Our Boots on the Ground
Posted on 25. Jan, 2010 by Michelle Herrera Mulligan in Our Man in Afghanistan
Shortly after arriving to serve his tour of duty in September 2009, Gabriel poses in front of an A-10 "Warthog" jet. Courtesy of Casey Collier.
No matter what opinion we may have, in favor or against, the United States’ current engagement in the war in Afghanistan, we all honor the men and women who choose to risk their lives to serve our country. Below, please read one man’s account of moments passed during a year of duty.
As an army broadcast journalist, Spc. Gabriel Tolliver, 43, puts his life on the line every day to record soldiers’ stories from the front lines of southern Afghanistan. Previous to enlisting in the army, he lived on streets such as South Portland and Hanson Place, so though he is currently serving a tour of duty through September of 2010, he considers Fort Greene his home. He’s looking to resume work in film/television and teach media production when his tour is up. You can see his segments at www.dvidshub.net.
Early Fall
I’m heading out to the countryside to cover the elections in a small village, will be rolling in a Stryker or on foot, camera and weapon in hand to bear witness to the Afghan’s attempt at self-determination. A little while ago, I cleaned my M-16 as best I could and oiled its vital moving parts. I straightened its crooked sight post and silently practiced my inhale, exhale, and trigger squeeze. Checked my 210 rounds of ammo spread over seven magazines, hoping that each spring-loaded 30 round clip of 5.56 will not jam if the ballot casting turns into bullet blasting. I had a bright moment last night when I heard someone blasting B.I.G.’s “Unbelievable” in the dining facility. My spirit roared for those few moments remembering Fort Greene and blasting the song myself from my apartment on South Portland Ave. off Fulton Street.
Halloween
The dining hall is all done up in Halloween party favors—goofy jack-o lanterns, skeletons, black cats and witches. The nearby mountains and the forthcoming full moon are a perfect setting for some type of ghost story to unfold out here. I peer out in the desertscape, imagining zombies or lackeys from those Brendan Fraser “Mummy” movies rising up for some combat action. My mind is racing while looking out at the desert. This country is beautiful/deadly/sad and yet full of potential. Now if there was a way to remove all the land mines or at least set them all off to make it safer…
After the movie, the artillery guys—I imagine it is their way of saying “Happy Halloween”—fire some outgoing illumination rounds. These can light up an area almost plain as day. They fire several toward the area where the mortars came previously. Orange in color, they hang in the sky, it seems, and slowly float down like a disco ball. A sergeant tells me later that they shoot those in order to deny the Talibs any “tactical ground.” I imagine leaving the wire and going up into the hills where the Talib are, armed with some jack- o-lanterns and bullet candy and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” on my combat boombox. What a sight that would be? I imagine Talib’s eyes going wide while I held out my bag… That night I sleep very uneasily…The Geto Boyz’ “My mind is playing tricks on me” runs through my head.
The Holiday Season begins…
A partial list of what I’m missing from the neighborhood today:
1. Fort Greene Park on snowy winter mornings, while it’s still untouched by people and dogs starting their day.
2. The slushy, slurry sounds of morning traffic spilling off South Portland Ave. onto Fulton Street, creating those bottlenecks. A commuter from Long Island blaring classic rock through open windows as he makes that turn between 6:30 and 7 a.m., part of the daily rhythm.
3 The Atlantic Mall crowded and full of the glitz/glut of its holiday decorations. The blast of warm air as you walk inside.
4. The shops along Fulton, DeKalb, and Myrtle Ave., dressed up for the holidays.
5. My favorite neighborhood spots: Brooklyn Moon, Frank’s Place, Habana Outpost. The Greek diner on Lafayette Ave., Abistro Restaurant on Carlton, Moe’s, Tillie’s. The sorely missed Keur N Dye, and Joloff’s. And, of course, Cake Man Raven.
6. Walking at night down South Portland, South. Oxford, along Lafayette and DeKalb, watching all the holiday lights and parties unfolding.
7. The early morning steam billowing from apartment building rooftops.
8. Jody at Best Cleaners on Fulton.
9. Not Ray’s Pizza on Fulton and the pizza joint across from Pratt.
10. The masala of people making their way to work every morning and coming home in the evening, leaving their freshly formed footprints in the snow.
Just before Christmas
Gabriel lounging with Dushka, an Afghan puppy, in November, 2009. Courtesy of Luke Rollins
Yesterday, sad news hit close to home. I did a video story about an Explosive Ordnance Disposal(EOD) team. My photography partner and I spent a day with these guys as they blew up unstable explosives, improvised explosive devices (IEDS), munitions, etc. It was kind of surreal to be sitting around 800 pounds of explosives being prepped for demolition and thinking, “this stuff could go off if something goes awry.” The eventual blast was something that looked like the Challenger space shuttle blowing up in the sky, a cyclone of white fury and destruction that blotted out the sun for a few moments. Then moments later, the sonic boom knocked me back from my camera, but I still got the shot and made it work in the edit for a decent piece. Sgt Campbell was one of my interview subjects. I got word that the EOD piece aired yesterday morning. By lunch yesterday, I got the tragic news about his death. Air Force Public Affairs gave me a heads up, since the video was already running.
Death and its movements…the blow was dull and lingering throughout the rest of the day. My partner and I went to his ramp ceremony and ran into the rest of Campbell’s crew. I don’t know the details but three of his teammates were injured. Campbell was the unlucky one. EOD is hazardous job—there’s no doubt all those dudes know that each call could be your last. But nevertheless, the loss of life was close this time. It also made me grimly reflect on those hero bracelets that I see folks wearing out here in memory of their lost buddies. I pray I don’t have to wear one for anybody this tour.
2010
The new year and surge begins. Still many months from starting my countdown back home, but at least it’s 2010. I wonder all the time: How have I changed? How much more will I appreciate being back home? How will I respond to people questions about the war? How will I deal with individuals who will ask that cliché question at some party or bar; “Did you shoot anybody?” How will I greet another Afghanistan veteran in the presence of those who weren’t there—Will we reveal a side of ourselves that only existed in a moment in time? What will it feel like to be a veteran of war?
Michelle Herrera Mulligan worked with Gabriel to present these posts.
