The Morning Brief: An Afghan Story

0615 is an odd time to wake up. For me at least PT always started at 6:30 am so waking up at 0615 or so was guaranteed to make you late. But the Afghan National Army's 2nd of the 401st Infantry Brigade did their morning update at 0715 so 615 made sense. All of our alarms would go off at the same time, there were 8 of us living in the tent. The rest of the team lived in the compound walking distance away. Drew and I were the only officers in the tent. We volunteered to live there for the deployment. Two of our NCO's (non-commissioned officers) would be working overnight in the TOC (tactical operations center) so it seemed better for them to live next to it. Plus the farther you are from your commander, especially ours, the better.?

Most mornings we would skip Breakfast at the DFAC, Head straight to the team room, just enough time to make coffee or grab a few Ripits (energy drinks) and a cliff bar. The team room was more than a club house but less then an office space. 4 folding tables all with computers on them so the team can answer email, prepare for missions etc. At night we would play cards or watch tv, and continue to work. It wasn't uncommon to be in the team room till 2300(11pm) doing work while others hung out. It was right next to our TOC so if something was happening you could bang on the wall and get everyone's attention. Not that we needed to, when you are on a team this small everyone knows what is happening. Around 0645 our security team would show up . We had a Squad of American infantrymen on loan from the battalion who would come with us when we headed to the Afghan base. The attacks of American Troops by their ANA counterparts was on a steady incline. About 2 weeks before we got in the country 3?American Soldiers were killed while playing soccer on the Afghan base. As advisors we very rarely wore kit (body armor) on the Afghan base. For other soldiers outside the wire, which the Afghan base was considered, you would be insane to not wear your kit and you would be disobeying a direct order from 2 Star General Abrams the Southern Command Commander, but as advisors to show good will and a level of trust with our partners?we didn't.?

?It was always a game time decision for me on what weapon to carry. Most days all of us would only carry our pistol, a Beretta 9 millimeter. I would put a second 15 round magazine in my front pocket as if it was a pack of bubblicious gum. But I liked to change it up also. When I did bring my M4 , I would always put a 30 round mag in my back pocket. We all carried Personal Locating Beacons on us at all times and a radio, The threat of capture for an advisor team was always high. The beacon and radio won't stop one of us being taken just hopefully let us be found faster. Thankfully we never had to find out.

Once the American infantry squads who was nicknamed guardian angels, (Their entire job was to watch for threats while we worked with the Afghan brigade leadership) showed up and we would head out. The American and Afghan bases were only divided by a road. A break in the Hesco barriers on the American side led to the Gate on the Afghan side. Two American soldiers stood on our side and across the road was an Afghan tower manned by a soldier and a machine gun. We could see the Brigade headquarters for the 2-401st, and it was about a 3 minute walk. Past the soccer field those Americans were killed. There were always Afghans around, and we trusted them as much as we could.

The Afghan brigade headquarters housed a large room for briefings, the commander's office and their operations center with radios and computers. The computers never really worked, most of them didn't know how to use a computer and the ones that did, used them for looking at websites you shouldn't, so they all had viruses and never worked. I never saw them turned on. They relied on radios and runners to send messages. Everything was on paper.

The officers of the 2nd of the 401st were like characters out of a book. You could not make it up if you tried. The commander was a tall dark Afghan probably Pashtun given where we were, never really talked out of turn or in front of the soldiers except for a few times. He always looked like he had someplace better to be or his mind was on something more important. By American standards he was corrupt. By Afghan standards he did what commanders do, but that's another story. His Sergeant Major was very similar, not as tall; he always walked around with prayer beads. The only thing we ever saw him do was beat a soldier for not saluting someone.

Colonel Akram, the brigade operations officer. He was the best officer they had, educated out of the country, capable, competent, and professional. All he had known was fighting, as a young man he fought the Russians and had a scar on his neck from a bullet wound to prove it. He worked hard but was easy to joke with. His English was better than all of our Dari. At first they all loved to pretend they didn't know english.?

I would think a-lot about how Colonel Akram who was maybe in his late 50s or 60s, felt getting advice from 30 year old Americans. He was fighting Russians while we were watching Sesame street. But he knew we were trying to help. He had worked with so many military advisors by that point, He knew what question we would ask and how we would want them answered. Within weeks it became sort of a dance, we would ask the same questions, he knew what to say and we would leave him alone. There wasn't much to advise him on. But he was always happy to see us and we him.

Then there was Captain Gafoor. Drew would call him the Afghan Yosemite Sam because of his look and demeanor. His hat was too small, his uniform too tight and his grey mustache was too bushy. The Afghans were not allowed to carry weapons on their base but Gafoor did until we got there. He had this almost western like holster on his hip, like the old cavalry style with the giant flap. The story was, he waved his pistol around in the very morning meeting we all went to a few months before and they took it away. The rumors didn't stop there. He used to be a Colonel but was busted down to captain because he was charged with murder but acquitted because none of the witnesses would testify against him. He ran for the President of Afghanistan at one point also, which we could not confirm. The Afghan Army couldn't afford to throw anyone away with a military background if they were willing and would obey orders, they could stay.? No one took Gafoor seriously and I think he knew it. ? We were always cautious with Gafoor, he seemed crazy enough for all the rumors to be true.

Every morning each battalion would brief the commander. He and his staff sat on one side of tables like it was the last supper with the commander in the middle and his staff flanking him. We sat in chairs in the back. There were only 4 chairs for us so depending on who from our team was there some of us would wait outside in the hallway.? A soldier from each battalion would? march to the middle of the room, face the commander at attention, salute and begin to brief ; available personnel, weapons and vehicle status, ammo, food, water and fuel numbers.? Off to the left was a TV screen with the status’ on it. It was obvious to all of us, some American captain like us, made the slide, had it translated to dari and gave it to them. When he was done sometimes the commander? had questions, other times he wasn't listening at all?but he would always wave, almost shoo them away and the next person would start. This went on for? about 15 minutes on a good day. Other days there were shouting matches for 45 minutes. It was Gafoor mostly and in the middle of their briefing of course. They would fight over which battalion got more fuel than the other,? 'I don't have enough soldiers', 'I don't like where I'm sitting at this table' and so on. If they were at a school playground yelling about who was out in a game of tag, it would sound the same.

The first time I went to this meeting I was so impressed by one of the briefers. He was probably a sergeant of some kind, quite a lot of them didn't wear rank. They had to buy their own patches and rank, so many didn't. Instead they could send the money home to their families. His?uniform was the usual amount of dirty, chances are it was his only one. He had a few of his fingernails painted. It wasn't uncommon for Afghan males to do this. It looked like they stuck their finger in iodine. Nadir, my interpreter, would tell me they do it when they are happy about something. He was also older than an American would expect a private or sergeant in the Army to be.? Most Americans are around 18 when they join. Afghan lower ranking members could be almost any age. The only way to fill ranks was to accept everyone. When it was his turn to brief? he got up, marched to the center of the room with such precision, his marching and facing movements were better than any drill team. At the top of his lungs for 5 mins he briefs all of his battalion's?stats. It was amazing. Many times? they had notes or referred to the slide for help on things, but he didn't. You have to remember for a soldier in the Afghan Army just being in the same room as a Colonel let alone being able to tell him anything might be the greatest honor of his life. As he went on you could see?many of the officers?start to smile, some even giggling.?

When the meeting was over I went to one of our interpreters who called himself Jack (after Jack Bauer from the TV show 24, some terps would give themselves American names so they didn't have to hear us struggle with their real name. Like workers in a nail salon named Lucy or Mary).?

I asked Jack,

“That sergeant that briefed without notes, was pretty good!?” he grinned at me and kind of chuckled under his breath and said “you think so sir?”? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? “Yeah! Why is that funny?” I said with a smile to hide my anger at him for being naive. ? ? ? ? “Do you know why he did it that way, memorized it?” Jack said ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? I thought for a second and in true American Solider fashion I said? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? “To impress his commander?! Out of Pride and Loyalty!” Jack Laughed again and shook his head. “Ok why then?!” I asked “Because he can't read.”