thedrifter
12-02-06, 12:04 PM
Lebanon native tells of war in Afghanistan
Associated Press reporter Jason Straziuso writes about his experiences with U.S. infantry troops in Kabul.
By Jason Straziuso
For The Western Star
There was no shade, and the troops were rationed five measly bottles of water a day. Don't ever let anyone tell you the men and women in our military don't sacrifice for us.
Soldiers to our south were supposed to push Taliban militants north, and the guys I was with would drop the hammer when they came into view on the valley floor below.
I left before that hammer dropped, but I did witness one firefight. Our second night on the ridge — the night after I'd been scared silly about an attack — about 60 Taliban militants fired mortars at our position. The soldiers knew it was coming; Special Forces teams and Afghan interpreters had been monitoring Taliban radio communications.
The U.S. military responded with fury.
A-10 Warthogs screamed through the valley, firing barrages of lead on a Taliban position. A B-1 bomber dropped a 2,000-pound bomb a half mile from where we were all standing, a boom I will not soon forget. The smoke, backlit by a half moon, rose 1,000 feet into the air.
The mountain ridge we were camped on was so skinny that the Chinook — the large military helicopter with two rotors — that picked up my two Associated Press colleagues and I barely had enough room to land.
It didn't land completely, actually. It set its two back wheels on the ground while its front two wheels hovered off the side of the hill. We jumped in and it took off — safely, thankfully.
Why a war zone?
I'm often asked why I like being a foreign correspondent — why would I want to travel to Iraq or jump onto a helicopter hanging off the side of a mountain ridge?
The answer is that the job allows me to peek into worlds I would never otherwise see, and I know of no other occupation that supplies the variety and excitement.
I've stood in the Saddam Hussein courtroom. I've talked with governors and senators. And last week I drove around Afghanistan with a two-star Army general in a fleet of armored Ford Excursions.
From the outside, they look like your average civilian vehicle. But the windows are two inches thick, and each door has a tiny little slot just big enough for a gun barrel to fit through. Just a guess, but I imagine they cost $100,000 or so.
It began at the Light
My first journalism experience came at Lebanon High School in the early 1990s as a reporter and editor for the Lebanon Light. I loved working on the newspaper, and our class adviser, Wayne Dunn, encouraged me to cover high school sports for The Western Star.
Many of my Friday and Saturday nights after that were spent in the newsroom alongside Scott Hayes, who often helped me overcome my 17-year-old writer's block. The paper's editor, Tom Barr, always encouraged us high schoolers to keep writing, and I went on to study the profession at Ohio University.
Thanks to the news industry, I've since lived in Paris, Romania, Mississippi, Philadelphia and New York.
Baghdad, where I was last December and January, was a scary world of constant fear and violence. There were gun battles in the street outside our hotel, and multiple car bombs would go off in one day. When Jill Carroll, a writer for the Christian Science Monitor, was kidnapped soon after my arrival, I decided I'd stay in my hotel room from then on.
Actually, I left our office three times to go to the Green Zone. Each time I ventured out, four men — two armed Iraqis and two armed former British marines, our private security team — traveled with me in two armored cars.
Roadside bombs were a constant fear. Once we were followed by two large black Mercedes cars. Another time a car full of young men was charging right at us, and the British marine in my car pointed his M-4 rifle at them. They stopped, quickly.
Return to Afghanistan
Now I'm in Afghanistan, a much safer place to work, comparatively, for at least the next year. It's become an increasingly important story again, as Taliban militants increase their attacks. But there's also a vibrant Western community here, and the countryside is beautiful — all in all, an exciting opportunity.
There are inconveniences, to be sure. My family and friends are far away, Western food items are a rare find and an "overnight" FedEx envelope costs $120 — and takes four days to get to the states.
And that 9.5-hour time zone difference meant I had to beg a military friend to sneak me onto the NATO base in Kabul and then stay up until 5 a.m. to watch the Buckeyes beat Michigan two weekends ago. The only other people in the room were a soldier who went to high school in Milford and a civilian worker from the Netherlands who was an exchange student in Ohio.
At the end of the game, we all slapped high-fives.
I've worked all my life to become a foreign correspondent, and I'm thrilled to have reached my professional goal. But right then I slumped back in my chair, watched the sea of red on the TV screen and imagined I was back in Columbus, singing "Carmen Ohio" with all my high school friends.
Ellie
Associated Press reporter Jason Straziuso writes about his experiences with U.S. infantry troops in Kabul.
By Jason Straziuso
For The Western Star
There was no shade, and the troops were rationed five measly bottles of water a day. Don't ever let anyone tell you the men and women in our military don't sacrifice for us.
Soldiers to our south were supposed to push Taliban militants north, and the guys I was with would drop the hammer when they came into view on the valley floor below.
I left before that hammer dropped, but I did witness one firefight. Our second night on the ridge — the night after I'd been scared silly about an attack — about 60 Taliban militants fired mortars at our position. The soldiers knew it was coming; Special Forces teams and Afghan interpreters had been monitoring Taliban radio communications.
The U.S. military responded with fury.
A-10 Warthogs screamed through the valley, firing barrages of lead on a Taliban position. A B-1 bomber dropped a 2,000-pound bomb a half mile from where we were all standing, a boom I will not soon forget. The smoke, backlit by a half moon, rose 1,000 feet into the air.
The mountain ridge we were camped on was so skinny that the Chinook — the large military helicopter with two rotors — that picked up my two Associated Press colleagues and I barely had enough room to land.
It didn't land completely, actually. It set its two back wheels on the ground while its front two wheels hovered off the side of the hill. We jumped in and it took off — safely, thankfully.
Why a war zone?
I'm often asked why I like being a foreign correspondent — why would I want to travel to Iraq or jump onto a helicopter hanging off the side of a mountain ridge?
The answer is that the job allows me to peek into worlds I would never otherwise see, and I know of no other occupation that supplies the variety and excitement.
I've stood in the Saddam Hussein courtroom. I've talked with governors and senators. And last week I drove around Afghanistan with a two-star Army general in a fleet of armored Ford Excursions.
From the outside, they look like your average civilian vehicle. But the windows are two inches thick, and each door has a tiny little slot just big enough for a gun barrel to fit through. Just a guess, but I imagine they cost $100,000 or so.
It began at the Light
My first journalism experience came at Lebanon High School in the early 1990s as a reporter and editor for the Lebanon Light. I loved working on the newspaper, and our class adviser, Wayne Dunn, encouraged me to cover high school sports for The Western Star.
Many of my Friday and Saturday nights after that were spent in the newsroom alongside Scott Hayes, who often helped me overcome my 17-year-old writer's block. The paper's editor, Tom Barr, always encouraged us high schoolers to keep writing, and I went on to study the profession at Ohio University.
Thanks to the news industry, I've since lived in Paris, Romania, Mississippi, Philadelphia and New York.
Baghdad, where I was last December and January, was a scary world of constant fear and violence. There were gun battles in the street outside our hotel, and multiple car bombs would go off in one day. When Jill Carroll, a writer for the Christian Science Monitor, was kidnapped soon after my arrival, I decided I'd stay in my hotel room from then on.
Actually, I left our office three times to go to the Green Zone. Each time I ventured out, four men — two armed Iraqis and two armed former British marines, our private security team — traveled with me in two armored cars.
Roadside bombs were a constant fear. Once we were followed by two large black Mercedes cars. Another time a car full of young men was charging right at us, and the British marine in my car pointed his M-4 rifle at them. They stopped, quickly.
Return to Afghanistan
Now I'm in Afghanistan, a much safer place to work, comparatively, for at least the next year. It's become an increasingly important story again, as Taliban militants increase their attacks. But there's also a vibrant Western community here, and the countryside is beautiful — all in all, an exciting opportunity.
There are inconveniences, to be sure. My family and friends are far away, Western food items are a rare find and an "overnight" FedEx envelope costs $120 — and takes four days to get to the states.
And that 9.5-hour time zone difference meant I had to beg a military friend to sneak me onto the NATO base in Kabul and then stay up until 5 a.m. to watch the Buckeyes beat Michigan two weekends ago. The only other people in the room were a soldier who went to high school in Milford and a civilian worker from the Netherlands who was an exchange student in Ohio.
At the end of the game, we all slapped high-fives.
I've worked all my life to become a foreign correspondent, and I'm thrilled to have reached my professional goal. But right then I slumped back in my chair, watched the sea of red on the TV screen and imagined I was back in Columbus, singing "Carmen Ohio" with all my high school friends.
Ellie