I'm home at last and now I can write about the final chapter of my tour in Afghanistan. This past winter we had five members from my unit, 10th Field Artillery Regiment, R.C.A. here in Saskatchewan serving in Afghanistan. Some were from 18 Battery in Regina and others like myself were from 64 Battery in Yorkton. It didn't seem that many of us had the same job. One was training Afghan gunners, others were manning the M777 howitzers while some were working with the surveillance balloons. As for me, I got to work in a Regional Command Headquarters. My job was working on the Afghan National Police assessments. As I was the only one that worked as a staff officer in an actual office it was ironic that of the five I was the one that got out the most and was the only one that made it to the rather unsettled Helmand province, not once, but twice. It was really a toss up which province was wilder, Helmand or Kandahar, but I went to both. But all things must end and so it was with our tour. As I was the last to get to Afghanistan it was only fair that I would be the last to return home. One by one each of us returned until there was only one person from our unit left, me.
This article is about returning from Afghanistan and coming home. As you might expect coming home from Afghanistan is not like coming home from a long business trip, unless you do business in Afghanistan. For starters the route is not direct nor continuous. I flew out of Kandahar Airfield (KAF) on 28 June, but didn't arrive back home until 4 July. So where was I for that week? Well, let's start at the beginning, the beginning of the end. The end of your tour kind of sneaks up on you. You know you're going home, but usually your are so consumed with the task at hand that the realization you're at the end of your tour only begins when you start having to "clear out". To clear out means that you return everything that has to be returned and conversely receive anything that you will need for your trip back. This actually takes two or three days and involves turning in keys, ID cards, ration cards, etc., getting all your unaccompanied baggage over to the opposite side of the airfield (why does it always have to be the opposite side?), turning in all mission specific kit that you will no longer need, retrieving your passport and getting your travel documents, a medical, etc. And if you are a reservist like me the medical is a complete medical. They really only want to know if you've sustained any undetected injuries while you were on tour, but I still appreciated it. At my age you should look under the hood once in a while.These last few days in KAF were spent not just clearing out but also packing. This is divided into three things; accompanied baggage, un-accompanied baggage and everything else. Everything else (usually all the stuff you bought at the bazaar) gets put in boxes and mailed home through the post office. This is the reason why for the last week I've been picking up parcels at the Melville Post Office that were sent from me to me, which had some of the posties scratching their head. If they decide to fly you home by a commercial airline part of the way instead of service air it becomes even more complicated as you are not allowed to board a civilian aircraft with a single piece of military kit visible. This means that you can't use your barrack box or duffle bag or rucksack. It all then has to be shipped as un-accompanied baggage. You should have a civilian suitcase with you, but if not then the Saturday before you leave would be a good time to stop by the bazaar and buy one. Now all you have to do is provide an itemized list of everything in your un-accompanied baggage in triplicate, drop it off (at the opposite side of the airfield), mail all the carpets you bought at the bazaar to yourself and pack your civilian suitcase.
After your farewell dinner that your friends organized for you complete with copious amounts of non-alcoholic beer (great - no hangover!) you show up the next day at the terminal with your luggage, your 9 mm pistol, your C-7 assault rifle, ammo, helmet and body armor for the first leg of your journey. Everyone is in a good mood and no one seems to mind the wait for security, because even though it's a military airport terminal it still has airport security. Now this is the only time I will ever be able to get away with this as when we go through airport security in KAF we walk up to the x-ray machine, grab a plastic tray and empty everything that is metal into it, like our pistol, ammo, bayonet, etc. Then just like at a normal airport you push the plastic tray into the x-ray machine and now that you are free of metal you walk through the metal detector. Once that is done you pick up the plastic tray which has now come out the other side, strap your pistol back onto your belt, pick up your C-7 rifle and ammo and walk onto the aircraft. I once asked one of the security staff why we go through this and the answer was that they really looking for illegal contraband that might be smuggled inside weapons. They are certainly not worried about security the same way a civilian airport security screen would. Nobody in their right mind would ever try to highjack a Canadian Forces Hercules Transport aircraft out of Afghanistan. Not only is every crew member heavily armed, but every passenger is as well. Another curious feature about this flight is that we are all colour coded. It's not really intentional, but nevertheless we are all colour coded either tan or green. This is the result of having to wear your personal armor whenever you fly in or out of KAF. As your personal armor is issued in Canada with a green cover you have to swap it for a tan one after you arrive in KAF. Before you leave you have to swap it back for a green cover. Thus those passengers wearing green body armor were finished their tour and those still wearing tan were going on leave or on temporary duty and would be returning soon. I was proudly wearing green that day. Green for go home.This first flight took us to Camp Mirage where we spent the first night away from Afghanistan. Almost immediately upon arriving in Camp Mirage a metamorphosis takes place. Before we even get into the terminal we turn in our ammo (no need to shoot would-be hijackers now) quickly followed by our weapons and the ballistic plates for our body armor. Our remaining military kit such as helmet and body armor minus the heavy ballistic plates is packed in our barrack box and it then becomes un-accompanied baggage. Within a short space of time we are transformed from warriors to tourists. Except for when I went on leave it was the first time in six months that I was not carrying a weapon with me. The next day we are taken to a resort on the Indian Ocean for decompression. Ever since the American experience in Vietnam it has been discovered that pulling a soldier out of combat and plunking him down on Main Street America or any Main Street for that matter in less then 24 hours (thanks to the marvel of jet travel) is a recipe for problems, lots of problems. Thus we all go through the process of decompression. As you are not given the option everyone just sees this as part of coming home and many look forward to it. The hotel that they put us up in was first class: pool, swim up bar, ocean beach, spa and lots of activities. I found out that the hotel was only 13% occupied as July is their low season. In a strange twist it seemed that only Canadians from Afghanistan could stand the 45 degree heat. Some Canadians also took advantage of the fact there was no limits to what you could drink now that we were out of Afghanistan, but as my group was made up of more mature individuals there wasn't anyone that abused the situation. I'm told that when the place of full of the 18-25 year-old crowd the situation is a little different. One really excellent incentive for good behavior is that Canadian soldiers who are charged under the National Defence Act for "conduct to the prejudice of Good Order and Discipline" find that their summary trial takes place not back in Canada, but back in Afghanistan. Oh, no.
After four days of decompression it was time to go and this next part of the journey was when we traveled by commercial airline. After three different flights I found myself in Regina where Sergeant Marner and his wife were waiting for me. Sergeant Marner is from my unit and maintained contact with all our families while we were away. I was glad to see him as I had no family that live in Saskatchewan. As the last bus to Melville had already left Sgt Marner drove me to a hotel by the STC Bus Depot. I had time to show the Marners the pictures of Afghanistan that I had brought with me. After that it was time to get some rest. The next morning I was up at four in the morning, not because I had to, but because it was early evening where I had just come from and my body felt like I had slept the whole day. An hour later I went for a walk downtown as it was broad daylight outside. It is strange walking around downtown Regina not seeing a soul or even a single moving vehicle when at the same time your body is telling you that it is the end of the day and there should be lots of people around.
I decided to wear my tan uniform that I had packed in my civilian suitcase for the bus. There was no more restriction on wearing civilian cloths only now that I was back in Canada and besides at this point it was the only clean thing I had to wear. The last remaining leg on the STC bus was a joy. Not only was I not used to seeing anything green but because of all the rain everything was even greener than usual. The effect was truly enchanting. Sitting on the bus I thought about my time in Afghanistan. I remember how everything seemed freakishly abnormal when I arrived in KAF and by the end of my tour the same things seemed perfectly normal to me, always a good indicator that it is time to come home. Ahead of me was a summer full of family visits, meeting old friends again and even being in a parade. No matter what each soldier's experience in Afghanistan has been the common consensus is that there is still no place like home.
