Began at 0400, which is not so typical for me – but is for a good percentage of our men. Matt M., who has been back on station for about a week, woke me and we began the gearing up process Getting all of that gear on always reminds me of my Dad’s regular riverside quote preparing for a day of fly-fishing, “what a production.” By that he means the whole thing of tucking pants into socks, pulling on waders, folding rock-guards over boots, hooking up chest-packs, camel-backs, connecting four pieces of rod, cutting and tying tippet, selecting flies, etc. . . . yep, he’s right – it’s a “production.” The tough part for me is, by the time we actually get to the water (after at least one trip back to the house to get the gear my dad forgot . . . can you believe that we met in New Mexico once to fish the San Juan tailwater, and my dad forgot to pack his reel?) anyway, by the time we get on the water – I am so anxious to get a line wet, that I tend to rush through the “production” and skip a guide stringing line on the rod, or tie too short a leader, or something. Always gets me into trouble later, costs extra time spent riverside – sitting on some rock re-rigging, watching someone else fight fish.
The stakes are a little higher here, so Matt and I spend a little extra time making sure things are right; right uniform (the flame retardant variety), right equipment, plenty of water, fresh batteries, whatever the mission requires. Just the two of us is easy. The team leaders and squad leaders go through the “production” with each of their guys – its called PCCs’ / PCIs’ (pre combat checks / pre combat inspections). After that, we all meet for the mission brief, talk through rehearsals, pray, load up.
Tuesday’s mission was a slow drive up the wadi (river-bed), before dismounting and clearing to several small villages. ‘Clearing’ is exactly what it sounds like – walking in front of the vehicles looking for wires that might run to mines, pressure plates, anything to indicate an IED in the road. Our paratroopers find them frequently, but you would never find one from the relative safety of the truck.
We didn’t find any mines, but we sure did talk to a lot of locals. The wheat harvest is on right now – and the wadis’ are lined with crops. Fields terrace the hillsides; hand-dug canals channel the water through the fields before emptying back into the stream. I walked with the LT along the hard-packed hump of earth, built up to contain the flowing waters. We stopped near a Mosque to talk with a local man about the upcoming elections. Even in these remote places, the folks here are surprisingly well informed. This man knew that the elections were just around the corner and offered some advice toward increasing voter turnout.
While the LT continued to talk with a gathering crowd, I slipped back toward the wadi to check on Matt. On the way I startled a group of young girls driving their goats toward the water. They ranged in age from about four to maybe eleven (the girls, not the goats . . . I have no idea how old the goats were). The oldest of them quickly covered their faces with their scarves, just as they had been taught I am sure; all were smiles and waves, at least after the initial shock of the encounter.
I confess that, in several ways, I envy the families here. They all work together for the good of the family, the good of the community. I’ll bet that most times children are much too tired to back talk their moms and dads! On this morning, those children who were not tending to the animals were working in the fields. It was about 6 am when we made our way through that particular village, and the families were fully engaged in the harvest. Moms and Dads bent low, sickles working, piles of stalks in their wake, children feverishly gathering, bundling, and strapping those bundles to donkeys for transport. Some of these kids could not have been more than two or three years old. It is something to see.
It was apparently a great year, the big heads of grain called to mind the descriptions in Pharaoh’s dream – about the seven years of plenty. We walked right along the edges of the fields – and the smell of the wheat reminded me of Ann Buckner’s pantry, or Sarah Holley’s kitchen– where there is always fresh ground wheat bread baking. I owe them a tremendous debt, as they are the gals most responsible for Jamie’s own affection for making fresh bread. We have tossed around the idea of leaving the military someday and opening a Great Harvest Bakery somewhere in Chattanooga. Sounds good, but not sure I could work in that environment all day without gaining substantial weight.
As Lieutenant M and I rounded a corner of one of the fields, we scared one poor little afghan girl half to death. She looked to be between two and three years old, not a parent in site. The little girl ran bawling into the wheat fields, and our interpreter followed to tell her it was ok, that we were not as bad as we looked in all of that gear! It was an absolutely vain effort, she wouldn’t believe it, just ran faster in the direction of her family Qalat. I can’t blame her.
It was a very quiet day, and I think, a productive one. Just maintaining contact with locals is part of the campaign here. Reminding them that we are a far cry from the Taliban, or the foreign Islamic fundamentalist invaders whose primary goal is the continuance of chaos. Sounds like another well-known villain – the one whose chief end, our Lord says, is to steal, kill, destroy. It is doubtless that Satan is the force behind the terror here. Not something so simple as religious or political ideology. Someone will say, how are those simple? Have not politics and religion been the source of wars and rumors of wars for millennia? In so far as they are used to advance greed, lust for control of others, certainly. But directed toward those ends, they are tools, and someone has to wield them. Therefore, the folks engaged in jihad here have prostituted themselves, sold their allegiance and service to the “prince of the power of the air” as Paul refers to him.
At any rate – the politics and the religion of Christ are so completely unique, that many don’t like to refer to Him in those terms at all. Maybe that is safer; given the mixed-up images those words conjure. Jesus, the suffering servant; what an incredible manner of introduction to the world! How different too, His ideology, His manner of living, loving, giving Himself. Living here makes the contrast between Christ and every other ‘god’ all the more clear. Then, the call is for us too, to live in contrast to the world, to make the difference that is in Christ clear, to make his praise glorious.
For we are His workmanship! Created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared before hand so that we would walk in them. – Ephesians 2:10
