There are four main civil affairs units in the Marine Corps, two reserve and two active duty. The reserve units are located in Washington DC (4th) and Camp Pendleton (3rd), while the active duty units are housed at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina (attached to the 10th Marine Regiment) and at Las Pulgas (attached to the 11th Marine Regiment). It is to the last of these that I belong.
Marines think it is strange that we are located here. After all, 11th Marines (AKA The Cannon Cockers) is an artillery unit having nothing to do after with our mission. In fact, we seem to have been placed here as an afterthought, perhaps having to do with available space on Pulgas. We have heard rumblings of being moved to the First Marine Expeditionary Force (I MEF) headquarters further south in Del Mar, but so far that has yielded nothing solid.
Our position is just one indicator of our pariah status. Another would be the Civil Affairs Course offered in Quantico, Virginia. The four-week class began less than a year ago and is staffed mostly by senior enlisted Marines with very little experience in civil affairs. Marines returning from the course found it compelling only because they started knowing absolutely nothing about our work.
This brings me to the most interesting aspect of our civil affairs detachment (all forty-something of us) and that is the variety of backgrounds. Most of the Marines arrived at this unit after being "offered" by their parent command, usually an artillery battery from 11th Marines. This crew comes from communications, heavy equipment, motor transportation, utilities, and so on. The officers also arrive from a variety of places and rarely have any background in civil affairs. I would bet less than one in ten would even have heard of this job before arriving at the shop. My story--an idealist dead set on working in civil affairs--seems to be almost unique.
The one exception is a fascinating young lance corporal I'll call Tongue. He spent four years as an interpreter for the United Nations, two for Doctors without Borders, and then two for USAID. For some reason (one I have a hard time fathoming) he focused on joining the Marines and is now working as our unofficial cultural/linguistic advisor. He already speaks five languages, improves his pashtu every day, and will prove invaluable for his team when they deploy.
I see Tongue as a harbinger of the future. As the Marine Corps recognizes the importance of governance and reconstruction as they relate to our broader objectives, it will begin to draw in people from more diverse backgrounds focused on non-traditional fields. They will enlist because they recognize the value of the challenges and traditions of the Marines while seeking broad and varied training applicable in the civilian sector. I hope time does not make me into a liar, because otherwise we will remain a motley crew.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Immersing in infantry
The pace of our training from day to day varies pretty dramatically. There tends to be a period of intense training followed by several days where we lick our wounds (in the form of vehicle maintenance, weapons cleaning, group discussions, physical training, and the omnipresent Pashtu training). This schedule works pretty well for me; it acts as a cycle of stimulus-response-recover that quickly pushed me back into my old Marine Corps habits. I've also discovered that my time in school gave me additional perspective. I can see how every part of our training interacts with and supports the others in ways that were impossible five or six years ago.
The Infantry Immersion Trainer (IIT) in northern Camp Pendleton is a great opportunity to take advantage of my maturity (a term I use lightly: I am still a seven year-old boy by most measures). A large L-shaped warehouse located in the middle of some old tomato fields, the IIT was the brainchild of Marine General James Mattis. He oversaw its construction in 2007, envisioning it as a realistic environment designed to produce the stresses of combat. Mistakes made in training could be used to improve performance on the battlefield, as well as to build confidence and unit camaraderie.
We arrived on a Monday morning and were greeted by the now-familiar contractor. Few of our instructors are Marines nowadays, instead former military dominate the ranks. They dress in the same fashion regardless of the weather or location: tan/khaki shirt, tan or olive green trousers, combat boots, a tan hat, goatee or beard, and wide, dark sunglasses. "Adam", as he introduced himself, ran through the safety rules of the IIT and had us start preparing for the first scenario.
The IIT is designed to look like an Iraqi village but has been modified as much as possible to Afghanistan's architecture now that the Marine Corps focuses exclusively on the latter. It has a small residential area on one end with several two story buildings, a marketplace, a district police station and hospital, a mosque, and then a residential area criss-crossed with narrow alleys. Each scenario is meant for a 7-13 man group and usually entails meeting with a village elder or the police chief, securing an area for a meeting, then patrolling out of the village.
During each mission our team was tested in different ways. Once we received fire immediately upon entering the village but ended up treating an Afghan who was wounded in an IED blast. A second time we received sniper fire and had to clear some buildings. In our third run-through an assassin tried to kill the district governor as he was giving a speech.
Despite only lasting about an hour per patrol, we were thoroughly tested in many of the skills we'll need in Afghanistan. Of all the great lessons here, however, the best is operating under stress. We use rubber bullets with paint tips (called sesam rounds) shot at about twice the muzzle velocity of a paintball fun: translation, they really hurt. The anticipation of this pain adds to the stress of the situation: the masks fog up, your heart rate skyrockets, breathing is unsteady, it's hard to hear the other Marines, the Muslim call to prayer sounds hauntingly over the loudspeakers, and you can taste the sand kicked up by everyone ahead of you. Take all this and then add in civilian actors, any of whom could be an insurgent, and this training feels pretty darn real.
After training we sat down with the assessors (contractors, naturally) and went over what we did well and what could be improved. After two days of this, broken only by a road march around 0400 the second morning, our team felt much more confident yet very aware of how far we had to go. That night we rode home to Las Pulgas in our uparmored Humvees, a little more prepared for the upcoming journey, now less than three months away.
The Infantry Immersion Trainer (IIT) in northern Camp Pendleton is a great opportunity to take advantage of my maturity (a term I use lightly: I am still a seven year-old boy by most measures). A large L-shaped warehouse located in the middle of some old tomato fields, the IIT was the brainchild of Marine General James Mattis. He oversaw its construction in 2007, envisioning it as a realistic environment designed to produce the stresses of combat. Mistakes made in training could be used to improve performance on the battlefield, as well as to build confidence and unit camaraderie.
We arrived on a Monday morning and were greeted by the now-familiar contractor. Few of our instructors are Marines nowadays, instead former military dominate the ranks. They dress in the same fashion regardless of the weather or location: tan/khaki shirt, tan or olive green trousers, combat boots, a tan hat, goatee or beard, and wide, dark sunglasses. "Adam", as he introduced himself, ran through the safety rules of the IIT and had us start preparing for the first scenario.
The IIT is designed to look like an Iraqi village but has been modified as much as possible to Afghanistan's architecture now that the Marine Corps focuses exclusively on the latter. It has a small residential area on one end with several two story buildings, a marketplace, a district police station and hospital, a mosque, and then a residential area criss-crossed with narrow alleys. Each scenario is meant for a 7-13 man group and usually entails meeting with a village elder or the police chief, securing an area for a meeting, then patrolling out of the village.
During each mission our team was tested in different ways. Once we received fire immediately upon entering the village but ended up treating an Afghan who was wounded in an IED blast. A second time we received sniper fire and had to clear some buildings. In our third run-through an assassin tried to kill the district governor as he was giving a speech.
Despite only lasting about an hour per patrol, we were thoroughly tested in many of the skills we'll need in Afghanistan. Of all the great lessons here, however, the best is operating under stress. We use rubber bullets with paint tips (called sesam rounds) shot at about twice the muzzle velocity of a paintball fun: translation, they really hurt. The anticipation of this pain adds to the stress of the situation: the masks fog up, your heart rate skyrockets, breathing is unsteady, it's hard to hear the other Marines, the Muslim call to prayer sounds hauntingly over the loudspeakers, and you can taste the sand kicked up by everyone ahead of you. Take all this and then add in civilian actors, any of whom could be an insurgent, and this training feels pretty darn real.
After training we sat down with the assessors (contractors, naturally) and went over what we did well and what could be improved. After two days of this, broken only by a road march around 0400 the second morning, our team felt much more confident yet very aware of how far we had to go. That night we rode home to Las Pulgas in our uparmored Humvees, a little more prepared for the upcoming journey, now less than three months away.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Learning Pashto
On any given day where we are not in "the field" (a broad term encompassing training areas spread all over Southern California) you can expect to see language training on the schedule. There are two main languages spoken in Afghanistan, Pashto and Dari. Pashto, or the language of the Pashtuns, is used mostly in the south and the east. Dari (otherwise known as Afghan Farsi) more in the west where Afghanistan borders Iran. Many educated Afghans can speak both languages, but with a literacy rate of 4%, the odds of finding one is rare. My unit therefore focuses on the language we will most likely be using: Pashto.
The first time I looked at a weekly training schedule, I knew something was wrong with this so-called language training. It was plastered across every day for at least two hours, generally after noon chow. There were two explanations for this: either we had a dedicated Pashto speaker who was going to train use as a unit; or someone was using it as an excuse to avoid coming up with real training. In my experience, few people can sit down and work on anything by themselves for more than twenty minutes without getting distracted.
My first session revealed the answer. It was a joke: the training consisted in sitting at computers without speaking, running through the Rosetta Stone Pashto course with headphones on. I think it took six minutes before the first Marine was texting under the desk. Maybe five minutes.
My team and I sat through four of these days without complaint until I felt like I was going to lose my mind. It's not that Rosetta Stone is worthless, quite the contrary. It is, however, poorly tailored to the Marine Corps deployment cycle; Marines do not have enough time to get comfortable with the basic language before heading overseas. We instead focused on learning simple, direct phrases that are important to our civil affairs mission. I saw no need for us to know how to say "Two boys and one girl on the table."
I approached LT on a Friday (when he was sure to be in a good mood) and pitched my plan: Let me take the Marines and run through audio clips I've downloaded onto my computer. We can simulate conversations dealing with questions, important nouns - buildings, farm equipment, money - and pick up the habit of speaking in full sentences. LT didn't even hesitate. "Good, go do it." In case you didn't know, these are the four greatest words a Sergeant can hear.
These shorter, interactive sessions were received well by the guys. Some of the Rosetta Stone stuff helped, but their inability to say "Thank you" or "My name is" showed how little was being accomplished; they had, after all, been working on their Pashto for over a month before I got to the unit.
Mumbles actually shows the most aptitude for Pashto, proving yet again that God has a sense of humor. The others work hard but tend to get caught up in the repetitions and do not listen carefully to the accent and inflection. My time working on Spanish in college helped my ear and I try to work with everyone on pronunciation. Dominano has a hard time understanding why Pashto cannot have a Spanish accent.
On days or weeks when we go to the field I try to maintain our level of proficiency through games. I might have the Marines call out radio frequencies in Pashto, or count pull-ups out loud that way. People tend to stare when we exercise as a team with push-ups and count "Yow, Dwah, Dre - Yow! Yow, Dwah, Dre - Dwah! Yow, Dwah, Drew - Dre! Yow, Dwah, Dre - Saloor!.
I harbor no illusions about this training. We can only lay the groundwork and hope everyone gets enough exposure in Afghanistan to actually speak to locals. If we learn nothing else, however, it's a great exercise to build up the team's camaraderie.
The first time I looked at a weekly training schedule, I knew something was wrong with this so-called language training. It was plastered across every day for at least two hours, generally after noon chow. There were two explanations for this: either we had a dedicated Pashto speaker who was going to train use as a unit; or someone was using it as an excuse to avoid coming up with real training. In my experience, few people can sit down and work on anything by themselves for more than twenty minutes without getting distracted.
My first session revealed the answer. It was a joke: the training consisted in sitting at computers without speaking, running through the Rosetta Stone Pashto course with headphones on. I think it took six minutes before the first Marine was texting under the desk. Maybe five minutes.
My team and I sat through four of these days without complaint until I felt like I was going to lose my mind. It's not that Rosetta Stone is worthless, quite the contrary. It is, however, poorly tailored to the Marine Corps deployment cycle; Marines do not have enough time to get comfortable with the basic language before heading overseas. We instead focused on learning simple, direct phrases that are important to our civil affairs mission. I saw no need for us to know how to say "Two boys and one girl on the table."
I approached LT on a Friday (when he was sure to be in a good mood) and pitched my plan: Let me take the Marines and run through audio clips I've downloaded onto my computer. We can simulate conversations dealing with questions, important nouns - buildings, farm equipment, money - and pick up the habit of speaking in full sentences. LT didn't even hesitate. "Good, go do it." In case you didn't know, these are the four greatest words a Sergeant can hear.
These shorter, interactive sessions were received well by the guys. Some of the Rosetta Stone stuff helped, but their inability to say "Thank you" or "My name is" showed how little was being accomplished; they had, after all, been working on their Pashto for over a month before I got to the unit.
Mumbles actually shows the most aptitude for Pashto, proving yet again that God has a sense of humor. The others work hard but tend to get caught up in the repetitions and do not listen carefully to the accent and inflection. My time working on Spanish in college helped my ear and I try to work with everyone on pronunciation. Dominano has a hard time understanding why Pashto cannot have a Spanish accent.
On days or weeks when we go to the field I try to maintain our level of proficiency through games. I might have the Marines call out radio frequencies in Pashto, or count pull-ups out loud that way. People tend to stare when we exercise as a team with push-ups and count "Yow, Dwah, Dre - Yow! Yow, Dwah, Dre - Dwah! Yow, Dwah, Drew - Dre! Yow, Dwah, Dre - Saloor!.
I harbor no illusions about this training. We can only lay the groundwork and hope everyone gets enough exposure in Afghanistan to actually speak to locals. If we learn nothing else, however, it's a great exercise to build up the team's camaraderie.
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