a little faint. Not good. Suddenly, hands are everywhere and as the IV bag was attached, the blood flow stopped. Petty Officer 2nd Class Horvath gently held onto the catheter as he placed tape over the IV tubing to hold it in place and gave the instructor an expectant look. He'd successfully placed an IV in my arm.

Ok ... so I wasn't wounded, I was attending a Combat Life Saver Course (CLS) at Camp Eggers where several of my co-workers and I were learning how to place IV's, apply tourniquets and to observe and treat for shock. CLS, a 40-hour course designed to supplement combat medics in the field, was taught at our Combat Skills Training (CST) course at Fort Dix, N.J., however I didn't have the chance there. When I got to Camp Eggers, manning levels required that most of the public affairs staff be CLS qualified. I was certified in 2007 during my last stint at Fort Dix so most of the training was familiar. The only hard part was knowing that I was hurting my "patient."

In reality, if someone had to place an IV or treat a buddy in the field, the injured person probably wouldn't even feel the slight pinprick and burning sensation as the needle pierces the vein, but in the classroom setting, you're focused on your partner's every grimace. When my turn to administer the IV came around, I felt fairly comfortable, despite my victim's, I mean patient's, hard to find veins, but after the first unsuccessful attempt and what I thought were his very unmanly grimaces, I was a little nervous about the second attempt.

Hands shaking, I tried twice more, both times successfully entering the vein but not making a solid connection with the IV tube. Although it wasn't required to actually give the IV, I wanted to do the whole process from start to finish ... unfortunately, my partner had had enough. I had to find another willing patient. Luckily, our fearless co-worker, Petty Officer 3rd Class Putnam stepped in, and on the first try, I placed the catheter, attached the IV and hydrated my patient. Hopefully, as they say, practice makes perfect, and if the time ever comes when I'll need to help someone in the field, I'll be ready.

The journey begins ....

From the beginning, I knew that this deployment would be an interesting experience. Things were rapidly evolving in Afghanistan, from leadershipto organization, and the information being passed on was changing daily. From the time I received my initial deployment notification in September until the time I actually landed at Manas Air Base, Kyrgyzstan, in January, the transition hub for Afghanistan deployers, my deployment had changed five times. Although this was my second time to Afghanistan, and my second JET or in-lieu of tasking, I knew things would be much different than the first time around.

Upon landing at Bagram Air Base our group of about 20 Public Affairs personnel learned there was a flight leaving for Kabul International Airport in less than 12 hours. We were determined to be on the flight; having spent several days in Manas waiting on our luggage to arrive, two days getting from Norfolk to Manas and five weeks at Combat Skills Training in Ft. Dix, N.J. the, "Are we there yet?" feeling was running high. Since the flight show time was relatively close to our arrival time, we were given the direction to stay close by the passenger terminal, so our options included the dining facility, the USO and transient restroom facilities. Already sleep deprived, some decided to just hit the coffee pot and stay up all night, while others curled up wherever there was a space - on benches, chairs and floors. I was somewhere in between. I went for food, used the morale computers to send a few e-mails and decided to take a shower. During my previous deployment and from this travel experience, I learned it was always best to eat and take a shower whenever the opportunity presented itself as you never knew when your next chance would be. Slightly refreshed, I sat down to watch a movie and promptly fell asleep.

That two hours of sleep got me through the next day of travel to Kabul International Airport, Camp Phoenix and then, finally, to Camp Eggers. Another Air Force public affairs member was traveling with me, and as the Army convoy carrying us and our combined 14 bags of luggage dropped us off at the gates of Camp Eggers, we just looked at each other and laughed. It was just getting dark, we didn't know where we were or how we were going to get in touch with our points of contact, move our gear or find a place to sleep forthe night. It was one of those classic "so there we were" moments.

Luckily, the gate guards let us call the PA shop, who promptly showed up with enough people to carry our luggage to the office. It was a whirlwind of movement and within two hours, we'd had dinner, picked up our inprocessing paperwork, got assigned a room and were shown around the camp. My travel partner and I both were lucky enough to get a room in the brand new lodging, complete with a real door and indoor bathrooms. For those military folks who've had to get dressed and walk through the freezing cold in the middle of the night to get to the bathrooms, all the while cursing the fact that you drank water after 7 p.m., you understand how glorious this is.

Understandably, my co-workers who had to live in transient tents for weeks were a little jealous. I had been forwarned that living space was tight so I was prepared for the possibility of tent living but it was just the luck of the draw. So, on day two of my stay at Camp Eggers, I'm beginning to learn the ropes of a joint NATO Training Mission and our role here in Kabul. For me, our mission here is a new concept in military journalism; instead of covering the U.S. military and our efforts in Afghanistan, we highlight the progress the Afghan's are making in learning to govern and discipline themselves and their development as a nation. Both are vital topics, and so while my official capacity is to focus on Afghanistan, I hope to use this forum as a way to share what our team of 20 plus photographers, broadcasters and journalists are doing here, along with those serving with us in Afghanistan and Iraq. What we do, as media professionals, is important, but even more so are the efforts of our fellow military members.