A Line in the Sand

by Ray Wiss

  Captain Lussier told me that he moulded this team in the best but also the most tiring way possible. He was present for all their training exercises, even the physical training that he was not required to attend. During this time, he was able to assess how well various individuals worked together. If they are the best team today, it is because Captain Lussier specifically chose them for that role.

  This devotion to his men has been returned to Captain Lussier in powerful ways, at both the platoon and the personal levels. As a platoon, his men accept the tasks they are assigned, no matter how dangerous or onerous. As individuals, several of them have already saved his life. He describes a poignant example of a trooper whose soldier-skills were marginal when in training back in Canada but who had guts and drive. So Captain Lussier brought him along. On one mission, the trooper placed himself with a mine detector in a position of maximum danger and discovered an IED on a path Captain Lussier was about to take. “If he had not been there that day, I’d probably be dead,” Captain Lussier says. There are many similar stories in his platoon, connecting each man to several others. It is those connections that Vince tells me are what he will treasure most about his experiences here.

  Lieutenant Alex Bolduc-Leblanc, twenty-four years old, was encouraged to join the army by his uncles, both of whom were infantry officers. He graduated from the Royal Military College in 2007 and joined his battalion in September that year. He was assigned to a platoon and, a few months later, began work-up training to go to Afghanistan.

  Lieutenant Bolduc-Leblanc’s motivation for coming to Afghanistan mirrors my own: he sees this conflict as a war of good against evil. His upbringing gave him a strong moral code and, in a way, he looked forward to being able to do his part here. His view on the strategy we must pursue to achieve victory is also similar to mine: protecting the population until they are educated and trained enough to defend themselves militarily against the Taliban and to reject their extremist ideology.

  Lieutenant Bolduc-Leblanc had all the normal anxieties one would expect prior to deployment: “Would I be able to function under fire? Would I be frightened?” But if anyone was born to be a warrior, it is this guy. “Being in combat is a rush!” he says, with a bit more enthusiasm than most civilians would find proper. But he is only being honest. Combat hyperstimulated all his senses and he “felt more alive than ever before.”

  He has not killed anyone yet, but his men have. “Even though this is a war, that was hard on them,” he told me. “I had to counsel a number of them afterwards.” It is reassuring to me that Canadian soldiers do not take killing lightly. And it is comforting to know that, when they have to take a human life, Lieutenant Bolduc-Leblanc is there to help them come to terms with what they have done.

  Lieutenant Alex Bolduc-Leblanc, commander, Second Platoon

  ( © Louie Palu/ZUMA Press, reprinted with permission)

  Lieutenant Bolduc-Leblanc admitted that he has been “scared, really scared” three times since arriving in the Panjwayi. Those were the occasions when vehicles containing some of his men hit an IED. Each time, the vehicle disappeared in a cloud of dust. “Each time, it took a full minute for the crew commander of the vehicle to get on the radio to tell me that everyone was all right.” The way Lieutenant Bolduc-Leblanc described his emotions during those three one-minute eternities was so vivid that the intensity of the anxiety he felt was physically palpable to me as a listener.

  In some ways, Lieutenant Bolduc-Leblanc is still a very young man. This is his first time in the developing world, and he admits he was shocked at the backwardness of the people around the FOB. “It’s ‘Jesus time’ out there,” he says with disbelief. The absence of any modern amenities (cars, electricity, running water, health clinics, etc.) is something he had not believed existed.

  He also cannot understand the persistence of the Taliban. After a battle in which his platoon killed several of them, he overheard the Taliban leader congratulating his group on their radios because they had been able to inflict a minor wound on a single Canadian. “I don’t get it! Why don’t they care about their men the same way I care about mine?” he asks.

  In other ways, Lieutenant Bolduc-Leblanc displays more maturity and professionalism than someone twice his age. He routinely goes out on patrols in which he engages the local population in conversation. Often he holds shuras with the local elders. During his time here, he estimates that he has spoken and shaken hands with at least a few dozen Taliban. “These guys will shoot at me, then hide their weapons and share a cup of tea with me.” I asked if he found this intensely frustrating. The same situation has led many soldiers in many armies to abuse and even murder civilians, often with far less suspicion than Lieutenant Bolduc-Leblanc has had. But he describes these events as barely annoying.

  “My rules of engagement are clear. We cannot open fire unless directly threatened, and we cannot arrest a civilian without clear evidence of wrongdoing. Until one of those conditions is met, I will extend my hand in friendship to anyone and everyone I meet here.”

  That is counterinsurgency at its best.

  Twenty-five-year-old Lieutenant Josh Makuch could be a poster boy for the benefits of multiculturalism. Although he is nominally an anglophone Ontarian, I lost track of the number of ethnic groups represented in his DNA. These have given him a broad and sophisticated world view as well as almost flawless French.

  When unilingual anglophone infantry officers graduate from the Combat Training Centre, they must choose to serve in one of two anglophone regiments. For Lieutenant Makuch, this would have meant being posted to Shilo, Manitoba, or Gagetown, New Brunswick. His French-language skills gave him a third option: by joining the Van Doos, he could be posted to Quebec City and stay close to Montreal, where he had done his undergraduate degree.

  Shilo, Gagetown or close to Montreal? It was an easy choice to make. Lieutenant Makuch arrived in Quebec and joined the combat team in August of 2008. There were only nine months left before deployment, and he had to work hard to integrate himself into the platoon’s leadership team and to be accepted by the men. By the time they went to war together, he had achieved that.

  He describes his time here as being “seven months spent at Maslow’s fifth level.” For those of you unfamiliar with Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, the fifth level is “self-actualization,” in which one is achieving one’s full potential as a human being. It is a profoundly rewarding experience to be at this level, but it is something few people ever attain.

  Lieutenant Makuch’s self-actualization has come as a result of the heavy responsibility he has been given at such a young age. “I matured more in the first five months of this tour than in the previous five years,” he states. “I have to stand in front of forty men and explain to them what we are going to do and how we are going to do it. And we all know that our lives depend on my plan being sound.”

  Hearing him express these feelings, I was reminded of the way young doctors will describe their first night on-call by themselves. The sacred trust, the awesome responsibility and the feeling of being extraordinarily privileged to be in this position are similar, but much more intense for infantry officers. And like a young doctor, Lieutenant Makuch has learned that even the best decisions sometimes lead to the worst possible outcome—Master Corporal Charles-Philippe

  Lieutenant Josh Makuch, commander, Third Platoon

  “Chuck” Michaud was one of his men.

  Of the three, Lieutenant Makuch is the one who was interested in going to war for “the experience,” and he sees the mission in more abstract philosophical terms than I do. “I agree with our goals here and they may well be worth my life. But I am not ready to die for the cause. This is not because I am scared of dying. I am just so curious about what the rest of this life has in store for me.”

  Lieutenant Makuch is unsure about his future. Being chosen for this job marks him as an up-and-comer in the CF, but he has yet to decide whether or not he will stick it out for twenty years. “I have already
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  Lieutenant Josh Makuch, commander, Third Platoon had the best job the army could ever give me: commanding a platoon in combat. No matter what happens next, I will never be called to do this task again.”

  A few years from now, you might bump into the young man pictured here. He might have somewhat longer hair and be living a bohemian lifestyle as he decides what he is going to do next. If you recognize him, take the time to talk to him and listen closely to what he has to say.

  He was a warrior prince once; he led Canadians in battle. You could learn a lot from him.

  Addendum, August 25—A close call: I have not spoken much about the other medical types at this FOB because my contact with them has been limited. There has been no medic assigned to the UMS for weeks. A Bison ambulance crew was here when I arrived, but they left after four days. Another Bison dropped by for a few days, then they were reassigned as well. One of the four combat team medics left on leave right after I got here, and another one left a week ago on a two-weeklong mission. The gang here is just as impressive as their colleagues, as this brief entry will demonstrate.

  At 2100, one of our patrols left to set up an ambush in an area where we suspected the Taliban might be transiting. Things were going well till around midnight when a trooper came to tell me that a member of the patrol had fallen into a well. My heart stopped. On June 7, 2008, Captain Jonathan Snyder had been participating in a nighttime combat patrol. Somewhere in Zhari district he fell into a kariz, a kind of open-pit well used by Afghan farmers. Weighed down by nearly a hundred pounds of gear, Captain Snyder drowned. I had the sick feeling that in this case the result would be the same.

  Things ended differently this time. One of the reasons for this was the rapid reaction of Master Seaman Charles Cloutier, the senior medic of the combat team. Although he was some distance away from the well when our soldier fell into it, MS Cloutier immediately recognized what had occurred and started shoving people out of the way to get closer to the victim. When he got to the side of the well, he quickly organized the other members of the patrol. They fished out a somewhat banged-up, but very much alive, Lieutenant Josh Makuch. MS Cloutier checked the lieutenant and, detecting no major injuries or bleeding, organized the evacuation back to the FOB.

  Master Seaman Charles Cloutier, senior combat medic (after lifeguard duty)

  Corporal Alex Cloutier-Dupont, combat medic

  Once they arrived at the UMS, MS Cloutier and I carried out a thorough assessment of his patient. After an hour of observation, we discharged the lieutenant in good condition. Later, when MS Cloutier described his terrible anxiety as he ran towards the well, I could see that he felt as strongly about any wounded Canadian as platoon commanders feel about their men.

  Anytime Canadian soldiers go down, for any reason, they can be sure that Master Seaman Cloutier will come for them. Or die trying. That is his commitment to them. He is their “doc.”

  The only other member of the Sperwan Ghar medical crew here now is Corporal Alex Cloutier-Dupont. I could go on about him at length, but it would sound boringly similar to what I have written about the other combat medics: he is very good at his job, in excellent physical condition, always good humoured and keen to help out wherever and whenever he can. I will therefore limit myself to a single observation. Take a close look at the following photograph of him. Does anything seem unusual?

  Military readers may notice that Corporal Cloutier-Dupont is not wearing the standard Canadian Army tactical vest. Instead, he is wearing a modular vest that is far more functional for a combat medic than the one the army issues.

  As with the special medic pack, which he has also bought, this piece of equipment cost him six hundred dollars. A week’s pay, so that he can do his job better. Do his government job better.

  AUGUST 24 | The Internal Contradiction of the Taliban

  A quiet day. This gives me a chance to write about something which happened a few weeks ago.

  It was my last day at FOB Ma’Sum Ghar. The combat team based there had been out on a mission for a few days. They had been in a heavy firefight on the second-last day of the operation, not far from the FOB.

  On their way back to Ma’Sum Ghar, they were flagged down by a wounded Afghan. He was lying beside the road, propped up against a rock. He stated he had been a bystander during the fighting the day before and had been hit during the exchange of fire. He had a number of bullet wounds, some of them large and gaping. None of them were bleeding, and all appeared to be several hours old.

  Master Corporal Turcotte’s ambulance crew picked him up and treated him. As they packed and dressed his wounds, they noticed something bizarre: the wounds appeared to have been cleaned and . . . he had an IV catheter in place on one of his arms. What the hell? He had received medical care of some kind after being wounded. So what was he doing on the side of the road?

  When the Canadian medics began to question him about this, he fell silent. That made everybody suspicious. These suspicions were confirmed when we checked his skin for gunpowder residue: the test was strongly positive. He was evacuated to the KAF hospital in good condition . . . but with a military police escort.

  As mentioned earlier, we treat Taliban prisoners the same as anyone else, and I make sure these prisoners know that it was the Canadians who took good care of them. It seems that our enemies have finally understood this. Although I have heard of similar incidents before, this is the first time I have had direct knowledge of a wounded Taliban being deliberately placed in the path of our troops so that we will pick him up and treat him. I’ve discussed this with other senior officers, and apparently this is not a rare occurrence.

  You cannot help but wonder what effect this will have on the ordinary Taliban trooper. He is told that we are infidels who should be tortured to death if we are captured. Then he is told to leave his wounded comrade-in-arms in the path of one of our convoys because he will be well treated. At some point, the contradiction of those two statements has to make all but the most fanatical ideologue question the legitimacy of the first declaration.

  AUGUST 25 | The Observer Observed

  After three months of observing everything around me, I have spent the last forty-eight hours being observed myself. A Canadian journalist has joined us on the FOB and has spent a fair bit of time with me. He has interviewed me about the upcoming release of FOB Doc, and we have had a number of informal conversations.

  This being his fourth visit to Afghanistan, he has learned a lot about the country. He is familiar with the geography, understands the politics and knows something about half of the presidential candidates (forty-one people—some of them women—ran for the position in last week’s elections). As he is the first “journo” I have spent any time with, I thought I would read his articles and write an entry explaining whether I agreed with him or not. But something happened this evening that is more newsworthy.

  I have been spending a fair bit of time with the Afghan soldiers. I regretted not having done this previously and was determined to make up for it before I left. While I feel that my readings have given me a clear sense of Afghanistan as a country, I was hungry for more personal contact with its people.

  This is not a common thing for Canadian soldiers to want to do. By and large, they prefer to keep to their own when not on operations with the ANA. The Afghan soldiers are not shy about making remarks about this. The frequency of my visits is something they seem to appreciate.

  The journalist became aware of the relationship I had with the Afghan officers and asked if he could come along the next time I had dinner with them. I was happy to arrange that, and got the best interpreter on the camp to facilitate our discussions.

  A few minutes before the evening prayer call (which defines the end of the day’s fast during the month of Ramadan) I went to collect the journalist. As we walked over to the ANA barracks, I commented on the tastiness of the meal we were about to receive. What he said next stunned me: he had no intention of eating anything because he was afraid the Af
ghan food would make him sick.

  I should have stopped right there and flatly refused to bring him to dinner with people I consider my friends. I did not, and the result was predictable. The Afghans sat us down on the thickest cushions, served us first and provided us with a series of courses. My countryman rejected everything that was offered to him, with the exception of a few bites of bread. He gave the excuse of having a “bad belly,” which fooled no one. The Afghans commented that “only the Doc likes our food.” The protestations of the journalist to the contrary were unconvincing.

  This refusal to participate in a social event he was there to document did not stop him from taking numerous pictures and writing an article about his meeting. I was left with the feeling that I had facilitated something that was at least mildly exploitive.

  AUGUST 26 | The Bomb

  At least forty-one dead. A number that is sure to rise because many of the wounded, who currently number sixty-six, are critical.

  The Taliban set off a massive bomb last night in Kandahar City. They packed five cars full of explosives and detonated them. A city block was wrecked, and more than forty shops were destroyed, many of them the only source of a family’s livelihood.

  The story on the CBC website about this event gives us the total of Coalition deaths for the year to date. The story emphasizes that this is the most in a single year since the beginning of the war. It does not explain that this is due to the massive influx of American soldiers into Afghanistan and that, with these additional troops, we are challenging the Taliban far more than we used to. As in all these stories, the total number of civilians killed by the Taliban this year is not mentioned. The fact that most of the people the Taliban kill are civilians is also omitted.*

  Data without context, again.

  Addendum, August 27—Inside the Blast Radius: The second Bison ambulance crew to spend time with me at this FOB had been quickly reassigned to Kandahar City for the election. They were to be the medical element of an additional QRF (quick reaction force) located at Camp Nathan Smith (CNS). This is a base on the outskirts of Kan-dahar, separate from KAF. CNS is the home of the Provincial Reconstruction Team. Units located here have rapid access to the eastern half of Kandahar City.