WHAT YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE BEEN TOLD ABOUT BEING DEPLOYED!

 

What does it mean to be deployed in the military or deployed as a civilian contractor?

By definition, to be deployed is to move into position for military action. Deployment refers to assigning people to serve in various locations. They are like pieces on a chess board that government officials move around.

The definitions do not include any of the whirlwind emotions of being deployed, whether military or civilian.  One of my most asked questions is what was it like to be deployed to a war zone?  I can only answer as a civilian who has been deployed over and over again for 4 ½ years to war zone.

When I talked with my military sons about being deployed, I could hear emotions go into overdrive or lack of emotions depending on where they were deployed and what their family status was at the time resulting in something different to each person. For example, a person like myself with all three sons grown and out of the house and a supportive wife is a completely different dynamic than a person with a husband or wife left behind with young children at home. The stress on the family and marriage can be incredibly overwhelming on both sides. Soldiers and their families feel as though their worlds have been disrupted and turned upside-down.

One of the first things I learned on being deployed to a “war zone” was trying to keep yourself alive! Callous and shocking, that is the real world. And in some ways it was easier than dealing with the issues back home in the states. The Military requires soldiers to have a battle buddy to help them stay in the right frame of mind as everyone at one point will be hit with all phases of feelings and emotions.  A shitty/bad day is a good day because everyone is having a shitty/bad day .. thus, enjoy the suck!  Not on a mission or nothing to do?  Then go to the gym, even 2 or 3 times a day. Or go snake hunting in an abandoned building.  I enjoyed the soldiers’ ingenious ways to keep themselves busy and keep their heads up and living like that day might be their last. It is actually freeing to feel that way.

For me being deployed became a mind game. I jokingly asked my fellow deployees, “do you know what the difference is between a prison and a military base in a war zone?”  A prison has fences and walls to keep the bad people in with the good people out. Military bases (in a war zone)  the fence and walls are to keep the bad people out and the good people in. But in both, those inside the wire have free meals, gyms and a restricted way of life. HAHA

On deployment you have to be your own advocate. You have to be creative, hunt people down, don’t take “no” for an answer.  Each problem has its unique set of issues requiring "outside the box solutions.” I learned you always had to make the best of a bad situation and you can’t assume anything on deployments. I had to figure out how to travel to each job site and began to wonder why does everything have to be so hard and so difficult? You don’t just jump into your car or truck and drive there.  There has to be a mission plan, steps taken to implement the plan along with a great amount of intel on enemy activity and how to reduce the risk as much as possible.  I even had to travel to another base, in a military convoy, just to get a haircut and mail letters.  Everything will be twice as hard, whether it is running out of tooth paste, getting a haircut, or anything we take for granted in America.  We had to constantly be on alert status, being aware of your environment and realizing there are people looking to kill you for no reason other than you are American.  Even when out on a walking patrol, is that kid throwing a rock or grenade at me? One time when kids were throwing rocks at us and hit one of my US Army guardian soldiers (those who protected me) above his eye, he had to get a couple stitches.

Many people back home have no idea of what it is like to be deployed. For example, I know of a person getting a home loan and the mortgage people back in the States just couldn’t seem to get it in their mind that things are different in a war zone. No matter how many times the lender was told there is no such thing as overnight mail service from a war zone, the lender just couldn’t understand why the mail would not arrive overnight. 

Deployments are undoubtedly one of the hardest periods of one’s life. For the military soldiers coming home after a deployment the thoughts go through your head when will be my next deployment? For the civilian contractor you start looking for a new contract/job within the last couple months of the one you are on that is ending. In both cases you are thinking to yourself how many days until I get to go home. It seems you just get home and finally feel a sense of normalcy with family and friends when it is time to deploy all over again….that is the ugly beast of being deployed!

After a tour in a war zone, coming back to the states can feel like being in prison. Too many people in the stores, too many cars on the road, too many strangers, too many rules, no more battle buddy and no feelings of “I might not be here tomorrow.”  It can cause many to prefer to stay deployed.

One of the best things that happened to me after I got home was a Viet Nam veteran friend of mine invited me to one meeting of his fellow Viet Nam vets. Us civilian contractors have never had battle buddies or a support system when we come home. I was surprised they accepted me into their circle because I was a civilian contractor, not prior military. I felt a bit of relief knowing that there were others with the same experiences and feelings.

Most Americans, including government workers who have never been deployed, will never understand the suck. There are no words for what you have and are going through. I hope I can shed some light on the world of deployments to those who haven’t been.

I personally thank the deployed for all you have and are doing. As nuts as it sounds I miss that world and wish I was back. At times I feel like the character in the book “Lost Horizon” by James Hilton, that once the main character left the world of Shangri-La, like being deployed, he was never able to find his way back.

God Bless and stay safe

Mr. Rich

 

My hope is that my book opens eyes to the reality in Afghanistan. “ONE BRICK at a TIME” by Rich Walton, Available at https://www.onebrickatatimepress.com

TRIGGERED MEMORIES

 

The other day I was sitting on my front porch watching the sun set and heard a Black Hawk Helicopter fly overhead. It was a sound I have heard a hundred times before. The familiar wish-wish sound of the whirling blades and twin engines immediately transported me back to Afghanistan where so many times I sat alone in some remote, desolate place for hours waiting to hear.  I would strain my eyes looking up hoping to see a small black dot in the sky that would be the helicopter coming to rescue me, to pick me up and take me back to the safety of my “home base” with my own bed, good food, warm water showers and the ever friendly faces asking me about my latest adventures and what I saw.

There was never any guarantee that a helicopter would show up and there was no guarantee even if it did that there would be room for me. The war zone was a fluid environment with thousands of moving parts and ever changing situations.  Plus, there was a seniority for getting rides on helicopters in the war zone, and me being a civilian contractor, placed me at the bottom of the list, unless I was with some high ranking US military officer.  But that didn’t happen very often.

And there was that ever menacing disrupter the “The Taliban.”  If I was in an area that came under attack the helicopters would not land, they would pass me by, leaving me to get out of harm’s way and try to get a ride another day.

I soon recognized each sound of the various helicopters I rode on. Some were military and some were operated by civilian companies. Actually some of the civilian helicopter company’s headquarters were not far from my home in Oregon. It felt very cool to fly in those and talk with the pilots bringing memories of home.

A couple days after this front porch experience, I was using a plastic outhouse (porta potty) while camping on the Washington Coast.  The unusual hot sun beating down on this small foul smelling toilet enclosure brought memories flowing back to Afghanistan.  One of the differences is this porta potty was not enclosed in sand bags, as in Afghanistan, to keep the bullets and shrapnel fragments from nearby exploding mortars and rockets putting an end to my life while sitting in such a vulnerable position. This is not how I want to be remembered.

I never know what sounds, smells, tastes or sights are lurking around the corner to trigger memories of past experiences in the war zone.  Not all bad or traumatic, there are just as many good and wonderful memories of the many friends I made and experiences I had with the people in Afghanistan, including the other countries deployed there. Just the other day I was watching the news and after seeing pictures of Afghan villages I remembered the happy smiling faces of the boys sitting in the schools I had just helped finish building.  What a satisfying feeling that was, knowing this would forever transform these Afghan boys and their family’s lives..

One thing upon returning I never expected, was myself lecturing my young grandchildren about how you always need to be aware of your surroundings. You never know what direction a crazy person will attack from? And just like Afghanistan you are pretty much on your own. There will likely be no police or person there to protect you. But wait a moment, am I being paranoid because of returning from a third world war Zone? I thought I left those dangers behind me in Afghanistan to return to safe America, one of the things I always had to look forward to. But after driving around my home town of Portland, Oregon which once was a beautiful city, now in certain places, resembles a lawless “Third World” country, with garbage all around and boarded up windows, inhabited by thieves, drug addicts and who knows what else. What is my government doing or not doing? I remember seeing pictures of the once beautiful city of Sarajevo, Yugoslavia which hosted the 1984 winter Olympics now destroyed and wondered how could this possibly have happen?  Now I see that same transformation in my own backyard.

I wonder …  did I really leave a third world country and war zone behind me or did I just move to a different location?

The world of “Triggered Memories”, the war zone gift.

God speed and stay safe

Mr. Rich

My hope is that my book opens eyes to the reality in Afghanistan. “ONE BRICK at a TIME” by Rich Walton, available at https://www.onebrickatatimepress.com

THE HUMANIZATION of WAR

 

At times I wonder what the sole purpose and meaning of writing my book and what am I trying to accomplish in writing these blogs. I have racked by brain at times, stared at my computer screen, or looked off into the distance as some of my veteran friends call the 50 yard stare.

So how do I bring my personal experience to fruition, to light, so that others can understand what war really is? I'm not referring to make believe, bang bang action movies or video games, that in my opinion have created a desensitization, a make believe world where people can experience without the real horrors, heartbreaks, smells and sounds in the war environment. The game characters can come back to life and actors in the movies are actually still alive.

So yesterday I was at a family birthday party sitting next to our nephews soulmate who happens to be a real author, whose books have hit #1 in New Releases.  She asked me how my book publishing was going, and I replied that it’s definitely a lot more complicated than I ever thought it would be. I originally thought I would write my experiences on paper so others could see and feel the emotions I experienced being and working in a war zone. She proceeded to tell me how she enjoyed my blogs of my upcoming book and that she was probably not my target audience.   

What? I had to sit back and think about what she just said,” target audience?”  Until just now, I had not really given that much thought.  I even had to google what a blog was when my publisher asked me to start writing blogs about my book.  At best I was merely a “story teller” writing about my experiences, not really thinking of myself as a bona fide author comparing myself to her, who writes books and travels around the United States giving lectures and interviews.   Who is my target audience? I know I have a story to tell, and I thought in some way I would be able to write it all down and throw in some personal conversations with friends, family, military, students of all ages and the general public. Basically everyone.

She continued to explain that she really loved my blogs and that my blogs had pulled her into a world that she would have never thought much about.  With deep passion she went on to explain the emotions and feelings she got from reading them. My Blogs HUMANIZED the War for her. 

WOW …  She had my head spinning.

On my way home I was explaining the conversion to my wife, and it dawned on me. I never once thought my writings would have such an emotional impact on anyone. To truly look in her eyes and see the genuine sincerity left me at a loss for words. I believed at best my blogs would be an extension of my book so people could better understand the War zone from my perspective, when in actuality, what she said I am creating is “The Humanization of War!”

She lit a fire in me. Sharing my stories of the Afghanistan people, adults and children caught in the cross fire, I now feel I have a mission to tell my stories that took me from the naivety and unawareness of what I experienced when I walked through that door into the world of the War Zone. My hope is through my book and future blogs I will be able to bring to light what have I seen, smelled and even tasted in a War Zone.  For some it may be a walk down memory lane, but to others as my friend told me, brought her into a world she never experienced and how I emotionally created “the Humanization of War.”

Thank you, Candice, for opening up and sharing your thoughts and personal emotions with me.

My hope is that my book opens eyes to the reality in Afghanistan. “ONE BRICK at a TIME” by Rich Walton, Available at https://www.onebrickatatimepress.com

HOLIDAYS & BIRTHDAYS IN A WAR ZONE

 

A couple weeks ago celebrating one of my grand-daughters birthdays in Oregon, as she was about to blow out the candles I had a flashback of my deployments in Afghanistan, a quick reminder of all the holidays, birthdays and Anniversaries I missed.

The US military and the local Afghans tried their best to make it not so hard for both deployed military and civilians, and I was thankful for this. But it obviously was not the same as home.

BIRTHDAYS - Just another normal evening in Afghanistan, I went to the DFAC for dinner on my 62^nd birthday.  There was no one I knew, so I sat by myself eating salad, canned tuna fish and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.  No cake and no pie .. so I ate 3 oatmeal cookies.   We are reminded all the time to be on suicide watch and look for signs from our fellow soldiers and civilians, so I guess the soldier was doing his part when he asked if I was ok.  Feeling lonely, especially missing family, is a demon you are constantly fighting on War Zone deployments.  Sometimes, It took all my strength to be positive and upbeat.  In reality it is Damn depressing at times.  At least my job had me out all over the place rather than just sitting behind a desk on a large base. 

EASTER - I was on an Italian & Spanish base for one Easter and since the dining hall was run by the Spanish and Italians, the decorations had nothing to do with Easter bunnies or rabbits or anything traditional Easter in America. Their Easter food was mostly fish that looked like little Piranha’s, with the heads still on and bread.  They served wine for their Easter meal except to us Americans as US Military and those assigned to them are not allowed alcohol. 

All other Easters I celebrated in Afghanistan at US Base dining halls (DFAC).  We had turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and sometimes pie. The further out you got into Austere and Remote areas the less quality the meals became.  Same for decorations.  The bases that had a Chaplain had special Easter Services for the various denominations.

4^th OF JULY - The US Military does a great 4^th of July with as many decorations and American flags that could be jammed in the dining halls. Generally, the menu consists of a Bar-B-Q with hot dogs, hamburgers and Chicken.  If we were lucky, a cherry pie and a strawberry desert with maybe ice cream.

My favorite 4^th of July was after dark with my Air Force Engineers sitting on the roof of one of our buildings watching and cheering our 4^th of July fireworks - giant flares being shot into the air by the US Military artillery.  I wondered what the Taliban in the surrounding areas were thinking? 

THANKSGIVING - At Thanksgiving on another military base, an Afghan drove a car onto base, and upon opening the trunk, it was full of live turkeys. The Afghan interpreter brought the turkeys to the base for US Soldiers to celebrate Thanksgiving! The turkeys all jumped out of the trunk and started running all over the base with the Afghans and US Soldiers trying to catch them. I watched and laughed as it looked like something out of a silent movie with Charlie Chaplin.  Only in Afghanistan, you just can’t make these things up.

CHRISTMAS - Christmas was the most celebrated holiday in the War Zone on US Military bases, while I was there. The US Military served the best Christmas lunches and dinners with a ton of food flown in, including all the trimmings that it can possibly get to each base.  Making it a lot of fun, the military officers and high ranking NCO’s generally served the food.  Also, each base received care packages for everyone, military & civilian, from all kinds of organizations from the USA and USO.  

My most memorable Christmas meal in Afghanistan was when the local workers went all out with the food and decorations. They had carved melons and pumpkins and even Ice Sculptures of all kinds of characters. Some were Dinosaurs. I have no idea why they thought Dinosaurs had something to do with Christmas, but they were impressive and gave us Americans a good laugh and lifted our spirts.

One Christmas at a small base, a young US Air Force girl sketched a cartoon caricature of me as a joke.  At home for our family’s traditional Christmas dinner, my wife blew up the sketch and put it on our Christmas Dinner table for all to see.  Hmmmm …. I thought I better remind them I am still alive .. 

ROMANIAN CHRISTMAS - I spent a lot of time with the Romanians, so it was nice to be invited to their Christmas eve program and their Christmas day service. The Evening program included a choir singing Romanian Christmas songs and a play that had something to do with a goat and a Gypsy Woman, it was hard to know as it was all in Romanian, but I really enjoyed both. The next day I was the only American at the Romanian Church Service which included receiving holy water on my head. 

AFGHAN HOLIDAYS - Besides the American holidays it was important for me to have an understanding of some of the Afghan Holidays. Not only did it create a better friendship with the Afghans, but it also addressed possible delays in the construction timeline, as workers would slow down on the job sites or not even show up at all, such as with the Afghan Holiday, Ramadan,  which is a month long observance.  I made it a point to remind the military and civilian engineers of these holidays to be prepared for the progress on the jobs to slow down or completely stop. One time I even bought a lamb for one celebration and festival.

DEPLOYMENT HOLIDAY THOUGHTS - I really didn’t realize how much our holidays meant to me until I didn’t have them anymore. For four years I missed every Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, our wedding anniversaries, my wife’s, sons, and my birthdays.  I was still on the road out in the boonies, stuck in a wood shack for Father’s Day one time instead of spending a nice day with my family and just relaxing at home.  Then I would be reminded the next day is an Afghan National Holiday for when the Russians left Afghanistan and all the Afghans would take that day off to celebrate.  But of course … just another work day for me.

My hope is that my book opens eyes to the reality in Afghanistan. “ONE BRICK at a TIME” by Rich Walton, available at https://www.onebrickatatimepress.com

"WAR IS BUSINESS and BUSINESS IS GOOD"

 

WHAT ARE ALL THESE COUNTRIES DOING HERE?

When I first arrived at Bagram Military base, in Afghanistan, I was shocked to see all the different countries there. At home in America, I saw news reports of a few countries helping America in the Afghan war, but this was like the whole world has come to the Afghan War. My first thought was why are all these countries here? I wondered who is in charge and how do all these foreign countries work together?

I later learned that there are NATO Troops and Coalition troops. My curiosity got the better of me, so I googled and learned there are over 50 countries involved in the Afghan war one way or another.  Over the next 4 years besides the United States and Afghanistan, the countries I personally had interaction with included, Albania, Armenia, Australia, Bosnia, Britain, Denmark, Germany, Nepal, Ireland, Italy, Lithuania, Mongolia, New Zealand, Pakistan, Kuwait, Romania, Spain, Jordan and Turkey. I never would have guessed this would happen.

MISFITS, MERCENARIES, TERRORISTS, HUMANITARIANS

The next thing I was soon to be educated about was all the different types of people war zones attract being introduced to the most diverse number of people I have ever met. Each with their own addenda, some looking to help, some looking to make money, some looking to kill people to promote a particular religion or political bias.  When I came back to America and was asked “what do you do?”, I’d refer to myself as a civilian contractor in Afghanistan. I was shocked when a person said “oh you’re a mercenary.” I never thought of myself as a mercenary since I didn’t carry a gun. But maybe I am?

The war attracts the best and worst the world has to offer. It is like a Hollywood movie in many ways with story after story that you just can’t make up. I would look around and seeing unscrupulous, cagey characters with disbelief and be amazed at all the villains, crooks, killers, cut throats, murders, swindlers, terrorists and at the same time I see the good Samaritans such as doctors, relief workers, educators, construction workers trying to build a better Afghanistan. Those that thrived in the lawlessness wanting Afghanistan to remain as it is for their own selfish reasons and those that are willing to risk their lives and limbs to change Afghanistan to a safer and better place to live.  All living and working in the same environment. It was like being in the last frontier, a combination of the lawless west and the War Lords of the world.

I’d look around and think what a bunch of losers and then I would look into the mirror and wonder why am I included in this group.  I would often feel like I was in a movie like the Raiders of the lost Ark, with villains and hero’s but unlike the movies it never ended and the death was up front and real. And good didn’t always triumph over evil.

One group of people I worked with on a remote base was the civilian UAV (Unmanned Aerial Vehicles - Drone Operators). I was building them a runway for their drones. The Operators had long hair and hippy looking. They were riding their skate boards on the runways so I asked them if I could take a couple rides. They were shocked to see Mr. Rich, this 60 year old man ride a skate board. We all laughed as I told them I have been riding skate boards for over 50 years, in fact we had to make our own boards from roller skates.  I asked them what their educational requirements were to fly drones as they laughed and told me it was being good at video games!

On another base I stayed up late into the evening talking about our religions with an American who was retired Navy, a Muslim and a guy from Cambodia, a Buddhist. That was a lot of fun and interesting. They were both surprised that I had read the Muslim Quran and the writings of Buddha having an understanding of their religions.

That was one of the interesting things about being in Afghanistan, all the different kinds of people from around the world. We were also joined by a guy from Florida whose family escaped from Cuba to the US. I was able to talk with him about friends of mine who had escaped from Cuba. He told me about his Aunt that just went back to Cuba where she grew up, saying it was once a beautiful city and now was a mess. And stated “that is communism... making everyone equal…. equally poor!

No matter who I talked with they all had their unique stories.  Meeting the Danish Air Force I talked about part of my family who came from Denmark, and Germans I talked about family coming from Germany and beer fests. Meeting with the Australians we talked about surfing and me competing against the Aussie’s in the World Games in track.  With the British I talked about my last name being English.  Meeting the Italians I talked about my brother-in laws family coming from Italy.  Even when talking with the Afghan villagers I could talk about farming and raising animals and family values. With other Afghans we talked about riding horses and Afghan history. The biggest lesson learned for me was that no matter where another person came from I was able to find something in common.

I still don’t know how all the different countries worked together in Afghanistan, but I did see a sign in an office in Afghanistan, that clarified this a bit. It simply said

“War is business and Business is good”

My hope is that my book opens eyes to the reality in Afghanistan. “ONE BRICK at a TIME” by Rich Walton, available at https://www.onebrickatatimepress.com

DAY & LIFE of MR RICH in AFGHANISTAN

 

What is it you exactly do every day?  How does what you do impact the lives of others?  It’s not as simple as you first thought.  Every day is different to some degree and yet some things remain the same.  Murphy’s law can complicate matters; “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong” .. a negative look at life but worth remembering.  My Motto was “Always Plan for the Worst and Hope for the Best.”

My most asked question of my 4 ½ years in Afghanistan is: “What did you do?”

So what was a day and life for “Mr. Rich,” as I was referred to by Afghans?

My Life in Afghanistan can be broken into 4 chapters.  Each Chapter having a different purpose, employer, job description and a different routine.  All four chapters were similar as they were to aid in the reconstruction of Afghanistan from years of wars, while in the process hopefully “Winning the Hearts and Minds” of the Afghan people.

 

Chapter 1:

Working for a private contractor for 4 months, living in a house in Kabul with a couple body guards, a security manager and an interpreter (we did not live on a military base).  My job was to find projects to bid on for the construction company I worked for, then, if we won the contract, to oversee construction to completion.  I had to figure out what to do every day; how to find jobs to bid on and who to talk to?  Being my first job in Afghanistan, this was both the most exciting and most stressful times of my life, many times feeling I was over-my-head as the learning curve was unbelievably hard, but the experience of a new culture and the people I met was unforgettable.  In the morning I looked online for construction projects to bid on, then Afghan Contractors came to our house office to talk about and give me their bids to build the projects.  The afternoons were exciting as we traveled by car to other Afghan contractor’s offices, to projects and to the market places to check out various construction materials.  We also went to US Military bases to meet with US Government contracting officers awarding the construction projects to contractors like our company.  We never traveled at night, in fact just traveling at all in a car was both dangerous and on the edge of being exciting.  We ate all meals at our house most of the time (once in a while on base or with an Afghan Contractor crew) then finishing my day into the evening writing bids for our company to win the projects, preparing construction schedules, doing some drawings and filing reports to my company headquarters in Baghdad, Iraq.  I wore civilian and Afghan clothes combined.  My civilian clothes could not have USA name or logos on them making me a definite target.  We took most Fridays off as that is the Holy day for Afghans to go to the Mosque (like our Sunday in America)

Chapter 2:

Next, I worked for two different private companies, each for one year, each under contract to the US Air Force doing construction management and inspections (living on US military bases).  I no longer put together the bids for the jobs.  Both my new jobs this next 2 years were to oversee the construction projects for the US Government.  I still worked for a private company and wore civilian clothes with the occasional adornment of Afghan clothing accessories, but now living on US Military Bases protected by walls, guard towers and soldiers.  My job was jokingly referred to as working on the “Darkside” meaning an “evil” contractor, a mercenary without a gun.  Besides tending to emails with Afghan contractors, military personal and US contracting officers, and doing jobsite reports, I’d visit the jobsites on my home base driving a small pickup truck and hopped on a helicopter to visit other bases and construction sites.  I traveled from base to base on US Military and Private helicopters and planes.  Closer jobsites I went on ground missions in a US Military convoy with armed soldiers.  I would have as many as 50 jobs to oversee on 20 different bases.  My job was inspecting the projects to see that they were being built correctly to American standards and in a timely manner.  I’d also meet with the Afghan construction workers and contractors to help and teach them how to construct the projects.  I ate most meals on base with much more variety than when living in the Kabul home.

Chapter 3:

My next adventure was the most enjoyable and fulfilling of all 4 years in Afghanistan, working as a US Government employee for the PRT (Provincial Reconstruction Team) for 21 months, living on military bases.  I wore the same uniform as our US Soldiers and had to follow the same rules as they did except, I had much more travel flexibility.  I traveled a lot more off base on Helicopters, planes and in US Military convoys and on foot patrols with the soldiers protecting me, to huge projects and smaller construction projects in remote bases and areas.  My daily routine was similar to the last two years with much more interaction with the Afghan people, Afghan Army and more exposed to occasional combat engagement.  This job put everything I had learned to work, from having my own architectural design business and the previous 2 years working in Afghanistan as a construction manager.  Basically, my dream job.  I could have done this job for 10 more years when it was all of a sudden discontinued by the US Government as US bases began to close down.  I was the last PRT member to be in Afghanistan.

 

Chapter 4:

The last 3 months in Afghanistan, I worked as a US Government employee of the US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE), doing paperwork as a project manager on USACE projects for the South, Southwest and West regions of Afghanistan by email and phone.  There was no more traveling off base, no coaching, teaching or mentoring the Afghan workers.  My days were stuck on Kandahar Base as I started to think we were trying to win the war through paperwork! 

WHAT I DID:

All four jobs were managing construction projects overseas in austere and hostile environments traveling to the most remote places in Afghanistan.

WHY IT WORKED:

It was great to have the flexibility to produce construction drawings on the spur of the moment and travel to construction sites in war zones to plan and supervise the building of a diverse variety of structures.  I was able to interact with the local workers to Teach-Coach-Mentor to them construction techniques and complete construction jobs with limited equipment and materials using “outside the box” solutions and to adapt to local building methods, techniques and materials and interject western technology when it made sense.

THE BENEFITS:

“Winning the hearts and minds” of the local people through “Teach-Coach-Mentor” principles on humanitarian projects.  Working with the workers, building schools and health clinics, the military referred to me as a “Force Multiplier” in the development of small remote and austere bases and other projects.

My hope is that my book opens eyes to the reality in Afghanistan.  “ONE BRICK at a TIME” by Rich Walton, available at https://www.onebrickatatimepress.com

THE CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN

 Growing up I heard a saying “Clothes Make the Man.” I really didn’t give that saying much thought then. I knew there was an expense difference between different brands of clothes, becoming apparent to me when I was in seventh and eighth grades. Some kids had the more expensive Pendleton shirts while I could not leading to being made fun of for not having the “Name Brand” plaid shirt.

Entering business after college someone suggested that I read the book “Dress for Success” by John T. Molloy, to learn how to dress for business with the effect of clothing on a person’s success. I was told you only have one shot at giving a first impression as clothes can tell something about your character. How many times do we dress a certain way to be unique or to fit in?

In Afghanistan, traveling off base is commonly referred to as traveling “Outside the Wire”.  I needed to wear different clothes to fit in for different missions.  A military uniform when traveling with the US Military, civilian clothes when traveling with US Army Public Affairs, and Afghan clothes on other occasions, etc. Some clothes were given as gifts for being a friend and some for my own protection.

The style of Afghanistan clothing has changed over the decades of wars and invasions and influences of neighboring countries. Current Afghan men’s clothing is a mix of all types of clothing including a mix of western and Afghan styles. Islamic law is generally interpreted to require loosely fitting clothes.

Afghan men cover their heads with different types of hats, each one having a particular name such as the Kararkul, made of lamb skin (was worn by Afghan President Karzai and a past King of Afghanistan).  Or a Pakol, a soft rounded-topped hat in earthly colors of brown, black, grey, ivory and red, made of wool (was worn by Tajik leader Ahmad Shah Masood.)  And Turbans made of silk or cotton, wrapped around their heads and are tied differently in different Afghan Regions.

CIVILIAN / AFGHAN DRESS

In Afghanistan my civilian clothes varied from time to time. When traveling to different locations I tried to blend in and not draw attention to myself. Fortunately for brown-haired, blue-eyed me, there is a Northeastern tribal area in Afghanistan known as Nuristan in which the people have lighter complexions with lighter hair and many times blue eyes. The men are about my stature of 6 foot and look much like myself. The Local belief is these people are descendants of Alexander the Great. So going on missions to this area, I would wear my Pakol hat, Afghan scarf and vest.

My favorite experience was in Nuristan as we sat down to meet with some local Nuristani, I was told by my interpreter to NOT talk. Because of my looks, the locals thought I was also a Nuristani Interpreter because I was dressed like the other Interpreters, then my interpreter had me talk and the locals where shocked to hear me speak.  We all laughed and at first they thought I was German because of the earlier presence of Germans in that area. I explained I was mostly Scandinavian (Swede, Dane, etc) with a small amount of German in me. We all had a great laugh talking about our cultures, families and the War over cups of Chai Tea. Here I was half way around the world and found I had more in common than I would have ever believed.

One of the best days I had in Afghanistan was with my new Afghan/Nuristan friends. We were at the top of this mountain where the scenery was unbelievable.  Standing at 8,000 feet with snow capped mountains all around us, and deep green valleys and rivers below  anddddd just a stones throw away from Pakastan.  We talked about the future of Afghanistan and the tribes in Afghanistan traditionally fighting against each other throughout history and how was that ever going to change? One had an interesting comment,  “look at the United States, it has tribes from all over the world moving to America and they all get along.” In his mind the Germans, English, French, Irish, Swedes, Chinese, Japanese, Koreans, Africans etc, were all different tribes and yet because of our type of government we all get along. Hmmmmm… His dream for Afghanistan was for that - to be like America, with all the tribes getting along. I bet not many people look at Afghanistan in that way, I sure didn’t. I had to go half way around the world to get this perspective. 

MILITARY DRESS 

Since I had never been in the military, I had to learn the different types of US Military camouflage uniforms and how often they are changed out. I had no idea how to correctly wear the uniforms. Even the military had different names for certain clothes, such as a shirt is called a blouse. This all seemed so strange to me plus required me to endure another fast track learning curve. My Military uniform education began with my job in the US Army Corps of Engineers deployment complex in Virginia. 

From the get go I stood out because of my lack of military knowledge and now was issued a different uniform than the rest of my classmates as I was being assigned to a combat unit going outside the wire.  All my classmates were issued the DCU’s the Desert combat uniform, commonly referred to by some as chocolate chip because of the beige color with darker brown splotches looking like giant chocolate chips. My uniform was called a UCP which stands for Universal Camouflage Pattern. The color scheme for the UCP uniform is a Sandy gray green camo pattern.  Then once I arrived in Afghanistan I was issued the MultiCam uniform which looked more of a muddy brown/green pattern, so I would have the same uniform as the rest of the military soldiers escorting me.  The strategy is the UCP uniforms were issued to the Afghan interpreters as they believe the Taliban snipers target the interpreters first.  OK, soooo the UPC’s are not a good look for old Mr. Rich. On a side note, I had a letter stating I was allowed to wear the combat Multi-Cam uniform.  On the larger bases, on more than one occasion, I was challenged by military personal, that I was not supposed to be wearing that particular uniform as a civilian, which I presented the letter and continued on my way.

I was lovingly referred to by my military comradres “a silly civilian” as all this dress code made my head spin.  From this point on I kept a notebook with all the military acronyms.

“Clothes do make the man” and how I dressed in Afghanistan could mean a matter of life and death.

My hope is that my book opens eyes to the reality in Afghanistan. “ONE BRICK at a TIME” by Rich Walton, available at https://www.onebrickatatimepress.com

COVID 19 & Taliban - STOP EDUCATION!

 

 As I look over the 2^nd grade classroom I’m teaching today, I am reminded how lucky we are to be in America for the simple fact if the girls in class lived in Taliban controlled areas of Afghanistan they would not be allowed to attend school.

 In America, COVID 19 has kept children out of school in certain areas as we are risking everyone’s health.  In Afghanistan, because of their beliefs, the Taliban will not hesitate to kill or maim girls being educated and the teachers who are teaching them.  Both situations require parents to weigh the risks involved in sending their girls and children to school.

 Under Taliban rule girls are not allowed to be educated over the age of 8. The Taliban have attacked girls going to school by throwing hand grenades into the schools or throwing acid in girl’s faces and even poisoning the water wells at the schools. In the eyes of the Taliban, a woman is an object they can control, and should girls get an education they will want rights as women and as human beings.  This results in girls seeking an education by attending hidden underground schools, where they and their teachers know they risk EXECUTION if caught.

 I spent 4 years as a contractor in Afghanistan helping to build separate girl and boy schools, living, eating and sleeping in remote areas under the constant threat of Taliban attacks, to make the school construction happen. Since many Afghan adults cannot read or write, they wanted the schools.  As they explained to me, they understood the opportunities education opened up for their children. Working hand in hand with the workers gave me a whole new appreciation to the dedication of the Afghan people to complete these schools for their girls.

  Afghan Teachers often find it difficult to provide quality education with the lack of supplies and resources, because they are hired with inadequate levels of training and education, and it pays very little. There are many complex factors making it more difficult for girls to get an education than one would think. Besides the obvious of Taliban attacks, I found there to be a lack of female teachers, especially in rural areas where women from one tribe do not want to teach a different tribe.  Also, there’s a huge language barrier between the different tribes with two main languages of Dari and Pashto in Afghanistan.  And even within the same language Afghans who speak Pashtun in Kabul told me they have difficulty understanding the Southern Pashtun language from the south of Kabul.

 Since Afghanistan is a tribal society, there are also cultural differences. I like to compare these tribal conflicts similar to the tribal and cultural conflicts between the different American Indian tribes.

 One huge problem is that many children have to work.  Some boys I knew were the sole provider for their family’s income, working in the Bazaar or picking up garbage on bases.  Girls typically make money by weaving or tailoring, or some sell items on the street.  Also, many girls marry before the age of 15 and then discontinue their own education.

 Another problem I discovered is that Afghan Schools have a lack of sanitation for girls, such as, no indoor running water or access to clean and safe restrooms. The schools have a separate brick Latrine building with no water and no toilets, just a hole in the floor.  Some schools I built had no heat and none had indoor plumbing.  Only the main school building would have minimal electricity for a few lights. There was generally a water well at the school, some only with a manual hand pump and a few with an electric well pump.

 I was asked on an interview for a magazine about my thoughts on the Afghanistan War. My reply was and still is today, “The only way Afghanistan will survive is through education. We’re making a difference here by ensuring women in Afghanistan can get an education without worrying about interference from the Taliban”. Thankfully, in the larger cities like Kabul and Herat, girls are able to continue their education.

 One of my favorite projects in Afghanistan was the Herat University Women’s dorm. There had to be a way that parents outside the city would feel comfortable in sending their daughters to college and know they would be safe.  This newly constructed dormitory would be the solution to allow educational opportunities for women. Surrounded by a 15 foot rock wall with security guards at the entrance, the dormitory provided a secure refuge for female students to pursue college without fear of punishment from the Taliban. As with most projects of this type there were continuous hurdles to completing the project. Such as even the local police trying to shut down the construction for one reason or another, materials stolen, workers threatened, (therefore not showing up for work), and even armed attacks.

I felt fortunate being able to help out with the building of Girls and Boys schools in Afghanistan all the while amidst danger.  The goal was to help create an educated population that can build better lives for the children of Afghanistan. My biggest challenge now is being able to relate these stories to American students in the hope they realize how lucky they are to live in America and welcomed to get an education.  Just like I worked amidst Afghan danger to get the job done, now during COVID 19, I’m proud to stand alongside our teachers and staff to make sure education happens.

 My hope is that my book opens eyes to the reality in Afghanistan. “ONE BRICK at a TIME” by Rich Walton, available at https://www.onebrickatatimepress.com

MAGIC PENCIL

Since my return from Afghanistan, I am a substitute teacher for grades K-12 with most of my time spent in grades 4-6. It is a constant struggle for me to figure out how to keep my students engaged, under control and interested in what I am presenting and when I ask them to do something and the child replies “why?” the response like a parent of “because I say so” doesn’t carry much water in the classroom as a sub. How different from what I experienced in Afghanistan.

 What I saw, experienced and learned in my 4 years in Afghanistan as a civilian contractor from building schools, living and working with the local people experiencing the daily trials and fears unimaginable to most Americans and then seeing the impact these schools made on the Afghan children’s lives where the children are craving to learn and do whatever it takes to get to school even if it consists of walking miles in hand-me-down sandals or threats from the Taliban.

 When I feel my class losing interest and control, I like to settle them down by telling them stories of my time in Afghanistan.  One of my favorite stories is “the magic Pencil”.  I ask the students “what do you think was the most asked for item from me by the children at the school construction sites?”  Their answers are “money, food, water, clothes.” Yes, All good answers! at which time I pull a pencil out of my pocket and hold it up in the air and state “it was a pencil!”  

 Why would it be a pencil? In Afghanistan, many children cannot read or write and they have seen the pencil and pen touch paper or wood or anything and do magical things wherever their hand leads it.  As I would go out to projects in villages, whether it was building a school, Medical clinic or some other structure, I was amazed that within a few minutes of arrival to the site I would be swarmed by Afghan children of all ages. I’d always wonder, where did all these kids come from and how did they know I was here. Even sites that were way out in the desert or mountains within minutes of my arrival there would be all these children. Where did they come from? No matter the weather…Scorching sun or Freezing cold, as soon as I arrived at the job site, got out of the vehicle, or walked from the helicopter, I’d be immediately surrounded by a mass of children asking for water, money, typical things, but the NUMBER ONE item I was asked for was a writing pen or pencil.

 At first I couldn’t believe this. Remember that it is believed that 80% of the Afghan people, including adults, cannot even read or write their own language. The children did not speak English but they sure knew the word “PEN”. It seemed odd to me at first that they cherish this one item the most. Why would they want a PEN of all things? Was it to sell the pen or pencils in the bazaar? No.  I learned from an Afghan interpreter that to many of these children who could not read or write, the Pen was Magic. It was a Magical instrument, like a Harry Potter Magic Wand that could do Magical things like write or draw.

 So, when I traveled in Afghanistan, I began to carry lots of pens and pencils for the children.  But there was a downside when the children changed from a friendly group to a shark feeding frenzy, surrounding me pushing and shoving, grabbing and pulling on my back pack and clothes. Like sharks trying to tear me apart just to get a PEN. Even in small crowds I had to make sure I had no pens, pencils or anything hanging on my body that someone could grab. I had to make sure all my zippers on my back pack were closed and not easily opened. I was once mobbed by a group of Afghan children when one boy actually reached into my pocket and stole my Pens and money and ran away. I ran after him for a bit, with security trailing me, until the boy lost me. I learned the children had become expert Pick Pockets. Because I was considered a High Value Target, the soldiers or guards protecting me would immediately have to intervene and begin pushing and shoving the kids away from me before I got hurt or lost important items. They were always concerned for my safety as I could get stabbed or shot or blown up by a suicide bomber. What children in the United States, such as here that I am teaching, would have thought that a simple Pen or Pencil would magical and be of such importance to be the symbol to Afghanistan children of knowledge and education.  Pens and pencils so important to uneducated children, that just like bullies, the older children would grab the smaller children’s pencils I had just handed them.  So unless the crowd was only a few children the new policy was that I was not to hand anything out anymore. It broke my heart.

 My hope is that my book opens eyes to the reality in Afghanistan. “ONE BRICK at a TIME” by Rich Walton, available at https://www.onebrickatatimepress.com

WALK the WALK

 Guns, bullets, death and corruption, and for centuries the Afghan endless war has been known as the place where empires come to die.

 What makes this book different and unique from so many of the other books written about the Afghan war?  How did having no work lead to having my dream job and what kept me coming back like a moth drawn to a flame.

 I was living pretty much the American dream, raised in a middle class neighborhood, grew up picking strawberries and delivering newspapers followed by teen and early twenty’s working in restaurants and labor jobs earning my way through college. Got married to my beautiful wife, have 3 sons and a small farm along with my own Architectural design business. Fulfilling my boyhood dream of having my office on a farm and a window that our horse could poke its head through just like the show I grew up watching on T.V. , Mr. Ed. I was not wealthy but was making ends meet. We had a good life. But doubt had begun to creep in. While sitting at my desk day after day designing houses for over 25 years I began to feel like I was having to re-invent the wheel every day and was wondering if this is all life had left for me. Bluntly I was leading “A life of quiet desperation”.

 Then like a whirlwind the 2008 recession came in. Banks where not making loans effecting my business as it began to spiral downward. It’s a Recession when your neighbors are out of work and a Depression when you are out of work. Well it was turning into a depression for me fast. I applied for jobs everywhere, willing to take a job doing anything, but NOT getting hired. It seemed like I spent days and late into the nights sending out hundreds of resumes. NOTHING!

 I remembered how some of my clients had started with nothing and worked their way up to great successes. One such client was a man who had worked in a paper mill making little money and constantly being laid off.  After one such lay off a friend of his offered to pay him to help him make colorful horse cinches for horse saddles. Then the owner asked my client to buy the business from him paying him as he could afford to. My client started driving to local Saddle and tack shops, bought a van and drove to shops further away selling his fancy and colorful horse cinches, then he started selling them in catalogs.  By the time I met him, he had an office with employees sending these colorful horse cinches all around the world.  He told me if he had never been laid off from the paper mill he would still be there.

 This was just like the Horatio Alger Stories I grew up reading, an American writer of young adult novels about impoverished boys and their rise from humble backgrounds to lives of middle class by way of hard work. These books where a huge inspiration for me.

 After months of my business getting less and less work, the proverbial saying of “I know a guy who knows a guy” came to fruition for me. An overseas contractor who lives on the east coast needed a construction manager for Afghanistan. So taking to heart the saying that when one door closes another door opens, I still needed to take the initiative to walk through it.  I didn’t hesitate, I packed my bags and with $300 in my pocket I flew to Iraq and then to Afghanistan by myself.

 Don’t let me mislead you. The point of going to Afghanistan was for the paycheck, but, I needed the change and the added adventure of being a part of history in the making was irresistible. After my boots hit the ground in Afghanistan it became much more than the money and the adventure, it became about helping the Afghan people. I had this endearing feeling of being needed and making a difference in peoples lives. I helped build schools and health clinics in the villages, working with the local workers, most of whom could not read or write, plus I worked with the Afghan army on many projects for their military bases.

 I knew it was important to tell the stories of what I saw and experienced as a civilian in a war zone as it is so much different than what I ever saw in the United States news.  When I was in college I met students that wanted to be social workers, counselors, etc, to help the poor neighborhoods. Because I grew up in one of those areas, I would get into heated arguments as they told me their ideas of what needed to be done in those neighborhoods. I knew they had no idea of what it is like to live in those communities, to worry about being mugged on your way to the store at night, or your kids getting beat up on the streets, about your house or apartment being robbed.  So I would suggest if you want to help in those neighborhoods, go live in the neighborhoods you want to fix and experience what it is actually like. Basically you need to walk the walk to talk the talk.

 I found the same to be true for Afghanistan. We would have news correspondents fly in for a whirl wind tour of several bases and sometimes combat situations, then they left. Not enduring the day in and day out - 7 day a week grueling mind numbing environment and experiencing the daily heartbreak of the Afghan people in their daily trials of illness, hunger and death. In all cases you have to live with people in order for them to trust you and share their most personal feelings. You have to walk the walk to be able to talk the talk. You have to have been there - done that.

 Hopefully since I have walked the walk I will be able to talk the talk in such a way to inform the readers of what it’s really like in Afghanistan.

 My hope is that my book opens eyes to the reality in Afghanistan.  “ONE BRICK at a TIME” by Rich Walton, available at https://www.onebrickatatimepress.com