Operation Enduring Freedom Cosplay

Posted on July 29, 2014 by Melissa M

The interwebs are all abuzz with news from Comic-Con, where it seems everybody gets to have fun dressing up as their favorite character. I play dress-up every day here at Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, but my costume isn’t much fun.

Let’s work from the feet on up:

These are my summer-weight boots. If you’ve followed me from the beginning, you know how fussy I am about my boots! Although this footwear is feather-light with lots of breathable fabric, it still feels like I’m wearing ovens on my feet.

That thing tucked into the laces on my left boot? One of my dog tags (I wear the other around my neck). I’ve had several people ask me why I put the tag in my left boot. Picking a tag foot was something I actually spent some time pondering. I have a small red birthmark on the third toe of my right foot (which you can see in this blog post), so if my right foot/leg gets blown off the chances are good it can be identified as mine by the birthmark. That’s why the tag is in the left boot — I want that dismembered limb reunited with the rest of me. These are the things you have to think about in a war zone that would never cross your mind anyplace else.

Boots are a big deal here, and having ill-fitting boots can make you miserable. My coworker Darryl is 6’5″ and a mountain of a man, and he’s on his feet all day doing construction management and inspections. He wears out boots quickly and he’s had a devil of a time finding big enough boots that fit right. Finally, after months of limping around in uniform boots that fit all wrong, he got himself an exception to policy so he could wear boots that fit, even though they don’t match his uniform:

Those big red boats are lumberjack boots, and Darryl is in heaven! He jokes that somewhere out there Ronald McDonald is going barefoot…

My trousers have cargo pockets all over the place, and I’ve learned how to pack those pockets in the most optimal way for myself. The pocket on my right calf contains my tourniquet:

Almost everybody carries one, and many people carry two (one in a leg pocket, one in a sleeve pocket). Most people also write their blood type on the red tab, but I don’t. My hope is that if I ever have to use it, it will be on somebody else and I don’t want my blood type confusing the medical staff. With all the Indirect Fire (IDF) attacks here, there is a lot of shrapnel flying around and several people have been seriously injured, so I always carry my tourniquet.

The pocket on my right thigh is where I keep my camera, sunglasses, cell phone, pedometer and fan. I have several fans and I’m not shy about fanning my sweaty, broiling self when the air conditioning is not adequate to keep me comfortable. Seriously, check out this forecast:

Totally uncalled-for.

I don’t put anything in my left-side cargo pockets except my hat. I’ve learned that sometimes you are in a crowded place and the IDF alarm goes off (INCOMING-INCOMING-INCOMING), and when you hit the floor there might not be enough room to lay flat on your belly among all the other people, so you have to lay on your side. I leave my left side pockets clear so I can lay on my left side comfortably (without hard, pointy things poking into me) in crowded places under attack. Again, things you don’t think about except when you’re in a war zone.

On my upper body I wear a plain Desert Sand colored t-shirt, on top of which I wear this rather heavy blouse:

The patch with my last name and the patch identifying me as a Department of Defense civilian are stitched in brown, which means I work for the Air Force (even though I’m assigned to the Army Garrison here). If the stitching on those patches were black, that would mean I’m an Army employee.

The triangle that says “US” is a placeholder — if I were military, that spot would show my rank. When I first got here, I noticed a lot of people approaching me on the walkways were staring at my chest all the time and it was creepy and uncomfortable. Then I realized they were trying to figure out my rank. Military members walking around outside have to salute higher-ranking personnel, and it’s sometimes difficult to tell the rank until you’re very close. It didn’t help that my lanyard often hung in the way and obscured my “rank”. Now I try to make it as obvious as possible from as far away as possible that I don’t need to be saluted.

Like the trousers, the blouse is very layer-y with lots of pockets and double-fabric reinforced areas. These garments are not very breathable, so I’m roasting most of the time wearing this uniform in the heat of summer.

The patches you wear on your sleeves identify your nationality, unit(s), and mission. On my right arm, the flag shows that I’m an American (click here to find out why it’s “backwards”) and the round patch identifies me as falling under the 966th Air Expeditionary Squadron (the Air Force unit charged with keeping tabs on all us Air Force personnel regardless of the unit to which we’re assigned):

On my left sleeve, the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) patch says I’m here for their mission, and the patch with the mountains, guns, and sword tells people I work for the US Army Garrison:

I wear a lanyard around my neck with a pouch that carries my ID card, emergency phone list, and debit card:

Like I mentioned above, I tuck the pouch into my blouse pocket so the troops approaching me on the sidewalk can tell I’m not someone to salute. To top everything off, I get my choice of patrol cap or boonie hat (neither of which does my hairdo any favors):

I wear the boonie hat in the summer not only because of the sun protection but because summer is the season for the “100 Days of Wind”. It’s very dusty and gusty, and the boonie hat has a strap so I have some hope of keeping it on my head when the winds start howling.

So, that’s how I get into costume for my job here in Afghanistan. I call it “my costume” not to mock the military members who serve in uniform, but because I’m a civilian and I really do feel like I’m playing dress-up. Wearing the uniform causes people to show me respect I feel I haven’t earned because I haven’t made the commitment the military members have made, nor am I expected to make the sacrifices that may be required of them.

On the other hand, the IDFs don’t discriminate when they come flying in. I have to hit the deck and make my way to the bunkers with everybody else, military and civilian alike. We’ve had a lot of IDF action over the last couple of days due to Eid al-Fitr: apparently one way insurgents like to celebrate the end of Ramadan is to shoot rockets at Bagram Airfield. I can think of better party games than that, just like I can think of more comfortable clothes to wear to work — but nobody is asking for my opinion.

Eid Mubarak!

POTUS, SECDEF, and Me

Posted on June 3, 2014 by Melissa M

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve visited the blogosphere, but it’s been a very busy month at Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan. I need to take a little time to catch up on all that’s happened. Working backward:

The Honorable Katherine Hammack came to visit BAF yesterday. She’s the Assistant Secretary of the Army for Installations, Energy & Environment and is the civilian rank equivalent of a 4-star general. We all spent a couple weeks working furiously on talking point papers and facility tour preparations in anticipation of her arrival. I was ready to take her on a Waste Management Dream Tour including municipal refuse handling and recycling, hazardous waste management, and the sewage plant expansion project — then my tour got cancelled due to schedule time limits and the evidently more glamorous and interesting tour of mold issues in some concrete structures. All that prep just to get preempted by moldy concrete. Harrumph!

But that’s ok, because day before yesterday I got to meet the 24th Secretary of Defense himself, Chuck Hagel!

This was the biggest honor of my career to date. Out of 25,000+ people on BAF, I was one of 200 selected to be recognized by the SECDEF (Secretary of Defense) for my contributions to the Operation Enduring Freedom mission. It’s not often that a person who manages solid waste gets kudos from a Cabinet member, so I was really thrilled to be nominated by my Garrison leadership.

Mr. Hagel “coined” me. Being coined in the military means being presented with a unit’s or individual’s medallion as a form of recognition and reward. Here’s Chuck Hagel’s coin, both sides:

Saturday we got the good news that Sgt Bowe Bergdahl, a prisoner of the Taliban for 4 years and 11 months, was freed. I know there’s a lot of controversy about the circumstances of his disappearance and the terms of his return in exchange for five Taliban prisoners from Guantanamo Bay, but I don’t care about that right now. In America you’re innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, so I’ll just be happy that he’s not a Prisoner of War anymore and let the lawyers sort out the rest.

Memorial Day week was eventful at the Garrison as we saw the departure of two employees who created more drama, controversy, and personnel turnover than any two people have a right to conjure up. Morale has improved considerably now that the generators of workplace hostilities have been removed, and we are all ready to face the coming challenges as a team instead of wasting energy on internal struggles.

The coming challenges are many: also this week the White House announced the plan for America’s presence in Afghanistan after 2014. We’ll be drawing down to 9800 troops. At Garrison we were planning for everything from Zero Option to a population of over 20,000. Now we finally know what we’re aiming for, but we have more work than ever to make it happen as the military manpower upon whom we rely for all kinds of tasks around base are thinning out in a big hurry.

On the afternoon of Memorial Day Eve we got a message from the Deputy Garrison Commander to gather at 1800 (6 pm), in uniform and without any weapons. Once assembled, we were told that an event was happening in the C-130 hangar and that attendance was mandatory for military but optional for civilians. We knew a VIP was coming, and we suspected either the President or the Vice President. Of course I opted in, and I wasn’t disappointed. First to appear was country star Brad Paisley:

He sang for about an hour. Then a Secret Service guy ran up on stage and stuck the Presidential Seal on the front of the podium and the whole place went bananas. The 10th Mountain Band struck up “Hail to the Chief” and POTUS (President of the United States) took the stage. He gave a great speech and then stuck around to shake everybody’s hand. It was an amazing event that I’ll never forget — I never expected to get that close to a sitting president in my life.

My days are crammed full as I run from meeting to meeting, respond to emails and phone calls, and try to keep my program from breaking down under the sheer weight of everything we have going on. Getting to spend time with guys who go by titles like SECDEF and POTUS was a fun distraction but I’ve just about reached my limit of excitement and could really use some boredom or at least a little slower going for a while.

I’ll be leaving in a week for Rest & Relaxation (R&R), which I sorely need. But if Obama or Hagel needs me for anything at the White House or Pentagon, I’ll be happy to serve.

God Bless America!

The Honeymoon is Over

Posted on January 4, 2014 by Melissa M

Or: Kick Me! I’m a Dog!

That shiny idealism I’ve been sporting since my arrival here has developed an ugly tarnish. I thought a project I inherited from my predecessor had been reviewed and approved by The Powers That Be here in Bagram, to include my organization and all the other stakeholder organizations. The way it was presented to me, everybody knew the plan and was on board. What could possibly go wrong?

Standing on the snow in the cold, bright sunlight of a Bagram morning recently, I was surprised to suddenly find myself on the receiving end of an aggressive and accusatory dressing-down by a certain military service member. To protect his anonymity, I’ll call him “Major Wedgie”. Major Wedgie verbally tore me apart in front of Everybody’s Big Boss – let’s call him “The General” – and his entourage and my chain of command for failing to know what he knew about the project, which was entirely different than what I had been briefed and thought I knew. I had no satisfactory answers for Major Wedgie, who seemed to get a real charge out of shredding me in front of The General.

As a fun bonus, when The General asked who is “the dog who gets kicked” over this project going forward, the non-response from my chain of command prompted me to raise my hand and say, “Me, sir.” Brilliant. (Another New Year’s Resolution: never miss an opportunity to keep your mouth shut, dumbass!)

Back at the office, I’m trying to reconcile what I heard from Major Wedgie and my organization during The General’s project site tour with what I was briefed on this project when I first arrived at BAF. It’s not like everything was super wonderful on this project before Major Wedgie came along: I was becoming ever more irritated by the people who declined to participate in the planning stages of the project (and tried to make me feel bad or stupid or small for even considering such a waste of their time) and then were complaining about how the project was executed incorrectly because it wasn’t properly coordinated with all the stakeholders during planning. Seriously? Show up or shut up, people. (New Realization: I’ve been the dog who gets kicked all along!)

The day after the ugly scene in front of The General, Major Wedgie himself came to the Garrison to discuss the project design with my boss. The Environmental Chief/Official Dog Who Gets Kicked Over This Specific Project was not invited to participate in this discussion and didn’t even know about it until it was over. Hmmmm. Perhaps here is a clue as to why I am not informed about what everybody else seems to know.

I’ve experienced several low points, annoyances, insults, and disappointments over the last couple of weeks, so I’m not really the poster child for job satisfaction right now. In fact, I don’t much like myself these days with how useless I feel in this position, which is making me grumpy and snappish. Plus I’m questioning everything I thought I knew to do here, which is exhausting. I’m feeling the tug of a downward spiral. Not good.

Despite these frustrations and the sting of embarrassment at being made a fool of in front of my chain of command, I am going to redouble my efforts to move forward and not let myself get depressed. Like many other deployers I’ve talked to, I’m at just about the right number of weeks into my service here for a standard-issue existential crisis: Why am I here? Can I do any good? When is the next plane to America? I am told this is normal and will wear off, but I’m having trouble seeing the light at the end of this particular tunnel.

Must. Push. On.

So go ahead and kick me, General. And you also, Major Wedgie. If making a public spectacle out of humiliating a relatively new civilian (who has been working hard in good faith while you’ve withheld relevant project information) is your way of demonstrating military leadership, it’s pretty clear who’s a dog in this situation. You can bite me, too.

A Very Garrison Christmas

Posted on December 27, 2013 by Melissa M

The US Army Garrison Leadership at Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, wishes you and your family a very merry and safe Christmas!

L-R: Mr. Andre Douglas, Deputy Garrison Commander; Col. Chris “Sam” Houston, Garrison Commander; and Command Sergeant Major Paul Bianco

Somebody got us a real tree! We decorated with some “real” ornaments, then used what we had lying around for the rest: shell casings, computer mice, handmade creations, oddball objects from care packages, garlands of styrofoam packing peanuts and Lucky Charms cereal. Turned out pretty darned nice!

Walk to Work with Me

Posted on December 16, 2013 by Melissa M

My office is just a 5 minute walk from my dorm, and now that I’m no longer wearing The Most Hated Boots In Bagram, it’s quite a pleasant stroll.

As I leave my dorm room, I get a spectacular view of the mighty Hindu Kush mountains if it’s a clear morning:

When I go down the stairs from my second-storey dorm room, I see these monstrous concrete things:

They’re called T-walls and they range in height from a few feet to over 20 feet depending on where they’re placed. Their main purpose is to provide protection from small arms fire and IDF attacks. IDF stands for Indirect Fire, which is when insurgents fire a projectile (typically a rocket) without a direct line of sight to the target — they just hope they hit something. IDF attacks happen frequently here depending on the time of year and political situations locally and around the world. Most of the time IDFs do little harm, but they can be quite dangerous if they hit the right target. On Thanksgiving night, an IDF killed two people here at Bagram Airfield. It was a scary night and a somber Black Friday.

There are a few static displays tucked here and there, and I walk by this one featuring Russian-era guns going to the Garrison headquarters building:

Here’s the back of the Garrison HQ building where I work:

It’s not exactly an architectural tour du force, but what it lacks in curb appeal it makes up for in sturdiness which is what you want when the IDFs are flying. The front of the building is all torn up due to construction activities, so I’ll have to show you a picture of that later. But here’s the T-wall signage that greets passers-by on Disney Drive:

My office is up the stairs:

And down this hall on the right:

I’ve hung a shingle, so Garrison Environmental is open for business:

That’s right, I’m the Chief! Here’s my office-mate David, and what I think is the fourth iteration of our office furniture arrangement (we’re test-driving different configurations until we get it perfect):

I don’t care to sit by the window; the view just isn’t worth it:

Even with the window open you can see I’m not missing much:

And here I am at my desk taking a brief break from what is undoubtably important Environmental Chief business:

That unruly mop of bed-head doesn’t detract from my chiefly authority, does it? (I blame the requirement to wear a hat with the uniform.)

Tactical Underwear

one civilian woman's deployment to Afghanistan

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