The Unawriter's Lair

The Last Mission

Early  this morning, Oregon's own 162 Engineers completed their final mission before their redeployment back home to the Pacific Northwest. I was very lucky to have the opportunity to go with them and take some photos. Here are a few from the past 36 hours:

 
Volleyball by star shell and tracer light (trace is left of lower smoke trail). Night before 162's final mission. This is all friendly, coming from a range nearby.

 

 
Chem lights mark the boundaries of the court.

 

Pre-dawn preparations for the final mission of the deployment.

 
Sunrise over Leatherneck.

 
Our driver Silas Rogers. Formerly of Monmouth, current Arizona resident.

 
I doubt the U of O alumni magazine will ever print this photo! Go Ducks! #1 Baby!

 
Lt. Andrew Carlstrom, PL for this mission. Always smiling, always upbeat, he is a ball of positive energy.

 
Dismounted and sweeping the road ahead.

 
SSG Sisley, Platoon Sergeant for 162nd's 3rd Platoon.

 

 

Dallas resident Sgt. Bill Sickendick, sweeping for IED's on the edge of Helmand Province's notorious Green Zone.

 
Sweeping at sunset.

 

 
Dusk on the edge of the Green Zone.

 
Rogers in the driver's seat, en route home.

 

Back home, refueling after 24 hours on mission. This was a short one. Usually, 162 stays out for up to 8-10 days at a stretch.

 

The 162's replacement unit, 309th Engineers (Reserves from Minnesota) went on a right-seat, left-seat ride on this mission. Here is Spc. Miller, 309th Eng., refueling the Buffalo MRAP after a long day in the field.

A Moment With the Brits

 
Yesterday, the Brits came to trade more swag. This was quite a moment for me, and I surrendered a combat shirt and a Czech Army t-shirt for a British desert uniform. In the process, I got to know Staff Sergeant Kenny McDonald a little bit. Below is a story he told me about his family's experience during World War II.

   

 

The Place Where Mettle Grows

 

 

 

Back in the 90’s, when I was interviewing World War II vets, my last question was usually something like this: “Given all that this country has been through, and how it has changed since VJ-Day, do you think we could do it again?”

 

The vast majority of these combat vets would sadly shake their head and say, “Now way.” I remember one who said, “The younger generations just don’t have the mettle.”

 

Well, bunk. No mettle? Let me introduce you to Specialist Jake Eaves, an Independence resident who graduated from Western Mennonite in 2004. Jake’s married and has a two year old boy. Of his son, Jake’s friend PFC Rick Gay quips, “Yeah, he’s smarter than you!” This Jake does not dispute, “Hell yeah he is!” says the proud 24 year old father.

 

 
I first met Jake last summer when he was home on leave. He’d come into Andy’s cafe while I was there and I bought his family breakfast. Out here, I ran into Jake the first night I arrived at Leatherneck. Tonight, I got a chance to talk with him as we watched the other guys play volleyball.

 

Not long before Jake went home on his mid-tour leave last summer, his MRAP struck an IED while traversing a wadi. Jake was in the left rear seat and it was the left rear tire that detonated the blast. He was thrown up into the steel crossbar running along the underside of the vehicle’s roof. In fact, his helmet hit so hard that he actually broke the weld on the crossbar. His back has been jacked up ever since.

 

Some would call it quits at that point. The injury was severe enough that Jake probably could have spent the rest of his deployment on the base, or at home rehabbing his back. In fact, he said to me, “I had to fight to get back out.”

 

Pardon me? Who actually wants to go back out and look for mines and bombs—especially after getting blown up by one?

 

Guys like Jake, that’s who. He went home on leave, returned to theater and finally was able to get back out with 4^th Platoon. On his first mission back, his rig got hit with another IED.

 

Explains Jake, “I couldn’t stay behind on the FOB while my guys went out.”

 
 

Neither could Kent “Hat Trick” Hermanson. Kent is a North Dakota native who moved to Independence after marrying an Oregonian. In one difficult night, Kent’s MRAP took three IED strikes. The blasts affected Kent’s hand eye coordination so severely that when given a test, he scored in the bottom seven percentile. It was weeks before he regained his coordination, but Kent kept agitating to go back out on missions. He finally did, and when asked why, he nonchalantly replied, “It is what we’re here to do. Besides the platoon was short men.”

 

PFC Richard “Rick” Gay holds the record for IED strikes. “I’ve been really lucky on this deployment,” Rick said during our conversation. Yeah. He told me that after he explained how he’d been hit five times by roadside bombs. Five—four HME’s (Home Made Explosives) and one anti-tank mine that blew off the back of his Husky, a single-seat MRAP that leads all of 162’s formations.

 

The first IED his vehicle hit exploded while Rick was in the turret, throwing shrapnel all over the front of the MRAP. Miraculously, one of the spotlights mounted atop the windshield deflected the shrapnel that otherwise would have struck Rick in the turret.

 

His rig took two more IED strikes on later missions. Later, while driving point for his platoon behind the wheel of a Husky, two more IED’s blew up under his vehicle. Somehow, despite all these close encounters with enemy bombs, Rick emerged virtually unscathed.

 

During one mission over the summer, his platoon escorted a Marine unit into an IED-infested area. Rick’s Husky took a hit. The Marines behind deviated from the platoon’s path, which meant they rolled across terrain that the engineers had not cleared. It was a disastrous mistake, one that underscored the critical nature of what these engineers do. One after another, bombs and mines exploded until eight Marine vehicles lay crippled. The platoon ran out of wrecking assets to deal with the situation, and the Quick Reaction Force from FOB Leatherneck had to come out and recover the remaining vehicles.

 

Such missions last for days. At times, Rick spent over twenty-four hours straight in the confines of the Husky’s single seat cockpit. Other missions find the men out beyond the FOB’s protective walls for days on end. At times, the nature of the job requires the men to sit inside their armored MRAP’s for over sixty hours at a stretch. They sleep sitting in their seats during breaks at night, as in this part of Afghanistan, it is simply too dangerous to get out and throw a poncho liner on the ground.

 

How do these men endure such conditions, surrounded by the ever-present reality that one false move could trigger the next bomb? Said Rick, “We’ve learned to lean on each other.”

 

Jake echoes that, “We trust each other completely.”

 
 

I wish that the WWII vets I interviewed a decade ago were still alive. They looked at America through a different lens. They saw weakness, a slow slide that drained our power as a nation. If they were still with us, I’d point to men like Jake and Rick and Kent and say that these men represent all that they thought was lost in our society.

 

What’s more, they’re volunteers. And citizen-soldiers. They’ve shouldered the load of a global war, despite disinterest at home and apathy abroad. They ride into battle every day with an unseen enemy who is cunning and skilled. They get hit. They go out again. And again. And again.

 

Mettle like that will never know defeat.

 

 

Polk County Leads the Way (for the Marines)

 
Greetings from Helmand Province, home of the world's poppy supply, such scary-sounding places as the Green Zone, the Witches' Hat, and the Snakehead--plus boatloads of chisled Marines--and one tiny company of Oregon National Guardsmen from Polk and Marion Counties. Led by Sherwood's Captain Bob Baca, a former Division 2 tight end who was Ft. Lewis College's seventh leading all-time receiver, this band of Oregonians have saved countless lives since arriving in Afghanistan earlier this year.

Two days ago, I linked up with the 162 Engineers, 82nd Brigade. These men, and one woman, have been leading the way into battle since January. For the Marines. Yes, that is right, our local boys are the tip of the spear on missions out here. Their job: route clearance. What does this mean? It means they drive ahead of Marine convoys and combat forces to search out roadside bombs.

 
They've found more than a few. In fact, in ten months in country, the company's two Oregon platoons have run about 90 missions each. they've found about 110 roadside bombs. They've also been hit by another 65 or so that went off on their vehicles, or in one case, an NCO who was dismounted. In the latter incident, the NCO survived without a wound when the IED misfired and blew the blasting cap off the device. The cap knocked the NCO's water bottle clean out of his pocket.

Sixty-five detonations. One Husky Driver has had five of his single-seat MRAP's blown out from under him. This is serious business, and these Oregonians have approached it with creativity, intelligence and great dedication. Not only that, they've maintained incredible morale and are one of the tightest units I've ever encountered.

They are also my neighbors. The 162 is based in Dallas, though they had to move to Salem just before they left because their ancient armory got condemned.  A new one is being built not far from the Safewauy on Ellendale, something the guys are really looking forward to seeing once it is complete.

Last night, they had a post-Portland Marathon BBQ, and I hung out with them eating dogs and burgers. Craig Marston's kids go to my wife and daughters' schools. Kyle Stimpson is an old friend who came over and played Halo 3 in my office with my clan and Ben Taylor. I looked around the party and could not believe, here at the edge of the world, I'd been reuintied with these terrific people. For a few hours, I felt like I was home.

Of course, at BBQ's back in Independence, we don't swap pants. In this case, the Brits showed up with assault packs stuffed with Limey swag. Battle uniforms, jackets, shorts--they had the works. Pretty soon, they were stuffing armloads of ACU swag into garbage bags as  trade for their gear. We;'re going over to their compound later to see if we can snag more stuff. "We love each other's gear," is how Kyle put it. Kyle's got several complete uniforms already. Craig's got everything but the Uk booney hat.

After dinner and an awards ceremony for all the engineers who ran the Portland Marathon here, the guys went off and played some volleyball. ever creative, they's strung a net between two MRAP's. They use the vehicles and their spotlights to illuminate the playing area. The photos here are from that hotly contested match.

 The 162 has driven all over Helmand Province for almost a year. They are short time now, ready to come home. Long before I get back to the land of emerald valleys, these courageous and steel-nerved men will be safe the arms of their loved ones. If ever there will be a well-deserved reunion, it will be theirs. At times, when the 162nd has not been used to clear the way for the Marines,  men get hurt. With their skill, knowledge and great daring, they have ensured countless reunions will take place across the country when the Marine units they have supported finally come home, too. And that is an incredible legacy. The 162 has earned a significant spot in the history of the Oregon Guard.

 

"We're Not Leaving You, Brother."

 

Logar Province, Eastern Afghanistan

September 18, 2010

Election Day

 

 The two Oregon National Guard CH-47 Chinook helicopters roared between saw tooth ridges of the Hindu Kush Mountains, bound for a remote NATO outpost under enemy attack. Each Chinook carried two pilots, two door gunners, a flight engineer and half a platoon of Polish infantry assigned to reinforce the beleaguered garrison.

 

The hundred-foot long Chinooks seemed like toys compared to the sprawling backdrop of treeless, rock-strewn mountains that peaked above their rotor blades. The four pilots, chief warrant officers Joe Speal and Eric West in 262, Kyle Evarts and Anson Smith in 073, had received this mission while out on election morning flying Afghani soldiers to isolated villages to help protect the polling sites. The new task would not be an easy one. To get to the outpost required taking the Chinooks to 12,000 feet without oxygen.

  e

The two ship flight sped through the mountain range, then broke out into the clear over a dry lake bed that stretched for miles. On the other side, ridgelines over twelve thousand feet high awaited.

 

For the combined Washington and Oregon air crews of Pendleton and Fort Lewis-based Bravo, 1-168 Aviation, the rugged countryside adds complexity to an already difficult mission, one in which their services are in great demand 24/7. Once again, an element of the Oregon National Guard has found a spot center stage during a climactic time in the War on Terror. Afghanistan is a country without a robust road network. Supplying far-flung NATO bases with vehicular convoys is simply is not possible. Blackhawk helicopters abound, but at the high altitudes of Eastern Afghanistan they can’t carry many troops or supplies.

 

In this mountainous environment, the Chinooks shine. Capable of carrying everything from trucks slung under their hulls to ten thousand pounds of food, water, weapons and ammunition, the CH-47 is the delivery system that keeps the outlying NATO bases in the fight.

 

During the run up before the election, the Chinooks had flown American and Afghani solders, officials and ballots into isolated villages all over the Logar Province. These teams then established polling locations and protected them from Taliban attack. For the Pacific Northwesterners, the election became a case study of democracy by air assault. Without their helicopters, the people of this rural and impoverished province would not have had a voice in the political process.

 

As the two Chinooks reached the last set of mountains before their destination, Eric West began to climb for more altitude. In his civilian life, West works for Boeing in the Seattle area and is also a flight instructor. In his younger days, he once found a job as an announcer in a strip club to help pay his college bills. He sometimes uses his “announcer voice” over the radio to provide a little levity.

 

Beside him sat 262’s pilot-in-command, Joe Speal. A native of Georgia, forty-seven year old Speal has spent over two decades in Army aviation and is currently on his second consecutive combat tour in Afghanistan. Capable and experienced, his knowledge of the local area has been invaluable to the freshly arrived Guardsmen.

 

As West climbed 262 above 12,000 feet, the Chinook suffered catastrophic mechanical failure. The oil temperature gauge began to spike. The flight engineer, Staff Sergeant Jerrik Haman, whipped out a screwdriver and opened a panel over the helicopter’s loading ramp to see if he could detect the problem. Coils of smoke spun out of the compartment to fill the aircraft with the stench of burning oil.

 

 In the cockpit, Speal smelled the smoke and knew they were in trouble. The Chinook’s aft transmission system was starting to fail, causing the oil circulating in it to overheat. In such failures, the oil can ignite. Speal later said, “We were sixty seconds from catching fire.”

 

Speal turned to West, “Land this aircraft now.” The Washington native rolled the CH-47 into a fifty degree diving bank. “The aircraft essentially free-falls at that angle,” West remarked. In thirty seconds, the helicopter dropped almost two thousand two hundred feet as 262’s nose came around in a 180 degree turn. Fortunately, the lake bed was not far away. At five hundred feet, he leveled the helicopter and dropped it onto the parched Afghan soil. In seconds, Sneal shut the engines down even as the Poles in back poured off the ramp to establish a protective perimeter around the crippled aircraft.

 

Overhead, Kyle Evarts, a regular army pilot, and Anson Smith, an Oregon National Guardsman who drills out of Pendleton, orbited 262 to provide cover with their three machine guns. Evarts, a highly experienced active army aviator, radioed for help. A nearby Apache gunship pilot on another mission responded and told the Guardsmen that he and his gunner were on the way.

 

As the downed crew waited, curious villagers began to gather around the landing site. Evarts and Smith made low passes over them in an attempt to get them to keep their distance. A few minutes later, they touched down and reinforced the security perimeter with their load of Polish infantry.

 

These were critical moments. Without the firepower an Apache can provide, the men on the ground were terribly vulnerable to a sudden enemy attack.

 

It took thirteen minutes for the Apache to arrive. “Longest thirteen minutes of my life,” West quipped.

 

When at last the Apache reached the area, Evarts radioed the gunship’ crew to ask, “How much fuel do you have?”

 

The Apache pilot didn’t hesitate. He keyed his mic, “Doesn’t matter. We’re not leaving you, Brother.”

 

On the ground, West and Speal breathed a sigh of relief. There would be no Blackhawk Down scenario this day. The Taliban are simply too fearful of the Apache’s rockets, missiles and 30mm automatic cannon to brave an assault with one overhead. As a result, the relationship between Chinook and Apache crews is particularly close. “It is a brotherhood. They are angels on our shoulders,” noted Bravo Company’s commanding officer, Pendleton native Captain John Hoffman. “They are always there watching out for us.”

 

Meanwhile, every helicopter and aircraft in the area streaked to 262’s assistance. A quick reaction force of American troops from Task Force Brawler’s “Ground Combat Platoon” arrived to join the perimeter, along with a Downed Aircraft Recovery Team that included mechanics from 1-168 reached the area to assess what repairs would be needed.

 

Toward dusk, a special field repair unit flew in from Bagram Air Force Base to work fourteen hours straight in freezing weather to get 262 back into the air. They extracted the burnt transmission and replaced it with a new one. A relief crew stayed with the aircraft despite the subzero temperature, sharing one sleeping bag for the five aviators in an effort to keep warm.

 

At dawn the next morning, 262 returned home. The incident did not slow the pace of operations here at all. The Chinooks and its aviators went right back into the air that morning. That’s the way things work here in RC-East as the surge reaches its climax. These birds and their accomplished, professional crews are needed to sustain the fight. “We can’t do this job without them,” acknowledged Colonel Don Galli, the 3^rd Combat Aviation Brigade’s commanding officer. Right now, Bravo Company is the only Guard element of the 3^rd Combat Aviation Brigade.

 

Despite the scare, there was work to be done. “We continue mission,” West said as he grabbed his gear in the hours after his emergency landing. In one two week period, West has been shot at with a rocket propelled grenade, forced down by engine failure, then flew into a landing zone that had been mortared and rocketed by the enemy. Looking back on those tense moments over the Hindu Kush, West said, “This was the most significant event I’ve experienced in a Chinook. God was with us in the cockpit that day.”

 

West strapped on his helmet and rejoined his crew. Together these aerial brothers and sisters flew back into the fight.

 

 

 

Note: This story was read and approved by 262's crew, Captain Hoffman, TF Brawler's PAO and Brawler 6. It was copy edited by 1st Sgt. Bradley Stanley. I was on 262 and am grateful to have been with Joe and Eric, two pilots whose skill and experience saved many lives that day.

Anson Smith: Bravo's Flying Former Marine

 

Tara Smith recently wrote the Lair and asked for some photos of her husband, Anson. Anson's a former Marine who lives in Washington's tri-city area, but belongs to the Oregon National Well, as it happened, I have kind of  small mountain of Anson photos. Aside from Joe Speal, I've flown more with Anson than any other pilot in the company. He is also one of the company's true characters. Dead pan humor, murderously funny quips and one liners--these are Anson's trademarks. He is absolutely hilarious and makes flying with him a total blast. He's also a great guy. He treats everyone with the same personable approach no matter rank or position. He's loyal, and is willing to go far beyond the standard to get the job done, or to help a fellow soldier out.

And, let's face it. Anson also belongs on GQ's cover. He totally knows how to strike a pose. See bottom photo for confirmation.

Anyway, Tara, I hope this glimpse into Anson's life out here helps sustain you through these painful days of separation. I know Anson's not due back on leave until after the new year, so when I get back from Helmand Province, I will post a video of Anson I shot last month.

For everyone else who has written to me--thank you so much for your emails. I do appreciate them. I will answer every one, I promise. Right now I've been swamped getting ready to move south for a short time to see the engineers from my hometown and county in action. I'll be back soon and will write as often as net and time allows!

 

Thanks,

 

John B.

 

 

 

 

 

Word from Home

 

 

Today, news reached me that my son, Eddie, is in the local paper. What a joy to read the article and find my boy has continued running. To get in shape for this Afghanistan trip, I started running and lifting weights in the spring. Later, I added hill repeats and six to nine mile hikes in the Coast Range with forty to sixty pounds of gear on my back. Eddie began running with me over the summer. In July, he ran the mini-marathon with Jenn and I during Western Days over the 4th.

 

Great job, son! Can't be more proud of you!

 

http://www.itemizerobserver.com/DIONews22.shtml

The Children of the Valley

Scenes from today's patrol:

 

Sunrise over Logar Province.

 

 

 Specialist Stephanie Desender. She has the heart of a warrior and Julia Roberts' smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

That's Captain Andrew Alvord, TF Brawler's Fighting Quartermaster and commander of the Ground Combat Platoon.

Morning in the LZ

Today, I was lucky enough to join Brawler Six and the rest of the incredible bunch known as The Ground Combat Platoon as they went to say goodbye to all the Afghan friends they've made in a valley not far from our FOB. This was the first photo I snapped as we exited Bravo Company's Chinooks.

 
That's SFC Middleton in foreground. He is the GCP's platoon sergeant. Great guy. Have loved hanging out with him on these missions.

 

 

The Sound of Afghanistan

At the end of August, I was walking to my gate at Portland International Airport when I heard the haunting lilt of a cello. I stopped in my tracks and listened. Beautiful, whispy, almost hallowed notes flowed through the terminal. I looked until I saw the cellist. I walked over and said hello when he finished his song.  I told him I was heading for Afghanistan, and his music sounded exactly like a soundtrack to a nation torn by war. He shook my hand and wished me luck. I bought his CD and carried it with me here.

At night, if I can't sleep, I listen to his compositions and marvel at how much heart shines through every note he plays. Perhaps it was my preconception; perhaps it was just fate that I heard his music when I did. But to me, his cello and his music fits this beautiful and traumatized place with seemless perfection.

Adam Hurst is the artist's name. He's an Oregonian, and you can find him here: http://www.adamhurststudio.com/

I write tonight about Adam beause I've used one of his songs as the soundtrack to the first of many videos I'll be cutting together and posting here at the lair. Before you watch it, I need to apologize for the poor quality. I'm actually shooting everything in HD with my EOS-7D. The footage is incredible, the videographer not so much. But, trying to post a full HD video that is almost 4 minutes long would have required better net access than we have here. So I am posting what I can right now, and if I get to a place with faster internet, such as Bagram, I'll post a higher quality version.

Here are some moments that I have shared with Bravo Company. I hope you enjoy.

 

John B.

 PS: The song I used is called, "Return."