NO REGRETS ~ An American Adventure in Afghanistan by David Kaelin Page A

World War II and held together with bubble gum and finger nail polish. This was how the United States was equipping its elite fighting force. Of course, this was before they started the mass movement to get our military equipped with UAH HMMWVs and ultimately, the MRAP. 10 The vehicles before us were all thin-skinned and not one of them was trustworthy. They were issued with the proviso that they not be used off base. I don’t think any of them lasted much longer than six months.
    A couple of weeks later, I was sitting with Rashawn at the Bagram Central Issue Facility (CIF). Rashawn supervised the CIF, which was the storage and issue point for theater-specific gear that soldiers were given to conduct their mission in Afghanistan. CIF issued desert tan winter boots, cold weather parkas, and “polypro” undergarments. When new Army uniforms or other specialty gear came out, the CIF facilitated the issuance of those as well. Rashawn and I were sitting in one of the containers used for storage when an Army major walked up on us. The guy seemed agitated.
    “Why won’t you issue gear to my soldiers?”
    Rashawn gave me one of those “Here we go again” looks and told the major, “Sir, all issues have to be approved by the PBO. 11 Without his signature, I can’t issue anything. If that’s a problem, you’ll have to talk to Chief.”
    “I don’t give a damn what Chief says. My men are going out on mission tomorrow. No contractor is going to make my guys go on mission without proper gear.”
    “Like I said, sir, you’ll have to obtain approval from Chief. It’s not my decision.”
    “Look, you idiot. You goddamn contractors work for me.” With that, the major started poking Rashawn in the chest and backing him into the container.
    I jumped in, “How about I get Chief and you can talk to him?”
    He ignored me. Almost screaming, the major continued, “You fuckin’ contractors are always dickin’ everything up. I don’t know why the Army thinks we need you sorry fucks.”
    “Rashawn, don’t do anything stupid. I’m going to get Rob and Chief.”
    I quickly walked over to the office. “Chief, Rob … you guys better come with me now. There is some asshole major poking and screaming at Rashawn. If we don’t get there quick, Rashawn might knock out the ignorant bastard.”
    Rashawn was a short dude who was built like a bulldog with huge shoulders and biceps. He was a retired U.S. Army sergeant first class and had a quick temper. He and I had gotten into a few arguments. In one of them, I thought for sure that he was going to swing at me. He didn’t but I hadn’t been cursing at him, poking him in the chest, and backing him into a corner.
    Chief and Rob walked out to the container. Chief asked, “What seems to be the problem here?”
    “Your fucking CIF contractor won’t issue my men their gear.”
    “Did anyone bring the documents to my office for signature? I haven’t had any requests today.”
    “My supply sergeant told me that he’d done everything today. He said that he couldn’t get the gear from your contractors.”
    “That’s correct. If he hasn’t brought the docs to me for approval, my contractors will not issue gear to anyone. Have your men follow the proper procedures and they’ll get the gear they need.”
    The major stormed off. It turned out that his supply sergeant had come to the CIF and asked for gear. Rashawn told him the procedures that he needed to follow. Instead of going back to his desk and filling in a few lines on a document, the supply sergeant complained to the irate major that the contractors at CIF had refused to service him.
    Chief lodged a complaint against the major for his belligerent behavior to no avail. The whole incident was buried and forgotten. If Rashawn had knocked the guy out, KBR would have asked him “aisle or window?”
    10 MRAP—Mine Resistant Ambush Protected—vehicles are designed to survive IED attacks and ambushes.
    11 PBO—Property Book