I started writing a book a couple of years ago when I first got out of the Army, after serving 15 years, active duty. This is the story of my last combat deployment to Afghanistan in 2011-12, and the resulting aftermath when I put the uniform down, and reentered civilian life. I will be posting a section of the writing every day, so please follow me, or follow the link to find the rest of the series. (Part 1)

The War Within Me (Part 2)

So, when did I start noticing the changes in myself? I could say it was during this last deployment, but everything is pretty clouded as to where the symptoms started showing their face. I know what triggered my PTSD, because that day is forever seared into my head like a movie set on an endless loop. It is always there. I suppress the thoughts from time to time, but still it replays! Let me first point out that I am no hero!!! I am an Artillery soldier not some Green Beret or Ranger. I am just a regular, enlisted soldier. So when I tell this story, I will stick to the facts. There were no awards given for bravery or valor. This is not that type of story.

On a morning in early March, 2012, we awoke like any other day. Afghanistan is hot! Summer seemed to start in January from my vantage. Daylight creeps on you in the early morning hours. Sometimes, sunrise happens before 5:00 in the morning and clouds are seasonal, so it gets searing hot in the mountainous regions of the country. I don’t remember much before, but I remember when the first round impacted. I heard what sounded like incoming mortar fire, but it was off in the distance. We had been in country for 4 months, so getting attacked was nothing new.

From the onslaught, it was known during our train-up where we were headed, Kunar Province. Home to some of the worst Afghanistan had to offer. At the time of me writing this, nine out of the ten Medal of Honor recipients from the war in Afghanistan were awarded for actions in this province. The main reason is because this province seems to have an everlasting stream of insurgents coming from the Pakistan border which was easily seen from where we slept; albeit a few kilometers away.

When we arrived at Jalalabad Air Field, or JBAD, along our initial journey, we finally received our combat load of 5.56. We received the new “more lethal” jacketed version of the popular NATO round. I divided the initial ammo and disseminated them out to my Section Chiefs so they could ensure that everyone had rounds. They asked me, “Smoke, do you want our guys to load one mag”? I replied, “Fuck yes, everyone needs to go to amber”. Amber is a term I used to denote one loaded mag without a round chambered, and the weapon on safe. This would enable a quick pulling action of the charging handle to quickly load a round for each of my soldiers had anything broken off.

Having the round out of the chamber keeps accidental discharges from happening as the bond formed by the soldier and their rifle is a pretty “big deal”. They sleep with their rifle, and they eat with their rifle. Really, their rifle is an extension of their own arms. More time is spent on keeping your rifle with you the first month or so, then at any other time. Soldiers learn though muscle memory. People look in awe at what happens when a soldier is placed in danger, and they often wonder how they are able to function with all the danger surrounding them.

Muscle memory is the answer. That and an uncanny ability to block what is going on around them out to stay focused on the mission. Scared---SHIT! Everyone is scared. If you meet someone who says they were not scared in combat, then that person has never seen combat. It is really as simple as that. Combat is by far the worst sight a person can witness. It brings out the best in humanity, and it also brings out the worst. Soldiers can witness a buddy getting brutally killed one day, and be expected to continue on within hours of seeing something that was burned into their mind and will be vivid forever. That is what we do! That is what keeps us moving forward; the ability to place our feelings into the back of our mind, to relive when we have the time!

The only way we could get to our respective Combat Outposts, or COP’s, was by helicopter. We had three platoons. Each of us had drawn straws in a sense as to where we would like to go. In reality, we were placed due to our perceived worth. The strongest crews for firing went to the most active COP, but in retrospect, we were all evenly distributed. There was no one platoon that was better than the other. We shared knowledge and looked out for each other as a team should. My guys ended up at COP Fortress. A small outpost of only one Company sized element of infantry and one SF Group.

Then there were us. The cannon artillery troops who would be supporting a 30 kilometer circle around the COP. I had been in contact with the Platoon Sergeant that I was relieving. I had taken steps to ensure my guys had a little taste of home. Due to our remoteness, items like internet were a luxury. It just so happened, that the guys we replaced had their own satellite dish and internet provider. They offered to change the contract over to our names if we offered to give them their cost for their equipment. I levied my troops to see who was interested as the cost was a little steep. We did the math and it took a payment of $175 per Soldier for us to raise what we needed. I knew this was a long shot as that is a whole lot of money for a Soldier to shell out, but the reward is that their loved ones would have a secure connection to talk to them.

This is key in the war zone. You have to stay connected with those back home or risk losing yourself over there. So, I was informed by the Battery Commander of the timeline for our chalks to move my people to our new home. A chalk is a term used to describe a manifest for a flight. We could only take four soldiers at a time, so I had to stagger my leadership among the chalks to ensure functionality as we didn’t know if we were landing in a “hot zone” or not.

I placed my name on the first chalk. That is what leaders do! We lead from the front! I took my medic as my thought process was to ensure we had someone to handle injuries in the event they occurred at our new home. When I landed, I was immediately rushed into a hardened building. I barely shook the Platoon Sergeant’s hand before I was told “we got to get to cover”. As we ran to cover, he told me that we had “Just missed the fireworks”. He then told me that they had just taken 15 indirect rounds and small arms fire from one of the hills; as he pointed out the area before we entered the “makeshift” bunker.

I was observing why I was listening. I could see the bullet holes in the walls. My first thought was, “what the fuck have I gotten myself into?” We would be attacked three more times in the next 72 hours as we conducted the handover; all by indirect 82mm mortar rounds. This was going to turn out to become a learning experience of the wise teaching the young. We were young. I was the oldest person in my platoon at 32 years old. I had 35 guys, but had lost a couple just before the deployment due to varying reasons such as them being moved to build the numbers up for another platoon or them having a pending birth of a child.

So we left out with 33 guys. Cannon artillery is a “man’s” sport. The sheer labor needed to heave 100+lb rounds over and over, is simply not designed for women, or frail men for that matter. We love lifting weights and getting big as “FUCK”! I know the Army is trying to open the doors for some fields to both genders, but that is for another discussion and off-topic.

For anyone who has been in the impact area for an enemy mortar team, they should be able to attest that not every insurgent knows what the “fuck they are doing”. Well these guys were the exception. They were extremely good at what they did. They would use a spotter with a pair of binoculars and a cell phone. We would see these guys on the hillside, out of place. Yet, we couldn’t do anything to them as in engaging them due to America’s restrictive Rules of Engagement, or ROE.

We could send a team to pick them up, but they would see this coming and with no roads, trying to catch an Olympic track star (what these guys are) in rugged terrain is impossible. So we would watch them as they watched us and fired on our guys. We had an "A" team and a "B" team who operated in our area. At least that is the way I saw it! They had a procedure that is pretty ingenious. They would fire one round, and then await the impact. They would then wait at least 10 minutes to make the correction to gauge our response.

A mortar round is fired at a high angle in order allow for corrections on the sighting device. So making corrections to your aim point is best achieved through observing the impact and walking the rounds onto the target by making a series of corrections. The sound a mortar makes when you are in the target area is reminiscent of how movies portray it. There is a whistle sometimes associated with the round just before it impacts. I attributed the lack of whistle to that of a round that is in front of you from the perspective that the enemy and you make two points along a straight line. If the impact point is between you and the enemy, then no whistle. I am not a physicist but it makes sense in my head as I have physically been witness to many rounds impacting in my short stint in the Kunar.

I have no idea the number, but it has to be well into the halfway point between 500- 1000. Each attack was around 15-20 rounds and we were attacked pretty regularly the first couple of months, before we “took that bitch over”! We were detached in a sense. We were an asset to the infantry commanders operating in the Kunar. We brought devastation to the battlefield and were feared across the spectrum. “Oh, you wasted 5,000 rounds and killed one bad guy, well I shot one round and killed 12”!

There is division within the ranks as to what job you have. Infantry is what most people think of when they think soldier. So, naturally, they think they are the only real soldiers in the Army. This is really a problem for the younger troops as us old fucks know better. Here I am, 35 years young calling myself old! The Infantry hated us when they didn’t need us, but loved us when we were used! To them, we were bodies who had no job. They patrolled and we were the “Fobbits” that some of you may have heard about.

Field Artillery has always been an integral part of the Armed forces. I believe it was World War I where artillery was held up as the reason we won the war! I am not a historian either but there is some quote out there by some famous dude, maybe a General or President, and I am too lazy to fill these pages with cited sources. So look this up for yourself! We were used initially in Iraq for our main function; shooting artillery in support of the maneuver element. This changed for a good ten years as the need for more maneuver became the focal point, and the less forgiving artillery was ill-suited for the urban centers of Iraq due to the unforgiving nature of our rounds not distinguishing between friendly and foe.

On the contrary, Artillery is heavily relied upon in Afghanistan. First, we can react quickly! This is, of course, dependent on the actual skill of the crews, but those that have experience can deliver a round from the first call for fire in less than 3 minutes! That is an eternity in the mind of those waiting, but believe me, that extra time is done so to ensure that we are just as accurate as a heat seeking missile! We can do this from a distance of a few thousand meters to 40 kilometers. That translates to just shy of 25 miles.

So Artillery, for a good competent crew, is like a sniper rifle that shoots bullets that explode on impact. The devastation is dramatic. Anyone who has seen the end result is most likely haunted by the sight. People will become a vapor of red mist! Vehicles will become hunks of metallic debris. People in vehicles become chunks of bloody metallic debris! Some Infantry commanders prefer their organic weapon systems, such as their mortars or their air assets for support. These are good as well, but we operate day or night, rain or shine, and we have the ability to reach out and touch someone! Clearing the airspace is also a non-factor when we shoot low angle.

I am not going to get into the technical stuff on here concerning accuracy, but my background is of an expert within my field. I passed one of the most technical schools the Field Artillery has “Field Artillery Master Gunner Course” as a Staff Sergeant. I was also the Distinguished Honor Graduate (top of the class) during my attendance at the Senior Leaders Course (which is a functional leadership course for the senior enlisted ranks and is a requirement). I am only telling you this, as to give credibility to my actual knowledge over my job, not as a way to brag. I know that I was one of those that actually understood Artillery. I mean, UNDERSTOOD artillery.

Artillery is a tricky profession. Not every unit is up to the same level of knowledge or competency. Like I would always tell my guys, “you are one round away from not having a job”! Artillery is unforgiving, so one minor error like transposing a number, can have devastating consequences on the battlefield. This is ingrained, and we as leaders ensure that we never make a mistake twice! We do this by changing our operating procedures.

Continue To Part 3...

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