Room for the next guy

Down to the hours, now, and not a moment too soon. The Marines are here, you see, and there’s not much room for anyone else. Since the second night, we’ve been in this pre-engineered metal building towards the center of things. It a simple building, with fourteen rooms in a row and latrines on each end. Much nicer than a tent.

The first week we were in it, “they” started to tear out the bedroom furniture in one of the rooms down the hall. Much banging and dust later, they had installed desks and fiber and copper and coaxial cabling and turned it into an office. After one was complete, they move to the next, then the next, then the next, to the point where the last stick of furniture was removed from the third to last room this morning, leaving our two hooches as the only ones left to be assimilated.


This afternoon, we got the “get the hell out” note slipped under our door. I suppose they waited long enough. We’re just hoping our flight leave as planned, as we’d have to bunk back in the RSOI tent if things don’t go as planned.

And they might. Who knows? A British Harrier aborted a landing the other day and fell onto the runway, apparently causing a bit of a mess of mechanical parts and metal pieces and a few unexploded bombs and missiles. The pilot escaped minimally scathed. Unfortunate result, though, was that runway was closed for a while and the other half of our minders, the soon to retire Light Colonel, was forced to stick around another day.

What was cool was that they took all the damaged boomy stuff out to the desert and blew it up, which makes a huge cloud and big noise you could see and hear from most any place. By late yesterday, air operations seemed to normalize, so we’re somewhat confident that planes will depart from Kandahar tomorrow. I even sent one of my boys to the flight office this afternoon to make sure, and emailed the folks in charge of the airline.

My intent is to leave, get to Dubai, and have about ten hours of beer. A simple plan, really, but hinging on circumstances beyond my control.

For instance, the force posture changed this afternoon, there were detailed tests of the Big Voice, and folks started dragging out their vests and helmets. I found a Major we know near the Dutch Café who verified the situation and suggested that we get out of town as soon as possible.

Well, of course, we’ll get out of town as soon as possible, just as soon as the plane gets off of the ground.

In the mean time, I’m thinking it’s all a drill. Yesterday we had a Lieutenant General in the non-office hooch across the parking lot. He could have been staying in the same hooch as Toby Keith, Ann Curry, or Tommy LaSorda did when they were in town last month – not to imply that Toby Keith, Ann Curry, and Tommy LaSorda stayed in the same room, but this is the internet, so it must be true.

Our neighbours, it seems, are commonly VIPs, since these are the VIP digs at Kandahar (those that aren’t offices). The SECDEF was here last week, too, on his way (perhaps) to fire the general who used to run the show here. This Three Star wasn’t the new Afghanistan Commander, but he (LTG Sam Helland), is the Commander of U.S. Marine Corps Forces in the Central Command and the Commanding General of the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force (I looked it up). That seems pretty huge. Yet there he sat, on a picnic table at the KAF, thinking commanding thoughts no doubt.

I was headed to the laundry, thinking laundry thoughts.