24 July 2009

The Last Letter


I spent the morning driving down HWY 190 through central Texas. It’s a beautiful road but more so it’s a beautiful country. You can tell the people living here care about it because they feel a sense of ownership. Miles are adopted and, even in the hot July sun, citizens are out in orange vests and Camelbacks doing their part. They love Jesus, there’s a church every two blocks. They have a youth center, even if it’s only for a handful of kids. Not everyone grew up around here, but I’m sure a whole lot did. That’s not to say that I frown on moving around and digging up adventure, coming home from Asia is the reason for this letter, but there’s something good and honest about people who want to grow old where they grew up. You might not become a millionaire taking over the family hardware store, but it’s also a long shot that the guy sitting on the pew next to you every Sunday is going to rip you off like Albert Madoff.

Shortly after I got home I spoke with my Grandma Ruth on the phone. We talked about this, that, and the other for a while and then she mentioned a letter I had written a few months prior describing Afghanistan. She said, “Robert, that sure is a sad country over there.” To which I could only reply, “Grandma, it sure is a sad country over here.” It’s funny, but when the internet cracked the world wide open, and millionaires were made overnight in stock and real estate markets, I bet the folks along HWY 190 didn’t see much of a change in their day to day lives. Now the bubble has burst, the Big Three and Fanny Mae have folded, and divorce is at an all time high. The people along 190 might have felt it, but I doubt it’s hit too hard. They’ve got more to live for than Big Macs and American Idols. They have their families, whole families, they have their jobs, good, honest jobs, and they have their communities. And while you might not be able to get there using MapQuest, they’ll still be there.

I spent five months in Afghanistan. That is not a long time compared with the guys wearing tan berets who are always deploying, or redeploying or my brothers, the real American grunts, who literally spend half their lives “over there.” Everyone asks me if I’m glad to be home, and I am. But I am also eager to go back. There is more fighting to be done, more bad guys to kill, and more lives to change. Shauna hates that I’m ready to leave again, but it is also why she married me. It is not out of self-pride that I say I joined the Army specifically to put myself in harms way. More specifically, I joined to stop my family from ever being in harms way. I don’t know anyone personally killed on 9/11, and no one in my immediate world was particularly affected on that tragic day. In the days since we are all affected though and most of it I can handle. I understand the longer lines for security if it stops some idiot from blowing up a plane. I’m ok with a judge allowing wiretaps on suspected terrorists if the only thing the taps are used for is to stop them from killing any one and not to harass them. What I absolutely could not handle would be for terrorists to bring the battle to our shores again. To have to watch as more innocent people leap from windows to escape the flames, as more first responders rush into a crumbling building to try to save another life. I will go where I must for as long as is needed so that babies don’t have to grow up without their daddies because we weren’t strong enough.

Which brings me back to our sad country. Babies are already growing up without their daddies because we aren’t strong enough. We aren’t strong enough a country to even be present. Not strong enough to work on a relationship, or put down a pipe, or a bottle, or any number of selfless acts that would have kept absent fathers where they belong, at the head of the household. It’s too hard to do the right thing anymore, too hard to say what needs to be said. Fine, I’ll do it. Go to church, pray, get a job, be responsible to the family you created, whether you meant to or not. Don’t do drugs, don’t cheat, on anything, quit degrading women. All too often we pat ourselves on the back when we judge murders, rapists, or drug pushers, because we are not like them. But what we all fail to recognize is that we are like them. In our small transgressions against one another we accumulate far more of a debt to society than we realize. It’s ok to steal the stapler from the office because they’ll just buy more. It’s ok to look at internet porn because it isn’t technically cheating. It’s ok to cheat on your taxes because everyone does it. It’s ok to look the other way when a child goes undisciplined because it isn’t my problem. It’s ok to get fat because it really only affects me.

Guess what? It isn’t your stapler, put it back! Those taxes go to our roads, our police, our Soldiers, cough it up! Porn is just as degrading as actually cheating; she just doesn’t want to tell you. That kid that isn’t being spanked is the same one who is going to steal your car! Being fat affects everyone and not just the terrorist who can’t light his shoe bomb because your fat ass sat next to him. Your diabetes meds have to be paid for, your five heart attacks and subsequent medical bills have to be paid for, that stupid scooter they sell on TBS has to be paid for, and since you probably take extra long lunches I doubt you’ll pay for all of it out of pocket. But it’s ok we have federally funded health care now!

…Wait where did the taxes for my roads go? It’s ok, I’m sure HWY 190 will still look nice without any of our help.

06 May 2009

Extra! Extra!

Dear family, friends and loved ones,

This "Letters From the Front" was easy to write. Ok so I am not writing anything. I'll let the pros handle it. Below are two links to three articles. They paint a pretty solid picture of life "outside the wire" for us lately. We were lucky to have these reporters with us and I for one am grateful for not having to write something eloquent. Enjoy!

http://www.stripes.com/09/apr09/mirahor/

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/29/world/asia/29afghan.html?pagewanted=1

p.s. - You can see my back in a number of pictures, i'm the guy surrounded by antennas talking to Afghans in cammo. Also, when the stars and stripes article mentions dropping bombs, that was me. BOOYAH! Ok, now enjoy...

The Harvest Begins

COP Terminator, Afghanistan
19APR09


It has been a bit since the last "Letter" and I apologize. It is not that I do not have the time, some days I have plenty of it, the problem is always what to write about. I have had a number of requests to describe a normal day and our living conditions. The problem there lies in the insecurity of the Internet and the "worst-case" scenario of even the simplest of details falling into the wrong hands. So apology number two will have to be that some parts of this deployment will remain vague until we are no longer here.

That being said, the last month has been anything but dull! I found out yesterday that Shauna and I are having a baby girl. Her name, which anyone who knows Shauna knew she had picked a month after we met, will be Taylor Lynn Woodson. I will be back in time for the birth and nothing could make me happier. We will move right after, courtesy of the Army, but I look forward to our next adventure, even if it means un-hanging all those pictures Shauna likes to have up. Each new home brings new friends and strengthens the ties with the quality people we have met along the way. I thank God for all of you.

The Platoon is well. Action becomes more regular as the poppy harvest gets into full swing. It as very odd felling walking through huge fields of what will one day become heroin and not being able to do anything about it. I could get into all the pros and cons of letting the farmers grow their highest cash yielding crop but I won't. Anyone who knows me well knows my heart aches when I think of all the pain illegal drugs cause innocent families. Hashish is also a regular commodity here, which is less upsetting and more mind boggling. It is as common as afternoon tea. I am very thankful there are so few drivers here in the afternoons!

I am lucky to be surrounded by hard working, intelligent people. The other Platoon Leaders are both top notch and they seem to enjoy teaching me all that I missed in the first months of our unit's deployment. Our Company Commander is very experienced and has a great outlook on our roles as PLs. There is a lot of freedom in our planning and missions that I think we would not have under someone else. I have also started a Bible study here. It is just two of us now, but I think we will grow as people prepare to return to the rest of the world. Deployment has had the odd effect on many here of removing reality and in that space some people become what they normally would not be. Your prayers for the growth of the group and the safety of all are always appreciated.

13 March 2009

Hope


13MAR09
0900 HRS

Maiwand District, Afghanistan


Afghanistan is a world of contrasts. The land and the climate could have been pulled out of southern Arizona and in that way it is much like home for me (one exception is there are no cacti here, which is good because I have had bad experiences with cacti). From far enough away the homes and villages here could be mistaken for the adobe compounds in Tucson that they so closely resemble. Up close there is no mistake to be made, this little corner of the world is that land that time forgot.

Life here is different. Maybe it is not the life that is different, so much as the priorities that are applied to life. My "neighbors" are human just like you and I; they laugh, they love, they fight, and they work. They spend more time pulling water from a well than we do at the faucet, but then again we spend more time in front of a vanity mirror than they do, so I guess it all works out in the end. There is no PTA, no Boy Scouts, no soccer teams, but there is still family time and plenty of it. They work together. From dawn to dusk three generations work everyday together to keep the roof up, the animal(s) fed, and the field tended. It would be a scene from Farmtown, Anywhere, USA... if there was hope.

Afghanistan is a country of very little hope. It has been a war zone for almost three decades and it is wearing these people down. For the last seven years they have been asked to help us hunt the Taliban, before that the Taliban had them hunting each other, and before there was a Taliban this country was the last battlefield of the Cold War. And now we are here again, and I pray every day that we can bring these people back their hope.

If there were anyone in the world I could choose to bring back hope to these people it would be the men of 1st Platoon, A Company. What a great nation we must be to have created such an eclectic, caring, intelligent, and resilient group as this! They come from across the country, with different backgrounds, homes, and religions, but they came! Some joined right out of high school, some later in life, but they all came to serve. And they serve so well! There is a pride in their eyes for a job well done, a pride in the duty they fulfill. These men, these boys, can be proud of what they are doing for their country, and they know with absolute certainty that their country is proud of them. How wonderful it will be for them to have that with them wherever else they may go.



--
Robert M. Woodson
First Lieutenant, Infantry
1/A/2-2 IN "Terminators!"
R.L.T.W!

26 February 2009

Fitting in

25FEB09
COP TERMINATOR, AFG


There is tons of dust here and it affects how everything works from the keyboard I'm using now, to the phone lines, to the weapons. Maintenance is key.

Life here is good. My company has their own COP in the middle of nowhere with very little oversight. My CO is great, a hooah guy who pretty much just wants me to kill bad guys. The hard part is the bad guys here drop their weapons and radios when we get close so we can't catch them. It's really frustrating. My guys are awesome. My PSG is acting 1SG right now while he's on leave. Until 1SG gets back I have an E6 PSG and 4 E5 SQD leaders. Not really MTOE but they're all great at their jobs and eager to engage the enemy. I lucked out. (For those who don't speak Army, I'm sorry. Just know that it means I'm undermanned)

The platoon has had some hard times. I'm their fifth PL (Platoon Leader) in a year, the last four were all fired for one reason or another. As I said before my boss is pretty cool, so there had to have been extenuating circumstances to get canned. At least the bar has been set nice and low for me. There is nowhere to go but up.

The COP is cool. It's called Terminator which beats our parent base, FOB Ramrod. We live 16 to a tent, have wooden latrines with burn barrels, a tent for a mess hall (it's got a big screen TV though), a tent for a reaching home (8 PCs, 3 phones), and a large wooden building with four big screens for movies and video games. We have a huge Hesco wall surrounding us with a number of large guard towers. This is a contemporary castle. It's kinda cool.

We are out in the middle of nowhere, in a country in the middle of nowhere, and it shows. The people here are straight out of the stone age. I tried asking a kid the other day if he knew where the closest school was. He didn't even grasp the concept of a school, probably twelve years old. The old men know everything, and tell us nothing. They have a hard life. If we don't trust them we can search their homes, even jail them for a few days. If the AAF (Anti-Afghan Forces) don't trust them they'll kill them or their kids. The houses are clay huts with sheets on the walls for decoration and dirt floors. The animals stay inside on cold nights. Rice is an expensive food for them. It really makes jack-in-the-box and porcelain feel like upper class. Pray for them.

25 February 2009

Arrival



21 FEB 09
FOB Terminator, AFG


Dear family, friends, and loved ones:

I am writing you from literally the middle of nowhere Afghanistan. I probably couldn't tell you exactly where we are but I really can't anyways because there's nothing here. Except us, and our awesome eye in the sky, and a whole lot of guns.

I drove into FOB Terminator (sweet name, I know) in a convoy of MRAPs. I won't go into detail about these awesome machines suffice it to say they are saving lives. Tell your congressman. Our convoy passed through a small town that would make a set of farm houses outside Yuma look like palaces, it is the center of commerce in this province. To say these people live destitute lives would be a monumental understatement. They have nothing. They are terrified. They have no future. And that's why I am here. When we built our little fort out here in the middle of nowhere two months ago, people wept. They finally had proof that we were here to help them, here to help put and end to the daily terror they have endured for some very long. And help we will.

Besides being a better target for the bad guys (don't worry they can't shoot straight,)we offer them a source of protection, a source of income (many drive trucks for us and help gather resources and supplies), and an outlet for their problems. Corruption in the political system here is a way of life. In Tijuana you can bribe a cop and get out of a speeding ticket, here the cops have road blocks set up to collect tolls instead. This is something we have to combat in a non-kinetic way. We can't engage the local government militarily, we have to be political. Our leaders are doing their best to help and we are making progress.

The other half of our conflict is spectacularly kinetic (mom stop reading). We are engaging with and destroying the enemy in an awesome fashion. We are where I want to be. I can tell you with no apprehension that US forces can defeat any other military force in the world. The great thing here is the bad guys don't believe it. So they are engaging us and we are hitting them back, hard. And we are winning. And our success is driving the people away from the AAF (Anti-Afghani Forces) and to us. Thank God.

I saved thanking God for my last point because He is the most important element. God is here. God has always been here. He is with our troops and with our leaders. And he is listening to you. Please continue to ask him for protection over us, guidance for our leaders (which now includes me, wow!) and love in hearts to help differentiate between the good and the bad.

Sincerely,



Robert M. Woodson
Second Lieutenant, Infantry
1st PLT, A Co, 2-2 IN "Ramrods!"
R.L.T.W!