Who know what evil lurks....

From John in Bagram:

As the winter months come crawling our way, the nights here in Afghanistan have begun to chill and it often appears that they have taken on a life of their own. As the sun goes down the very appearance of normality is replaced by a hidden force. The sky is filled with a smothering dust that makes the moon fight for the very right to shine. What is this strange phenomenon in Afghanistan that causes one to feel safe and secure in the light and yet allows depression and despair to assault you at night?

You see, evil thrives in the darkness. It is under this shroud that my enemy does his work. In the black of night, Improvised Explosive Devices are hidden on the road ways waiting to steal life from the next convoy that dares to drive by. It is in the cover of darkness that would be heroes of the insurgency draw close to our base and launch missiles over our walls. They slither back and wait to hear if their prayers will be answered when their offering of terror strikes my base. The Afghans and the Americans both know that the night is owned by the Taliban. It was just a few nights ago that we found ourselves facing this very evil.

In the middle of a war zone, things that are harmless and gentle in the light of day become mysterious shadows well suited for evil in the black of night. On this day, as if frightened away by some unseen force, the sun had quickly fallen from the sky. A series of fighter jets had just taken off with a deafening roar and we were left with an eerie silence that sent chills up our spines. Wasn’t it “The Shadow” from the 1930 who taunted us with the line, “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?” The thought of these words can haunt a man as he moves through the dim alleys of our base.

The path from our office to our living quarters is sporadically lined with a poor attempt at lighting. Instead of providing a path of security, we find that the faded glow from the overhead lamps only intensifies this world of shadows. Even when surrounded by thousands of soldiers, each one of us knows that in darkness, our enemy is always near.

Chief Warrant Officer Biggerstaff, whom we call Mr. B, was the first who dared to go out that night. Having traveled this path a hundred times Mr. B ducked his head and as the dust blew across the lot he shielded his eyes and began the walk toward his room. From the corner of his eye he thought he saw a dog lurking in the shadows across the parking lot. But there are no dogs on the base. Was this a dog in the darkness or a man couched down to the ground? He would have ignored the very idea had he not noticed that when he stopped… so did the figure.

The hair stood up on the back of his neck as all of his senses became aware of the danger that he faced. Slowly, he lowered himself down as his hand dropped to his holster. As his fingers took hold of his pistol he saw the figure also stop and duck down. As he contemplated his situation and began to evaluate maneuver options, he noticed that the figure in the darkness seemed to be mocking him. If Mr. B moved right, the figure moved with him. When Mr. B made a quick move left, the figure was there almost before him.

In a moment of revelation he noticed the two overhead street lamps, one forward and one to the read, both capturing him as what would appear to be a murky shadow on the other side of the parking lot. Mr. B moved on to his room pondering the unanswered question, “Do you get a medal for shooting your own shadow?”

- Major John Parker

Thanks from Bagram

A few weeks ago, the life group I attend at my home church boxed up a load of goodies and shipped them to my brothers unit in Afghanistan. Nestled safely on American soil surrounded by the comforts of our homes, it is easy to forget how much impact a small gift can have. The following is the thank you note penned by my brother to our class:



To the members of North Monroe Baptist Church:



There are few words that can be written to adequately describe how appreciative we are of your care packages. The wars in both Iraq and Afghanistan, while supported by our country, are often overlooked in terms of the human cost of war. I thank you for taking the time to remember not the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines, but rather the men and women who make up these organizations.



I wake up everyday and realize that I am surrounded by children. It seems that these boys and girls that we send outside of these semi-secure walls were just yesterday sitting in their parents laps being rocked to sleep. Now, they are the face of freedom that we send into the fight.



To see the excitement of the kid's faces when they come in the building and see the shelves full is the same look I used to get years ago when my mother would take us to Howard Griffin Land of Toys there in Monroe (ask Barry to explain). The bottom line is that your gift brought joy to a group of soldiers very far from home. Thank you, thank you.






Maj. John Parker
176 Engineer Brigade
Afghanistan

Notes from the front

This is an email sent from my brother John in Afghanistan - didn't want it misplaced.
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In the last five days my unit has seen four soldiers killed in action. Tomorrow morning we will have our third Ramp Ceremony for the week. The Ramp Ceremony, by design, is performed to show the highest level of respect for those who have died in battle as their bodies are loaded on the plane that will fly them home. There is an intensive effort here to bring honor to these men and women who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their country. While the ceremony is designed as a tribute to the fallen soldier, deep down I know that it is actually for me. With each ceremony, I have realized that its personal impact on me is cumulative. Each event brings a point of closure, but at the same time, an intensifying reality check on how fragile life actually is. I am surrounded by a constant reminder that we have no promise of tomorrow, much less next week or next year.

On a normal day I sit at my desk and listen to people complain; I have to walk too far to use the latrine, there aren’t any paper towels, the a/c is not cool enough, or someone tracked dirt in my office. All of this absurd whining takes place in the safety and the security of our office building. Meanwhile, our soldiers are putting on their gear and fearlessly driving into the local towns and villages to face a hidden enemy. Their only goal is to do the right thing. Every day they go out. Sometimes, they come back.

Today another American soldier was lost. I wonder if his baby daughter will ever understand why her daddy died in Afghanistan. Will she ever be able to grasp the complexity of war? Can she tell the difference between an insurgent and one who fights for freedom? Will that little girl care about the politics or will she just cry when her daddy doesn’t come home for Christmas? What peace will that beautifully wrapped Christmas present bring her, when she holds it instead of holding her daddy? But, in the end, her daddy is gone and he won’t be home for Christmas.

The Ramp Ceremony brings a momentary lull to an airfield that operates at full capacity 24 hours a day, seven days a week. There is a sense that time stands still as the massive C-17 Cargo plane pulls into place. The plane sits on the tarmac in an eerie silence as the rear aft door slowly drops. In the distance you can hear the vocal commands of the honor guard and you can almost feel each step as 30 soldiers march their way toward the rear of the plane. They methodically separate into two columns and cordon a path of honor for their fallen comrade.

The order is given to “Present Arms” as a vehicle slowly pulls forward with one more American hero. Arms are raised in salute as eight fellow soldiers, in drilled precision, move forward and take charge of the casket. As the flag draped casket is slowly marched toward the plane, the drum like sounds of boots echo across the airfield. You hear the voice of the detachment commander, “left, left, left…” as he leads the procession toward the rear of the plane that will take this soldier home for the last time.

As these days have passed, I find myself almost feeling guilty if I laugh or smile. Yet, I remember the words of John 10:10 when Jesus said, “I came that you might have life and have it abundantly.” I often ask myself where the realities of war and the call for abundant life come together. I pray that someday, I will find that answer.

Tonight I will pray for a mother that I do not know. Tonight I will cry for a child that I have never seen. Tonight my heart will break for a world that does not realize the magnitude of what they just lost.

- MAJ John D. Parker