Abbott and Afghanistan

Afghanistan.  Superpowers have marched these mountains and deserts since Alexander the Great. Flying over it a few times and looking down, I cannot for the life of me imagine what made anyone...ever...tie up his camel, look at his wife and say:  "Honey....we're here!  This is IT!"  

Fortunately for me, my mission this time is pretty much "inside the wire".  It is really difficult to conjure legal reasons to get outside the wire on a mission.  I am vaguely irritated by this.  

My wife is not.

I have battles of a different sort as we prepare to withdraw, downsize or "descope" in the popular military parlance of the moment.  After hundreds of billions of dollars, we are now parsing every nickel and need.  Because we are the Army, we created a bureaucracy to help. Bureaucratic entities working to reduce bureaucratic bureaucracy leads to exchanges such as this:  

Higher HQ: I need something, but I don't want to be seen asking for it.  I order YOU to ask me for the thing I want so that I don't have to ask me for it. 

Subordinate Unit: Um..Yes sir.....Sir?  I would very much like to have the thing you want so that I can give it to you.

Higher HQ: Nay, Nay! Your request is disapproved. Why would you ask me for such a thing? Now, come back later, ask me again and tell me WHY I want it.

Abbott and Costello couldn't have done it better themselves. If it weren't so wildly entertaining at times, it could drive you absolutely insane.  The problem is that if you went insane, it is unlikely that anyone would immediately notice.  But just as you're walking out of the meeting, shaking your head and wisecracking, you notice the flags.  They are now at half-staff. 

There is a real war going on "outside".  A fallen hero has arrived on base.  In a few hours, we will send him on his way home.

And there it is.  That's Afghanistan.  It takes you from humor to madness; frustration to sadness; grief to brotherhood; and from loss back to laughter..  

Time keeps moving.  The days are long, but the weeks are fast.  Before you know it, it will be time for someone to ask me to ask them if its time for me to go home.  They might say yes.

I Need What?

Rather than moving cases along in my regular docket, I spent the day drawing my combat gear.  Talk about a change of pace.  I use the term "combat gear" rather loosely given the slim chance of a lawyer seeing "combat".  The gear however, is the same, so there you have it.  This process is called "RFI" for Rapid Fielding Initiative".  Bear with me here.  This is a program that quickly evaluates lessons learned from the theater of operations, identifies equipment that will assist Soldiers in accomplishing their missions while maximizing safety, and then quickly acquires and issues that equipment to the Soldiers who need it.

You may now understand my reaction when I was issued an "Improved Groin Protection System".  This causes me concern on a number of different levels.  First, the name implies that there was a previous Groin Protection System that needed to be improved.  Did it not work?  In what ways did it fail?  Can someone explain to me the criterion for "fail".  Seriously, I think I deserve to know.  A second concern quickly followed:  I NEED A GROIN PROTECTION SYSTEM?  I'm virtually certain that targeting that area is a foul in most sports and violates the law of war.  Must we have such a thing?  I don't know, but what I do know is that I'll put it on at the first hint that anyone thinks it might be a good idea to do so.  I have no desire to be the first beneficiary of a "Don't ask, can't tell" policy.

As I think about it, I am filled with an even greater patriotic fervor for my Nation.  How wonderful to realize that the things my country values and the things that I value are so very perfectly aligned.   Thank you America.  Thank you indeed.

Prosecuting….the War on Terror?  The Docket deployed.

The big news for Docket Dynasty is that I am headed for Afghanistan.  No I’m not kidding.  Being a prosecutor and crusading against darkness and evil while juggling law school student loans on public servant pay just wasn't challenging enough.  I have therefore remained a member of the Army’s Judge Advocate General’s Corps, known as “JAG” for short.  It really isn't much like the old television show at all, though I believe I may be even more rakishly handsome than David James Elliott.  Yeah, I know…

I hesitated to post this as I don’t always know how to deal with the usual responses which range from “thank you for your service” to “Don’t go, can you get out of it?” (You’re quite welcome and No.).  I’m not doing anything that a half-million other troops haven’t done.  I don’t think myself “special”.  I’m just another guy doing his job…that happens to be in Afghanistan.  This fact will obviously change the character of my posts.  I don’t yet know exactly what I’ll be doing or if I’ll be able to post at all.  I do know that I will very likely be depressingly safe.  Yes, depressingly safe.  You see, I started my Army life as an Infantryman… a steely-eyed killer...a predator seeking America’s enemies…well, okay, I was just a grunt, but grunts are in the fight.  Though still a Soldier, my job now is that of a lawyer.  “Safe” in a combat zone is relative of course, but rather than firing my weapon and taking ground in the war against terror, I shall be reduced to an angry signature on various legal documents.   That stings a little.

From my family’s perspective, what I am most certainly going to be is GONE.  Not here.  Not gone for a minute.  Not gone for the weekend.  Gone.  This is the most difficult part for me.  It is not likely the most difficult for them.  I will have “three hots and a cot” and the camaraderie of a few thousand similarly situated brothers and sisters at arms, all of whom are willing to come to my aid and I theirs should the need arise.  Meanwhile, my lovely bride still has to cook dinner for everyone and get them to sports, music, church and school activities by herself, all while wondering if I’m okay (I will be) and whether I've told her everything ( I haven’t).  Furthermore, as a Reservist’s wife, she won’t have the usual complement of resources readily available to the families of my active-duty brethren.  Though I may covet your prayers, I covet them for my wife and family most.  If you really want to support your Troops, find a way to support their spouses.  If you’re inclined to ask, when she says “we’re fine”, help her anyway.  Nothing allows the Troops to focus on the mission like knowing their families are well taken care of in their absence.  I am learning the humility of need in ways I hope to remember.

Though still at home, the insanity has begun.  I think deploying Reservists are inherently schizophrenic.  The Soldier is ready to go and begin the mission.  The husband/father is already missing everything that hasn't happened yet.  The prosecutor is reluctantly handing off cases for others to work.   If I dwell on it much, my eyes leak.   I’m ready.  Lets get this thing going.   In the meantime, I hope to have the means and opportunity to regale you with what I’m assuming must be “one-of-a-kind” stories from the combat zone.  Here’s to 2014.  I hope it’s the fastest year ever!