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Life with our Man in the 'Stan.

...in which we learn he's a softie. Oh, he's a warrior, no doubt, as this Motivator of his suggests...

Well another day at the bazaar, and apparently I walked in with “all day sucker” on my forehead again. Still I got some decent deals, and some interesting things, and was served some hot green tea in a glass. I’ve got about four kids that I buy from now, plus my scarf guy, my wood guy, and my carpet guy.

One of the kids tried to sell me pictures of Ahmad Shah Masoud. He was a Northern Alliance commander who fought the Russians, fought the Taliban, and ended being killed by al-Qeada (coincidently) on September 9th 2001, and is now a national hero His picture is everywhere, on rugs, posters, in car windows and on the sides of buildings. Since before the beginning of this war, we have been fighting with more Afghans then we have been fighting against.

Other than the fun of going to Camp Eggers on Friday, every day is the same. I think we made some real progress this week, and got some good comments out of the staff. We were working with a German captain from the humanitarian and civil affairs department (I know, right?) He’s a weightlifter and looks and talks like a young Arnold. The German Army wears pretty much the same rank, same hats, and same spotted camouflage that they had in WWII. If you gave Uncle Joe his M-1 and told him to pick out someone to shoot, he’d probably have no trouble.

Today is Bastille Day, there apparently was wine, cheese and song last night. The French have a pretty decent contingent here. The chief of plans here is General Khone, an excellent officer. I don’t know if there will be celebrations tonight or not. Since I can’t leave this topic without a little bit of snark. I would observe that we celebrate the end of our revolution (which would not have happened without the French) and they celebrate the beginning of theirs. That’s because ours ended up so much better.

Two stories before I send this, one quick, one not so quick.

I was at breakfast this morning, and in front of the bins where the sausage and bacon was a hand lettered sign saying “PORK”.

My first thought was “Good, they are being respectful of the Turks and Pakistanis and other Muslims here.”

My second thought was “Oh my God, what HAVE they been making the bacon out of!”

I don’t think I want to know…still tastes good though.

Before I left Chip came up with a great idea to keep connected. I won him a large penguin at Busch Gardens, so for a few weeks I slept with the penguin, and he slept with a smaller stuffed animal. Then when I left we traded, and true to my word I have it on my bed. Now I know that at least my Army Colonel roommate and a couple of Italian sergeants who traded out my mattress wonder why a seventeen year Navy veteran sleeps with a stuffed blue whale, but they are too polite (or too weirded out) to ask. I think I’ll keep them guessing.

Joe

7 Comments

Keep 'em coming and definately keep them guessing. It is good for them.
 
Shipmates, Vis-a-vis the German uniform bit... I've often wondered what some of those Deutche Volk think when they see US Miltary units rolling by. I mean, those coal-scuttle helmets, cammo uniforms, slab-sided tanks, etc. Makes 'em wonder just who won the last war, eh? And yeah... that stuffed animal thing. When I was wearing a zoom bag for Uncle Sam, there were large numbers of aircrew who had some sort of small plush toy tucked into a leg pocket, etc. Usually given to Daddy before deployment, etc. Respects,
 
Heh, Tim, it seems most armies anywhere these days are wearing some form of the Fritz headgear...
 
Been carrying a Bart Simpson doll in my ruck for years...Bart's a vet of Desert Storm, Somalia, Bosnia, Afghanistan, and Iraq. I won't leave home without the little guy!
 
Gad, SFC D, you haven't missed many merit-badge producing opportunities, have you?
 
Haven't missed much, Sir John. I enlisted for the college money and forgot to leave...funny how that happens!
 
I'll trade three live gekkos for that stuffed whale. They're supposed to be eating the bugs, but they've formed a vocal group with the crows living over my window ledge. Ummmm -- the whale *doesn't* sing, right?
 
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