Quest for a new CAC

I went to Kandahar Air Field during the first part of the weekend to get a new military ID card.  If you know anything about them, they have a special “chip” embedded within them, which can occasionally stop functioning for any number of reasons (it rubbed against something, it was bent, etc).  Regardless of the method of destruction, the end result is the same – a card that’s useless.  My card stopped working weeks and weeks ago – and a previous attempt I’d made to get a new card at KAF failed when waiting 3 hours didn’t get me any closer to the front of the line.  In America, getting a new ID card equates to “running an errand.”

Early in the war, soldiers actually traveled in regular vehicles…or at least some did.  Now this travel was still coordinated and taken seriously, but a lot has changed over the past decade of war.  Traveling these days means using secret internet and phone lines to reserve space on helicopter flights or to coordinate to ride on one of the convoys (which are all armored vehicles with 50cals mounted to the roof).  So to get to KAF, I had to reserve a flight about a week in advance (the order wasn’t put in for me so I had to fly “space available” – which is risky trying to get a seat) and also coordinate with a convoy going from KAF back to my FOB.

Now to educate those who’ve never traveled by helicopter in Afghanistan…it usually means that you carry all your gear to the flight line and wait for a bird to pick you up at a designated time.  With that said, the bird never comes when it’s scheduled.  There are a lot of good reasons for the inaccuracy in pick up time, but it’s a reality that keeps you second-guessing whether you should make a run to the bathroom or not.  I probably waited 90 minutes or so at the flight line before boarding the chopper.  By then I was already getting sunburned from the sun and was dehydrated because I was trying to avoid having to go to the bathroom.  We flew to a nearby FOB, then right back to my FOB to pick up more people, then to a section of KAF to refuel the chopper, than to the flight line at KAF.  By the time I’d made it to KAF, I’d been “traveling” for 3.5 hours.  I then waited about a half hour outside for a ride to where I would be staying the night (my ID card appointment was for the next morning).  Many of my military friends have been to KAF before…so you know…the place stinks to high heaven because of the famous “poo pond” AND it’s a dust bowl.  I knew I was making a mistake running from my room at KAF to the track they have built there, knocking out some laps, and jogging back.  But after taking a half day to just get 10 miles down the road, I needed to move and get my blood flowing.  Granted, I’m still coughing dust!  I caught a ride to my appointment, but still had to walk about a mile in the dust to get back to my room.  Once I had all my stuff packed up, I had to “ruck” everything to the area where I was going to meet up with the convoy.  It was probably only a little over a mile away and about 85 degrees outside, but by the time I donned all my gear – uniform, boots, combat helmet, tactical vest with “bullet proof” plates and ammunition, my M4 rifle, and my duffle bag - the hot walk in the cloud of dust that is KAF was pretty nasty.  Did I mention I’m still coughing?

After 2 days of travel, inhaling a combination of dust and sewage, and standing in the hot sun – I have a whole new perspective on “running errands.”