I recently joined the Forum. I am stunned to discover Afghanistan is not a topic for any thread on the whole first page of topics in the War Forum. They deserve more consideration, trust me.
Nor is it a topic of discussion on the 2nd page of topics, 3rd page of topics... It isn't a topic!!! What the heck!!!??? We've got guys dying there every day folks.
Quote from: LibDave on October 12, 2013, 06:34:12 AM
Nor is it a topic of discussion on the 2nd page of topics, 3rd page of topics... It isn't a topic!!! What the heck!!!??? We've got guys dying there every day folks.
They were and still are topics of discussions on the main Poli page, this is more of a historical look at war, but please, feel free to start on.
I agree, this is an excellent place for it, considering they get lost and and buried on the Poli forum.
This will keep it first and foremost in the face of the left.
Welcome to the forum Dave.
By the way, why the name LibDave, you are too much of a thinker to be a lib. :wink:
I know that sense what's his name has been in office there has not been a body count every two hours. Yet there more dead on his watch them on Bushes.
Quote from: walkstall on October 12, 2013, 07:31:07 AM
I know that sense what's his name has been in office there has not been a body count every two hours. Yet there more dead on his watch them on Bushes.
Ah like the old days when Greg would start a thread every time a soldier died.
Jaysus....
Quote from: The Boo Man... on October 14, 2013, 06:13:46 PM
Ah like the old days when Greg would start a thread every time a soldier died.
Jaysus....
If Greg was not posting body count then ten other were. ΒΌ of every page was about body count most days.
LibertarianDave was taken. So LibDave it was. It does have interesting repercussions. I often get viciously attacked before people understand who I really am.
BTW, my son served in the Army. I can't even begin to compliment him in a manner which would do him unjust credit. Absolutely the most perfect of young men. I have always been so proud of all him. Very intelligent, straight A's all through his lower education. I didn't find out until he graduated high school he had never gotten so much as a B because I never checked or stressed grades. Self-motivated, and very athletic. Always All-Star any sport he played. Marital Arts, football, baseball you name it.
He served 2 tours in the Korengal Valley (look it up, no need to say more). A year ago May he was asked to attend a high level meeting at the provincial capital in Tari Kot (sp?). I was ecstatic he would be out of the Korengal.
I was sitting in my car in my driveway after having attempted to get my car started for over 2 hours. The electronic key system wouldn't function (never buy a Mercedes). The battery on my car finally went completely dead and my phone was dying. A homeless girl I had helped out previously was struggling and I had offered to take her and her 2 kids out to dinner. After several calls telling her I would be late she finally declared it was too late to take the girls out and we would have to do it another time. I was so pissed at Mercedes after recently having paid the dealership $5000 to fix the key system only to be told they didn't know how to fix it but wouldn't refund the repairs.
Seconds after I hung up the phone with her my father called. He said, "David are you sitting down?" "Yes", I replied. My father's voice cracked (himself a former officer and Vietnam veteran of several tours), "Your son has been seriously injured in Afghanistan. They wouldn't give me specifics until they speak with you, but it is very bad. They have your old number and can't reach you, call this number."
I franticly dialed the number and got his Captain. He told me my son had been gravely injured in a suicide bomber attack. I asked him, "How bad is it?" The Captain replied, "I'm not going to sugarcoat it for you, his injuries are as bad as I have ever seen and you should prepare yourself for the worst." I then asked, "How close was he to the bomb?" He replied, "He could have touched him with his elbow."
Suddenly the line went dead. I looked down to find my phone shutting down due to lack of power. I ran inside the house to connect the phone to the charger and call back. Literally, the exact microsecond I plugged the charger into the phone all the power went off for half the city (it was a warm Southern night without a cloud in the sky, stars shining bright). It felt as if God or my son (something) was telling me he was gone and turned them off out of respect. Tears streaming down my face I vomited on the wall and 3 more times on the way out the door through and into a darkness I could never describe.
I sat in the front yard writhing in anguish, vomiting, crying, screaming, punching trees, vomiting some more. I couldn't breathe. It was surreal and dream like. I sat looking at the stars, hoping to catch a glimpse or find some answers, stranded without a phone or ability to drive (whereto I didn't know --- anywhere).
Quote from: The Boo Man... on October 14, 2013, 06:13:46 PM
Ah like the old days when Greg would start a thread every time a soldier died.
Jaysus....
...but Benghazi was perfectly OK...
Quote from: LibDave on October 14, 2013, 10:31:08 PM
LibertarianDave was taken. So LibDave it was. It does have interesting repercussions. I often get viciously attacked before people understand who I really am.
BTW, my son served in the Army. I can't even begin to compliment him in a manner which would do him unjust credit. Absolutely the most perfect of young men. I have always been so proud of all him. Very intelligent, straight A's all through his lower education. I didn't find out until he graduated high school he had never gotten so much as a B because I never checked or stressed grades. Self-motivated, and very athletic. Always All-Star any sport he played. Marital Arts, football, baseball you name it.
He served 2 tours in the Korengal Valley (look it up, no need to say more). A year ago May he was asked to attend a high level meeting at the provincial capital in Tari Kot (sp?). I was ecstatic he would be out of the Korengal.
I was sitting in my car in my driveway after having attempted to get my car started for over 2 hours. The electronic key system wouldn't function (never buy a Mercedes). The battery on my car finally went completely dead and my phone was dying. A homeless girl I had helped out previously was struggling and I had offered to take her and her 2 kids out to dinner. After several calls telling her I would be late she finally declared it was too late to take the girls out and we would have to do it another time. I was so pissed at Mercedes after recently having paid the dealership $5000 to fix the key system only to be told they didn't know how to fix it but wouldn't refund the repairs.
Seconds after I hung up the phone with her my father called. He said, "David are you sitting down?" "Yes", I replied. My father's voice cracked (himself a former officer and Vietnam veteran of several tours), "Your son has been seriously injured in Afghanistan. They wouldn't give me specifics until they speak with you, but it is very bad. They have your old number and can't reach you, call this number."
I didn't see it taken... you should be able to change your monikor if you wish....
An hour later, still without power, my brother drove up followed shortly thereafter by my father. They drove over after being unable to reach me by phone. I couldn't walk or speak. They put me in the car deciding I should stay at my brothers house. I plugged in my car charger impatiently waiting for the charge to build. On the drive over I called his Captain back. After several minutes of questions I received very honest and direct answers to my questions, none of them promising. I couldn't believe they wouldn't at least lie to me to give me some hope. Looking back on it, I'm thankful to his Captain for giving it to me straight. Still, their was much he couldn't answer. Just that he took a direct blast, massive injuries to every part of his body and was bleeding out severely. They got him what medical assistance they could on the scene and put him on an medevac helicopter. He couldn't tell me more after that, giving me a number to call for updates.
I later learned he lost all of his vitals 5 minutes into the flight. They performed an emergency landing at a small tent in the middle of nowhere Afghanistan which wasn't well supplied. They managed to resuscitate him. Over the next 2 weeks we got very little information. All reports were over 16 hours old, some 2 days. Most days I would call 10 times and would be told, "He is still in VERY SERIOUS condition. We had to resuscitate him 2X, or 3X or 4X today. We don't expect him to make it. Every time we try to get him on a chopper to Kandahar he loses all of his vitals and we have to call off the evacuation". 14 days later they got him to Kandahar. He was in surgery almost continuously for 3 days.
It was taken on another forum. So I'm continuing to use my normal moniker.
My sons lived with me almost exclusively for 5 years after my divorce with zero support from my ex. The custody agreement was open and they were given the option of staying wherever they wished. They stayed with me 50 weeks out of the year in spite of my efforts to encourage them to visit her. They knew their mom was the cause of the break up. After 5 years I lost my job and was forced to move to New York state for a short-term lucrative job offer.
They stayed behind not wanting to move to NY. Shortly thereafter my ex took the opportunity to file for sole custody --- having convinced the kids to side with her --- telling them one thing but doing something completely different legally. I couldn't get through to the kids the truth about her legal filings. They were too young to understand legal matters, didn't want to get in the middle (even though she put them there), and by this time she had firmly coerced them by the most despicable means imaginable.
Days before the custody hearing I had enough. After a long emotional discussion with my oldest where he insisted his mom wasn't trying to keep them from seeing me I made him a deal. I asked him to meet together with his mom. If she would look the boys in the eyes stating the boys could see me whenever they wished and could change custody later I would sign any document she wished. In exchange he agreed that if it proved she was lying to them about the legal issues he would apologize to me for believing her lies and demand she drop the custody battle.
She had met with her lawyers who explained that since the boys were staying with her she would win the case (possession is 9/10 of the law) and the courts would see me as having voluntarily given up custody. I was of course advised the same by my lawyers. I was forced to call the boys and tell them they had to stay with me half time or risk losing custody by default. She of course told them, "See your Dad lied to you, he won't let you stay where you want, only if you want to stay with him. Now he is forcing you to live with him even though you know want to stay with me." Yet her entire legal custody suit did everything to ensure they had no option BUT to stay with her. Even so, I knew that if she looked them in the eye and told them it would be their choice, it wouldn't matter what the papers said. She wouldn't be able to stop them. I would still have to pay ungodly child support and ridiculous other concessions, but the kids would be able to stay with me if they chose.
When asked if they would ever be allowed to see me if they chose to in the future, she dodged and dodged and dodged. It was obvious she was caught in the lie. My oldest demanded she answer yes or know if my signing the custody meant they could still see me. Finally she said, "No. But you don't want to see him sweetheart so what does it matter." He burst out, "You lied to us mom. All this time you lied to us about what you are doing claiming Dad was lying." I thought it was settled and assumed my son would honor his promise to demand she drop custody suit. The next day we talked and he apologized saying he knew now she was lying. But honestly he was tired of all the fighting and wanted me to sign the papers anyway. He just wanted it over and thought the fighting was worse for his younger brothers than losing custody. I was crushed, hurt and felt betrayed. I told him I would sign the papers if that was his choice, but he had lost me as a father since he had taken his brothers father from them. I said take care of your brothers, I won't ever forgive you and don't wish to speak to you ever again.
Waiting for word on him after the injury was brutal. I literally felt dead inside myself. All the guilt, and anger, and just shear emptiness from having seen him and my other sons so little for so long tore out every once of spirit I had in me. I wanted so badly to see him, hug him, know that he was okay. Apologize. Meanwhile I was told by my ex not to dare contact him, as he wouldn't want to talk to me, hated me, and it would be too traumatic for him after his injuries. In spite of how much it hurt, I just wanted him well and the last thing the family needed was more problems.
In frustration with medical reports being read to me by a well-intentioned but medically illiterate soldier mispronouncing Clavicle 50 times before I understood what he was saying I demanded to talk to his doctor or nurse. He informed me it wasn't possible since they only had DNS numbers in Kandahar. DNS numbers are strictly for Defense Department use. It was like a bolt of lightning went off in my head. I work in Defense and have DNS access. I ran to work in my pajamas and slippers with a T-shirt 5 days slept in at 1:00 in the afternoon. No one said a word, they all seemed to understand dress code didn't apply for me.
I reached his nurse and after an hour of typing in the longest list of injuries in the history of mankind, much of which I would have to look up later she told me, "He just woke up from his coma for the first time about an hour ago. He is heavily medicated, and the damage to his throat means he can't speak but I will hold the phone up to his ear." I don't remember what I even said. Just that I loved him very much and to fight as hard as he could to hold on. Shortly thereafter my father sent me a photo his nurse forwarded, holding up his thumb from his one good arm. Never thought a photo could be more beautiful.
He was eventually flown to Landstuhl Germany. Then to Walter Reed in D.C. Then to Fort Sam Houston. They did miracle work on him throughout and though still in serious condition he had survived the worst part. I received no word from him. My father (his grandfather) was acting as go between keeping me updated on everything about him. My Dad trying to convince him to call me. About a month or so after his injury, while at work, I received a phone call. The voice on the other end was barely audible and so raspy initially I thought it a prank phone call. "Dad, it's me". I replied, "If this is some kind of sick joke it isn't funny". "He repeated more clearly, "Dad it's me. I can't hardly talk because of the tubes and my vocal cords are damaged. I just wanted to let you know I will be alright. I have to go now." I told him I loved him before he hung up.
A month later he called when his voice was stronger. At that point he was out of danger for the most part except for risks of infection --- though he still had much healing to do. He explained everything that happened that day and we had a very good conversation for 4 hours until he had to go to bed. Since then for whatever reason he hasn't called or responded to any of my texts. Don't know what that is all about. I still haven't been able to set eyes on him. It hurts but helps knowing he is still with us. Shortly after it happened I dared only ask God for 2 things (I'm not religious) 1. Let him live 2. Please no brain damage.
That day: From what I now understand, after attending a meeting with Afghan leaders he walked out of the building. Once he got 20 feet from the exit 2 of his friends followed out. An Afghan suicide bomber set off a bomb right next to them. Some of the shrapnel hit him in the left shoulder and thigh. He said, "It stung real bad but I looked down and thought 'holy shit' I'm still here." As he ran over to his two friends along with a medic and another soldier he realized something was wrong. He couldn't use his left arm well and his pants felt like he had jumped in a pool due to all the blood he was losing. 1 ball bearing had destroyed his shoulder, another had chipped half-way through his femur and cut the artery. In a daze he heard the medic say, "Forget it. They are gone." Just then out of the corner of his eye he saw someone step around the corner of the building. He turned and saw someone standing right next to him. He said the guy looked crazy or retarded, making a guttural, growling, panting noise. He already had his finger on the button. As the 2nd bomber said, "Allah Akba" he knew what was coming. As he ducked to knock everyone flat it went off before he could hardly move. He remembers nothing after that.
As they come, he is a walking-talking miracle. The Army's official orders were rehab for 1 year, after which time they would assess him for active duty or give him a medical discharge. He said he would do it in 6 months. The week before his 6th month he tested himself and passed all the basic requirements. One month later he went back active (after the Army passed him up for promotion to Captain). Laughable if not so sad. What's it take to earn Captain? He made it 2nd go around.
Though I am told his scarring is extensive, medically he has few long term injuries and suffers from no post-traumatic stress disorder. They completely rebuilt his left shoulder and elbow. Removed several ball bearings from his brain and 1 which went through his esophagus lodging against his juggler (and many more in the rest of his body --- some still remain I believe). Despite the fact his vital organs shut down from a time they have all healed. He lungs were severely damaged due to overpressure and he was bleeding into his lungs for quite some time which was a major concern. They too have healed. Many broken bones also healed. He is nothing short of a miracle and I am the luckiest Dad in the world. I can't complain. It's enough for me.
He is such a wonderful person. Amazing brave. I am so proud for him. Anyone who knows him understands. When my Dad saw his scar (cut from sternum to pelvis) and all the other wounds he stepped back startled. He didn't want him to see his reaction but before catching himself I was told my son said, "Don't worry about it grandpa, I'll get a zipper tattoo and no one will know the difference."
I've many regrets and made many mistakes throughout my life. My son knows little about who I am and nothing about who I have become in the intervening years. He knows only what he hears second hand (which is never good, usually totally false and one-sided). On the occasions I have made mistakes in my life it's all he is made aware and always somewhat distorted to say the least. So I can't blame him for thinking the worst. If he only knew the truth or bothered to find out.
I've filled my emptiness helping others. I have 3 young girls I help care for who come from hard circumstances. I take in the homeless, addicts, abused women. I help them overcome their problems and make better choices in life. Yet I'm sure he knows nothing of who I've become. It's enough for me to appreciate all he has become.
War sux. It has a way of forcing you to confront what terrifies you most. That unsaid.