Christmas in Ghorak

Merry Christmas and Happy Hannukah from GCV +Friends

In June 2012, Major Rusty Bradley, a legendary Green Beret, and I took a little helo ride to Ghorak, Kandahar. I’m not sure why he insisted on accompanying me to Ghorak. Perhaps he was bored, sitting at Kandahar Airfield (KAF), and wanted to return to where he had made a name for himself.

Major Bradley Still Scares GCV to Death (Commons)

Or he likely thought I needed his muscle to help me get oriented with the Operational Detachment Alpha (ODA) team, who was already there. Whatever it was, he didn’t make me feel any less anxious. Although this was my fourth deployment, and I had already seen quite a bit of combat, nobody at Village Stability Platform (VSP) Ghorak cared.

More importantly, nearly all of these guys were Special Forces. And I was not. I was just a little Air Force intel weenie. As an Afghan Hand, I was the Afghan expert on the team. I spoke Pashto reasonably well, but comprehending the Kandahari dialect was challenging. Nevertheless, I knew Afghan history better than the Afghans. How many books had I read on Afghanistan by then? Probably 100? I read tons of new books, but I mostly devoured the old works by the British, who tried and failed a few times in the Hindu Kush.

Yet, I was nervous. These were legendary Green Berets. Although I had been a decent shot before deploying, multiple TBIs had caused my vision to blur. I never told anybody about that until I came close to retiring because I didn’t want anything to prevent me from deploying. Thinking back on it, that was a selfish decision that probably imperiled my teammates.

But, ya know, oh well. LOL.

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After six months of living, fighting, and hanging out with the ~30 Americans,¹ 12 x Afghan Special Forces team, and ~5 interpreters residing in VSP Ghorak, I had ingratiated myself despite my physical limitations. In less than six months, I had worked relentlessly to help bring a cell phone tower to the desert district of about ~8,000 Afghans. I had jumpstarted our fledgling little district government.

I had to earn everyone’s respect. When you fight in a small team like that, you’re judged not by your rank but by your worth. I had to overcome the fact that, technically, I outranked everyone as the “senior” Captain on VSP Ghorak. LOL.

I had zero power. I could advise the ODA team leader. But this was his VSP. Luckily, he usually listened to my counsel. He valued my insight into Afghan culture. But I made my money by working with SFC Will Marshall, the team 18F (human intelligence specialist). While he focused on the Taliban movement, I helped map the human terrain. We were a mighty impromptu team.

I couldn’t shoot, move, and communicate like Green Berets, but I brought my brainpower to the fight—and they respected me.

Throughout my 1500 days in Iraq and Afghanistan, I never felt more at home than in VSP Ghorak, serving alongside some of America’s most elite soldiers.

I had arrived.

Then Capt GCV in his element. (personal photo)

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Everyone who worked and lived on VSP Ghorak was part of the tribe (andiwalaan). We were a small, elite tribe of Americans and Afghans fighting on the edges of the empire. Most of our resupply was airdropped. When helicopters landed in front of VSP Ghorak, we had to provide security to ensure they offloaded their cargo safely.

Yet the most critical member of the team was one of the lowest ranking. “Cookie” was an Army cook, and nobody brought more morale to VSP Ghorak than that magnificent specialist. Before enlisting in the military, he had worked at a few restaurants, but the recession had forced him to enlist. Unlike most Army cooks, this man was a fucking artist.

Thus, on 25 December 2012, Cookie made a feast to rival anything you’d have at home. Name a dish, and somehow, someway, he had made it happen in his small, dilapidated kitchen. We also bought and slaughtered some goats from the local Afghans.

Although we still had to stand guard, the war paused for a brief moment. Everyone gathered around our little dining facility (DFAC), just a tent with handmade benches. As we gathered around that table, I felt immense pride in serving alongside such heroes. I was considered an essential part of the tribe. But I was no better than anybody else. We all had our purpose in our tribe, serving on the edges of the empire.

I don’t remember all the details of that massive feast. I’m afraid this ol GCV’s memories are fading with time. Nevertheless, there was nowhere else I wanted to be at that moment than Ghorak, Kandahar.

It was the best Christmas of my life—and that will never change.

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Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah from

Grumpy Combat Veteran + Friends

!

And to our brothers and sisters standing watching downrange, may your shots be deadly and accurate.

A soldier in Afghanistan calls home (Commons)

To our Afghan brothers and sisters in the United States, we hope you’re enjoying the holidays with your families. We love you. Having you here is

Kate Kovarovic

and I’s most valuable gift. You are welcome in this country.

Afghan Refugees leaving all they ever knew (Commons)

And, most importantly, to our Afghan brothers-and-sisters behind enemy lines,

Grumpy Combat Veteran + Friends

has not fogotten you—and we never will. We will always stand by you, shona-ba-shona.

And for those who lost their treasures in Iraq and Afghanistan, may the memory of your fallen be a blessing. We remember. We always remember those who gave everything so that we could be free.

General Surab Azimi, brother, you should be here in the US celebrating. We miss you, always and forever.

1. 12 ODA team members, 2 x Special Operations Team-Alphas (electronic warfare), 9 x infantry from 25ID, 3 x Civil Affairs Team, 2 x Explosive Ordnance Disposal, 1 x military working dog, 1 x combat controller, 2 x Female Engagement Team, and little ole GCV.