Book Review: 'Still Come Home: A Novel'

Fiction Book Review: "Still Come Home" by Katey Schultz

Katey Schultz is an educator and author based in North Carolina. In 2013, Schultz delivered "Flashes of War," an award-winning collection of 31 short stories, generated around U.S. involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan. Each story is each told from the perspective of a single character, and many resolved in only two or three pages. Writing in the mode of "flash-fiction" forces an author to pare down one's prose, but also to infuse meaning and metaphor to optimize each word.

As a writer, Schultz is a master of one of the principles of war: "economy of force."

In a new, 260-page novel, "Still Come Home," Schultz deploys her Spartan words to deliver what others have not: She distills the seemingly never-ending war in Afghanistan to a relatable scale, articulating through her characters the questions that can be asked about war, and duty, and family. In doing so, she illuminates the complex emotional calculations of regular people caught up in war, be they "friend," "enemy," or seemingly indifferent. Her work serves the highest calling in a heartless world: to create opportunities for empathy, and for reflection.

The action of "Still Come Home" takes place over three days, in a handful of settings near Tarin Kot, a real place in Southern Afghanistan's Uruzgan Province, as woven together through the voices and threads of three main characters.

(More geography: The novel settles into spaces between a semi-fictional Forward Operating Base ("FOB") Copperhead, and the fictional town of Imar, pop. 300. Potentially noteworthy to the readers of the Red Bull Rising blog, the base is likely modeled after FOB Davis (aka FOB Ripley). FOB Davis was a coalition installation originally established in 2004 with help from the Iowa National Guard's Task Force 168.)

There is Nathan Miller, a former farm-boy valedictorian who joined the active-duty Army right out of Indiana high school. Now a member of the North Carolina National Guard, Afghanistan is his fourth deployment. Miller is soon to return stateside to his semi-estranged wife, with whom he has one child and has lost another. There is the teenaged and possibly infertile Pashtun woman Aaseya, who seeks to establish the stability and legitimacy she enjoyed before her family was killed in an explosion. She suspects the assassination took place after the family had been wrongly reported to the Taliban as U.S. collaborators. And there is her brick-maker husband Rahim, 37, her late father's cousin, who is a victim of the institutional sexual abuse of male children known as bacha bazi.

Based on such relations, readers might incorrectly anticipate melodrama or comic-book soap opera. While engines of hope and shame drive much of the plot, however, the narrative never feels one- or two-dimensional. Complexity happens. Objectives change. Characters move out smartly, based on their intelligence. Most importantly, in all of this, the author treats her Afghan characters with care and content equal to their American counterparts.

War is hell, after all. On everybody. Especially family. And everyone's got family.

In a typical selection, Schultz describes a three-vehicle convoy's arrival in Imar with semi-automatic rhythm:

The convoy nears the main part of the village. A vendor selling kebabs works frantically to hold his makeshift cart intact as the Spartans vibrate past. Miller can see actual residences now—mud-cooked family homes, the occasional two-story dwelling. Coils of smoke lift from several courtyards. Some homes have no windows or openings at all, just a hand-built wall surrounding each compound of small, interconnected dwellings. Others have cut tiny spaces to welcome the light and air, faded red or yellow curtains flapping thinly in the breeze. Three little girls hurry from a hiding spot behind an outbuilding. The oldest shuffles the other two away from the convoy and looks over her shoulder at the men, moving with the practiced hustle of war. Even here, at the far reaches of nowhere, they seem suspicious.

Schultz has just as carefully curated the time of her story, as much as she has chosen the place. The year is just before the "Afghan Surge" of 2010-2011; just before Humvees are banned from deploying outside the wire; and just after a controversial new set of Rules of Engagement ("R.O.E.") has been issued to coalition troops by U.S. Gen. Stanley McChrystal.

In the posh think-tank phrasing of the day, the counter-insurgency tactics were intended to "win hearts and minds" by exercising restraint in the application of violence. Nobody wants to kill civilians, of course, but many rank-and-file soldiers chaffed at the ROE, feeling as if they'd been told not to defend themselves.

As both metaphor and at a meta-level, this mix of time and place is an ideal observation point from which to consider American involvement in Afghanistan. At no other time did the country's declaring victory and coming home seem more likely than 2010. (At risk of self-promotion, this trailer video for "Reporting for Duty" captures something of the hopeful "clear, hold, build" spirit of the time.) Through her storytelling, what Schultz exposes is not necessarily that these "strategies" (tactics and techniques, really) were wrong, but that we were asking the wrong questions.

War is hell, after all. And hell is a koan.

Schultz writes: "Miller calls to mind the [ROE] directive, its ominous sentiment: The Taliban cannot militarily defeat us, but we can defeat ourselves. Like grabbing fistfuls of sand—that's what this war is. Like trying to hold onto the impossible."

Later, as Miller is about to move out with his men, he inventories his squad emotionally, noting each soldier's customized need for redemption. "And with that, the war is theirs. They will fight it for these reasons. Not for freedom. Not for politics. Not for God or country or trucking companies. But for the individual things. The needles of hurt across a spectrum of life."

Against this, the troops collectively face, an unseen, random, and constant threat. "They all know the risks," Schultz writes. "No front lines in this war. Enemies, ambushes, and IEDs popping up willy-nilly, a stomach-churning child’s game of anticipation. It could be now. Or now. Now."

This game of roulette is what we have asked of our soldiers, our fellow citizens. For 18 years and counting.

At readings and other events, and on her website, Schultz tells audiences that "Flashes of War" stemmed from the urge to understand, as a citizen and educator and artist, what her country was doing in her name. Somehow without ever traveling downrange herself, her stories include sounds and smells and slang that consistently ring true. In "Still Come Home," Schultz's prose is similarly well-researched, and carefully targeted. Through her fiction, Schultz has not only successfully captured the cultural landscape of Afghanistan in 2009, but the on-going equation of American involvement in Afghanistan. And she's packaged it in an easily accessible form, without judgment.

Not, however, without hope.

In present-tense, Schultz artfully but explicitly traces each main character's shifting wants and needs. Grabbing at their own fistfuls of sand, Miller, Aaseya, and Rahim continually triangulate their respective decisions with their individual desires for safety, security, and family. Miller, for example, volunteered to deploy without first soliciting his wife's opinion. She assumes he wants to play soldier again. In reality, he hopes to make up for past mistakes—some of which have occurred on the battlefield, and some that have happened back home. At one point, as Schultz succinctly states: "This tour is Miller’s final chance to find his cool again, forget he ever drafted a suicide note, and land softly back home, back into marriage, composed and capable as ever."

The obvious question would seem to be, can he still come back home?

The essential question is, can we?

Contest Solicits 'Lessons-Encountered' Essays

Editors at Small Wars Journal have teamed up with Military Writers Guild to conduct an essay-writing contest focused on lessons-encountered at the tactical and operational levels of war.

Word count is 3,000 to 5,000. Deadline is Jan. 15, 2017. Winners will be announced in March 2017.

According to the announcement, the project takes inspiration from the publication of "Lessons Encountered: Learning from the Long War," a National Defense University project that explored similar theme at the strategic level.

That book, available for FREE in e-book reader formats here, was "intended for future senior officers, their advisors, and other national security decision-makers. By derivation, it is also a book for students in joint professional military education courses, which will qualify them to work in the field of strategy."

In the announced contest, Small Wars Journal editors are soliciting takes on what worked and what did not work in modern wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, and elsewhere. They suggest two lists of maxims as a potential launching points, the first from former commander of U.S. Central Command Gen. Anthony Zinni, and the second from civilian strategist David Kilcullen. Both lists appear here.

Writers are encouraged to use incorporate one or many of these maxims into their submitted works, and also to base their writing in first-hand experiences, told in the first person.

Functional areas and applicable topics suggested by the editors include, but are not limited to:

Insurgency/Counterinsurgency

Terrorism/Counterterrorism

Stabilization, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction Operations

Unconventional Warfare

Foreign Internal Defense

Civil-Military Operations

Information Operations

Military Intelligence and Counterintelligence Activities

Transnational Criminal Activities that Support or Sustain Small Wars / Irregular Warfare

Law Enforcement Activities Focused on Countering Irregular Adversaries

Writers may enter in three categories, including: U.S. Military, Non-U.S. Military, and Non-Military (U.S. and Other). First ($1,000), Second ($500), and Third Prizes ($300) may be awarded in each category, in addition to up to 20 honorable mentions ($200).

Full details, including submissions formats and process, are to be found here.

Toymaker Releases Oshkosh M-ATV 'Jungle Truck'

Being a parent and uncle to a couple of grade-schoolers, I make regular patrols through toy stores, monitoring trends and prices, and maintaining a target list of potential birthday and holiday presents. Between Key Leader Engagements (K.L.E.) with Ken and Barbie, I also keep eyes out for new superhero gear and die-cast cars. I'm like a one-man Toy Terrain Team (T.T.T.).

It's not all fun and games. The toys we make and buy for our children are part of our national narrative. When new military tools and technologies show up in miniature on our toy department shelves—Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (U.A.V.), for example, or bomb-proof trucks—it says as much about our society's present-day values as it does our military tactics. To repurpose the old Army truism about training: "We play like we fight, and fight like we play."

Toys are also likely points of entry to conversations with children about war and service. "Your dad used to ride in that kind of truck when he was in the Army," I've heard myself saying, or "Your papa used to fly in a plane like that when he was in the Air Force ..." Afghanistan and Vietnam are big abstractions, but toys can help young heads and hands understand some of the basics. Even if the only lesson they walk away with for now is "Dad was in the Army, Papa was in the Air Force."

Matchbox has recently released a 1:64-scale version of the Oshkosh M-A.T.V. The word is an acronym within an acronym. Unpacked, it means "Mine-Resistant Ambush-Protected All-Terrain Vehicle." The real-world vehicle is manufactured by Oshkosh Corp., Oshkosh, Wis.

See also these previous blog-posts: "The Arsenal of Fun and Freedom"
and "The Boys Get More Toys"

The M-ATV is my probably second-favorite Mine-Resistant Ambush-Protected ("M-RAP") truck in the U.S. Army inventory. I've spent more time in the MaxxPro, manufactured by Navistar International. That's probably because the M-ATV design seats four, while the MaxxPro seats up to seven. Like some sort of military-grade mini-van, it's easier to throw the kids, embedded journalists, and other strap-hangers in the back of a MaxxPro.

By comparison, the M-ATV is a sedan. It's hard to see out from the back seats, too, which makes it less fun for us rubber-neckers.

The 2012 Matchbox version of the M-ATV comes in dark forest green with a billboard-high graphic "M-ATV" decal on each side: Hip-hop camouflage for hot-rodding through the bomb-ridden swamp. It also appears to be "licensed" design, which means the toy's manufacturers have permission to make the scaled-down version look like the real thing.

It's part of the Matchbox "Jungle" series, which includes a "Jungle Crawler,""Jeep Willys," and "Land Rover Defender 100." If you're traveling through marshy terrain, each of these other vehicles is probably more survivable than the 27.5-ton M-ATV.

The M-ATV is lighter and more maneuverable than other M-RAP variants, after all, but it's not going to float. It's going to sink like a plate-armored rock.

According to the packaging, rather than protecting occupants from Improved Explosive Devices (I.E.D.), the toy version is more likely intended to keep the crocodiles at bay:

You've got to be extra tough to survive the Jungle! These off-road and 4WD vehicles are built to handle the most hostile terrain imaginable. Rugged safety vehicles scramble through the dense foliage protecting passengers from the fierce wildlife and extreme conditions!

At least the exterior paint job is arguably military in nature. In 2011, the first Matchbox versions of a Matchbox "SWAT Truck," apparently inspired by the MaxxPro silhouette, were first available in either black-and-white or powder-blue law-enforcement livery. No camouflage in sight. The MaxxPro-like design also appeared later in fire-engine red, as part of an Matchbox "MBX Airport" series.

I still say: If you need an M-RAP truck to carry your baggage, you're flying out of the wrong airports.

Some of the doubt and debate about U.S. military acquisitions strategy involves whether or not M-RAP trucks were good investments. Some people argue that M-RAP trucks may or may not have saved lives. Or that they pushed troops into a hunkered-and-bunkered mindset that was contrary to counterinsurgency ("COIN") and advise-and-assist practices. In terms of sharing risks and hardships, or developing face-to-face relationships, after all, it's hard to get Afghan civilians and soldiers to take you seriously if you're sitting in a bomb-proof truck.

Still, no other U.S. weapon design better exemplifies my era's ground conflict in Afghanistan than the M-ATV. I may not be able to put an M-RAP in my garage, but I can sock one away in my war-toy chest.

In fact, I bought three. Because it's never too early to teach your kids about good convoy operations. It's a jungle out there.

The Sherpatudes

Here is a list of epigrammatic tips inspired by the most recent Red Bull Rising post. It's a mix of maxims regarding organizational analysis, knowledge management, and working in a tactical operations center ("TOC").

Behold, the "Sherpatudes":

1. Continually ask: "Who else needs to know what I know?"

2. Continually ask: "Who else knows what I need to know?"

3. Never speak with complete authority regarding that which you lack direct knowledge, observation, and/or suppressive fires.

4. Never pull rank over a radio net.

5. Let the boss decide how he/she wants to learn.

6. Let the boss decide how he/she wants to communicate.

7. "I am responsible for everything my commander's organization knows and fails to know, learns and fails to learn."

8. Know when to wake up the Old Man. Also, know how to wake him up without getting punched, shot, or fired.

9. The three most important things in the TOC are: Track the battle. Track the battle. Track the battle.

10. Digital trumps analog, until you run out of batteries.

11. Always have ready at least two methods of communication to any point or person on the map.

12. Rank has its privileges. It also has its limitations.

13. Let Joe surprise you.

14. Don't let Joe surprise you.

15. The first report is always wrong. Except when it isn't.

16. The problem is always at the distant end. Except when it isn't.

17. Exercise digital/tactical patience. Communications works at the speed of light. People do not.

18. Your trigger finger is your safety. Keep it away from the CAPS LOCK, reply-all, and flash-override buttons.

19. The warfighter is your customer, and the customer is always right.

20. Bullets don't kill people. Logistics kills people.

21. Knowing how it works is more powerful than knowing how it's supposed to work.

22. Cite sources on demand. State opinions when asked.

23. Work by, with, and through others. It's all about empowerment.

24. Do not seek the spotlight, Ranger. Let the spotlight find you. Then, make sure to share it with others.

25. Both the Bible and "The Art of War" make this point: It's never a mistake to put oneself in someone else's boots.

26. Humor is a combat multiplier. Except when it isn't.

Hometown News ... from Downrange

Love it or hate it, a deployment turns an overseas patch of dirt into something akin to a high school, or a hometown. You spend a lot of time on the same ground, with the same people, doing a job that no one understands, speaking jargon and language foreign to anyone who doesn't wear the same uniform. There are inside-jokes, pep rallies, and lots of rules to follow. Some bonds are made, some friends are lost. Then, one sudden day, you leave.

Everyone leaves it behind, but everyone deals with it differently. Some people want to forget it all. Some people can't help but remember. Some people want to relive the stories of glory and war, over and over again.

Still others try to hold on in a different way, and keep an ear tuned to what's happening back in the old neighborhood. If you've ever wondered whatever happened to the star quarterback, the class clown, or the prom queen, you know what I'm talking about.

So it is with me. In 2003, I deployed to Egypt as part of a multinational peacekeeping force. I saw a lot, learned a lot, made a lot of friends. I had experiences I would have never had unless I'd joined the Iowa National Guard. Ever since, I have had an interest in political and cultural happenings there. I didn't realize I was so transparent until my grade-school daughter started checking out library books on ancient Egypt, and the lives of children who live there today.

"Someday, Daddy, can we go to Egypt together?" she often asks me.

Inshallah, Sweet.

The National Guard is something of a small community, too. There are interstate rivalries, to be sure, and occasionally quirky differences in character and capabilities. Given that the National Guard is now considered part of an "operational" reserve—one routinely called upon to augment active-duty forces—rather than as a "strategic" one of last national resort, keeping track of which brigade is doing what mission has become a little like following hometown sports.

Readers of the Red Bull Rising blog, for example, will remember that the Iowa National Guard's 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th B.C.T) was the second U.S. National Guard brigade ever to deploy to Afghanistan as a "battlespace owner"—and the first to be configured for that mission from the start.

Following the Red Bull is one of the reasons I continue to take an interest in all things Afghanistan. And Iraq.

In 2009-2010, Vermont's 86th BCT had successfully transitioned from its role as the headquarters of Combined Joint Task Force Phoenix to become a battlespace owner.

Currently, Oklahoma's 45th Infantry "Thunderbird" BCT is in Eastern Afghanistan, operating on some of the same ground as their Vermont and Iowa predecessors.

In 2011, another Red Bull brigade—the Minnesota National Guard's 1-34th BCT—deployed to Kuwait and Iraq. At the last minute in 2011, some elements of Oklahoma's 45h BCT were diverted to Kuwait to serve alongside the Red Bull. After U.S. troops left Iraq in December 2011, the Red Bull remains in Kuwait to serve as part of a 15,000-soldier regional reserve.

Jonathan Raab is a New York National Guard soldier currently on his second deployment. In 2011, New York's 27th Brigade Combat Team had been preparing for deployment to Afghanistan. The brigade went as far as the National Training Center, Fort Irwin, Calif., before taking an unprecedented pause over the December holidays. Thousands of citizen-soldiers were caught in a limbo between mobilizing and deploying. As Raab wrote in a December 2011 essay published by Stars and Stripes:

They told us we were not going to Afghanistan, but that we might go elsewhere. The new rumored deployment date was far enough down the road that I’d run out of money well before then; I had just enough time to find a new job or a new place to live, to get settled back in with my friends, family and girlfriend, and to get on with life before having to let go of everything and everyone all over again.

Raab has since learned he will deploy not to Afghanistan, but to Iraq, in a mission similar to that currently performed by the Red Bull and Thunderbird soldiers there. Raab has a blog called "With a Bible in My Ruck," which I hope will continue. Consider this recent excerpt:

This is a non-combat mission. We'll be training and pulling guard duty for a year. Am I happy that my comrades won't be coming home killed or maimed? Yes, praise God for that. But as an infantryman and a soldier, I can't help but feel like I don't have utility in a peacetime mission. I feel unnecessary. I feel like I'll be in football practice for a year with no chance to get in on the game. That's irrational, I know. But there it is.

I wouldn't be honest with you if I told you that I wanted to go at this point. My article in the Stars and Stripes 'Ruptured Duck' Blog sums up how I feel about the situation and its uncertainty. Ever since we were cut loose in November, I used that time to find work and plan for my life. With this deployment, however, that's over. I'll be going overseas for a mission that I did not want or volunteer for, and I'll be returning to an even more difficult job market.

For more official detail on missions and units comprising the 27th BCT deployment click here.

In yet another sign that the National Guard fight is changing in Afghanistan, Arkansas' 39th BCT was recently notified that its pending deployment has been cancelled.

Deployed with the Ohio National Guard's 37th Infantry "Buckeye" Brigade Combat Team (I.B.C.T.), "Old Blue" is a senior non-commissioned officer (N.C.O.) with 29 years of experience. He's on his third deployment to Afghanistan, and his third military blog, "Afghan Blue III."

He's previously served as a trainer with Afghan National Police (A.N.P.) in Kapisa and Nuristan Provinces. He's also had eyes on Helmand Province in Southern Afghanistan, where he worked with British soldiers.

Like Raab in Kuwait, Old Blue has found himself pursuing a different mission than the one for which he and his buddies had prepared. The brigade to which he is assigned will not be conducting "full-spectrum operations"—a term that includes everything from humanitarian assistance to finding and killing bad guys—but will instead be performing "security force assistance" (S.F.A.)—advising and resourcing their Afghan counterparts. (It could be worse/better: Some Buckeye soldiers were diverted to Bahrain.) Still, he is a believer in counterinsurgency ("COIN"), and sees his new role as part of a process. He writes:

My quest in Afghanistan parallels my nation’s quest; finding a new role in an increasingly globalized world. [...] [I]f the United States can assume the role of mentor, advisor and enabler of development, perhaps future conflicts can be avoided altogether. Insurgencies can be avoided and terrorism prevented from developing.

In the meantime, I will do what I can to help speed success in Afghanistan. I believe that success can best be accomplished through the adaptive and intelligent practice of population-centric counterinsurgency.

I am the father of four children; two girls and two boys. I live in Cincinnati, Ohio. My intent is that someday my children will visit Afghanistan as tourists, not as soldiers.

Inshallah. And roger that.

*****

Both the "With a Bible in My Ruck" and "Afghan Blue III" blogs have been added to a "News & Views from Downrange" blog-roll on the right-hand side of Red Bull Rising. Both writers have also been featured on Garry Trudeau's/Doonesbury's "The Sandbox." If you know of other blogs written by citizen-soldiers currently downrange, please recommend them to: sherpa AT redbullrising.com.

Book Review: 'We Meant Well'

Department of State employee Peter Van Buren is reviled by some, celebrated by others. Earlier this autumn, he published what some angry diplomats consider a piss-and-tell book, a memoir of his time leading an Embedded Provincial Reconstruction Team (an "e.P.R.T.") in Iraq, from 2009-2010.

The PRT mission is a familiar one to 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division soldiers. In 2004-2005, nearly 1,000 soldiers of the Iowa National Guard's Task Force 168 deployed across Afghanistan to provide security at PRT sites in that country. More recently, PRT soldiers worked alongside the Red Bull's 2nd Brigade Combat Team (2-34th B.C.T.) in Afghanistan's Parwan, Panjshir, and Laghman Provinces, as did as 1st Battalion, 168th Infantry Regiment (1-168 Inf.), operating in Paktia Province.

Despite his not-so-diplomatic detractors, "We Meant Well: How I Helped Lose the Battle for the Hearts and Minds of the Iraqi People" covers ground familiar to soldiers. It describes how nation-builders can fall into traps of their own making. How well-intended efforts can spiral into spending big money on crack-hits of short-term good feelings and publicity, without developing local and long-term ownership, consensus, or even understanding. As a bonus, the book also accurately captures Army life downrange: The boredom, the sex, the loneliness, the almost total lack of privacy. And how death makes appearances as unexpected as they are unwelcome.

In fact, one might argue that Van Buren has succeeded in writing a most accessible and plain-spoken book about America's efforts in Afghanistan. It just happens to be about Iraq.

Bottom line up front: If you've ever served in or alongside a PRT in Iraq or Afghanistan, or wanted to know more about the "build" part of "clear, hold, build" counterinsurgency ("COIN") strategy, Van Buren's your scribe. He's something of a jester, too. Particularly in the Speaking Truth to Power Department.

Van Buren has more than 23 years in foreign service, and multiple career experiences working shoulder-to-shoulder with soldiers. The arm's length familiarity pays off. As an inside-outsider, he deconstructs, for example, how the military talks to itself and makes decisions, in word and deed and PowerPoint. Van Buren also observes that the war in Iraq is all about tribalism--not only in the world outside the wire, but within it. "A [Forward Operating Base] was a village," he writes, "populated by tribes who rarely intermingled except on business and who had little in common except for the fact that they were all at this same place at this same time ..." [p. 37]

A stereotypical diplomat hides behind meaningless words, but Van Buren's approach seems almost matter-of-fact and candid, like a soldier. Plain-spoken and pithy, profane and profound. While he often seemingly shoots off his mouth, he also chooses his shots carefully. During his deployment, he noted:

• Projects favored new construction over sustainable change.

• Projects were started without adequate analysis of local traditions, business practices, and inter-relationships.

• Projects were often subverted by tribal leaders, who sought to take things and money off the top.

• Progress was often measured only in hope.

All this leaves me wondering if Van Buren's critics are taking on the mantle of Casablanca's constabulary: "Shocked, shocked I am to find that gambling is going on here."

Playing parts in Van Buren's morality tale is a rogues' gallery of ne'er do wells, ranging from short-term deployers from the Dept. of State ("people aggressively devoted to mediocrity, and often achieving it," he quips) to a carousel of military leaders searching for quick fixes. "Had anyone bothered to read those Kilcullen and Nagl war-theory books, they would have learned that haphazard charity had nothing to do with counter-insurgency," Van Buren notes. "It worked pretty well-promotion, however, and if publicity were democracy, this place would have looked like ancient Athens." [p. 127]

Or, more philosophically: "One of the difficult parts about counterinsurgency was that it was hard to tell when you had won. You measured success more by what did not happen than what did, the silence that defined the music." [p. 130]

Van Buren sends up a list of well-intended projects that seem predestined to turn to dross. Some are jaw-dropping and punchline-grabbing, such as an effort to teach disadvantaged Iraqi women how to bake French pastries.

Does the once-Fertile Crescent really need a chain of croissant shops?

More telling, however, are the big-ticket projects that failed to account for local conditions and traditions. Take, for example, the construction of a collection center for cows' milk in Van Buren's province. It turns out that modernizing milk distribution not requires reliable electricity but refrigeration, but trucks and fuel to distribute the milk, as well as a market to buy and consume the milk. Iraq didn't have those things, didn't work that way. "The processing plants were expected to sell to the farmers' neighbors, who would surely be waiting around wondering what happened to the friendly farmer who used to bring fresh milk daily." [p. 81]

No use crying over spilt money, right?

To his credit, Van Buren takes pains to admit that there were glimmers of success. At least, there was one:

After almost a year in Iraq for this ePRT, the 4-H club was still our most successful project, maybe our only genuinely successful one. We spent almost no money on it, empowered no local thugs, did not disrupt the local economy, turned it over as soon as possible, and got out of the way.

The kids' selection of officers for the club was their first experience of grassroots democracy. The powerful sheik's son went home crying because he lost the race for the presidency to a farmer's kid, and the sheik did not have anyone's throat slit in retaliation. The things the club had to look forward to, pen pals in Montana and more animals, were real and could be done without any money from the outside. There remained the tiniest possibility here, where in most everything else we had done there was none, that a year later there would still be a 4-H club in Iraq. [p. 228]

Believe it or not, there's a sort of clear-eyed optimism in Van Buren's work, a similar vibe to that which might be found at Rick's Café Americain. No matter how sharp-tongued and bushy-taled he gets, he doesn't hesitate to let his guard down, and to document the transcendent, disguised as the mundane.

"The next morning I awoke with a vicious headache," Van Buren writes about an evening back on the FOB, after he and his teammates smuggle a few brews back from the Embassy, "and the realization that someday I would come to miss being with those men as much as I now missed the smell of pillows on my bed at home or kissing my wife when we both tasted of coffee. It was already over 100 degrees, a Thursday." [p. 177]

See? Snarky, but true. And not without a heart.

We meant well. Maybe we still do.

In other words, "This looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

(Editor's note: The writer of the Red Bull Rising blog was provided a review copy of "We Meant Well: How I Helped Lose the Battle for the Hearts and Minds of the Iraqi People.")

Nine Tea Cups of Wisdom

Bloggers and pundits are buzzing following investigative reports alleging that many events described in Greg Mortenson's best-selling "Three Cups of Tea" books never happened, and that the Central Asia Institute (C.A.I.), a related a non-profit organization, has failed to build, maintain, or staff many of the schools it promised to build in Afghanistan and Pakistan. One of the CAI best-known fund-raising efforts is "Pennies for Peace," which encourages school-age children to collect and donate spare change toward building schools overseas.

Mortenson was the subject of a CBS "60 Minutes" report on Sun., April 17. Jon Krakauer, best-selling author of such books as "Into Thin Air" and "Where Men Win Glory," subsequently released a 77-page featurette titled "Three Cups of Deceit." The product is available electronically as a free download here. Mortenson, a perennial Nobel Peace Prize nominee, did not participate in the "60 Minutes" report, although he has responded through Outside magazine and the hometown newspaper in Bozeman, Mont.

For years, the book "Three Cups of Tea" and its related products have served as a much-cited supporting narrative for U.S. Army counterinsurgency doctrine (often abbreviated and pronounced "COIN" in military circles). The phrase, which alludes to the gradual relationship-building that takes place during social interactions, is commonly used by U.S. soldiers when talking of meetings with Afghan governmental, tribal, police and military personnel. "Gotta go drink our three cups of tea" is to the Afghan generation what "winning hearts and minds" was to Vietnam's.

Writing for Wired Magazine's "Danger Room" blog, Spencer Ackerman kicks off an analysis this week's news with by revisiting a grassroots technology effort led by Army Capt. Cristian Balan, a Vermont Army National Guard officer, in summer 2010. (Iowa's 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division replaced Vermont's 86th Infantry Brigade Combat Team in November 2010.)

His impulse was straight out of Mortenson’s Three Cups of Tea, an account of cross-cultural understanding in Central Asia that’s become faddish in counterinsurgency circles. The core lesson: treat the Afghans with respect; address their concerns; and they’ll scratch your back, too. If you don’t, don’t be surprised when you don’t get their cooperation against the Taliban.

After I accompanied the sunny Balan on his tech support mission, he asked if I’d read Mortenson’s book. When I told him I hadn’t, he fetched his dog-eared copy from his trailer and gave it to me to keep.

Regardless of how the accusations and potential lawsuits sort out, the latest chapter in Mortenson's life story casts unwelcome doubt on counterinsurgency doctrine and methods, and, more generally, philanthropic efforts in a tight economy.

Ackerman writes: "[S]hould [the allegations against Mortenson] discredit the message that the military’s embraced? '60 Minutes‘ main allegations don’t suggest as much. They’re about Mortenson’s integrity, not his thesis."

In the Red Bull Rising blog alone, "Three Cups of Tea" has been reviewed and discussed numerous times (see here and here for examples). Many of Mortenson's lessons are still valid, regardless any failings and frailties on his part. Other lessons can be derived from Mortenson's fall from popular grace.

For example, Gen. David Petraeus distilled these three core lessons from Mortenson's "Three Cups of Tea."

1. "We need to listen more."

2. "We need to have respect."

3. "We have to build relationships."

That's all good advice for do-gooders of all types, in uniform, in media, and in the non-profit sector!

Extending upon these was a March 31, 2010 Red Bull Rising post:

4. "Counterinsurgency is a long-term commitment."

5. "Beware the laptop Army." You can't instill change by managing spreadsheets in the Tactical Operations Center ("TOC").

There was also a PBS interview with Mortenson cited in January 2010, from which was derived these observations:

6. "Half of diplomacy is just showing up." You're halfway there if you meet with people, look them in the eyes, and talk to them.

7. "You cannot plug in democracy. You have to build democracy." Whether you live in Washington or Waziristan, you can't be part of the change unless you're engaged on the ground.

Finally, here are two lessons potentially gleaned from this week's news:

8. "Trust, but verify. Only then, should you donate." A Minnesota teacher is using Mortenson's difficulties as a teachable moment in her classroom. Her students had raised $862.02 to help build a school in Pakistan. Next time, she hopes they'll be more successful, in part by investigating their giving options more diligently. Look for ratings, audits, and certifications, before you sign a check--or send in your hard-won pennies.

9. "People of all types must be held accountable." Investigative journalism is about keeping people accountable, whether in government, business, the military, or non-profit. It's not mean-spirited to hold people accountable, but it is mean-spirited to take pleasure in other people's difficulties. It's notable that so many commenters have rushed to judge Mortenson, citing Krakauer's just-the-facts gumshoe reporting, when many of those same commenters have delighted in the supposed rehabilitation of U.S. commander in Afghanistan Gen. Stanley McChrystal, a central character in the alleged high-level cover-up and mis-appropriation of U.S. soldier Pat Tillman's 2004 death by friendly-fire. Krakauer wrote a whole book on Tillman and his death.

In other words: If Krakauer is right about Mortenson, isn't he also right about McChrystal?

Coming Home on a Bungee Cord

The polka band knows approximately five songs, running the gamut from "In Heaven There is No Beer" to a tuba-heavy version of Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train."

I have to shout over the beat and blat of the music. "How long have you been here?"

Saber2th looks at his watch. "At least three 'Crazy Trains,'" he shouts back.

There's a quirky protocol when it comes to buddies who are back on military leave.

First off, you don't call them--they call you. They only have a few precious days here to spend, after all, and wives, kids, dogs, and home repairs are all higher on the food chain than Army buddies. If and when they call, however, you make sure to go. It's like a getting served a subpoena or notice of a "command performance," even if they don't outrank you.

Call it a "drunken muster."

A decidedly unshaven Saber2th is back from Afghanistan for two weeks, and has decided to hold court at the Central Iowa's only authentic German bier hall. "I made sure to have shaving cream for him when he got home," Saber2th-6 says, shaking her head. "What was I thinking?" I ask her how long he's been home, and how long it took for the novelty to wear off. She smiles a tolerant smile. I've seen that expression before, in my own home.

She tells me later: "I would've wanted this leave to happen in March, when we'd have only a few months left," As it stands right now, however, they're only halfway through the deployment. The Saber2ths have two younger kids, the same ages as my own. Managing the kids solo has been a little rough, she says, but having her husband back has been a good reminder of how it's supposed to be.

Every deployed family has a different strategy for taking mid-tour military leave.

One soldier friend recently chose to meet up with his wife in New York City, then absconded with her to some tropical island somewhere. Another says he'll similarly meet up with his wife and kids at a neutral location, rather than traveling all the way home. That way, he hopes, the kids won't feel like he's ripping the emotional stitches off regarding his year-long absence. One stay-at-home (this time) soldier says his pre-teen kids say they don't want to see his wife at all during her deployment--only when she gets to come home to stay for good. Or, more realistically, until one of their parents has to deploy again.

Someone hands me a beer in a tall but not entirely unmanly glass. I don't catch the description of what I'm about to drink. The beer names here are longer than Wagner's Ring Cycle, and I don't speak German, other than a little conversational Def Leppard. Setting my buddy up for a war story, I jokingly ask if the beer is called "schutzenschnur."

"Hey, that's German for learning how to shoot some NATO weapons and not hurting yourself," says Saber2th. "They give you a badge for it and everything!" God love him and the U.S. Cavalry--he's not entirely joking.

I'm introduced to some others present as "that guy with the blog." Later, I realize that I have perhaps missed my one opportunity in life to be addressed as "Meisterblogger Bloggermeister."

Saber2th and I do get to talk a little shop, although spousal proximity prohibits too many details. That's another unwritten rule about mid-tour leave: Don't talk about Fight Club. At least, not with family present.

Still, he reports our Red Bull cohorts are both doing well and doing good, although a few soldiers have tripped up on the details. "Counterinsurgency is pretty easy. Rule No. 1 of Counterinsurgency is 'Don't be a douche-bag,'" he says. "Rule No. 2: 'Don't drive 80 miles an hour throwing your piss bottles at people.' but it's been kind of surprising that we've got guys who can't even get those two things right."

Our group ends up sharing a large booth with a bunch of brunettes--endo-, meso-, and ectomorphic Barbies--so the single guys in our posse swivel their turrets to start winning hearts and minds and telephone numbers. Instead of shots fired, or shots heard round the world, the night devolves into shots bought round the table.

Meanwhile, a hipster wearing a bright orange T-shirt and a beige blazer somehow starts chatting up the Saber2ths. Turns out, their group is from the local metropolitan opera. "It's our first night off in 2-and-a-half weeks," the guy complains. Saber2th rolls his eyes instead of punching the guy. They don't get weekends off in Afghanistan.

In just a week or two, he'll be right back at it, and so will his wife and kids here at home.

Tonight, however, it's a few stolen moments of beers and buddies and brass instruments, of not getting too caught up in the details, and avoiding fisticuffs with opera singers and shield maidens.

In Bagram, there is no beer. That's why we drink it here ...

Going off the rails on a crazy train.

Afghan Trainer: Values More Important than Tactics

Editor’s note: In 2007, Army Sgt. 1st Class Jeff Courter and 15 other Illinois National Guard soldiers deployed to an Embedded Training Team (E.T.T.) mission in the Wor Mamay district, Paktika Province, Afghanistan. Along with three other ETT members, he helped mentor a company of 35 Afghan Border Police (A.B.P.).

Since his deployment, Courter, now an Illinois National Guard recruiter and part-time seminary student, Courter has continued to wrestle with questions and insights he gathered in Afghanistan.

In 2008, he self-published his “Afghan Journal” notes as a book (available as paperback and in Amazon Kindle format), and continues to blog at: www.lifeloveandtruth.com.

Red Bull Rising invited Courter to share his thoughts with the recently deployed soldiers of 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry “Red Bull” Division. Some Red Bull soldiers will directly mentor Afghan police and army units. Others will fight alongside and support them.

*****

By Jeff Courter
To be effective at “how” we fight, we should begin with “why.” Some warriors emphasize tactics, and ignore the reasons we’re on the battlefield in the first place--as if they’re independent variables. They’re not. The right values can be the greatest tactical advantage of all, especially in Afghanistan. That’s because soldiers--whether U.S. or Afghan--will fight harder and longer when motivated for the right reasons.

Young soldiers may roll their eyes when old warhorse NCOs trot out the seven Army Values--“Loyalty. Duty. Respect. Selfless Service. Honor. Integrity. Personal Courage.” But face it: Values work. They work for individuals, as well as entire armies.

Sharing these principles with our Afghan colleagues is mission-critical.

Granted, progress may not be swift. It may even span generations. Whether you frame this conflict as multiple small wars--or a single very long one--the road to constructive, sustainable change won’t be straight, and can’t be hurried. Our enemies are patient, committed and ruthless. We must be patient, committed, and valorous.

Not all of your new Afghan colleagues may share your values or professionalism, but that shouldn’t deter you. Let your actions do the talking, no matter your assignment or situation. To paraphrase General Petraeus:

“Regular training teams can’t be everywhere, so units must help enforce local military standards, enable performance, and monitor for abuses and inefficiencies. Any coalition unit working with local security forces will be studied, emulated and copied--for better or worse. Therefore, we must always set the example. Any coalition unit operating alongside local security forces is performing a mentoring, training, and example-setting role.”

Think of Afghanistan as the Wild West. Think of the Taliban as a bunch of outlaws. And recognize that most Afghans are innocent townspeople, who just want to stay out of the line of fire.

During my tour, our larger mission was to secure the area from Taliban activities. We conducted hundreds of “presence patrols” among local villages. The ABP always joined us, to “put an Afghan face” on our operations. They were also there to learn first-hand how persistent police visibility can disrupt insurgent activities.

When our convoys rolled in and our ABP colleagues offered food, clothing, school supplies and medical assistance, villagers often greeted us warmly. But cautious tribal elders sometimes tempered their response, for fear of Taliban reprisals. Chieftains explained that Taliban fighters would steal into their villages at night and threaten them with violence. Some elders even spoke in hushed tones, fearful of being overheard.

Once, we circled back to a village that we had visited only days before. Surprisingly, we found a ghost town. While there, our unit repelled an ambush from an overlooking hill.
Later, we learned that Taliban fighters had stormed the village after our initial visit, demanding payment from the chieftain. When he refused, they threatened to kill him on the spot--until he placed a Quran on the ground and claimed that their actions violated Islam.

The thugs backed off, but promised to kill him if he and his family remained. That night, he packed his belongings and led his entire village to a distant hamlet. The Taliban simply waited for our return to the village, assuming we would investigate reports of its abandonment.

In many ways, the real enemy in Afghanistan is fear. The Taliban feed on it. But by demonstrating our values, by protecting people, and by “closing with and destroying” the bad guys, we deny our enemies an environment where fear can grow. It all begins with a spirit of trust.

When a seasoned U.S. law enforcement officer visited our Forward Operating Base ("FOB"), he emphasized the importance of gaining trust from the local community. Here’s his two-pronged approach:

• Give local Afghans a reason to believe that, whenever they share intelligence, you’ll respond as quickly and decisively as possible. It’s not about arriving immediately every time you’re called. That’s unrealistic. Rather, it’s about proving, over time, that you’ll strive to do your best when needed.

• Police can’t fight crime everywhere, simultaneously. So, when your resources are assigned to a specific area, stay focused on that area. Take control of territory you hold, and deny the enemy an opportunity to move freely in that space. It’s less about eliminating the Taliban altogether, and more about stopping them from operating in your local environment. Eventually, they’ll move on.

Bottom line: It’s not rocket science. It’s about walking a beat. It’s about making people feel safe, because you’re there when it matters.

Let me tell you about one day when it mattered:

Early one morning at our FOB, there was a commotion at the front gate, as a young man sought medical assistance for his very pregnant wife. Their young son had accidentally shot his mother with an AK-47. The bullet had ripped a hole through her abdomen, and intestines were spilling from her side.

Our medic was in his early 20s. Although he’d been trained to treat combat wounds when emotions are running high, he wasn’t prepared for this. As we waited for a MEDEVAC helicopter to airlift the woman to a hospital, “Doc” did his best to stabilize his patient. Language and cultural norms were a huge problem. Whenever Doc uncovered part of the woman's body, her husband rapidly covered it back up. Eventually, Doc blindly bandaged the wound from beneath a blanket.

The clock was ticking. Time was running out. The woman was nine months pregnant, and both she and her baby were in critical condition. Family members began to argue about whether she should be left to die at home, rather than being evacuated. Our ABP trainees stood-by throughout, ensuring crowd control and helping to maintain calm.

An hour later, the chopper swooped down and left in a cloud of dust, lifting its precious cargo along with our hopes and prayers. Later that afternoon, we received a radio update – mother and child were fine. We rejoiced along with the ABP. Their commander thanked us, insisting that our actions proved to local villagers that “America is good!”

That day, values mattered. That day, we scored a victory, without firing a single shot. We beat the devil at his own game. And we helped a woman and her baby cheat death.

Along the way, we forged a new level of trust.

It was glorious.

Bringing CEXC Back to Afghanistan

FORT IRWIN, Calif., Sept. 27--Staff Sgt. Jacob Pries is a fast-talking, hard-talking man who--after talking about how much he loves his wife--loves nothing more than talking guns, talking cops, and talking about being a U.S. Army combat engineer. Most days, he's a man on a mission moving at a high rate of speed, tossing cuss words like stun grenades.

He is a veteran of Task Force 168th's 2004-2005 deployment to Afghanistan. That unit was organized around the 1st Battalion, 168th Infantry Regiment (1/168th Inf.), but the 700 troops who went on that deployment were broken up into platoons and companies across Afghanistan. They provided security for Provincial Reconstruction Teams (P.R.T.).

This time, the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division is traveling in even larger numbers, and sticking together in larger herds. This time, Pries is working as part of the unit's Counter-I.E.D. Support Element (C.S.E.). Improvised Explosive Devices (IED)--roadside bombs, makeshift mines, and booby-traps--are the bad guys' most-dangerous weapon. Sometimes, they're detonated by remote-control. Other times, they're designed to go off when a vehicle or solider applies pressure to them.

Experts talk about the counter-IED fight in three components: "Attack the network. Defeat the device. Train the force." In other words: Disrupt the bomb-makers' organization. Figure out what makes their devices tick and how to stop them from going off. And, as soon as you have something concrete, tell soldiers what they need to know about the latest bad guy tools and tactics.

Part of the CSE is a Combined Explosives Exploitation Cell (CEXC)--a group of military and civilian experts who work to analyze IED attacks. Pries jokes that it's a little like working with "CSI: Fort Irwin."

The acronym, by the way, is pronounced "sexy."

Before mobilization, Pries had his days of hating headquarters life. Too much paperwork, not enough action. Now that he's in The Box and working with people like his CEXC new counterparts, however, he's back to his old self. He squeezes off insights in easy bursts of simple, practical examples.

"It's like attacking a gang," Pries says of his job. "I know how to attack a gang. That's what I do, as a cop back home." The CEXC looks for clues as to the who, what, where, when and how of bomb-making. They investigate what the bad guys are doing and using, identify who may be working with whom. Then they get the word out to troops regarding any trends they're seeing. Remember that old cop show, Adam-12? "Be on the look out for ..."

The CEXC includes civilian law enforcement professionals ("LEP," rhymes with "pep")--U.S. police who wear a modified Army uniform. "They're experts in tactical questioning," says Pries. "They go out to IED sites, look at the crowds, work with [interpreters]. I'm a cop, and that's what we do at a crime scene. We respond to the scene, and while we're working the details, we're also keeping an eye out for things that are out of place."

For example: "Everybody's wearing red, orange, and green, and that guy in the crowd is wearing black? C'mere, you! Everybody has a beard, and that guy doesn't? C'mere!"

"What I like about all this? Everything we do--every product we produce, every assumption we make, every suggestion we make, has a guy at the end of a rifle," says Pries. "Not just U.S. guys--Afghans, too."

"Say that [radio-controlled IED] are being used more against host-nation troops, because host-nation doesn't have [electronic warfare] systems. OK, put us up front," he says. "And, if they start going pressure-plate, we've got the armor. Let us take the blast."

"Operations on the objective? Kicking doors and searching houses? That needs to be Afghans--it's their country."

The Red Bull is here to help.

Red Bull, 10-23.

World Leader Pretend

FORT IRWIN, Calif., Sept. 27--A U.S. Army brigade is like a corporation. It has a Chief Executive Officer (C.E.O.), a couple of senior vice presidents, and a whole herd of junior vice presidents. Each of the junior vice presidents is responsible for one function throughout the organization: Human Resources, Market Analysis, Operations, Supply and Maintenance, Information Technology. There are also senior-level specialists, who may be equal to junior vice presidents: the Corporate Attorney is one. So are the Environmental Safety Director and the Media Spokesperson.

When a business doesn't have the expertise it requires to be competitive, it may hire consultants from outside the organization, or it may partner with other businesses that share similar goals. In mil-speak, these are "enablers." These are mostly civilian personnel, and include civil engineers, anthropologists, law enforcement practitioners, and diplomats. Some wear uniforms, but most don't.

Part of the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT) experience at National Training Center (N.T.C.) is to learn to work with these new team members.

"I just got a tip from the [Human Terrain Team]," the executive officer tells the brigade staff during this morning's first meeting. The H.T.T. is made up of anthropologists and other academics, who can do research into local cultures and attitudes. "When you go into these Key Leader Engagement meetings with Afghan leaders, you always count heads. Then, go in with one less. It's subtle, but that way, you're not outnumbering them at their meeting, in their country."

Today is the third day in The Box for the brigade, and the first day of a 3-day "targeting cycle." In the business world, targeting might be considered "strategic planning"--identifying objectives, and allocating resources to meet those objectives. Through a series of expert subcommittee and committee meetings, a list of possible goals is developed, a consensus reached, and a set of proposals is made to the CEO.

Yeah, I know: Sounds sexy. And dramatic.

For purposes of the training exercise, the targeting cycle at National Training Center (N.T.C.) has been abbreviated to three days. Normally, a cycle might last a week or two--maybe even a month. Each day at NTC, however, there are meetings and more meetings. Then, there are meetings assessing the results of the last three days' efforts. Then, the cycle repeats. Some soldiers quip: "All this has happened before, and all this will happen again." Others liken every day to "Groundhog Day."

One of the topics of today's targeting meeting--the meeting after the first meeting--is a regionally influential strongman, with his own troops, the local peasants in his pocket, and a sizable income coming in from the poppy fields. The question is whether he can be influenced to support the Government of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan ("GIRoA"), and how. Give him money or jobs? Give him a political position?

"He's looking for validation of his position," says the HTT leader. "He's either going to get support from the Taliban, or he's going to get it from us."

There are other options, of course, but the participants in this particular meeting attempt to focus on the kinder, gentler, and less-lethal side of counterinsurgency (COIN). You know: "Speak softly, and carry a big carrot."

Diana, one of the U.S. State Department personnel, reminds those in attendance that the devil you know may be better than a power vacuum, particularly when the bad guy is the only source of jobs in the region. "When your kids are hungry and you don't have anything to eat, the bad guy is better than no guy at all."

"Besides," she says, "we need to find out why he doesn't want to play. It might be something very simple--maybe we killed a member of his family and never apologized. Or, it may be very complex--but we need to ask."

After the meeting, the brigade lawyer shakes his head bemusedly, "I wonder how many [business] people back home in Iowa would be comfortable in sitting around a conference table trying to decide whether or not to whack the guy."

He is only half-joking. This isn't personal. It's business.

Welcome to Fort Irwin

Fort Irwin, Calif., September 2010: The Mojave Desert is full of iconic American Nowheres, empty places that either don't or shouldn't exist, but that still have names branded in our brains. There's Death Valley, and the Devils Playground. There's Sin City, and Area 51.

On a map, the U.S. Army installation of Fort Irwin, Calif., is located approximately halfway between the illusions of Hollywood and the delusions of Las Vegas. McCarren International Airport is 3 hours to the east; LAX is 3 hours to the west. You either have to really want to get to Fort Irwin, or you've been ordered by Uncle Sam to go to The National Training Center. Either way, you've probably made a seriously wrong turn.

There are approximately 5,000 active-duty U.S. military assigned to Fort Irwin, with an additional 5,000 civilians providing support. At any given time, there are are 3,000 to 5,000 "rotational soldiers"--visiting soldiers participating in battalion- and brigade-sized wargames that last for weeks at a time. That's where the soldiers of 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division come in. They're here to cap off weeks and months of pre-deployment, post-mobilization training. Some of them will even launch to Afghanistan, directly from Califonia.

The closest civilian town is about 45 minutes away from Fort Irwin, the interstate speedbump of Barstow, pop. 21,000. If you are Hunter S. Thompson and his Samoan lawyer, Barstow is where you start dropping acid on your way to Vegas. If you want fine-dining there, the best you can do is Quiqley's Restaurant. Where the vibe and decor is sort of Spanish Colonial meets Denny's. Despite the name, Tom Selleck is nowhwere to be seen. The food is 4-star Michelin if you've been trucking around the desert for two weeks. And, yes, they have a liquor license. You'll need it, whether you're coming or going from Fort Irwin.

The description of Fort Irwin most likely to be spat from the lips of a Red Bull soldier is "surreal." Like everything else, the word will sit there on the ground, collecting dust, before evaporating in the oven-cleaner heat.

Even at summer highs of 110 degrees Fahrenheit, at least it's s dry heat. The second most-heard Red Bull opinion of Fort Irwin? "Well, at least it isn't Camp Shelby, Miss."

Even on the Internet, Fort Irwin is something of a mirage. "Map websites do not have pinpoint directions to Fort Irwin ..." notes the official Fort Irwin website. "[B]uy a map of California and become familiar with the highway system, you will be glad you did!"

People want to know why the National Training Center (N.T.C.) is such a big deal.

The NTC is more than 1,000 square miles of restricted airspace, uncluttered electromagnetic spectrum, and sparsely populated tank-friendly maneuver area. Let me say that last part again, because this is like Nirvana for my buddies in the Cavalry: "Drive anywhere, over anything. No questions asked. What goes on at NTC, stays at NTC."

In short, the NTC is the most fun you can have as a soldier without live rounds or getting naked. It's your last opportunity to make mistakes and be absolutely certain about living to tell about them.

Since the early 1980s, The National Training Center has specialized in providing realistic "force-on-force" simulations for U.S. and allied troops. During the last throes of the Cold War, that meant staging huge tank battles. During this time, it was said that the members of Opposition Force ("OPFOR")--the U.S. troops stationed at Fort Irwin who role-played as "enemy"--were better-practiced on Soviet tactics than were their real-life Russian adversaries.

Since 2001, the National Training Center has transformed to better simulate the environments and challenges of Iraq and Afghanistan. The concept of "force on force" grew to include "full-spectrum operations." On any given day, soldiers might find themselves distributing school supplies and running healthy-puppy clinics. The next day, they might be kicking in doors and delivering ammo cans full of whup-a--.

You know, winning hearts and minds. Saving puppies and democracy and bringing people together through the magic of Close Air Support. Stuff like that.

More about playing in the Army's "Sandbox" in tomorrow's Red Bull Rising blog-post ...

Bully for Freedom! And for the Press!

Sherpa is officially back home in Iowa, having returned from Annual Training 2010 at Camp Ripley, Minn., sometime before Independence Day. While I still have a few Annual Training "war-stories" to share this month--I'm currently unpacking and repacking, while deciphering my own cryptic notebooks--I thought that today I'd point out some of the great attention our Red Bull units received from Midwestern media.

With a little commentary from me, of course, which makes it all "fair use." I know my copy-rights.

Mark Geary of Cedar Rapid's KCRG did a neat job of teasing out the little details of military life, while also putting Annual Training 2010 into the larger context of the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry Division's pending deployment to Afghanistan. I found his "Reporter's Notebook" observational style pretty entertaining. For example:

When you tear open the veggie omelet packet, a sour stench seeps from the package. Green vegetable speckles dot the squishy, orange substance inside. The meal looks like a thick piece of rotting, moldy orange Laffy Taffy. And, no, soldiers are not exaggerating. It tastes just as bad as they as they say it does.

“It just kind of crumbles in your mouth,” [1st Lt. William] Hayes said.

Personally, Geary had me at "Laffy Taffy." Even re-reading it makes me giggle.

Check out his whole KCRG "Enduring Freedom" package here.

Michelle Linck of the Sioux City Journal captured this great quote from an Army trainer regarding Red Bull units' upcoming departure to Camp Shelby, Miss.:

"You'll have 80 pounds of new equipment," she warned, describing the three hydration bags -- not one as needed in Minnesota -- each filled with water and strapped to their back for survival in the hot, dry, Afghan climate. That's in addition to the seven Kevlar plates -- not just two, as they recently trained with -- in their flak jackets: two in the front, one along each side of their torso, one covering each shoulder and one across the back.

"When you leave Shelby, you'll have two duffle bags of equipment," Stewart told her audience.

Red Bull soldiers of all stripes and backgrounds will take on a heavy burden, to be sure, both collectively and individually.

Randy M. Cauthron, managing editor of the Spencer Daily Reporter, elegantly pulled off the "Ernie Pyle" trick of piling on the names of local boys (and girls) gearing up for the deployment. Here's one such honored mention:

Private First Class Austin Bartley of Spencer, who joined the guard while 18 and still in high school, said that learning to work with the Afghan nationals is key to the success of the mission. "We've got to learn their culture so we can get over there and gain their respect. We don't want to go over there and anger anybody. We'll learn a few things about them and they'll learn a few things about us.

"It's extemely important. You don't want to have an entire country not like you."

Hot dang! That's counterinsurgency (COIN) doctrine in a little over 50 words! Remember Pfc. Bartley the next time you find yourself worrying about kids today. They get it.

Despite some never-ending Internet arguments to the contrary, a free press is just as important to maintaining our freedoms as civilian control of our military. This old paper-boy thankful that some reporters and editors took a couple of days out of their schedules to chronicle the lives and sacrifices of their fellow Iowans. Each soldier, after all, represents a community, a family, a story that needs to be told.

I'm not able to point to every link and story here, but let me just say this: Freedom isn't free, and neither is newspapering. If you don't already, please consider subscribing to your local fishwrap--and make sure that editors know how much you appreciate what they do, especially on behalf of soldiers.

Before I end this roundup, consider this lead from The Marhsalltown Times-Republican's Abigail McWilliam:

In the early light of morning, Pfc. Sue Dake moves among her fellow soldiers quietly. She straps on 60 pounds of gear, starts the engine of her Humvee and prepares to drive out to battle drill.

Her son, Kahlel Dake, turned 3 years old Saturday - a milestone both she and her husband, Sgt. Lucas Dake, were not home to celebrate.

When Kahlel turns 4, the military couple will be overseas, fighting in war. [...]

"It's tough," Sue Dake, 25, said. "But it's for their future. The fact that I will be coming home to them keeps me going."

Stories such as that are what keeps me going. God bless the Dake family, and Godspeed the Red Bull.

"Attack!"