AR's Blog: Brent Hitchcock 2

Man, in Afghanistan, you just never know. One day you might be getting yelled at because you forgot to wear the right colored reflective belt to war, and the next day you might be swapping notes on mustache maintenance with an Afghan soldier on the side of the road. You could be sitting in an important mission briefing only to be interrupted by a public service announcement about packs of wild dogs roaming the country. You could get on a helicopter for a quick 2 hour mission, and get rained in, and have to camp out for 3 days…who saw that coming (ok, Black Hawk Down may have alluded to the fact that I should have packed more than two cliff bars, night vision, and an iPod shuffle in my bag) but still, you never know…
Another great example is our chow hall…It serves American food, but the kitchen is staffed with a haj-paj of Afghan, Indian, and other country nationals (no pun intended). My little brother and his 8th grade buddies would probably love the food, because you just never know what you’re going to get. Don’t get me wrong, the food is great, the problem comes from the combinations. Taco tuesday may have tacos, candied yams, and spring rolls. Monster burger monday could come with burgers, spinach, and hush-puppies. Soul-food Sunday may include, fried chicken, breakfast quesadillas, and crab cakes. All I’m saying is…you just never know.
Over here you could be the only kid on the block with a mohawk…then that fad could catch on like wildfire (Pictures coming). You could be driving down the road at 35 mph only to discover that the dial is in Km/h…and you are actually only going 20mph. In his defense, and I quote, “there are no MRAPs at Ranger school”. Afghanistan is a wacky place…you could watch cricket on TV for hours and still not figure out the rules. You could meet an Afghan from Seattle in the barbershop and then have a conversation in Spanish because you both took it in high school. Mind blowing. One minute you might be eating cinnamon bread from a bakery, and the next you could be breaking up a fight between a Chechen diplomat, and an Afghan business man. You could spend 8 hours playing charades in a guard tower with an Afghan security guard, who either wants to purchase an umbrella, or who lives on top of a hill with a thirsty family.
This next week, I am going to wake up…get on a helicopter (bringing extra underwear), and fly to some crazy places, but who knows what will happen there…so you can bet that I’m going to bring my camera because you just never know (oh, and also its my job…i’ll get yelled at if I don’t bring it…i’m not good at this picture thing)