Al Qaeda Lapis and Tarnak Farms (Stones of war)

Lazurite-Pyrite-Marble-26290

Lapis lazuli (sometimes abbreviated to lapis) is a relatively rare semi-precious stone that has been prized since antiquity for its intense blue color. Lapis lazuli is mined in the Badakhshan province of Afghanistan as early as the 3rd millennium BC and there are sources that are found as far east as in the region around Lake Baikal in Siberia.

Why do I bring up the subject of Lapis Lazuli? Because I came across this semi-precious stone in my journeys through Afghanistan. Found within boxes piled high in an Al Qaeda training camp outside of Kandahar, Afghanistan known as Tarnak Farms. Location of some of the main planning and training for the 9/11 hijackings, Tarnak Farms housed boxes and boxes of Lapis lazuli stones. We came across these stones after our team took over Kandahar. We were the first twelve Americans and less than 100 Americans to step foot in Tarnak, we were able to recover many of these Lapis rocks and bring them home to our families.  To read more, please click here: Al Qaeda and Lapis War Stones.

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Conflict of Interest / EXIT

“Surrounded where choices fly like bullets.  Darkness falls. The commander and others are not listening. No one is listening. Repeatedly tell them more than once we need aircraft and we need them now! He’s not paying attention…distracted by the Afghans. Like a mental sprint searching for solutions I’m feeling threatened…thinking about enemy. About getting hurt. About hurting others. We, no, I haven’t seen them yet, just feel they are near. I feel we are not prepared. I fucking hate not being ready. I need my radio. Fuck him. I know what we need, if he’s not going to do it. I will”…..to read further, click on this link: Conflict of Interest. watch U2 EXIT video after reading.

U2 “Exit”, posted with vodpod

War, PTSD and Metallica Unforgiven 3

 

Returning to America alone from war in Kandahar, Afghanistan and Iraq found me home without a house and family welcoming me home. Six months remaining in the military. throughout the days and nights, I became resentful of everyone I had worked for.  Angry for failing to take care of my family, both accepting responsibility yet blaming others, I became furious at my ex-wife for choosing to leave and putting me in a position I would have to decide on the mission or my family.  Angry at her because our marriage was about to fall apart anyway.  She took my son with her.

Choosing to get away, I spent my days and nights purposely avoiding work, riding my motorcycle for up to 12-16 hours at a time. I didn’t care, no one else cared.

Riding along the gulf coast of Florida, I met the new Jojo. By accident, unexpectedly, at 16, the new Jojo grew and matured while I was away to welcome me home. To be brief, over those six months we rode together everyday and night…

To read more, please click here: War, PTSD and Metallica Unforgiven 3.

Enya and Al Qaeda – Christmas 2001 – O Come, O Come, Emmanuel

Yes, I agree.  Enya mixed with the War on Terror, or, Overseas Contingency Operations (OCO) is strange.  Just shut up and go with me on this.  There are reasons to my madness.

Imagine having the honor of being one of the first to go forward and defend this country.  There are so few, you find the little things to be a luxury.  Like toilet paper, cigarettes, coffee, magazines and newspapers and most importantly, letters from home.

Imagine you took over a city, it’s airport and the surrounding area.  Your team secured everything now waiting for replacements.  One night, just before Christmas, you wait for the Marines to arrive.  Over the horizon from the surrounding desert, you see the rise of dust as the oncoming armada of “Devil Dogs” approach the city. Leading them into your area, you release this group of warriors to take over.  It’s here you finally find a break to catch your breath and rearm/refit.

Christmas 2001, weeks following 9/11 at Kandahar, Afghanistan.  On the brink of divorce, my son’s mother and I overcame many infidelities, barely holding on to our marriage.  That year we left our son Little Man (Age 5) behind in America with relatives and separately made our way to Oman and Kandahar, Afghanistan.  As a surprise for both of us, other warriors set up a trip where my ex-wife met me in Kandahar.  We shared Christmas where she brought with her this Enya song.  A bizarre mixture of Irish music with scenery of war in Afghanistan.  I will never forget this song.  It rings over and over seared in my mind.  Memories of war seem frozen in time forever carried in your brain.

I remember Christmas night she and I shared a dinner of Meals Ready to Eat (MRE) of Spaghetti and hot chocolate/coffee.  We found ourselves talking all night long about our Little Man.

That night at the Kandahar, Afghanistan Airport, we cleaned out a bombed out building at one point laying in the middle of the night on top of broken glass from a window.  Despite the crunching and crushing glass, we found ourselves alone for the first time in almost six months.  That night we stayed together making love all night.  After weeks of fighting, that night was our first source of peace in months.

The following morning, as she lay asleep, I remember having head phones on listening to this song.  Staring at my ex, I had hints of falling back in love with her.  It appeared from our view point, the experience of 9/11 and our work brought the two of us back together.  Despite all the conflict, arguments and hatred for each other, we always loved each other.  Watching her sleep, I was alone to contemplate what the future was bringing our family.

What was supposed to be an overnight visit turned out to be six days together.  For just a year afterwards, we enjoyed a return to a strong family.  However, follow on deployments led us to barely hold on until two years later we eventually divorced.  The final straw, our marriage ultimately collapsed under the strain of war.  We screwed ourselves going into battle, yet we worked hard to make it work.  Due to our choices we became a casualty of war.

Infiltration

Journal Entry November 23rd, 2001

Somewhere in southeast Afghanistan heading directly for Kandahar, it is nine weeks after 9/11/2001. America as a whole, all of its citizens and the world are still in disbelief from the surprise Al Qaeda attacks against the New York Twin Towers, the Pentagon and Pennsylvania. It is our country that tries to heal from the most horrific attacks on U.S. soil since the Japanese surprise attack on December 7th, 1941…60 years earlier. Now over 3,000 innocent people have been killed by Al Qaeda, a global Islamic terrorist organization led by Bin Laden and Al Zawahiri.

We are the first 200 Americans on the ground in Afghanistan following 9/11.  All of us are trained and highly skilled.  We’ve all trained and been hand-picked experiencing rigorous selection courses where 85% of those who try out, fail to succeed. Trained in advanced communications, I’m skilled as a SCUBA diver, Military Free fall and Static Line Parachutist. A parachute Jump Master. Dive Supervisor. Qualified in over ten assault rifles, pistols, heavy machine gun and sub-machine gun weapons. Capable of infiltrating in any helicopter, aircraft or assault vehicle and motorcycles. Trained in advanced navigation on foot, vehicle or animal. Specializing in air to ground tactics using aircraft, space and Cyber assets. I’m the integrator of the air war with battles on the ground.

The afternoon is hot and dry with piercing brilliant blue skies free of clouds.  We have over a hundred vehicles formed in a “V” formation all moving forward heading towards the home of the Taliban.  Kandahar. I’m in the backseat of a maroon Toyota Hilux pickup truck sitting behind the driver, Ken, a US Army Special Forces 18D Medic.   I’m assigned to move with a US Army Special Forces 12 man “A” team.  I’m their primary source for “air support” or aircraft for security. With a small silver hand-held “Garmin” Global Positioning System (GPS) receiver in one hand and an outdated survival map in the other, it seems I’m the only Air Force operator for several hundred miles.

Balancing an M-4 Assault rifle between my knees, my personal weapon from work I spray painted brown and tan despite the Air Forces regulations telling me no. My rifle has an ACOG scope, BE Meyers miniature infrared pointer also a 40mm grenade launcher mounted on the rail system attached to the stock. Feeling the weight of a load bearing vest over my shoulders and around my waist, I also carry a black Beretta 9mm pistol. With suppressors on both weapons, I’m carrying over 500 rounds of M-4 ammunition, 9mm rounds, 40 mm grenades and survival gear.

My unit has joined an American armada of forces from the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps and Coast Guard mobilizing and moved out all over the world. Allies from countries like Britain, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Germany, Norway and Denmark have joined America. The Global War on Terror or GWOT has officially begun.