I’ve got some new work from Afghanistan up on GlobalPost - check it out at:
http://dispatches.globalpost.com/
and http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/afghanistan/100725/full-frame-clearing-the-way
Spc. Bobby Burton, from the 504th Military Police Company, winces as he leaves the “Hell Hole” — Camp Nathan Smith’s burn pit.
In order to dispose of their garbage, soldiers must brave thick black smoke from burning plastic and paper multiple times a day.
I made three trips through the smoke with Burton as he launched barrel after barrel of trash into the pit and hours later my lungs still don’t feel quite right.
“I’m getting this exposure annotated on my health record so I can get care when I get out of the Army,” Burton said. “The trick is to hold your breath as best you can.”
Blaring over the camp’s loudspeakers: ALL MEDICAL PERSONNEL TO THE AID STATION IMMEDIATELY
Three Afghan security contractors had been ambushed by the Taliban - they came in with gunshot wounds and peppered with shrapnel. The medics worked so fast that they didn’t notice that one guy was missing most of his brain. Only when the rest of it fell out in the helicopter did his predicament become clear. The company they worked for is responsible for ferrying huge amounts of fuel and food to U.S. troops throughout Afghanistan. Since they have unarmored vehicles and light weaponry, they are often referred to as “easy meat.”
The speakers were awe-inspiring, without exception. Some of the smartest people I’ve met. With raw visual intelligence and thunderous creativity. Being in the presence of Bill Eppridge and Yuri Kozyrev, Platon and Hal Buell, all the Vietnam correspondents, the ghost of Eddie, was like being backstage at the Bad Motherfuckers of Photography Hall of Fame’s opening ceremony.
www.eddieadamsworkshop.com - that’s my plug for this amazing institution.
This day is much like I pictured it would be, five years ago. Hot and dusty, my blood still boiling from the countless threats and fights and little triumphs and little defeats, as the war slides into nameless hostile oblivion like little wars so often do.
My mind reaches back to my original purposes for becoming a soldier, which was to learn something of the forces that continually shape our world. I’ve learned a great deal about guerilla warfare, small-unit tactics and the nature of fighting men, though I clearly still have much to learn about the larger cycles of war and peace in a bewilderingly complex world.
Photography has ever been a means to an end for me, driving me toward a continuous stream of fascinating events and forcing me to pay close attention. In my mind, if I’m not out photographing, I’m not living. And though I feel I’ve reached the practical limit of the living I can do in the army, I’m grateful for the many opportunities I’ve had to get out where the air is heavy with lead, operate on my own terms and learn on an unforgiving road. Though my motivation has often been for my own education, I certainly hope I’ve done right by the soldiers on the burning streets, in the deadly alleys, in the trackless desert, in the soggy stinking marshes.
The sheikhs run the Sons of Iraq, the program where the US military pays local men a monthly salary to set up traffic checkpoints and generally make life difficult for foreign fighters and the militias.
It’s been very successful against the foreign-led al-Qaeda in Iraq, less so against the homegrown militias. Many of the SoI volunteers and leaders are militia members themselves. But as long as their neighborhoods are reasonably safe, no one cares what membership cards they have in their wallets.
This harmony was upset in Abu Jassim recently when sophisticated IEDs started appearing on the streets. Several soldiers were wounded by them. One was pulled off life support last night. So the SoIs aren’t doing their jobs so well. But with the Shiite bloodbath only five miles away, it’s not a good idea to scrap the tiny village’s only semblance of a security force.
So we came, we yelled, we cut their pay, we arrested a couple of the militia-affiliated ones who probably had a hand in the bombings. There were a lot of kids around watching this weird scene. What a way to learn about the world.
Prisoner release - US-run prisons in Iraq let prisoners go when they determine there’s no more useful information that can be beaten out of them. The people let go today had been locked up for between one and four years and now return to a totally reshaped area of Iraq under the supervision of a sheikh they’ve never heard of. There’s not a lot of opportunity for them to commit major crimes in Jurf as Sahkr, especially with a brutal sonofabitch like Sheikh Sabah al-Janabi keeping tabs on them, but a couple of them look pretty determined to try.
Shiites continue to kill each other with great zeal down the road a bit. We’re regularly rolling out main battle tanks again, for the first time in months. It’s been two years since I was a gun loader/photoguy on a tank crew, and I’m really, really looking forward to doing it again. The sensation of riding in a 70-ton M1A1 Abrams is not of movement upon the earth, but that of the earth rotating to meet you.
