Abandon Ship!!! Better Digs, Part III

Last night I heard some weird sounds coming from my room.  They sounded like someone chiseling around my window.  I blew it off, slept well, and this morning took a nice hot shower and went to work.

I received a call first thing this morning from Ray, our guy who manages our billeting and ensures we live in decent conditions.  He told me that my hot water heater had fallen off the wall in my bathroom and that it had flooded into my bedroom.  Since he was on the job, I turned my attentions back to work.  Then it dawned on me -- my laptop was in my bugout bag which was sitting on the floor.  I got up to go find a driver to get me back to the house, when Ray stopped by my office to tell me that I ought to go home and sort things out.

Sure enough, there was two inches of water in my room.  Ray had picked everything that counted up off of the floor.  I immediately checked my laptop, and while the outer protective case was damp, I suspect my laptop is fine.  I won't know for sure until I turn it on tonight.

What saved my laptop was Ray's quick action, and that my two Afghan rugs and my dirty clothes in the laundry bag had soaked-up enough of the water. 

Remember my comment about poor engineering in my previous post?  The hot water heater was mounted by cheap, thin screws loosely drilled into the marble.  When the heater came down, it ripped out the cheap plumbing, ripped out the electrical socket in the wall, ripped off the shelf beneath the mirror, and broke some glassware. 

The bedroom floor is slanted, I discover now, so that the water accumulated the furthest away from my front door.  So, as I spent two hours squeegeeing the water out the front door, half of it flowed back into the bedroom.  I remembered an old WWII movie in the process (it might have been "The D.I.").  Anyway, in the movie, a Marine who killed a mosquito by slapping it loudly while on a patrol was forced to dig a grave (full-size human grave, 6' down) along with his battle buddy, while another recruit was filling the grave in at the same time. 

So, I dragged my rugs out onto a balcony handrail for them to dry.  I'm homeless again, it seems, and this evening I'll look for another bunk to crash on while KBR attempts to repair the damage to my room.

Better Digs, Part II

It's getting darker earlier now that we're approaching Winter Solstice so I haven't taken more photos of the new place, The Tillman House, where I now reside.  I work between 10 and 12 hours a day, so I arrive at work in the dark and leave to go home in the dark.  On my recent "day off", where I only work 8 hours, I was able to get back to the abode and take some photos with my iPhone.

Portal shot of the Tillman House.  One of the guards is walking towards me.  The vertical electrical box to the right converts the generator power to 220 volts for the house electrical service.

Every house in Kabul has stone or concrete walls that separate it from the street and the neighbors.  Every large home becomes a compound with a walled courtyard in the front with no backyard at all.  Added to these walls now are additional blast walls and concertina that reminds us that we're living in a war zone.  Rockets and mortars still fall within the compound and this additional protection is meant to keep you alive during these brief but intense reminders of war.

A shot taken from my room out to the courtyard.

The rose garden in our courtyard.

So, you're thinking that I'm living in the lap of luxury, right?  Well, considering the tent I was in for the first two weeks, yeah, maybe I am.  Despite the nice looking exterior to these newer buildings and houses, there really is no engineering underlying the construction.  Our guy who manages the housing for my company told me that he supervised the construction of the Tillman House from day one.  He said that the workers used practically no mortar when they set the bricks, used no rebar, and slapped concrete up quickly to finish the product.  This area is prone to damaging earthquakes, and I was told to run out of the house should there be one -- this house probably would collapse.

When we first moved in, all the guys using the showers and toilets caused the sewer system to back up and flood throughout the first floor and basement of the house.  KBR (the current support contractor) had to come out two days in a row to roto-root the drainage system to clear out all of the water bottles and plastic wrappings the construction workers had rammed down the drain. 

In the photo above, you'll notice the yellow tank behind the rose garden.  This is a chlorine injection system that squirts chlorine into the well water to kill some of the impurities.  It doesn't kill all the bad stuff, so we still have to brush our teeth with bottled water.  Anyway, this is our second tank.  The first one died last week, in the process dumping the tank's entire chlorine contents into the well water.  The next morning when we all rose to take showers and get ready for work, all that came out of the faucets and shower heads was milky white chlorine solution that reeked of its bleach smell.  The chlorine ate away all the fake chrome plating from the sink and shower drains.

I made the right decision not to take a shower that day and poured a bottle of water over my head to sponge bathe.  Others, not so wise, chose to risk a shower, and in the process one guy nearly was overcome by fumes and had to be dragged outside to recover.  Others pissed into the toilets, mixing the ammonia in their urine with the chlorine, and creating mustard gas.  Two other guys currently are suffering complications from this experience. 

The street from the Tillman House leading outside the compound.

This photo depicts the street separating the US Embassy from the Tillman House.  There's two blast walls adorned with concertina wire.  The shorter one on the inside keeps us from escaping our man-made prison.  The larger one prevents even the most persistent escapee from entering the US Embassy.  Walking or driving from here to the outer gate entails passing through four other checkpoints all of which are protected by armed guards. 

There's enough armed guards carrying AK-47s in our housing areas to maintain a certain level of safety.  Nearly everyone else is armed too with M-4s and pistols.  It's an armed camp that the Taliban can't easily penetrate.  So, the rockets and mortars come instead.

All of this makes me appreciate raking leaves back home.  At least there, I can drink beer.

Better Digs

I recently moved to a real Safe House, a new home called the Tillman House, named after Pat Tillman, the Arizona Cardinal turned Ranger who was killed by friendly fire here in Afghanistan a few years ago.

I'm out of the tent and into real quarters.  We can't walk from the house to the compound.  We have to be driven there in an armored car because we pass through streets that have been targets for IEDs and bombs in the past.  We also don't have commercial Internet access there yet, and that is why I have not updated this blog in the last week or so.  I've been chided by nearly everyone who reads this, so this is a quick update until I get the time to submit another post.

One view from the veranda of the Tillman House

And another view.

Kabul is surrounded by mountains that mostly have turned white with the recent snows.  And there's more on the way.  Days are still sunny and warm, but nights have cooled to the point where we know winter is coming and wet and muddy days will soon be the norm.

A Friday Bazaar

Most of the compounds around Kabul used to allow its residents to walk downtown to frequent restaurants and shops.  Since the Taliban have resorted to car bombs and attacks on coalition forces, we are no longer allowed to walk outside the compounds.  The local shopkeepers had become dependent upon the westerners shopping in their stalls.  So, in the name of good relations and good business, the bazaar has come to us on Eggers -- but only on Fridays.

Some interesting drawings and paintings.

 

The usual cloth, clothing, and trinkets.

A gem seller with loose stones.  I'm told the prices are good.

Nothing attracted me except the gemstones.  I'll have to confer with my friend who is a gemologist to see what I need to look for and what prices are reasonable.

The troops were more attracted to the the piles of DVDs that were available.  We get AFRTS here (military television), but most Soldiers pass around stacks of DVDs for their entertainment back in the barracks.

The Alamo

One of the "Safe Houses" where Americans live is The Alamo.  This is where I currently reside, although today all of the techs that were housed with me left to go to a new and much improved Safe House, The Tillman House, named after the professional football player turned Ranger who was killed by friendly fire a few years ago.  I'm now living alone in a GP Medium tent erected in the courtyard of a former mansion.  I'm so lonely and confused...

NOT.  Anyway, I'll figure out what is going to happen to me sometime tomorrow.  I've got to work all night in the Technical Control Facility, where I currently work, to assist with an Authorized Service Interruption (ASI) for some equipment that needs repair and maintenance.

Ah yes, home sweet home.  I'm learning to dig tent living again.  It will be much better when winter comes, dumps piles of snow onto the dirt and dust, and I get to traipse through it going to and from the showers and bathrooms.

We have bunkers to run to should RPGs, mortars, rockets, or bombs go off near our compound.  I've been lucky so far.  But I'm told that we get hit every few weeks or so.

  

More shots of the Alamo.  It's a pretty good sized compound.  The military have priority for the hard billets.  Sleazy, slimy contractors like myself are relegated to the tents.

Some Sights Around Eggers Compound in Kabul

I took a couple of photos today of some odd stuff at Eggers.  The first shot shows the specific place the military has deemed appropriate for cigar smoking. 

What's interesting about this, and I don't know if this was intended to be humorous, but the Afghan Air Improvement Committee (whatever that is) allows open incineration of paper products every day in metal bins.  Kabul is known to have some of the worst air pollution in the world because of the open burning and the surrounding mountains that keep the smog in place throughout the year.

Adjacent to the cigar smoking area was this remnant of an old Afghan mosaic:

                                          
Eggers is located near the old and new US Embassies.  The neighborhood that existed before the Russian and Taliban occupation/destruction must have been a nice area.  The houses were large and had protective walls around the courtyards.  After the destruction (Russian/Taliban/US), the US moved in and created a "Green Zone" just like the one that existed in Baghdad.  The US now leases all of this neighborhood (for millions of dollars) and is free to modify all of the buildings for its use.  Here, an old, traditional mosaic shows the ravages of war and the US presence -- it now is positioned below a row of electrical junction boxes powering this portion of the compound.  When the US leaves, most of this neighborhood will have to be razed and rebuilt by the Afghans who own the property.  No big deal, I think, since they are becoming rich with US lease dollars.

Bagram and On To Kabul

We arrived in Bagram at 0215 hours.  We bused from the flight line to the terminal.  After processing in (every time one moves in this theater, your CAC card (Common Access Card -- your ID) is scanned.  This way, the military knows where everyone is located for many reasons (feeding, medical, evacuation, notifications, etc.).  I noticed that there were three flights to Kabul this morning.  This is unusual I was told.  Normally there is only one flight per day and one has to wait up to four days to get on it.  Looking at some of the poor tired souls in the terminal who had been waiting that long, I felt more dread.  I'm already tired from my trip and looking at the terminal, there was only one latrine, no beds or cots, stiff chairs, and dirty linoleum on which to lie down.  The irony is that Bagram is only 50 miles from Kabul.

A few years ago, the military would bus everyone down to Kabul from Bagram AFB.  Since the advent of IEDs and suicide bombers, only certain armor uplifted vehicles were allowed to make the drive.  The British still made the run and I was looking for some Brit Soldiers to befriend in order to get down there. 

The first two flights to Kabul were supposed to take off around 0400 and 0430.  Last flight was at 1100.  Our baggage had not arrived at the terminal yet and the time was now 0400.  I'm thinking this was another military SNAFU that would mean that I would have to try to get onto the 1100 flight or be delayed for a day, sitting in the terminal smelling badly and wishing I was somewhere else.

Baggage finally arrived around 0500 but the two C-130 flights were delayed -- I guess to wait for us.  Anyway, we eventually get manifested on these birds and waited in the terminal to board the buses to go back out to the flight line.  Finally, some USAF sergeant shows up and calls out our names and everyone runs to the buses.  Except for me.  My name wasn't called.  The sergeant had my CAC card, hadn't called me out, so I was left standing in the terminal wondering what other bullshit I had to go through in order to get to Kabul.  I ran (again) to the manifest desk and spoke with the reps there and explained the situation.  They told me that I was manifested and that I should be on the plane.  I wasn't I told them.  They now ran out to the line to resolve it for me -- I guess they saw how pitiful I looked and couldn't bear to see me in the terminal for another day or two.

Anyway, I get on, fly the 11 minute flight to Kabul International Airport, and arrive only to be confronted with a sign stating that transportation to the various compounds around Kabul only happens at 0600 and 1500.  It's now 0645 hours.  I coudn't imagine being stuck in another empty marble room with nowhere to go until that afternoon.  Fortunately, I was speaking with a Soldier back in Bagram who had been waiting two days for a flight.  He works the Army communications program that my company supports and he gave me the phone number to the Tech Control Facility at Eggers.  I called, told the guy at the other end of the phone that I was a new ITT guy and asked him if he could provide transportation.  Yep.  30 minutes later I was riding a Disney E-Ticket ride with my Uzbeck driver who made up his own driving laws as he went.  How we didn't kill multiple bicyclists and two donkeys I'll never know.  The ride woke me up and I was ready to report to work -- and find a bed to sleep.

The coalition here truly is international.  I've seen Canadians, Brits, Italians, Mongolians, French, Norwegians, and others that I haven't yet recognized.

 

Seems like all the coalition forces drive around in armor uplifted Toyota Land Cruisers with a complete array of radio antennas.  It's difficult to pick out your vehicle and driver from every other Land Cruiser driven by a Uzbek.