In the Tower

A recent conversation I had with a fellow tower-guard-er:

'This is why people need suicide prevention classes.'

'Yeah, the only way it could be worse is if they had giant clocks on the walls, so you had to actually watch the second-hand ticking.'

'Ha! Its like prison.'

'Except... prison has a damn toilet.'

'Yeah, and you can read. Or listen to music. Or write.'

'Or sleep.'

'And you dont have to sit in a straight-jacket-disguised-as-an-IBA that weighs a million pounds, and this fucking helmet.'

'Nope. This is nothing like prison.'

'This... ha. This is a tier of hell. You know, where the guys with no patience and ADD get sent.' '...begging for the burning and gnashing of teeth...'



Our brigade is really low on personnel at Salerno, so we've been tasked with tower guard... there are even e-7s and first sgt.s pulling guard... so every other day I sit in the tower on top of the hill for 8 hours, 'scanning my sector' for bad guys or any suspicious activity. This is literally as 'front-line' as it gets on our FOB.. the OPs (observation points) are the FOBs first line of defense. (Remember, this is the Army that doesnt allow females on the line....)
So, usually, it goes something like this:
We stare at the dull landscape. We stare at the wall. We pace. We stare at the ceiling. We count the nails (207, but thats still a source for debate.) We stare at each other, until our faces look alien.. warped shapes pieced together. (Eyebrows, by the way, are fascinating. Look at them long enough, and they look like hairy caterpillars morphed into leeches that are permanently latched onto your forehead. Its creepy.) We scan the terrain for enemies until we hallucinate them into existence. We discuss the severity of punishment we would receive for taking out a cow with the .50 cal. A justification of the cow's direct intent to harm our lives is conjured until it almost sounds rational. We call in spot reports and radio checks and listen to all the little incidents happening at the other 10 OPs... kids throwing rocks, guys taking pictures. We watch the choppers fly loops around Salerno. We get very excited when the large-arms (big guns) range goes hot, and America's finest down at BDOC failed to mention it. We chain-smoke and chain-snack. By hour 6, our eyes are glazed over, mouths hanging slack, and the most intelligent thought running through our heads is 'Duuh.' We wish that someone suspicious will happen along. We wish for an attack, a rocket, anything to jostle the monotony.
And yesterday... our wishes became reality.
The Afghan New Year is this week, and Aifu tells us that this time of year is 'busy.' Im already a bit jumpy from the previous day's rockets as Spc Steve and I head up to the tower of hell on a hill. We start sweeping the usually-empty mountains, and shortly find little guys peering back. All day we watch them, a few on a ridge here, a few on a ridge there... and all day, they appear to be watching us too. Traditionally, the insurgents will send out 'spotters' or observers that assess the situation and then watch the attack. We were certain that is exactly what these men were. Naturally, our binos (and later night vision) were attached to our faces all day, as we called in azimuths and distances to base.

The sun started to set. The men in the mountains disappeared.

Then, sure enough, the ground shuddered, and off to the side, smoke rose from the explosion. The radio starts buzzing with all the tower's reports, and my blood starts to race. A few minutes later, impact number two... Then the third, and I was watching for it this time. I saw the flash (fire when it hits) then felt the impact shake the earth, rattle my bones, as the bang followed. At this point, I was in awe. It is strangely beautiful, the power of it, the finality. Fascinating and terrifying... and I was high on adrenaline, bouncing off the walls, wanting so badly to spot a little man in the mountains again so we could utilize the glistening .50 cal.... I never imagined I would see something like that, not really. As I stood there watching the smoke clear, everything finally sunk fully in. These bastards are trying to kill us. They dont care who, or how, and they are going to sit in those mountains all summer long and lob rockets at us, praying for success.

Its a good thing they are pathetic at aiming.

Happy Afghan New Year!