I finally made it to Forward Operating Base (FOB) Lightning. Unfortunately I had my own personal meltdown en route. First off, my worst nightmare finally came true and there was a rocket attack while I was making a last minute visit to the latreen before boarding the helicopter. To dive on the floor or not to dive on the floor — I’ll never tell. Right after the all clear, we were given the nod to grab our bags. I was still a bit flustered but strode faux confidently across the runway behind four or five soldiers heading for two aging Sea Kings with blades rotating in the heat. As I walked head bowed into the draft, I realized that my boot heel had fallen off and was flapping behind me. “Oh Lord, what next?” I thought. I didn’t have long to wait. As I threw my overladen bag up onto the chopper, one of the shoulder straps tore completely off, leaving a big hole. Sheesh. And it wasn’t even 8:00 a.m. yet.
The helicopters here all fly in pairs. Whether private or military, there will almost always be two if they are in the sky. Afghanistan can be sparsely populated in much of its desert or mountain terrain, and it would be entirely possible for a lone chopper to just disappear. So each flight watches over the other should something go wrong accidentally or on purpose.
Even with all my trials and fear of flying, I was glad to be out of FOB Shank — or Rocket City, as it is affectionately known by those who pass through it. As the Sea Kings lifted off over the base, I could see why the rockets rarely hit anything. Shank is a large base that now has many open areas because personnel, equipment, housing and vehicles are being drawn down daily. But regardless, the all too common, any hour of the day, “incoming, incoming,” siren keeps everyone there on edge.
To get my mind off the flight and impending doom of helicopter flying in general, I got my sketchpad out and threw a few lines at the soldier sitting next to me. The background vibration of the chopper started in the seat of my pants and ended at my fingertips, so making any kind of an accurate line was a challenge. Especially with the face, where any discrepancy means you are drawing someone else instead of the person you wanted to draw. Staff Sergeant Joe Asawa of the 1st squadron, 3rd Cavalry Regiment out of Fort Hood TX, spotted what I was up to almost immediately, but was way too cool to confront me. This is Joe’s third deployment to Afghanistan. “I’ve gotten a lot of pictures over my time here, but this one is by far one of the best ones I’ve ever received,” he said. I’ll take that and use it to prop up my ego.
Our partner helicopter was visible below and to our right. We matched it move for move as it contoured its way down a steep tree-covered valley. I could see both shadows darting in and out of the craggy precipices. We eventually dropped into FOB Ghazni. It had a trash fire making thick black smoke — a sure sign that you are in an isolated location. And it looked like it had been built by committee and was showing its age, a massive conglomeration of Hescos, burst sandbags, rusting seacans and razor wire with plastic detritus caught up in it.
We picked up another soldier there and he sat right where I needed him to. I have to stop doing all these profiles somehow. But when the seats are in a row what can I do? Sergeant Anthony Golando seemed military in bearing and was toting the usual mix of firearms, but seemed to be wearing a plaid shirt. Questions abound but all I could learn from him was that his Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) allowed it. We may never know — unless he replies to my emails. After a wild ride through more and more Rocky Mountain type scenery, we dropped into a high desert valley. Tony and Joe got off the bird together at FOB Clark. They each shook my hand.
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My final mistake of the day was deciding to just study the scenery for the rest of the trip instead of drawing. Apparently sketching nullifies my motion sickness. I eventually struggled pasty-white and nauseous off the helipad with one boot heel flapping and carrying my busted bag like a fat goat in my arms. Stand back love, I am a professional.
FOB Lightning is a U.S. base attached to the somewhat (ten times) larger Afghan National Army (ANA) Camp Thunder just outside of the city of Gardez in Paktia Province. The U.S. base itself has a slightly down at heel feel. Call it “well used” but still resolutely functional. Almost every structure within will be left to the ANA. As I was awaiting a room billet, an open house was being held for ANA dignitaries to see in advance what would be left. They didn’t look that impressed. FOB Lightning was first constructed in 2006 and at its height contained almost 800 soldiers.
After a good night’s sleep, I was back to feeling myself again. My bag was stitched thanks to my wife’s last-minute addition of a sewing kit. My boot heel was super glued — again. And my nausea was gone, so I hit the chow hall for some breakfast. I had arrived just in time. This will be the last breakfast catered by the contractor that has been keeping everyone fed until now. It wasn’t much to look at but I ate the lot.
The army will be leaving all of its ubiquitous Barracks Huts (B-Huts) behind here. In other bases like Bagram Air Field (BAF), 800 B-Huts have been demolished. “What I do know is that the B-Huts were intended for short term use being made of simple wood and tin roofs. If maintained and depending on environmental factors you can get 10 years out of them,” said Loran Doane, Public Affairs Planner at BAF.
“The B-Huts are multipurpose and can be used for anything but we’ve mainly seen them used as office space and sleeping quarters.” The big complaint about B-Huts is that they don’t offer much in the way of protection from indirect or direct fire weapons. So they have added force protection of Hesco and sand bags up to about ten feet high and they have Air conditioners in summer and massive heaters and piping for winter.
My own accommodation at Lightning was in a B-Hut, so I sat on the front steps and sketched the hut across the alley from mine. The main trick here was getting it all on the page — that and drawing each individual sandbag. Which would be enough to make most people crazy.
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My new accommodation unfortunately came with the old Brit power system, so I had to go to the local Bazaar to get an adapter. The bazaar is built in the space between the U.S. and ANA bases. A bunch of Seacans surrounded by razor wire, each with a small Afghan businessman inside. It occurred to me while I was there that these guys would be really hurting after the U.S. pull out. So I went back and visited with the guy who helped me with my power problem.
Damja was a real nice kid. At 24-years-old, he is the breadwinner in his family. He alone is supporting a wife, a baby brother, four sisters, a mother and a father who is now too old to work. He was happy to sit for me while I drew him watching bad cable TV soap from the U.S. but dubbed into Dari. Once I had sketched his features, we could talk a little. “I think it won’t be safe without the United States here,” he said when asked about the future. “I think I will load all this and go back to Kabul.”
When I showed him the sketch he seemed genuinely surprised and thrilled. He actually threw his arms in the air. We took it outside and laid it on the gravel so he could take a picture with his phone.
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On the way back into the base, all of the kitchen contractors had gathered around the “Welcome to FOB Lightning” sign for a massive goodbye photograph. They were drunkenly joyous. As they broke up laughing and backslapping, one straggler arrived. “Oh man, you missed it,” one coworker said.
“I don’t care, lets just go,” he replied.
This blog’s artist of note is Amy Forsyth. Amy teaches design at a university level. She is an excellent sketch booker. That is to say that unlike my own barely thought-out compositions, Amy manages to take her thought processes, her ideas and her life and built them into beautiful, artful tactile objects. Here are a couple of examples of her more “man in the street” stuff. For me I am looking, and I am enjoying, but I can’t say exactly why. But there it is, you are still looking, aren’t you?
See more of her work on her Web site – Amy Forsyth
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The same rules apply. What are you waiting for you big Jessie? Get out there and start drawing. Draw what you see – live – and send it in. I’ll publish it here in the deepest vault of Washington Post blogging. And please stop by when you can, and if you like what you see, pass on the blog link to all and sundry. It keeps my kids fed.
Got a question? Ask me at richardjosephjohnson@yahoo.com
Want to see more of my work? www.newsillustrator.com.
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