4th of July

August 7, 2010

I missed the 4th of July this year. I mean, the day occurred, people celebrated, barbecues were held and fireworks were set off, but I had none of that. I was in Manas Air Base, Kyrgyzstan, and although they did have a barbecue, it was nothing like how the 4th should be.

Tonight made up for all of that.

Today was an off-day for us, so we made sure the vehicles had the proper fluid levels and our weapons were working correctly. Maintenance day pretty much. I went for a run around 4 p.m. and the clouds were looking quite ominous, but not quite to the point where buckets of rain came pouring down. I did my usual things: dinner, TV, etc. Capt. Petro and I were standing outside talking and watching the clouds when he pointed out that there was a photographer on the roof of one of the buildings in the SEAL compound. We talked about the landscape and what a nice view FOB Lane had. Right around that time the clouds decided to open up.

The rain was so cold.

Big drops began to hit all over the place. Before I ran inside, I decided to run around the side of the building to see what the photographer was taking pictures of. "Ahh that is why!!" I thought to myself. I ran back to the other side to tell Capt. Petro.

"Sir, I know why the photographer was taking pictures," I told him. "The sun is setting and the entire sky is orange!"

I went back to my room to grab my camera and then met him back in the front of the building. We sat out there and watched the rain and the sun set over the mountains.

I'm going to slow it down really quick to talk about the landscape here. Arghendab District really has breathtaking views. Every time I step out of my door I realize the beauty of this place time and time again. Hiking these ridges/hills/mountains (whatever you want to call them) has been the highlight of my trip so far. The landscape is truly beautiful. Okay, back to the story.

We were sitting there talking to some of the Rangers here when we hear a very loud "BOOM!"

"What was that?"

"Sounded like a mortar," someone replied.

All of a sudden one of the observation posts down the road starts lighting up the sky with tracer rounds from a machine gun, shooting at the top of a ridge about half a mile from us.

Then chimed in a second machine gun, this time coming from the FOB.

By this time, everyone is moving for their rooms to grab their gear. The warning siren begins to screech.

"Is this really happening?" I began to ask myself. Sure enough I suppose.

Capt. Petro got all of the guys together and told us to go to the SEAL compound for accountability. As we get to the entrance of the compound, a .50 caliber machine gun about 30 feet above us bursts off four or five rounds. It scared the crap out of me, and I think everyone I was with had the same reaction.

"That is the first time I have ever heard that thing go off," Capt. Petro said.

The next half hour entails us standing underneath a hardened shelter watching what must have been a dozen machine guns lighting up the side of the ridge with tracer rounds. The red streaks against the almost black sky made me want to kick myself in the head for not bringing my camera to record it. It was really an awesome sight. Tracers were going everywhere! And the .50 Cal only 20 yards from us was no joke. The guy up there must have gone through 1,000 rounds easily!

And then came the flares.

The Army shot up one at a time. It was a beautiful sight. A bright red streak would rocket into the air, break up into three or four burning streaks and slowly float back to the ground. And then came a green flare. Then another red. Then a purple (I think. Maybe blue? I forget). It reminded me of really lame fireworks. You know, the do-it-yourself kind, not the professional firework shows.

A couple of jets flew overhead. Ahh, the sound of freedom! I couldn't tell what they were, but they sounded like a one-engine jet. Maybe F-16s? They didn't drop bombs or anything, but I'm sure just the sound of the engines in the black of night is enough to deter any other attempts to attack the base.

After a while, the sounds of machine gun fire finally settled down. The only sound left was the distinct tone of rain hitting the tin roofs on the buildings around us and the occasional mortar being directed at our enemy.

We were released from our position and finally made our way back to our rooms.

And that was my belated, Afghan-version of the 4th of July.