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Found this in todays St. John's Telegram Article Link.
I know Capt. Nolan personally as he was my TC, really good guy.
This is a good read.
Soldier’s story
Ever wonder why anyone would leave behind the people and things they loved the most and head to danger and unrest in Afghanistan?
CAPT. RICHARD JOHN NOLAN, SPECIAL TO THE TELEGRAM—KANDAHAR
The Telegram
On a good day, I do not like to fly. When the flight includes tactical boots, tan camouflage uniform, Kevlar helmet, tan fragmentation vest, tan tactical vest, ballistic eye wear and 30 pounds of steel ballistic plates on my chest and back, I enjoy the flight even less.
Yet I must admit after some heavy shovelling in early January I did enjoy the 26 C heat that awaited me after 17 hours in the air. To be honest, I only had to wear the majority of the gear for the last three hours as we approached Kandahar airfield (KAF) in Afghanistan.
There was a general consensus of relief amongst the 120 troops when the mighty C-130 Hercules safely touched down on the hot desert tarmac. That was the end of the journey for almost all of that steel belly-full of Canadian soldiers. However, there was a select handful of us, numbering about 28, who quickly cleared into the Canadian side of the base and were hurried away for a further 30-minute ride to a smaller, completely Canadian base.
We departed KAF around 10 p.m., once again wrapped in the belly of a steel beast. This time, the beast only weighed 16 tonnes and ran on eight wheels. It sported a magnificent 25-millimetre chain cannon and several high-velocity heavy machine guns (to speak nothing of the arsenal strapped to each soldier).
Attached to the cannon, atop the spinning turret, was a camera giving life to a 17-inch LCD screen right there in the beast’s belly. I suppose it was designed to give comfort and security to those inside, but on that trip on that road at that hour in that country, it did little to settle my nerves or those of my fellow sardines.
We arrived at our destination, cleared all weapons and were assigned a temporary room for the night. When I went to bed, it was midnight local time, but my body was telling my brain it was only four o’clock in the afternoon; not a lot of sleep was had on my first night in this country.
Story and photos
by Capt. Richard John Nolan
Special to The Telegram—Kandahar
Day 1 in Afghanistan began with a beautiful sunrise over a majestic snowcapped mountain range that would take your breath away. You’d never think such bad things could lurk in such amazing scenery, but such was the story on my previous tours overseas.
I started my day with a barrage of briefings and administrative in-clearances and ended it with several hours on the small-arms ranges, ensuring that my personal weapons were zeroed accurately. This included day shoots with my rifle and pistol, and a night shoot with my night vision goggles (NVGs) and with my laser pointer attached to the end of my rifle. Sadly I am a much better shot with my laser and NVGs than I have ever been looking through my optical sight.
My internal clock had yet to reset itself, so not much sleep was had that night either. Day 2 entailed many more briefings covering everything from nasty improvised explosive devices (IEDs) to some truly amazing James Bond, top-secret stuff. Two nights of restless sleep and a Benadryl helped me nod off into what I hoped would be a restful eight hours’ sleep.
Unfortunately, my mind and body failed to include my bladder in that equation. That continues to be an ongoing problem.
Day 3 began with meeting counterparts who were so anxiously awaiting our arrival, which — incidentally — coincides with their departure and return to Canada. The day was spent shadowing mentors and being overwhelmed by the sheer volume of work and the intricacies of the processes, which we were very soon expected to master.
Day 4 was much of the same, but already we had begun to assume command of tasks and duties that only yesterday were as foreign as the soil we stood upon. So here I sit at the end of another 15-hour work day, typing away so that the folks back home can get a feel for what it is we are doing here and why so many husbands and wives, mothers and fathers and sons and daughters have chosen of their own free will to separate themselves from their families for six months under these conditions.
Waiting back home
I guess it’s a pretty tall order to say why everyone did it, so I’ll try to tell you why I did it. Keep in mind that my home in Mount Pearl holds the warmth and love of a beautiful woman, the most handsome and amazing and gifted 10-month-old baby boy in the world, and two very interesting Himalayan cats who, despite my best efforts to the contrary, I have grown to love.
Tonya, Noah, Sasha and perhaps even Chimo anxiously await my return sometime in August. I would be remiss to exclude myself from that last statement, as I, too, am anxiously awaiting my return home in six months. Yet here I am on Day 4.
Why am I here? Well, let’s start with what I do. I am a reserve engineering officer in the Canadian Forces. I used to be an engineer in the Canadian Armed Forces, but for some reason we dropped the Armed (though you wouldn’t say it looking around here). I am one of a small number of Forces members with two separate and distinct jobs. Mild-mannered engineer by day, when trouble strikes I duck into the nearest phone booth and emerge as a civilian-military-co-operation operator (CIMIC). Luckily for those waiting to use the phone booth, this doesn’t actually in-volve a change in clothes.
Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I go into the booth at all, but I digress.
CIMIC is a fairly new organization consisting only of reservists handpicked to fulfill a specialized role within the Forces. We are the direct contact people for the local civilian population to come to for anything they want or need. This could include things such as grievances for damaged property or livestock due to military vehicles or personnel. It could include requests for rebuilding damaged schools, religious establishments, homes and shelters. It could include infrastructure requests such as power, water, sewer or roadway installation or repair.
As you can well imagine, this is no small order and it is no easy task to plan, organize, implement and execute everything that is requested of us, not to mention the resources needed. The resources needed may be immense, but oddly enough they are the key to our success in the field. It’s simple enough mathematically: there is no place that is messed up enough to call in the military that the Red Cross and/or Doctors without Borders and/or CIDA and/or DFAIT and/or every other international organization or non-governmental organization isn’t going to be rushing to as well. What CIMIC does is attempt to co-ordinate the efforts of everyone on the playing field to minimize the resource expenditure from any one organization, while maximizing the effects of those resources being used.
A simple example: the Afghan Women’s Society wanted money to purchase sewing equipment to make blankets to sell to raise money to buy more equipment and train more women to make more blankets to sell to buy more equipment to train more women, etc. They came to us looking for money. The Afghan National Police Force came to us looking for blankets to issue to their men in the field. We have many connections with the international organizations and non-governmental organizations who are interested in investing money in worthy and charitable causes that benefit local communities. So, we propose a project to an organization. They like it and donate the money, which we give to the women to pay for the equipment to make the blankets. The women make the blankets and give enough to the Afghan National Police to outfit their field officers, while selling the rest to facilitate their production and training cycle, which increases employment, which bolsters the economy.
So, what does all that mean in the big picture, and why would the commander of Canada’s Forces want to have anything to do with any of this?
Keep in mind that this is one of around 300 projects in the works. Imagine that economic cycle repeated 300 times involving countless people and every organization you can imagine, and what do you have? You’ve got support for the troops on the ground.
So, when the bad guys come along and try to hurt the troops on the ground, the local people take a stand. They shut them down, turn them in, drive them away or report them to us.
So, now we have an improving infrastructure with a diminishing enemy and a growing economy.
So, what are we still doing there? The truth is, any sound military commander has the final intent to get the heck out of Dodge and get his troops home safe and sound, as quickly as possible. It’s called an exit strategy. Does it happen overnight? Not usually. It takes time and it certainly takes a lot of effort and the collaboration of some of the finest organizations in the business today.
Part of the solution
So, that is why I am here. If I can be the smallest piece in the machine that eventually churns out the solution that gets my fellow soldiers home for good, that ends oppression and random acts of violence, that deals a vicious blow to terrorists and to terrorism, well I think that would be worth a hell of a lot. It would be worth the lonely nights spent away from my beautiful wife. It would be worth the sadness that comes with knowing your loved ones are so far away and will be far away for an awful long time. It would be worth the absolute agony and tears and the crushing chest pain that can be almost overwhelming when I think of my boy walking for the first time and I don’t see it, waking up crying and I can’t pick him up and rock him back to sleep, falling and I can’t catch him, calling out ‘Daddy’ and I can’t hear him.
It may even be worth that damn plane ride.
That is why I do it. I can’t say for certain why any of the other couple thousand of Canada’s finest men and women do it, but I can say this: when I stand next to them I am as proud to be a part of what is going on here as I am of my son, as I am of my family, as I am of my power tool collection, and as I am of myself.
Capt. Richard John Nolan is a Gander native who lives in Mount Pearl and is stationed near Kandahar. On March 29 he marked his 18th anniversary of joining the military.
This is his fifth tour overseas
and his first to Afghanistan.
I know Capt. Nolan personally as he was my TC, really good guy.
This is a good read.
Soldier’s story
Ever wonder why anyone would leave behind the people and things they loved the most and head to danger and unrest in Afghanistan?
CAPT. RICHARD JOHN NOLAN, SPECIAL TO THE TELEGRAM—KANDAHAR
The Telegram
On a good day, I do not like to fly. When the flight includes tactical boots, tan camouflage uniform, Kevlar helmet, tan fragmentation vest, tan tactical vest, ballistic eye wear and 30 pounds of steel ballistic plates on my chest and back, I enjoy the flight even less.
Yet I must admit after some heavy shovelling in early January I did enjoy the 26 C heat that awaited me after 17 hours in the air. To be honest, I only had to wear the majority of the gear for the last three hours as we approached Kandahar airfield (KAF) in Afghanistan.
There was a general consensus of relief amongst the 120 troops when the mighty C-130 Hercules safely touched down on the hot desert tarmac. That was the end of the journey for almost all of that steel belly-full of Canadian soldiers. However, there was a select handful of us, numbering about 28, who quickly cleared into the Canadian side of the base and were hurried away for a further 30-minute ride to a smaller, completely Canadian base.
We departed KAF around 10 p.m., once again wrapped in the belly of a steel beast. This time, the beast only weighed 16 tonnes and ran on eight wheels. It sported a magnificent 25-millimetre chain cannon and several high-velocity heavy machine guns (to speak nothing of the arsenal strapped to each soldier).
Attached to the cannon, atop the spinning turret, was a camera giving life to a 17-inch LCD screen right there in the beast’s belly. I suppose it was designed to give comfort and security to those inside, but on that trip on that road at that hour in that country, it did little to settle my nerves or those of my fellow sardines.
We arrived at our destination, cleared all weapons and were assigned a temporary room for the night. When I went to bed, it was midnight local time, but my body was telling my brain it was only four o’clock in the afternoon; not a lot of sleep was had on my first night in this country.
Story and photos
by Capt. Richard John Nolan
Special to The Telegram—Kandahar
Day 1 in Afghanistan began with a beautiful sunrise over a majestic snowcapped mountain range that would take your breath away. You’d never think such bad things could lurk in such amazing scenery, but such was the story on my previous tours overseas.
I started my day with a barrage of briefings and administrative in-clearances and ended it with several hours on the small-arms ranges, ensuring that my personal weapons were zeroed accurately. This included day shoots with my rifle and pistol, and a night shoot with my night vision goggles (NVGs) and with my laser pointer attached to the end of my rifle. Sadly I am a much better shot with my laser and NVGs than I have ever been looking through my optical sight.
My internal clock had yet to reset itself, so not much sleep was had that night either. Day 2 entailed many more briefings covering everything from nasty improvised explosive devices (IEDs) to some truly amazing James Bond, top-secret stuff. Two nights of restless sleep and a Benadryl helped me nod off into what I hoped would be a restful eight hours’ sleep.
Unfortunately, my mind and body failed to include my bladder in that equation. That continues to be an ongoing problem.
Day 3 began with meeting counterparts who were so anxiously awaiting our arrival, which — incidentally — coincides with their departure and return to Canada. The day was spent shadowing mentors and being overwhelmed by the sheer volume of work and the intricacies of the processes, which we were very soon expected to master.
Day 4 was much of the same, but already we had begun to assume command of tasks and duties that only yesterday were as foreign as the soil we stood upon. So here I sit at the end of another 15-hour work day, typing away so that the folks back home can get a feel for what it is we are doing here and why so many husbands and wives, mothers and fathers and sons and daughters have chosen of their own free will to separate themselves from their families for six months under these conditions.
Waiting back home
I guess it’s a pretty tall order to say why everyone did it, so I’ll try to tell you why I did it. Keep in mind that my home in Mount Pearl holds the warmth and love of a beautiful woman, the most handsome and amazing and gifted 10-month-old baby boy in the world, and two very interesting Himalayan cats who, despite my best efforts to the contrary, I have grown to love.
Tonya, Noah, Sasha and perhaps even Chimo anxiously await my return sometime in August. I would be remiss to exclude myself from that last statement, as I, too, am anxiously awaiting my return home in six months. Yet here I am on Day 4.
Why am I here? Well, let’s start with what I do. I am a reserve engineering officer in the Canadian Forces. I used to be an engineer in the Canadian Armed Forces, but for some reason we dropped the Armed (though you wouldn’t say it looking around here). I am one of a small number of Forces members with two separate and distinct jobs. Mild-mannered engineer by day, when trouble strikes I duck into the nearest phone booth and emerge as a civilian-military-co-operation operator (CIMIC). Luckily for those waiting to use the phone booth, this doesn’t actually in-volve a change in clothes.
Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I go into the booth at all, but I digress.
CIMIC is a fairly new organization consisting only of reservists handpicked to fulfill a specialized role within the Forces. We are the direct contact people for the local civilian population to come to for anything they want or need. This could include things such as grievances for damaged property or livestock due to military vehicles or personnel. It could include requests for rebuilding damaged schools, religious establishments, homes and shelters. It could include infrastructure requests such as power, water, sewer or roadway installation or repair.
As you can well imagine, this is no small order and it is no easy task to plan, organize, implement and execute everything that is requested of us, not to mention the resources needed. The resources needed may be immense, but oddly enough they are the key to our success in the field. It’s simple enough mathematically: there is no place that is messed up enough to call in the military that the Red Cross and/or Doctors without Borders and/or CIDA and/or DFAIT and/or every other international organization or non-governmental organization isn’t going to be rushing to as well. What CIMIC does is attempt to co-ordinate the efforts of everyone on the playing field to minimize the resource expenditure from any one organization, while maximizing the effects of those resources being used.
A simple example: the Afghan Women’s Society wanted money to purchase sewing equipment to make blankets to sell to raise money to buy more equipment and train more women to make more blankets to sell to buy more equipment to train more women, etc. They came to us looking for money. The Afghan National Police Force came to us looking for blankets to issue to their men in the field. We have many connections with the international organizations and non-governmental organizations who are interested in investing money in worthy and charitable causes that benefit local communities. So, we propose a project to an organization. They like it and donate the money, which we give to the women to pay for the equipment to make the blankets. The women make the blankets and give enough to the Afghan National Police to outfit their field officers, while selling the rest to facilitate their production and training cycle, which increases employment, which bolsters the economy.
So, what does all that mean in the big picture, and why would the commander of Canada’s Forces want to have anything to do with any of this?
Keep in mind that this is one of around 300 projects in the works. Imagine that economic cycle repeated 300 times involving countless people and every organization you can imagine, and what do you have? You’ve got support for the troops on the ground.
So, when the bad guys come along and try to hurt the troops on the ground, the local people take a stand. They shut them down, turn them in, drive them away or report them to us.
So, now we have an improving infrastructure with a diminishing enemy and a growing economy.
So, what are we still doing there? The truth is, any sound military commander has the final intent to get the heck out of Dodge and get his troops home safe and sound, as quickly as possible. It’s called an exit strategy. Does it happen overnight? Not usually. It takes time and it certainly takes a lot of effort and the collaboration of some of the finest organizations in the business today.
Part of the solution
So, that is why I am here. If I can be the smallest piece in the machine that eventually churns out the solution that gets my fellow soldiers home for good, that ends oppression and random acts of violence, that deals a vicious blow to terrorists and to terrorism, well I think that would be worth a hell of a lot. It would be worth the lonely nights spent away from my beautiful wife. It would be worth the sadness that comes with knowing your loved ones are so far away and will be far away for an awful long time. It would be worth the absolute agony and tears and the crushing chest pain that can be almost overwhelming when I think of my boy walking for the first time and I don’t see it, waking up crying and I can’t pick him up and rock him back to sleep, falling and I can’t catch him, calling out ‘Daddy’ and I can’t hear him.
It may even be worth that damn plane ride.
That is why I do it. I can’t say for certain why any of the other couple thousand of Canada’s finest men and women do it, but I can say this: when I stand next to them I am as proud to be a part of what is going on here as I am of my son, as I am of my family, as I am of my power tool collection, and as I am of myself.
Capt. Richard John Nolan is a Gander native who lives in Mount Pearl and is stationed near Kandahar. On March 29 he marked his 18th anniversary of joining the military.
This is his fifth tour overseas
and his first to Afghanistan.
