Purple Hearts & Wounded Spirits Page 6

  Section III

  Chapter Eleven

  The Homecoming

  INITIALLY IT WAS GOOD TO BE HOME with my wife and family, especially to attend to my son’s distress. We met with his doctor and it was obvious that our effort to help my son would take longer than a few weeks. I was told by the NG that for me to stay home longer I would need to file for a hardship discharge. That sounded rather drastic at that time but after seeing how distraught my son and wife had become over my absence I felt a tremendous burden to do whatever I had to help them.

  I filed the appropriate paperwork, met with numerous people and within a short period of time I was not only out of Iraq, but also out of the Army NG entirely. Over a period of a few weeks we made great progress with my son’s problems and my family was back on solid ground. It was summer when I returned so school was not in session, which may have made things worse for me personally. I now had too much time on my hands to spend thinking about all of my issues, including those that had begun prior to going to Iraq and those that had arisen while I was there. The biggest issue I had was guilt. I developed a sense of embarrassment for leaving Iraq early, even though I knew I had legitimate reasons for it. I could not get past having left my buddies back there.

  I became depressed, withdrawn and irritable about the entire subject. What I did not realize at that time was I was also suffering from the early stages of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). It was during one of those tough days that my wife came to me with the phone and suggested that I call the NG and ask to re-enlist and to return to Iraq. I was obviously shocked by her statement. I thought she was glad that I was home and our son was doing so much better now. All that was true, but as she put it, “What good does it do us if you’re not here [mentally] with us? I am afraid that you’ll grow bitter and resent us for having to come home.” I assured her that I did not feel that way, yet she insisted that I at least try. She said if it did not work then we knew it was not meant to be and we could move on; otherwise we might drag those issues around with us forever.

  As much as I protested her thoughts on our situation I knew she was right. She had been more insightful about what was happening to us. Even though I had not talked to her about how I was feeling, she could read me like a book and I could not argue her point. I contacted my prior unit’s CoC about going back to Iraq, specifically being reassigned back to my old unit at the Palace. The responses I got ranged from casual indifference to a resounding “No way!” Whether it was because of the paperwork involved or that they were certain that I had not left for the right reasons they were not only refusing my return but would fight it however they could.

  After numerous trips to state HQs I did meet an officer who took the time to talk with me about my case. After explaining my situation and my desire to return to Iraq and finish my tour honorably he consented to help. I took the re-enlistment oath right in my own living room and I was assigned to his unit. Try as he might I was stalled from getting back to my unit until it was finally too late to go because they would be home in a few months anyway. The conflict I felt was now tearing me apart. I began to question my reasons for coming home, how to deal with my anger toward our enemy and how to come to terms with all that I had seen and done, especially as a Christian.

  I decided that all of these questions could only be answered by deploying again to any theater of action. I then did something that any smart soldier rarely does—I volunteered to go anywhere as long as it was to a combat zone. I did not think it was a blessing at the time, but God answered my request with Afghanistan. Our state NG did not have a unit deploying to Afghanistan at that time, so I was attached to a training unit that was mobilizing out of Ft. Hood, Texas. It was not actually just one unit, but a conglomeration of soldiers from approximately twenty-seven different states all coming together to form a training unit based on their skill sets. My skill set having been formerly mountain infantry qualified made me a good bet for the rugged terrain of Afghanistan. The announcement of my redeploying went over like a lead balloon, especially with my extended family. Over time they realized that it was a done deal and they would support me in any way they could.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fort Hood

  THE FIRST INDICATION that this was going to be a very different tour was my send off, or should I say the lack of one. My first tour was marked by a large gathering of family, friends, military personnel and politicians. Some had come to wish us well and show their support for the troops, while others appeared for nothing more than a photo op for their constituency, but I will avoid politics as much as I can at least for now.

  I arrived at Ft. Hood with approximately two hundred and fifty soldiers from various state NG units and reserve units as well. Eventually we were broken down into teams of eighteen soldiers; half being officers and the other half being NCOs. The idea behind these teams was that we would deploy to Afghanistan as a team, NCOs with officers for the best effect for each Afghan unit. After approximately two months of mobilization training we would be wheels up for Afghanistan. Unfortunately most of the training, like before, was a waste of time.

  We were going through basic soldier skills training; we were all officers and NCOs, so by its nature that was entirely unnecessary. We also spent endless hours subjected to “death by PowerPoint” briefings where we were indoctrinated into the politically correct version of Islam. I believe the misinformation that was disseminated in these meetings to the troops over the years did more damage than good for all concerned.

  Nothing much had changed since my original mobilization out of Ft. Dix other than the weather. The useful portions of mobilization like weapons qualification, gear issue, medical and personnel updates could have been accomplished within a two-week span of time. Yet the greatest benefit of our time at Ft. Hood was getting to know the other members of our team, “The War Eagles.” I have to say that this was the greatest combination of talent, skill, experience and leadership I have experienced before or since. Everyone on the team brought something of value to the table and complemented the rest of the team. I especially appreciated the relaxed attitude toward rank within our team. Not that we did not extend proper military protocol, but an eighteen-man team of experienced soldiers is not looking to impress anyone else as well as the fact that we are all depending on each other and working together side by side. The very real sense of brotherhood came to life during this tour and I have not been entirely able to experience it at that level since.

  Just prior to our departure we were informed that our team was being broken apart and dispersed to various parts of Afghanistan. This was unsettling for me because I had come to appreciate working with these men. I also knew that I could count on any one of them to watch my back. Worst of all was the realization that I would have to establish myself with an entirely new team, which I thought would not work as well as the current team. Another uncertainty was our final destination and mission, which kept changing. I learned to appreciate the adage “when your boots hit the sand, there you are.”

  My time at Ft. Hood was not without the added stress of worrying about my family. Would they fare better during this tour than the last one? Second guessing my decision to redeploy was a frequent issue that gnawed at me when issues arose at home. The closer I got to actually deploying the more I became SFC Moore and began to get my head into the game, which also meant revisiting old feelings of fear, anger and hatred for our enemy. Once again, I welcomed many of these feeling because I believed that they made me a more effective soldier.

  “A distracted soldier is a dead soldier,” and I would not be distracted! I was determined to be an effective, focused soldier and leader. I began to visualize what Afghanistan might be like. Would the people be just like the Muslims I met in Iraq? Would I be placed in a dangerous mission with the enemy trying to kill me again? Deep down I hoped for it. I had already experienced something that became very evident later on—if the enemy shoots at you, you can shoot back! I don’t mean to sound lik
e an insensitive killer but we were at war; these people killed my countrymen and tried to kill my son.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kabul

  WE FLEW OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF WINTER, stopping in New York City; Shannon, Ireland; Turkey; and finally Kirgizstan on our way to Afghanistan. After a few days in Kirgizstan we made the long, cold flight over the mountains of Afghanistan to land in the capital city of Kabul. We were transported across the city to the base which would serve as our staging area for our eventual FOBs. This base, we soon learned, was an okay place to visit for the PX and food, but was literally “the Flag Pole.”

  The command of our entire task force was based here and included too many officers and senior NCOs with too much rank and nothing relevant to do. There were people who spent their time shopping at the bazaars purchasing Afghan rugs at reduced prices for shipment home for resale. The good thing about these leaders was that they generally left us alone; it was those that were placed in charge of something totally irrelevant that had little or no bearing on the greater mission at hand that made life miserable.

  A perfect example of this fact was that our request for night vision goggles, a rather critical piece of equipment for war fighting at night, was denied. The stated reason was that our mission did not call for them because we were only training Afghan soldiers and should not be out at night. The more accurate reason was multi-layered. The command in some cases did not understand our mission. They also did not want to give up these sensitive items for fear that we were incapable of keeping them safe. The final reason was something that I learned of firsthand several times. “Soldier envy,” is a casual expression used commonly by the SF, meant that there were many in command who were envious of our ability to go out with the Afghans. To have the freedom to get away from the command, run our own missions without requesting permission at every turn and quite possibly see enough action to be awarded a commendation of some type.

  Unfortunately, I would run into this issue again. Some leaders did not understand that we were at war and were only interested in their own careers, regardless of the impact on their subordinates or the mission. The justification for keeping the night vision goggles on the base and not out on mission, was that they were used by officers who walked the base at night looking for soldiers engaged in prohibited sexual activity.

  This frustration quickly rose to anger when we were ordered to become pay and contract officers. These positions are held by “officers” who negotiate contracts with local nationals and other non-military entities for goods and services that cannot be supplied through normal methods, such as buying food and fuel to sustain the ANA that we were working with, or even funding building projects like well pumps for clean drinking water.

  Soldiers are used to taking orders, even foolish ones. We were ordered to do an officer’s job because they were either too afraid to go outside the wire and/or because it would take them out of their comfortable surroundings on the base. To add insult to injury, we were required to sign for approximately fifty thousand dollars in cash once per month. When we returned to base we had to produce signed receipts with a spread sheet tabulating every transaction down to the dollar. They were treating this like we were back in the United States dealing with any American sub-contractor.

  We attempted to explain that we were not equipped for this type of an accounting mission. Our command ignored the fact that most Afghans are illiterate and make all deals with a handshake. We were told that we were going to do it anyway and that if we did not have receipts for every dollar spent we would go to prison. Later we were advised by the soldiers we were replacing of how to meet these unrealistic requirements. They would record every transaction on a spreadsheet they had developed, and the interpreters would hand write the receipts and sign them themselves. We soon learned that the only thing that mattered with some in command was the paperwork; if the paperwork was good then we were good to go. So we counted and signed for our fifty thousand dollars and headed off for our primary FOB. (Just so there is no question, every dollar was accounted for within my team. Every dollar!)

  In fairness to the officers and senior NCOs that I served with, I could fill entire chapters of examples of those that went above and beyond their required duties. One such officer was Captain (CPT) Casey, a reservist who had a similar background to mine in regards to law enforcement experience, age and family. We hit it off immediately, especially since we both had respect for each other and we were very willing to rely on each other for guidance, suggestions and constructive criticism. I always knew CPT Casey had my back, and he knew that I had his; that is no small thing in a combat zone.

  Major Ward: An example of what good leadership looks like.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Yellow Dog

  OUR FIRST IMPRESSION OF OUR NEW BASE, Yellow Dog was not good. It was a very small FOB, so small it did not even have a PX, just a chow hall, maintenance and living quarters. It is not an exaggeration to say that its dimensions were that of a football field. Yet we soon discovered that this was the best kept secret in the Stan. Due to its austere living conditions irrelevant command types (ICT) were scarce which meant that most of the soldiers there, regardless of rank, wanted to be there and understood the mission to include senior leadership.

  YD was where we would stage all of our “Long Walks” (LW), a code term that I used to inform my wife that I was going outside the wire for an extended period of time and not to worry if she did not hear from me. Due to OPSEC I never told her where we were going or why. Yet Raquel understood that not hearing from me was okay as long as the chaplain did not show up at our house. My wife had a few strategies for not becoming consumed with worry for my safety. One was to avoid watching the news as it related to the war on terror, especially since most of the mainstream media had decided to exaggerate any bad news and avoid reporting the good. Another strategy was to focus on our children and to try to maintain a sense of normalcy in their lives.

  Training the ANA in the use of armored vehicles.

  Embedded with the ANA

  The more things change the more they stay the same, and this was true with the Army in that you could count on your orders morphing into something you never expected. I arrived in Afghanistan preparing to train Afghan recruits in a boot camp scenario. What I stepped into was much more. I had arrived here with CPT Casey from our original Ft. Hood “War Eagles,” and he and I were led out of YD and into the ANA base where I saw more armed Muslims in one place than I had ever seen before. I will admit I was flooded with a mix of emotions from fear to anger and confusion. What were we doing in the middle of all these Muslim soldiers? Was this safe?

  Our mission was simply this: we were to become embedded advisors (ETT) to the ANA, which meant working and even living with them every day, including off base. I immediately protested to those who were preparing us for this tour. I explained that I had already served in Iraq and was well acquainted with Muslims. I knew that they could not be trusted to fight when we needed them to and worse they will sell us to the enemy the first chance they get. While in Iraq we would never leave a few soldiers alone in the care of Iraqi Muslims, which was SOP.

  I was advised by our transition team that the Afghans were not Arabs and that they are a very different type of Muslim; these men were raised in a warrior culture. Getting them to stand and fight was not the problem—trying to maintain command and control of them when the shooting started was. They were all too eager to engage the enemy. The next point they made was hard to believe at first but I ultimately saw it played out several times during my tour in Afghanistan: their sense of honor and hospitality. I was considered a guest and would be treated as such by the Afghan soldiers and by the civilian population as well. Since CPT Casey and I had been assigned to this particular ANA Company, they were responsible for our safety and it would mean dishonor for them if something happened to either of us.

  CPT Casey and I became close friends and looked out for each other through good times
and bad. This relationship of fellow soldiers working together was not unique to him and me. Many of the embedded teams interacted this way, primarily out of necessity but also because it just made sense. Occasionally a team would arrive that did not grasp this concept, which caused their time in Afghanistan to be miserable and the mission to suffer.

  We spent the first few weeks getting acclimated to not only the climate but more importantly the elevation. Afghanistan is called “the roof of the world” for a good reason. Much of its landscape looks like the Rocky Mountains, and it is part of the Himalayan mountain range. I was in good physical condition for my age (forty-five) but when we began foot patrols through the mountains I felt like I had been a smoker for thirty years. The thin oxygen levels were unbelievable. After only a short climb I was sucking wind and the muscle fatigue was even worse. Over time I did acclimate physically to the elevation, and I was amazed at how far I could climb without getting winded.

  This also led us to another decision about our issued gear. We were required to wear all of the ridiculous body armor that the Army was issuing to soldiers for protection from Improvised Explosive Devices (IED). I say ridiculous because all soldiers were required to wear it regardless of mission demands. Wearing body armor became an issue early in our conflict in Iraq due to the enemies’ deployment of IEDs. These explosives would be detonated electronically on passing United States military vehicles, either destroying the vehicles entirely or ripping a hole through the passenger compartment. The military’s attempts at keeping soldiers safe had become counterproductive because when a soldier is wearing so much heavy protective armor he can barely move.