Last Tuesday, 31 May, 2011
The prior two days had been ugly. If I ate, it came back up. If I drank, it didn’t stay with me very long. And I had a fever. Rest? See a doc? No, I thought the smart move was to go out on a midday patrol.

Earlier that day, we’d convoyed south from Patrol Base Amir to PB Derzai—a 30-minute ride bouncing in the back of a Buffalo (armored vehicle). Days before, the local battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Sean Riordan, commanding 1st Battalion, Third Marine Regiment, had told me that he and the RC Southwest Ground Combat Commander, Marine Brigadier General Lewis Craporatta, would be coming to PB Amir on a battlefield circulation tour in order to walk to PB KT-4 … a hilltop PB in which I could spend a few days and see how well his awesome young Marines were handling the COIN fight on the small-unit level.

‘terp Ahmad and the patrol taking a knee outside the bazaar (Photo by Andrew Lubin.)

“It’s maybe two klicks [kilometers],” LtCol Riordan said. “You did 10 the other day from [COP] Sharp, and guess what, KT-4 is up on a hill and surrounded by walls built by Alexander the Great.” Having both reviewed and enjoyed author Steve Pressfield’s fine book “The Afghan Campaign,” I was hooked–this is real history. How many non-Afghans will ever see this–plus I’ve raced and finished 11 marathons; clearly I can suck it up for a mile or so–fever and dehydration be damned.

With both the commanding general and battalion commander, this was a larger than usual patrol, with security paramount. “Bring water,” said the briefer. “It’s in the mid-130’s. We’re cutting through the fields, then south along the road through the bazaar, and then we’ll head west through Alexander’s walls to KT-4. Maybe an hour.”

The patrol started slowly. Led by the minesweeper, along with a Marine and his counter-IED dog, some 20 Marines and an interpreter stretched 150 meters, walking very slowly. “This is the time to duck-walk, gentleman,” said Sergeant Major Dwight D. Jones, the 1/3 sergeant major. “A Marine was wounded by an IED close to here last week; walk in the tracks of the Marine ahead of you,” he added.

Concentrating on the footsteps of the Marine in front of me kept me from looking at the radio antennas on top of KT-4, which never seemed to be getting any closer. The only thing that did get closer, however, was my throat; the hot, dry wind seemed to suck the moisture out of me, and suddenly I was unable to swallow. With the patrol stopped short of the bazaar and taking a knee, I took an opportunity to take a sip of the now-hot water I carried as interpreter Ahmad was called forward to assist as the general talked to the locals. This is hardly a time for a shura, I thought, and it’s not just that I’ve got only one bottle of water, but the local kids are walking down to gawk at us, chewing on big slices of fresh watermelon with juice running down their chins. What’s Pashtu for “Yo kid, sell me a piece?”

Overlooking Alexander the Great’s wall. The hill on which KT-4 is based was also allegedly built by Alexander for one of a series of watchtowers he raised in his attempt to conquer Afghanistan (Photo by Andrew Lubin.)

Finally, the patrol moved forward, and I shuffled along with it; moving slowly up the road. Alexander’s walls were only another 150 or so meters up the road, and I assumed the road swung behind them. With KT-4 actually looking closer; we’d continue on the road, and then I’d gut it out up the hill to the PB.

No, I’d forgotten the brief; we were going to go off-road, through the walls, and then to the wire. This was going to be problematic; climbing down the banks of the road onto a cornfield meant I was walking across the furrows, jumping small muddy streams, and duck-walking the tracks of the Marine in front of me. Suddenly those last few hundred yards seemed very problematic. Also problematic was that from behind, SgtMaj Jones informed me that the CG and battalion commander had a time issue and would not be finishing the hump to KT-4. He suggested I hustle up to the lead element and continue to the PB, as the command was turning back.

Hustle up? I was happy to be standing up, but when passing BG Craparotta and LtCol Riordan (both of whom looked disappointingly fresh), I shook hands with each, moved up, and continued to KT-4, with the sergeant major right behind me.

Only another 100-150 meters; no issue here. It was the 60 degree switchback climb to the top of Patrol Base KT-4 that was almost my undoing. Trudging up in the moon dust, I remembered this was the type of workout I hated when cross-country running in college–a time that gave a whole new meaning to “back in the day.” But later, rather than sooner, I reached the summit, grabbed some water and met Lance Corporal Aaron Ferencik who was in charge of the base. I got ready to spend a few days in one of the southern-most Marine patrol bases in Afghanistan.