YourVagabond

From Combat to Calm: The Safest Place to Smoke a Cigarette in a War Zone.

I want to share a gripping tale from one of my military helicopter missions in Afghanistan. It involves finding the ultimate, safest spot for a serene cigarette break right after a Taliban mortar attack. Plus, this nearly hilarious incident about how a porta-potty experience in the mountains near the Chinese border dramatically shaped my view of the future.

Estimated reading time: 9 minutes

From the Cockpit: Unfiltered Stories of an Army Pilot in Afghanistan

You might wonder what we were even doing there? The old spiel about “defending democracy” and “protecting freedom” might come to mind. But let’s skip the political jargon. This piece is about the raw, unfiltered experiences and stories from my time as an army helicopter pilot, navigating the skies in a Sikorsky CH-53 at what felt like the world’s edge.

Between Mountains and Missions: The Life of a Sikorsky CH53 Pilot

Germany maintained three bases in Afghanistan: Mazar-e-Sharif, Kunduz, and Faizabad. The latter was nestled deep in the Hindukush mountains, almost touching the Chinese border. Logistics were a nightmare, hence our frequent Sikorsky CH-53 flights, carting troops and supplies between these outposts. We often took a thrilling, low-level route through a narrow Hindukusch valley. Dangerous? Absolutely. But for a skilled pilot, it was an adrenaline rush like no other. I have to admit that it was always a highlight for me. It made my aviator’s heart soar! 

Take a look at my article: “2005: German Chopper’s Lifeline to Pakistan Quake Victims.”

Under Pressure: A Pilot’s Urgent Landing in Faizabad

On a day still vivid in my memory, we flew out with the recent news of a mortar attack on the camp. Thankfully, there were no injuries, but the tension was palpable. That stress, no doubt, played havoc on my stomach, leading to a desperate need for one of the open-air porta-potties upon landing in Fayzabad.

The Weight of Duty: A Day in the Life of a Combat Pilot

Picture this: I’m decked out in a flight suit, lugging around 22kg of body armor, armed with a pistol, ammo, emergency radio, and survival gear. Given the uncertain situation, I kept my helmet on. I carried my Heckler & Koch G36 assault rifle, adding over 60 rounds of ammunition to my load. 

“Operation Desert Sauna:” A Porta-Potty Tango in Afghanistan

The porta-potty was a furnace under the Afghan sun, turning into a sauna. My struggles to disrobe my gear escalated into an act of artfully placing and arranging gear in the cramped, sweltering space. Midway through this precarious balancing act, I questioned myself: what would I do if the insurgence struck again right now? Well, I couldn’t answer that question in any satisfying way. It was one of those “WTF am I doing here” days.  

The Irony of Safety: Serenity in a Bomb Crater

After surviving this borderline traumatic ordeal, I sought solace in a cigarette alongside one of the airport’s guards. He had chosen a bomb crater from the previous night’s mortar attack as our smoking lounge. His risk assessment theory was based on logic. The odds of a mortar hitting the same spot twice were as slim as winning the lottery. I instantly bought into his theory, and that shared cigarette, amidst our light-hearted banter about life, offered a moment of unexpected peace. It is indeed remarkable and sometimes disturbing how we all become desensitized to adapt to constant threats. 

Back to Base: The Peace of an Eventless Return

Flying back to Mazar-e-Sharif was smooth and without incident. If it was so unmemorable that it slipped my mind, that’s a sign of a perfect flight. After all, the flights you can’t recall are often the best ones.