Hero's Welcome for the 2nd Battalion 5th Infantry

The last ten days in Afghanistan were miserable, our replacement unit took over operations so we had nothing to do but wait. Our flight schedule changed about seven times and each change pissed me off because they were never in our favor.

We left the country in a completely packed C-17 and to make matters worse we were in full kit. Wearing body armor and a helmet on an airplane did not make any sense to me but, then again a lot of stuff in the Army does not make sense to me. By the time we loaded the airplane I was starving and I had to pee but I did not care, I was going home. Over the past nine months I've grown accustomed to being miserable.

The first leg of our journey home brought us to Eastern Europe. Romanian was a welcome sight. The air was cool and everything was green. I loved it! There were plenty of local women working on the base and they were a welcome sight as well! We stayed in the land of Dracula and gypsies for about two days and then we were off again but this time we‘re on a civilian aircraft. Gunny and I did not get to ride in first class but we were in the front of the aircraft. Our flight attendant was good looking and smelled great! I was trying my hardest to flirt with her but so was everyone else on the plane.

The second leg of our journey home was better than the first, we stopped in Ireland. The stop only lasted about four hours and we never left the airport but our battalion commander had a great surprise for us. It was about 0200 in the morning and the small airport we stopped was completely empty. An old Irish man in uniform met us at the terminal and an escorted us to a duty free shop and a bar that they opened up just for us. The bar was the surprise. Our battalion commander said that each person was allowed to drink two beers. Now this might not mean anything to my readers but in the Army it meant the world to the men. Believe it or not the Army is pretty gay when it comes treating us like men and alcohol is one of those these that they generally frown upon. Of course it was not allowed in Afghanistan, they had it for sale in Romanian but it was against the rules for us to drink it. So, it came as a surprise to everyone when our great leader allowed each of us to buy two drinks a piece. There I was sitting at a bar in Ireland with two ice cold pints of Guinness in front of me. For the first time in nine months I felt like a free bear again.

Believe it or not the third leg of the trip we stopped in Rockford, Illinois. I was practically home, there were several Vietnam Vets at the airport to greet us, and they had coffee and snacks for us. I really enjoyed talking to the old vets and they seemed really happy to be welcoming us home. An old Marine in a wheel chair told me about his trip back from the war, he said that there was no welcome home party for him. He had sadness in his eyes but I could tell he was happy to give us something that he didn't get. I believe that they were just as grateful to talk to us as we were to talk to them. In a way I think our return trip from war helped them heel in a way. We had a connection with those old vets that is hard for me to explain in words.

From Rockford we flew to El Paso. Home at last! There were many people there to greet us but before we were released to our families there were a few things we had to take care of. First we waited in a long line to turn in our weapons and then we had a couple of briefs to sit through once the briefs were complete our battalion commander told us we had one more thing to do before we could go home. There was someone there that wanted to talk to us, before the person was even introduced I knew who he was, he looked just like our Sergeant Major that was killed in action. It was our Sergeant Major's brother. My mood went from being extremely excited to sad. Not all of us made it home. The Sergeant Major's brother welcomed us home and thanked us. A lot of the guys shook his hand and gave him a hug but I could not bring myself to do it, he looked too much like our fallen brother, too much reality for me. I should have been happy to be home, I should have been happy to see my family but instead I was thinking about the Sergeant Major and I felt depressed.

It will take time to adjust to the civilian life again and I am hoping as soon as I see my friends and family that things will to return back to some type of normal.

Now that my time in the US Army is over I will return back to Rockford Illinois and back to my friends and my family.  Having this time and the experience with these awesome soldiers over the past 9 months will be something that will be a lifelong memory.

Thank you again 2^nd Battalion 5^th Infantry for “having my back”

G/B

 Pvt. 1^st class and ½

The Big War continued......Larry's story

When I left my home
And my family,
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers…

(Simon and Garfunkel)

The Big War continued… Larry’s story.

Gear Bear, your first deployment.... turns you into a man. Any additional deployments start to chip away at you.

I returned from Afghanistan at 0200 in the morning my family was there to pick me up. On the way back to my house I rode in the back seat, the same seat that I sat in while conducting patrols in Afghanistan for the past 10 months, the difference is that I was in a car now and not an armored military vehicle. It was a strange feeling. I was not worried about hitting an improvised explosive device. It felt weird and wonderful not to have my rifle. The vehicles we passed on the road were no longer a threat to me but, I was still anxious. My family seemed the same to me but, I was different. I had darkness inside me; I did not feel like I belonged back in the real world. While in Afghanistan all I ever did was think about going home but my first few months home I missed being in Afghanistan.

The last three months of my deployment was the beginning of the fighting season and they were the worst. I was located at a small outpost no more than 300 meters in length and width. The building we lived in was a former village school house made out of concrete. Every single day for three months straight we were attacked, small arms fire, mortars, and rockets. The best days we only took one or two mortar/rockets. The worst days we took up to 18.  Our only warning of a rocket or mortar attack was a small radar that made a beeping noise when we were about to take incoming. It was usually a 10 second warning. If you were located in the Command Post during the attacks we would all count down from 10 take a knee and cover our ears. All one could do was pray and hope that the rocket or mortar did not hit our building. Boom!!!! That is the sound you would hear when you got down to the number one. Sometimes the building would vibrate and just would kick up if the rounds hit close enough. Most of the time the rounds would miss but every now and then someone would be hit. If you were hit by 107mm rocket death usually followed, shrapnel from a mortar round was preferred.

The sound of incoming is a sound that I cannot seem to get out of my head. At home while sleeping usually the initial stage of falling asleep I would hear the sound and wake up. I am startled for about five seconds and then realize that my wife and daughters are still sleeping; the sound I heard was not real.  The last month of my deployment a young soldier’s vehicle was hit by a rocket propelled grenade. He was brought into the aid station which was situated in the room right next to our Command Post. This young man was screaming uncontrollably. At first the screaming did not really have an effect on us but after a while everyone in that building was affected. The screaming only got worse. It is impossible for me to explain to you the feeling in that building. Everyone was silent; all that could be heard was the his screaming. At this stage in the deployment we all experienced death. We all lost someone close to us. We all saw dead bodies either friendly or enemy but in this case it was different. This person had a wound to his face and was very much alive. It took about an hour and a half for the medevac bird to land at our location. For an hour and a half we had to listen to this man scream in agony. The sounds coming out of the aid station made me sick to my stomach. I wanted the doctor to give him something to put him to sleep; his screaming was tearing me apart inside. No one really talked during that time we all just stayed quiet and listened. About eight months later I learned that this kid died of complications from his wound in a military hospital somewhere in America. To this day I hear that young kid screaming, it is another sound that I will probably be carrying with me for the rest of my life.

Gear Bear when you get home there is really no reason to try to explain to people what war is like. You will be asked many questions. Most of the questions will seem stupid to you. How was Afghanistan? What was it like? Did you kill anyone? People that have not experienced war will never understand. My advice to you is to stay quiet or give them simple answers. You will probably have issues sleeping when you first get back. I know that alcohol is bad and only makes matters worse but there is nothing like 12 cans of beer to clear your mind and make you fall asleep without hearing imaginary explosions or the sounds of a person screaming.

Crowds of people also bothered me my first few months back. Try explaining this to a civilian and they will think you are crazy. For a long time I felt extremely uncomfortable around large groups of strangers. I remember going to a public Christmas tree lighting with my family. There were people everywhere, my heart started beating really fast and instantly I wanted to leave. I was having a panic attack and I had no idea why. My kids really wanted to be there but I felt that if I did not leave I was going to faint. At restaurants you will want to sit in a corner with your back to the wall, in church you will want to sit in the back close to the exit. You will not feel safe in crowds. Although, it was probably a false sense of security but, I always felt safer having loaded weapons around me. Having a loaded weapon near me made me feel that I still had some control if something bad were to happen to me or my family. For 10 straight months everywhere I went I carried a rifle. I ate with the rifle, slept with the rifle, and had it next to me while I showered. But the second our plane landed in America they took my rifle away from me.

While receiving indirect fire scares you it is also an extreme adrenaline rush. It is a rush that you will never experience in the real world. Your first few months back will seem uninteresting to you. You will seek excitement that does not exist. Although, I’ve never been suicidal there were a few times that I was driving to work in the morning and thought about running my vehicle off the highway at a high speed. I never went through with it but the thought occurred to me several times during those first few months back. I was not looking to die or anything, I can’t explain the feeling to you but I am afraid that in the near future you might experience these same feelings.

The death of my friends did not really move me at the time. At times I was glad that it was not me. There were other times that I wished it was me. But while I was there I did not really grieve for them. I tried not to think about it and I believe everyone around me had the same feelings. Joking was our way of coping at the time. Every day I thought I was going to die so the only way I could deal with it was to make jokes about dying. Everyone made jokes about dying, I believe most of us felt that we would die or could die at any time. My grieving process began when I arrived back home and to this day I still grieve for them. I recall the last time I saw them alive, our last conversations. I think about their families and to this day it is hard to believe that they are dead. I once had to carry a friend’s body on a stretcher draped in an American flag and load him on a helicopter 200 meters from where he was killed. Two people died that day. I only knew one of them. I was picked to carry the stretcher because the person killed was in my unit. I did not want this job. The other soldiers carrying the stretcher were crying. I did not cry that day my mind was somewhere else. There were about 100 soldiers there. They formed two columns and we carried the body between them to the door of the helicopter as we passed them every one saluted. It did not seem real to me at the time, it felt like I was in a movie. The feeling was surreal.

We all deal with death in different ways Gear Bear. You are young and motivated and you love firing mortars. Yes, killing the enemy is justified. However, there are people back home that will never understand this. They will tell you why war is bad and explain to you that the current war is unjust. They will tell you that we had no business being there. They will blame the past or current president and tell you that you are nothing but a pawn to big business. They will never understand that we do not care about the politics of war. There will be others that thank you, they will tell you that you are a hero; they will tell you that they owe their freedom to you. They will introduce you to people and tell them that you are a war hero or that you just came back from Afghanistan. These people are just as confused as the others and understand nothing about combat. To me these people are worse. I hate to hear the words thank you, I despise the handshakes. When you go to an airport or some other public places you will see people handing out yellow ribbons that say support the troops, there are groups of people that make blankets for wounded warriors and will ask you for a donation or ask you to write a card so they can use your words on their blankets. These people might have good intentions but you will want nothing to do with them. Like the others they do not understand.

Upon your return home Gear Bear in a lot of ways you will be alone. The only people that you can truly talk to about your experiences are other veterans. Your family will never understand. The Army will offer you counseling but the closest thing to war these doctors have seen came from a book; they will not understand you but will insist that they can help you.  Although, killing in your situation was just there will come a time when those deaths affect you as well. You and I both know that we fought for each other not for our neighbor’s freedom. We had to kill the enemy or he would have surly killed us. Our enemy understands this and we understand this but the average person never will.

You came to us a boy Gear Bear. You are leaving us a man. In a few short weeks we will be back home. In the future when you come across a group of young military men you can tell them all about your own Big War. You see Gear Bear no matter what war you were in or what part of history the war took place your short time in Afghanistan will always be The Big War in your eyes. 

I had to ponder very long and hard in wondering if I should print Larry's story or not but, it's real and this is what these men and women are going through while serving our country, as they will,  I am sure, in their civilian lives as well.    

Yes, I am but, a 9 inch stuffed bear that I hope has brought a smile to these soldiers once in awhile and maybe took their minds off the terrible surroundings and death that they have lived with the past months.

I may be able to have one more post before I ship home if not Thank you for taking the time to read our blogs.  We have had over 35,000 views on our Gear Bears Deployment Blog.

If you have enjoyed reading about Gear Bear and his military experience please read his 1st book

Gear Bear Adventures by L.A.Symons  You can also  purchase the book at Barnes & Noble, The Book World, Amazon.com or our web page (which we will be sure and autograph for you, bear paw and all!)

The proceeds from the book sales are donated to St Jude's Children's Hospital.

g/b

www.gearbearadventures.com

Photos from Afghanistan

My buddies and I have been pretty busy as you will see.  All the photos are pretty much self explanatory.

Please let me know if you have enjoyed them.  Gunny went through a lot of work helping me put this one together!

Gear Bear

RIP CSM

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”
-Ernest Hemingway. A Farewell to Arms

Larry told me that I finally got a taste of The Big War. I have asked Larry questions about The Big War several times over the past few months. Larry refers to their last deployment to Afghanistan as The Big War. 

Getting shot at is a feeling that is difficult to explain, shooting back is a different feeling all together. I finally earned my Combat Infantry Badge (CIB). I was the last member of the platoon to earn this badge. On the second day of our mission we got word that one of our own was wounded. The person wounded was by far the best Solider in our unit. It came as a shock to me because just four hours prior to the incident I had a conversation with him. 26 years in the military is what this man gave to his country. Five years of that were in the Marine Corps and the next 20 were with an Army Ranger Regiment. There are numerous stories that have been posted on the internet about this man over the past week

 He deployed to combat locations worldwide several times over his career, participated in several of our country’s most sensitive missions. He also played an instrumental role in the rescue of Jessica Lynch. We did not know any of this information about the man until we read about it on the news.

 If I had only one word to use to describe this warrior that word would be humble. A few days after the incident we got word that our brother in arms passed away. I don’t care what you think of war, I do not care about the politics of war. This man was a true hero, a warrior that cared deeply for his men and the mission. 

Death comes to us all! Most of us will die as old men, maybe in a nursing home. We might be mourned by a few but shortly after our demise we will be forgotten.

Our brother did not die a meaningless death. He died from wounds he sustained on the battlefield. He died from wounds that he bore from our nation’s longest war. He will never be forgotten. 

The current state of our country depresses me. What was once considered good is now bad what was once considered bad is now good.  Our moral compass is broken. Today’s generation did not deserve this man. Our fallen hero was an old soul and his life was that of a life that could have been taken right out of a novel about our nation’s Greatest Generation. 


                g/b

MREs and New Recipes!

“Once I get through with you guys you will be the best mortar men in all of Afghanistan”! That is what I told the 5 Afghan soldiers that were standing next to me. One of the men responded with the word “Insha’ Allah” I asked our interpreter what that phrase signified and he replied “God Willing”. I thought to myself, what a delightful expression.

Part of our exit strategy from Afghanistan is to train the Afghan Army and for the past week or so that is exactly what we have been doing. I believe myself to be a fairly decent mortar man but considering that I don’t speak Dari or Pashto this job has turned out to be rather difficult. Sure, we have a couple of well-intentioned translators to assist us but their English skills are not worthy of mentioning in this blog.

The first morning of training did not go as smooth as we hoped for but overall everything was fine. That is until it was time for afternoon chow. Gunny put me in charge of feeding these guys so I grabbed a box of Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) for them. The only instructions I received for this task was to insure none of the MREs had pork in them. As I was handing out the MREs one of the Afghans said something in Dari that made them all laugh. I had no idea what was said but I did hear the name George Bush. I asked the translator what was said and at first he was hesitant about telling me. I ensured him that I would not get offended. I was just curious as to why they mentioned George Bush.

Apparently, what was said was something to the effect that these MREs have been here since George Bush was reelected and they did not want them. The statement was probably true but I really did not have anything else to offer them. I was in a real predicament. Gunny would crush me if I did not feed these guys. 

That is when I remembered that some lady named Baba Nora sent us a care package full of caramel corn that was made in some hillbilly town in Northern Illinois. Gunny’s wife sent him a French press with Russian tea. Combined the two made for a perfect little lunch. I saved the day!

The following day and every day after the Afghans brought their own lunch along with a little propane stove. Of course they invited me to eat with them and I really enjoyed watching them cook but most of all I liked the simplicity of their meals. The first day we had what they call an omelet but this was no ordinary omelet. 

(I sure hope I'm not being held out for target practice)

The second day we had beans but I must say they were the best tasting beans that I ever tasted. As I watched the little Afghan man prepare lunch I kept a mental note in order for me to replicate these meals in the future.

Afghan Omelet

-          Add cooking oil to a frying pan and bring to simmer (don’t be shy on the oil)

-          Chop up 8 to 10 fresh tomatoes, drop in pan, bring to boil (substance should be extremely watery at this time)

Crack 5 to 6 raw eggs into the concoction and stir like mad (add salt if desired)

Afghan Beans

-          Add cooking oil to a frying pan and bring to simmer (don’t be shy on the oil)

-          Add two cans of kidney beans (their beans were from Iran) mix in with the oil, bring to boil

-          Add half  a can of tomato sauce to mixture  and stir thoroughly (add salt if desired)

Keep in mind the Afghans do not use silverware. Most of the time the meal is served in one large dish that everyone shares. In our case we used Naan (Afghan bread) to scoop up the meal. I’ve traveled all over the world with Paula and I must say that Afghan bread is by far the best! It is amazing what you can learn about a culture just by having lunch with a few of the natives.

Week one of our training with the Afghans has ended and we are getting ready for week two. The Gunny talked to all of us last night and told us that we were half way through our tour. He said to me, “Just think Gear Bear, you will be back with Paula and the rest of your family in about four and a half months”! For some reason the song “Green, Green Grass of Home” came to mind. But the only response I could come up with was “Insha’Allah”

g/b

A Little CCR

In the words of John Fogerty:

It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no Senator's son
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no

There has been a great deal of change in the world since April 30th of 1975 and a large number of those changes have been a direct result of the United States Military’s technological superiority. It is amazing to think that our country has the capability of killing terrorists thousands of miles away with unmanned drones. Heck, we even have a robot roaming around mars! However, at the same time the military also likes to do things the old school way and for the past month of my life I have experienced this first hand.

The good news is my platoon got pulled off the ECP. We are now doing what we were trained to do, which is fire infantry mortars. The bad news is that in order to fire mortars we first had to establish a mortar firing point and this involved a whole lot of physical labor. For the past 45 days or so I have been filling sand bags in the blistering Afghan heat and to really make me feel like a baby boomer, while filling these sand bags the Army would continuously fly helicopters over our heads. You’d think after all these years’ sandbags and choppers would be something of the past!

Due to our operation tempo this week I don’t really have a lot of time to write. But, I can tell you that I got to fire my first rounds in combat this past month. After working the ECP for so long it felt really good to actually join the fight. I’ve attached several pictures to this posting to include our living area, bunker, fighting position, and mortar pit. Keep in mind we started from the ground up on this project so I really feel good about it. Most units fall in on a position already established we had to build ours from the ground up. 

g/b

As Time Passes

For the most part all the snow has melted, I can still see some mountain tops capped with it but other than that it is gone. The past few days have been sunny and the weather has definitely warmed up. I suppose if I wasn’t the domesticated bear that I am today and was born and raised right here in Afghanistan I’d probably be waking up from my hibernation about this time. It seems that spring has come early this year and no I’m not a fan of Al Gore.

In most parts of the world an early spring would most likely be excellent news but in war tattered Afghanistan spring translates directly to an increased amount of death. You see the first inkling of winter is when most of the Taliban fighters, especially the foreign fighters, take some time off. Most of them go back to their villages or homelands to be with their families, kind of like our R&R or mid tour leave. Winter is the ideal time to do this because the harsh weather makes mountain passes impossible to cross. So, the fighters return with the departure of winter to wreak havoc on the spring or as we call it in the Army the fighting season.

Time is a funny thing. I wear a watch here but I’m not sure why. Monday is no different than Friday. Saturday and Tuesday are exactly the same. I basically have nothing to look forward to except for maybe my departure from this place in 7 or so months. My grandma use to tell me that boredom was all in my head, and at the time I guess I kind of understood what she meant. However, my grandma never did a tour of duty in a war zone either. Boredom is real and can drive a man crazy!

Anyway, I’m located in a bowl surrounded by mountains. There are several small villages around me as well. Looking out in any direction can really make you feel insignificant. The land here makes keeping track of time seem kind of silly. The mountains, sky, sun, snow, birds, rocks, animals, and even the Afghan people do not seem to be concerned with time. I think to myself that if I could go back a 1,000 years everything my eyes are currently looking at would look exactly the same, including the people. Their houses are made of dried mud and their roads of dirt. Electricity and plumbing are nonexistent. Old men can be seen barefoot, humping large bushels of hay on their backs. I’ve seen women fully covered riding donkeys carrying over-sized packages, or children as young as two years old walking shoeless and alone in a puddle of ice cold water. 

These people are hard; I don’t think the average American could last one week in an Afghan’s shoes or lack thereof. From sun up till sun down these people seem to be occupied with some type of work.

I often watch the locals eat and this is one part of their culture that I think highly of. Sure, the food is simple but eating it makes me wonder if this is what my grandparents felt like when they were growing up. Breakfast for the local workers consists of a round and sometimes rectangular piece of bread called Naan. The locals bring several pieces of this bread to work in the morning wrapped up in an old piece of cloth. Sometimes, they will add honey or jam to the bread but most of the time they just eat it plain. Every now and then if they are lucky their boss will bring in a bag of hard boiled eggs. Watching them eat hard boiled eggs and fresh bread and then wash it all down with a cup of hot tea makes me envy them in a way. They definitely eat to live here and not the other way around. While eating they converse and laugh, it is almost like being together and talking is the priority and eating comes second. Their food does not come in cans or boxes; it’s not loaded with preservatives either. For snacks I’ve see them pull small reused bags from their pockets filled raisins or some type of seeds and their always eager to share.

The guys I work with think that these people live miserable lives and often make jokes about how backwards they are. A lot of the guys will call them primitive. I don’t feel the same as most Soldiers feel when it comes to the people here. Maybe, it has something to do with me being a bear but I’m not 100% sure these people are miserable. One thing I find extremely interesting about them is the fact that most of them have no idea how old they are, they do not have birthdays here. When I first heard this I chuckled but after thinking about it I realized that not knowing how old you are really means nothing when you look at the big picture. It goes back to the whole not keeping track of time thing and actually makes perfect sense to me.  The people in the village next to me are interested in tending to their land and feeding their families. The issues that these people are concerned with involve life and death and therefore are meaningful. Children fly kites and throw rocks and spend most of their time outdoors. I’m not saying that I would want to trade places with these people but when I think about the state of my country and my people I’m in no position to say the world, I know, is better. 

g/b