A new rating

I have been behind on my blog-nothing like a wedding in the family to take precedence. The AF 2Lt is now a Mrs.-and her husband is also a 2Lt in the Air Force just getting ready to start flight school. As I wrote in my Christmas card-sleep in peace-my family is on duty all over the world.
My husband was able to come home for the wedding and returned to Dubai /Kabul several weeks ago.

It is hard to keep up with him and his everchanging schedule. So when news of the attacks in Kabul hit the TV the other day the hair on the back off my neck stood up. I recognized that mall
and hoped he was anywhere but there. Turns out all was well-but members of his crew who are Afghani live right next to the fighting. They are so tired of war.

Right now my son who was deployed is happily back at home and everyone else is in training mode. I will treasure these moments of calm-I know that soon they will be interrupted by a call to harm's way. And in the meantime we will celebrate a new marriage, and a new helicopter rating; a permanent duty station in California plus no Kabul overnights. Life is good.

A different view of Kabul

Enclosed is a description of one of my husband's layover experiences in Kabul-there is nothing like flying into Kabul Afghanistan to give you a different perspective on life there. It is a far cry from his USAirways layovers ...

It was a quiet week in my home town, Kabul, Afghanistan...the fall colors were brilliant, glowing in the bright morning sun with the snowcapped peaks of the Hindu Kush as a back drop. There was a slight chill in the fresh morning air but the brilliant Afghan sun produced a comfortable environment for the Afghan trekking adventure.The golf pro from the Kabul Golf Course would be our guide to the immobilized Soviet tank position located on the summit of a mountainpeak overlooking the golf course and Kabul city. He asked us what pace he should maintain and we told him we would keep up. The 50 year old former prisoner of war gave us a work out and soon the sweaters were shed and it gave us an excuse to take a short break. Enroute we enjoyed climbing on the Soviet tank bunker's which were additional reminders of the "occupation" three decades ago.Our first Afghan mountain summit was soon realized with the bonus of an awesome vista from our perch on a disabled Soviet tank. Garreth and I took turns photographing each other as "Senior Tank Commander's" while a vivid oral description of that era came to life by our local Afghanwitness. It was much like visiting Gettysburg, except we werewitnessinga life size diorama on location with a play by play of the Mujahedinand the Soviet's exercising their independent combat strategy. We all too soon had to depart from our "Walter Mitty" experience, a bit reluctantly.Visual aids certainly make the geography and history lessons more interesting and memorable while a written documentary solidifies and confirms the experience. It was truly a day to remember and we were non-to-less for the wear. And that's the way it was in Kabul where thewomen wear burkas, the men carry "AK-47"s and the children are all too soon adults.

Toilet Street

I am here in the lobby of a 4 star hotel in Kabul. It is attached to a mall and everything is impeccable. But as I walk out of the front entry things change. The first indication is the amount of armed guards standing around the perimeter of the hotel. There is a traffic circle to the right with a traffic guide vainly trying to control traffic. There are at least five armed policmen at points in the circle. and as you walk down the street, individual businesses and compounds also have armed guards.



When I say armed I mean with AK47s -not just pistols. Yesterday I had my picture taken with one of them and he cavaliarly swung it around bumping my chest-yikes! Every so often a car will pull up with someone special. Out will jump two security people flak vests and all. You can begin to figure out who they are by their muscularbuilds, steely eyed glares, and khaki trousers and vests. Many are former Marines or Special Forces. It can be hard to go home after getting used to these adrenaline surges.



As I stand on the front steps I see Toilet Street in front of me-so named because if you want to buy atoilet in Kabul this is the street. There are rows and rows of tiny shops filled with plumbing equipment and of course toilets. But that is not all you can buy.



Directly across from me there are several tents-in one they are making sandwiches using the bread which is being baked a little further down. The bread is flat like a pita but shaped in an elongated oval. They hang it from the ceiling and when it is time to make a delivery they spear it in stacks on a long pole. A little while ago there was a line forming for the fresh bread and more will be baked over open coals for the afternoon rush. Speaking of hanging-there are several goat carcasses hanging in the shop next door. In front there is a man with a wheeled cart grilling corn. And incongruous as this may seem the next shops are a Lexus Toyota dealer.


I am somewhat of a prisoner here until my husband returns. Despite constant activity on the streets there are no solitary women walking around. I did not realize quite how independent I have become until my wings have been clipped. But logic reigns so I will stay low and try to observe what I can and save my energy for tomorrrow's tour-the security guy is taking me to the market. You can't keep a woman inside forever!