Good Morning, Afghanistan

I knew something was off. The flight from Ramstein, Germany to Manis, Kyrgyzstan was only expected to take 7 hours, but we’d been in the air for at least 9. I was cocooned in my poncho liner, sleeping on the hood of one of my trucks with the intercom buzzed alive “we have been diverted from Manis due to heavy snow fall and are headed straight to Bagram Air Force Base. We will be on the ground in 30 min.” Only minutes later the intercom lectured again: “we are coming into Bagram faster than expected and are beginning our decent now.” And there I found myself, without any time for contemplation, in Afghanistan.

Bagram AFB, I discovered, sits in a valley, surrounded my mountains on almost all sides. Only one area strikes me a passable by vehicle, and I am fairly certain this is the route to Kabul, the capitol of Afghanistan. We trudge across the runway into a small, fenced in areas. As the leader of the chalk, I am directed to move the group into a small tent. As my eyes adjust to the dim, I realize that the tent is full of prostrate men. As Soldiers are want to do, they sleep in any area that even resembles comfort. As we enter, they begin to stir, nudging one another. I scan their uniforms, trying to determine which of the many coalition partners they call home. Romania, their uniforms say. Their sleep-tarnished minds become clear as they realize that one of the American Soldiers in their midst is a woman. I receive word that we were to move inside and shout across the tent to alert my Soldiers, shaping Romanian interest in to shock through a display of female authority.