Home sweet home

Home sweet home. Sort of. 

While I’m glad to be back in Ontario — in one piece, no less — part of me wishes I was still in Afghanistan. Oddly enough, for me, there’s a slightly empty feeling that comes with being back in a free country, re-entering a life that seems mundane when compared to what’s happening in Kandahar.

Speaking with various Canadian military personnel during the trip home, the sentiment was somewhat echoed. Sure, they’re all excited about seeing their families again, happy to be back in their homeland. But, for the most part, the majority of the people I talked to who had been stationed in Kandahar can’t wait to get back there, where unfinished business awaits.

Kind of like a tug-o-war between the desire to live peacefully and the desire to create peace for others.

Regardless, the scene I witnessed at CFB Trenton 8 Wing was pretty touching. I’m not sure if it was the eight-hour flight talking or not, but I couldn’t help but be moved when we arrived at the terminal to find so many teary-eyed families waiting to greet their husbands, wives and sons and daughters who were coming off tours of duty. Warm hugs were on full display as troops made their way to their respective families.

I can only imagine what a sacrifice the military lifestyle must be for everyone involved. Seeing families reunited was pretty special.

Sadly, things don’t always pan out this way.

I’ve had a chance to get some rest and write some stories. They’ll be published in The Barrie Examiner soon.

So long for now.

Heading home

First off, my apologies for any upcoming spelling mistakes. I´m in Cologne, Germany. The keyboards here are backwards! (And Internet time is costly!)

We´re on the final leg of a one-day stopover here. It´s nothing like Afghanistan. In fact, I find myself feeling a little guilting right now as I sit in this posh cafe, sipping an awesome latte. Meanwhile, a war wages on.

We´re on our way home, but I can´t help but wish we´d have had a bit more time outside the wire during our stay in Kandahar. So much valuable information was hurled our way at the Kandahar Air Field, but the real stories lay in places such as Camp Nathan Smith, where military personnel, civilian aid workers and Afghan nationals work as one towards a better day. We had a chance to see some of this work first-hand, which, in my opinion, is the only way to truly begin to grasp what´s going on in this poverty-stricken province.

Spending time in the Forward Operating Bases – where the military gruntwork happens – would have been icing on the cake. This is where the real wars are playing out.

Anyways, my pricey Internet time is running out (plus my flight leaves soon!)

It´s raining hard here. I might get splashed by a car zoo0ming through a puddle on my way back to our hotel (it´s happened twice already). Or I might be run over by a cyclist (they have bike paths here, and I´m only now figuring that out).

If that´s the worst that´s going to happen to me, I´ll consider myself blessed.

Things are a whole lot messier in Afghanistan.

Talk soon.

The good and the bad

Had a chance to sit down with some military personnel today at Camp Mirage who are on their way home following various tours of duty at Kandahar Air Field.
While those I spoke with valued their time in theatre, they also expressed a few concerns about Canada’s role in Afghanistan.
One women, posted in a civilian capacity, said she thinks this war is not one that can be won.
“Eventually, we’re going to leave. And when that happens, there’s no way they’ll be able to sustain themselves,” she said. “They’re nowhere ready for that.
“You can’t change a culture,” she added. “It just doesn’t work that way.”
According to the woman, Canadians are ill-informed about exactly what’s going on in this war. While they hear about it when people die, she said there are soldiers being seriously injured daily, as well, and Canadians back home aren’t getting the full picture.
“A friend of mine lost his leg,” she said. “Another guy lost both his legs and an arm. Yet, all we ever hear about is the people who die. Too many people are dying, and for what reason? We’re getting hurt over there, and too many people are dying.”
Food for thought.

One strep forward, two steps back

Back at Camp Mirage, Canada’s military support base to the troops in Afghanistan.
Because of an agreement struck between Canada and the host nation, I can’t tell you exactly where we are,.
What I can tell you is this: we’re heading back in the general direction of Ontario (albeit still thousands of miles away) the sun is shining here, there’s a beautiful breeze, and it’s been an enjoyable afternoon for our media group.
After five days straight of 5:30 a.m. wake-calls, followed by hours upon hours of briefings, followed by hours of writing stories and sending photos, and then a few hours of winks stuck in there somewhere, our group is embracing this little change of pace.
We’ve got the afternoon off, so I’m about to round up the fellas to see if they’re interesting in having me school them on the basketball court.
Anyways, I plan to make my way back over here this evening.
We’ve learned an incredible amount during our time in Kandahar, and I’m excited to keep writing about it.
I’ll be in transit the next few days, but I plan to get down to business as soon as I get home.
Look for the full report from my trip, including photos, in an upcoming edition of The Barrie Examiner.
Until then.

Friendly forces

Still absolutely amazed by the level of community found within the confines of Canada’s military family.

Kind greetings are the norm everywhere you go. At 5:30 a.m., in the wee evening hours, at every corner you turn, there’s a friendly hello waiting for you.

At the New Canada House, located on the Kandahar Air Field grounds, military folk are watching the tube as Obama delivers his inauguration speech to America. The people here are sipping coffee and playing poker, but for the most part, they’re huddled together, like one enormous family, just chatting, interacting and hanging out.

It’s cool to see.

During the breakfast, lunch and dinner hours, our troops do the same: chat, talk loosely, and genuinely appear content hanging with fellow friends and strangers.

Despite the fact they’re in the middle of a war mission, there are no scowls or frowns on their faces.

Just happy, content-looking, down-to-earth people who appreciate the simple things.

They operate like a big, happy family.

Cool, indeed.

Kudos to them all.

In this corner … your, um, war correspondents?

Four reporters and a public affairs officer flew to Afghanistan.

That might sound like the start to a bad joke. Truth is, it has been a little funny.

I’m on a media familiarization visit to Afghanistan, sponsored by the Department of National Defence. 

Kingston Whig-Standard military beat reporter Ian Elliot, Damian Brooks, who runs a military website called The Torch, Journal de Montreal political pundit Jean LaRoche and Yours Truly are proving to be quite an interesting combo.

Elliot is elusive in a Pokeroo kind of way. He asks smart, tough questions and smokes a lot. 

Brooks is the biggest talker in the gang. His shaved head is better than Mr. Clean’s and I swear he can spout the entire military alphabet. 

LaRoche is a pretty quiet guy, the humble type. He’s a Habs fan. That’s unfortunate.

Lieut-Commander Pierre Babinsky, a public affairs guru with nearly 30 years military experience, guides our way. He’s an awesome wealth of knowledge. He smokes a lot too.

Me? I’m the young gun whose job is to cover sports for The Barrie Examiner. Still not quite sure how I ended up here, but I’m thankful I did.

The media gang is together nearly 24/7 on this trip. Sharing rooms, sharing breakfast, sharing information, and, generally, having a lot of fun.

While we might not agree on everything — Go Leafs Go, eh Jean? — we all agree this experience of covering Canada’s mission in Afghanistan has been a true eye-opener like nothing else we could have imagined. 

I’ve been filing stories daily, but I won’t have the time to compile the big story properly until I get back home. It’s a story that deserves time, something we haven’t had much of throughout the duration of the trip.

I am, however, looking forward to diving in ASAP.

Until then.

Coffee confusion

Craving my first Tim Hortons coffee in a long while, I ventured down to the Tims trailer at Kandahar Air Field.
It’s located on the boardwalk, where the so-called “shopping district” is.
Inside the trailer, I had to chuckle. An American and a few Aussies were in line, identified by their camo uniforms and rifles, of course.
The American gets his coffee and proceeds to ask the Canadian who had just placed an order a question.
“What’s a double-double?” the American asked.
Seriously. No joke.
“It’s two cream and two sugar,” the Canadian replied.
“That makes sense,” the American responded.
Fascinating stuff.
As I chuckled to myself ever so quietly (remember, these guys carry guns), an American approached me.
“You know you just cut in line, pal?”
Turns out, the lineups form outside the trailer. The small group of Canadians I thought were just hanging out were actually waiting in line.
I apologized, felt like a fool, and went along my merry way with my favourite coffee in hand.
Single milk, not a double-double.

Small world, big truck

Funny how things can be right under your nose when you least expect it.

As part of a regional media visit in Afghanistan, we get a certain VIP treatment (I’m trying not to get used to it, trust me). With it, though, drivers ship us around the massive Kandahar Air Field military base in sweet rides that come complete with bulletproof glass and armoured doors. 

Turns out, a military driver we had for a few days in a row is from none other than good old Barrie. 

I’m hoping to catch up with him again. If he’s cool with it, I’d like to interview him for an upcoming story in the Examiner.

Stay tuned.

Until then.

Outside the wire

This is not Canada. Not even close.

Inside the wire is one thing. Amenities are here. So is relative security.

The military bases we’ve built here may be miles from home, but they’re pretty comfortable, and pretty welcoming: just like Canada.

When you cross the other side of the barbed fencing, you enter a world that’s completely unfathomable.

It’s a place unlike anything we can begin to imagine in safe Canada.

A convoy of RG 31 armoured vehicles pulls out of Camp Nathan Smith — a base dedicated to Canadian-led reconstruction efforts in Kandahar Province. 

When one leaves the safe place and enters the severely dangerous zone, the gut twists.

Charging down the dusty road headed for Kandahar City, the four heavily armed and secured vehicles providing a safety netting don’t do much to ease the mind.

Not when a chance encounter with a suicide bomber or improvised explosive device is a brutal reality.

Not when violence, infighting, hatred and fear — courtesy of Taliban insurgents — is part of daily life here.

We continue to cruise down the busy street at a slow clip. 

Soldiers keep a close stock on the surroundings, ammo at the ready.

Garbage and ruined buildings mark the environment. Tiny shops selling fruit and other items out front double as family homes out back.

Some kids wave, others throw rocks at us (although not fueled by hate, I’m told. Remember the time you drilled a snowball at a passing car when you were six? It’s a variation of that.)

We wind our way down to District 9 — an area of the city best known for its extreme level of violence. This is where the crazy stuff usually goes down.

Adults in burkhas stare blankly as we pass. Fully covered women turn away.

Men, sometimes entire families, cruise the streets on motorized moped-style bikes, others ride the pedal version.

This is like a page out of National Geographic. You can see the visuals, but you can’t truly relate to it.

As we wind through the narrow streets, fear doesn’t subside (our military folk seem just fine, but they’ve been through this many times before).

The fear isn’t generated from the smiling kids running and waving happily about. Or their parents, appearing dull and bored, but not aggressive in any way.

The cause of the anxiety is the unknown. Who’s that suspicious looking person on the bicycle? What’s the concealed cargo strapped on the back of it? What’s around the next corner? Who’s around the next corner? Is today the day? Is this minute the minute?

For a first-time visitor, it’s what rolls through the noggin. Fear, constantly. 

Despite that, it’s somewhat magical, too. 

This impoverished place is full of threat and inviting as well.

Strange, indeed. Intriguing, for sure. Mysterious, no doubt.

There’s life inside the wire, and there’s life outside the wire. 

Our troops live in both places.

To say they’re a brave bunch is an understatement.

By the way, I’ll be going more in-depth with what I witnessed in Kandahar City, and what’s being done to improve the rotting infrastructure in an upcoming edition of The Barrie Examiner.

There’s so much more to tell. 

Until then.

Words of support

The following are just a few of the letters of support sent from children and posted on the walls at New Canada House, a Canadian-specific recreational hall located at the Kandahar Air Field:

Dear Soldier:

I appreciate that you are fighting for freedom and peace in the world. Are there poppies where you’re fighting? Are you feeling well? Are you missing your family? We support our troops! We all hope you come back soon! We will still remember you if you don’t come back.

Sincerely,

Ben

Dear Soldier:

I appreciate that you are fighting for freedom and hope. If my father or mother went to war, I would remember to appreciate what they had done. I wear a poppy every year to show that I remember the families that have someone fighting in the war to give us freedom. I know a poppy is a reminder of hope, freedom and braveness, so thank you for helping