Christmas Eve, I got the call, “Harris, you’re moving.” The project manager in Bagram for the K9 contract I was working gave me the news is a very unceremonious manner. “Get your gear packed. You need to be on the flight line at 21:00” (9pm). I had heard rumors that I might be moving out to a new location, but I didn’t expect it on Christmas Eve.
I gathered my equipment, clothes, dog stuff and everything I had amassed in the six months I had been at Bagram and got everything ready. It really is not that much when you come to think about it.
This is my personal gear. It weighs about 150 pounds all together. You might think it looks like a lot but considering this is everything for a year, clothes, equipment, personal items, dog equipment and anything else I could get my hands on to make life in an 8 X 10 wooden box livable for my dog and me.
I would be moving out to a Forward Operating Base (FOB) that night. Flights on Christmas were not the norm; something was up. As one of the senior K9 handlers, I was being moved to take over K9 operations somewhere. I did not yet know exactly where but it would be away from the hustle and bustle of Bagram.
I’ve been sleeping in a sleeping bag since July and this was my first night that my back would see a bed, not a great one but a bed just the same.
Bagram like so many bases in Afghanistan during this time of year tries to make things as normal as possible if even possible at all. There were a couple of Christmas trees in the dining facility, there was an influx of packages from home and for those that didn’t have anyone sending them gifts, there were several veteran and service organizations that sent small gifts and letters addressed to “Any Soldier” that was a very welcomed sight. The contractors, like me, were not part of that group, so there was nothing coming our way except from family if you were lucky enough to have one back home waiting.
I was able to connect with the US War Dog Association through the internet, and they did a fantastic job of remembering all the K9 contractors in my group. We would get packages from them full of dog treats, collars, leashes, t-shirts and stuff we needed. It was nice to have something to open for Christmas.
Contracting is a hard life. The contracts usually last a year at a minimum, and you do not get any time off to go home. Being gone a year at a time weighs heavily on everyone, and many contractors find themselves without anyone waiting for their return. You meet a lot of these folks. They float from contract to contract and stay gone from the States for years at a time. I was lucky. I had a family waiting.
At about 20:00 (8pm) I loaded my gear, my dog Jack, and climbed into the back of the truck for the 10-minute ride to the flight line. There I would be checked, my gear would be placed on a cargo pallet for loading, and when all was ready would join the passengers at the terminal. We would load on a bus and wait to move. The bus would take us to a waiting flight. Everyone did their part to make things as light as possible this time of the year and the bus driver was wearing a red Elf hat with bells on it. It was surreal.
As the bus pulled up to the waiting C-130 Hercules, the big props were already turning. You got off the bus and everyone lined up in two rows directly behind the cargo ramp. You had to approach the plane from the rear, or risk being blown off your feet from the propeller wash.
The flight was blacked out most of the way and the pilot and crew all wore night vision goggles (NVG) to operate. The flight was full, noisy, and armed to the teeth. Jack and I were the last to board and would be the first off the flight once it set down. As we prepared for departure we all squeezed in a little tighter as the last of the cargo was loaded. Two skids of cargo, backpacks, supplies and a whole bunch of soldiers were packed into the waiting C-130. The crew checked the load and went through their preflight checklists.
The troops I was traveling with were a mix of young and not so young faces. Some were apprehensive, some were asleep as soon as they settled in the webbing seats, most were checking equipment and trying to get as comfortable as possible. Just before boarding the Platoon Sergeant made sure his troops were ready. Ammo was passed out and equipment checks, headcounts, checklists were run without a hitch. He turned to the young 1st Lieutenant and signaled with a thumbs up that they were good to go.
This flight was clearly different than the other flights I had been on while in country here in Afghanistan. All the other flights had been laid back, crews joked, and everyone was relaxed. Not this one. Everyone was all business going through memorized checks that had been practiced time and time again. I personally felt a little twinge of anxiousness. It was different than being scared, it was more a mental trip to a time years ago when I would have been going through the same thoughts and checks as these young soldiers.
“Bad people shooting at us,” he answered in a rather matter of fact manner. His answer drove home the difference in this flight over the others I had been on.
Anxious is probably the wrong word, exhilaration is closer to the mark. There is a poster that I have seen titled “Rare View of the Inside of an Actual Can of Woop-Ass.” Well, let me tell you, here I was, standing in the middle of that very can. I felt sorry for whoever was going up against this group because this whole can was about to be opened.
Actual view inside the proverbial can of Woop-Ass. Once opened, the bad guys this can was pointed at would have a very bad day.
Jack was nervous. This was only my second flight with him and he was clearly bothered by the vibrations, noise, and all the activity going on around him. Being a young dog, he clearly was not the old hat at flying my last dog had been. That would change more than we both knew.
The rear cargo hatch closed with a loud hissing noise that startled Jack. He kept trying to pinpoint the location of the noise. With a dogs acute hearing, sense of smell and all he was clearly on sensory overload. I did what I could to keep him calm and pretty much talked softly to him and stroked his head. The big engines powered up and it felt like the plane just jumped into the air. Two of the soldiers closest to us grabbed their rucksacks, stacked in between us, to keep them from falling on Jack as the plane pushed us all toward the rear as it climbed into the night sky.
I noticed two crewmen intensely watching out the side windows located at their positions in the plane. They too were wearing NVGs. I asked the one closest to me what he was looking for?
“Bad people shooting at us,” he answered in a rather matter of fact manner. His answer drove home the difference in this flight over the others I had been on.
As we leveled off the flight settled into a steady drone from the engines. The Platoon Leader and Platoon Sergeant were leaning close to each other talking about something and going over lists the young officer had in his hand. They were reading the papers by the red lenses of the lights attached to their helmets. Jack finally laid down but never stopped leaning against my legs the entire flight.
We arrived at 23:30 (11:30 pm) Christmas Eve and landed at a remote runway somewhere in the Paktika Province of Afghanistan, close to the Pakistan border. The landing was just as abrupt as the takeoff. Totally dark inside and out. There would be no bright landing lights tonight. The crewmen were again staring out the windows with their NVGs as we made a sharp turn and descended through the dark and toward the ground. You could hear loud noises and popping as the wheels and flaps went down.
There was a general alertness now with everyone on board as we contacted the runway and the engines went into full reverse to stop the big aircraft rolling down the dark pavement. Within minutes we were stopped, and the rear cargo hatch opened with that same hiss and a blast of 18-degree air. A forklift quickly unloaded the two skids of gear and cargo and was replaced by an airman with a red headlamp on. She motioned with hand signals for us to stand up and follow her, as the engines of the C-130 were still running, and hearing anything was impossible. As she turned around I saw she had her rifle slung across her back.
We made our way to the passenger terminal and were ushered into the building through two sets of doors. Entering through the second set you were greeted with a fully lit room that was totally blacked out from outside view. There was another Christmas tree and the place was nicely decorated with Christmas cards and little decorations made from all sorts of things. There was even one guy working behind the counter wearing a long white beard and stocking cap.
Our ID cards were collected and checked, the method and system I won’t mention due to OPSEC. I was cleared along with Jack and waited for my ride. After about an hour I was loading our gear in a truck and taken to our new home. We have an 8 x 10 room. Basically, it is a box, but it is clean and more importantly, heated.
I’ve been sleeping in a sleeping bag since July and this was my first night that my back would see a bed, not a great one but a bed just the same.
The next morning, or really later that morning, I was awakened by the kennel master and we walked to the showers. It was 05:00 in the morning and still about 18 degrees outside. The showers and restrooms were about one-half mile away as was the dining facility.
The kennel master was an old friend of mine and I found out he had requested me to be sent to his location. He had retired as a senior NCO in the Special Forces. I would be taking over for him as he was headed home after being in country for three years straight.
He was a sort of funny sight with his full white beard and bright red sweater. I mentioned all he needed was a reindeer and he could be Santa Claus. He heard that a lot. I do need to correct something though. This Santa Claus worked out at the gym and looked like he could kick the stuffing out of anyone that did not like the presents he brought.
Christmas Day I got settled in and made my box as homey as possible. I built some shelves out of a pallet I dissembled for the wood. I got a rug for the floor to keep the dust down and saw the Vet. Jack had a mandatory vet check which is normal when you bring a K9 to a new post.
I was given several briefings on procedures and then turned loose to do a lot of walking to find the lay of the land so to speak. Internet was on top of the list, so I spent a good portion of Christmas getting that resolved. I was able to speak to my family back in the States via Skype. It was great to hear them and talk to my son who was an Army Officer at Ft Hood at the time.
After the calls and several emails, I was informed I had a meeting with the area Provost Marshall. A Provost Marshall is the chief law enforcement officer in the region. My location fell under US Army command, so this was a US Army Officer.
Pleasantries were passed all around, and he let me know of my new assignment. I had been expecting a position searching vehicles at an Entry Control Point. This is the normal position for a dog handler over here whether it is searching for narcotics or explosives. This is what most if not all the handlers I worked with did.
The Provost Marshall let me know very quickly that this assignment would be somewhat out of the ordinary. I was to be tasked to his office and would be doing unannounced searches region wide, not just on the FOB where I was staying.
In fact, I would not be doing searches here at all. I was roving all over eastern Afghanistan. I had a security team assigned to me and we flew into the Forward Operating Bases, Combat Operating Bases, Outposts, and anywhere else surprise searches on vehicles, buildings, barracks, unit equipment, mail, luggage and all local national (Afghan) facilities were needed.
The Provost Marshal had one other Christmas gift for me.
He asked, “You settled in ok?”
“Yes, Sir. Everything is fine and I’m starting to find my way around.” I answered.
He smiled and added, “Good. There is a Blackhawk prepping on the flight line. Get your stuff, the team is waiting, Oh, Merry Christmas.”
Well, we certainly were busy. Jack was issued extra equipment for ear and eye protection. I had been on the ground less than 24 hours and we were already working.
Helluva of a Christmas present. Pop in, do our thing and then get the heck out of Dodge. It was cool!
