I arrived in Southern Afghanistan in February of 2010 with the 1st Intelligence Battalion stationed out of Camp Pendleton. I was an 0231 Intelligence Specialist who had recently gotten out of high school and had no idea what war was going to be like nor the trauma it would induce returning home over half a year later.
Being an Analyst in the Marine Corps requires lots of situation reports, daily briefings, mission debriefing, customs and courtesies presentations and a lot of traveling. I was “fortunate” enough to be in Marjeh District located in Helmand Province the day we raised the American Flag. I was sent down there by a logistics group to do an atmospherics report — basically interviewing the local populace with a translator to see how our presence was affecting the community. Short answer: They were not thrilled with us being there.
I ended up writing a 10-page intelligence summary on the topic — to which my mind started to ramble with thoughts like “why on earth are we here?” If the Afghans didn’t want us there and intelligence analysts were confused why we were there, then I was losing confidence in my ability to come up with an answer?
As the months went on and our Forward Operating Bases turned from tents to solid buildings, I knew our presence was only becoming more permanent. Boy, was I right.
Midway through my deployment, I was voluntold to be a part of BDOC (Base Defense Operations Center) which was in charge of guarding local checkpoints and gates to go in and out of Camp Leatherneck. As a Lance Corporal, I was the Sergeant of the Guard for Friendship Gate — connecting Shorabak to Camp Leatherneck, Shorabak was the Afghan National Army side of the base. These Afghan National Army men were constantly trying to get on our base under the influence of their local cash crop — poppy, which we here in the States call “Heroin.”
If it wasn’t poppy, it was alcohol or marijuana. This fighting force was the opposite of the Marine Corps, constantly under the influence and the minimum requirement for an education was non-existent. I will never forget the day they stormed our gate trying to get onto our base so they could get to the airport and try and high tail it out of their own country — and this was in 2010. It turns out after they got paid there would always be a group of men who tried to flee the country rather than stay and fight and get trained by the Marine Corps so that we could one day leave and they’d be able to fight the Taliban on their own accord. If the Afghan National Army didn’t want to stay and fight for their own country, imagine how we felt.
Anytime we had a bad day our Major would force us to go be a part of a Ramp Ceremony where Marines stood at the bottom of an aircraft ramp and salute the caskets covered with American flags to fly home for a proper burial. Ever heard of River City? River City is when communication with the states is cut off because an Armed Forces member died and we had to wait until the military properly notified the family so they wouldn’t find out from FaceBook or Twitter. We were in River City constantly in 2010.
I remember being in River CIty on Mother’s Day because a fellow Marine killed himself while on watch so we couldn’t call our Mothers on Mother’s Day and that Marine’s mom got a visit from the military explaining that her son shot himself in Afghanistan. Happy Mother’s Day.
Shortly after arriving home from Afghanistan, Osama Bin Laden was shot and killed, in Pakistan — not Afghanistan. We all thought “Hey alright! Justice has been served, all our buddies can come home now.” But the war raged on for another decade.
I come up with lots of reasons why we were there to accommodate my coping mechanisms: Mybe we were there for dispositional convenience — after all Afghanistan is right in between China and Iran. Maybe it was the Industrial Military Complex?
At the end of the day I suppose it doesn’t matter. Our presence is no longer there and the Taliban has taken over. I’d like to think that means our presence was actually doing something but I wonder how the rest of my fellow Operation Enduring Freedom Veterans are holding up. Luckily the American population welcomed us home with open arms and proud smiles — most Vietnam veterans can’t say they experienced the same appreciation. Vietnam vets were spit on and still sleep in the streets asking for spare change and any extra food.
I suppose the best thing we can do as a country is make sure our veterans are okay and not neglected — 22 veterans commit suicide a day. This is something we should all be concerned about. If you have any friends or family who served in Afghanistan, reach out. Offer help. It’s time to stand together as a country and be grateful for what we have rather than argue over our presence in Afghanistan.
What’s done is done. We will let the history books write their own narrative on the matter. Let’s be on the right side of history and make sure our Operation Enduring Freedom veterans are taken care of and not strung out on the streets for the next several decades. Thank you for all the appreciation I have received from the country for my service and thank you for reading.
— Spencer Schultz/Vacaville