But it was a dry heat …
You often hear the above from golfers who spend their time on courses in the U.S. sunbelt in explanation of why they willingly endure 35 to 40 C temperatures to enjoy their favourite pastime.
Imagine, though, humping 30 kilograms-plus of combat gear through the sun-fired oven that was Afghanistan while patrolling against Taliban forces in a region where a firefight was as likely as not.
Sometimes, said Carlo Alfau, a Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry (PPCLI) veteran on a seven-month tour in the war-torn country, temperatures would soar from the 40s to the 50 C range.
“It was extremely hot between March and September when I was there,” he said. “It went from comfortable 40s to a couple of hot weeks in the 50s. It was a dry heat, but as soon as it hit you, you started sweating. It was best to let yourself by taken by the heat, then acclimatize.”
According to the PPCLI, it was the first regiment deployed to Afghanistan in 2002 as part of Operation Apollo. It formed part of the U.S. 101st Airborne Division in Kandahar and executed combat operations for six months. The Canadian mission then shifted to stability operations in Kabul. The PPCLI sent a force protection company and a reconnaissance platoon to the capital in 2004.
In 2006, the Canadians moved back to Kandahar and again focused on combat missions. The PPCLI was the first regiment back into Kandahar and oversaw the transition of operations from U.S. to NATO control.
For his part, Alfau worked as a two-man TACP (tactical air control party) operator, which meant monitoring radio networks and working on the ground with PPCLI units as a go-between with international air force units to call in air support, or to coordinate artillery strikes. He worked out of Kandahar and locations such as Zhari District.
As a Canadian Forces member, he also took part in the mentoring of Afghanistan Army regulars tasked with keeping the peace in their country once international forces left.
In Afghanistan, Alfau found himself travelling the countryside in vehicles like the RG-31 Nyala (an armoured vehicle more likely to withstand IED explosions, built in South Africa) and LAVs (light armoured vehicles), on foot on patrol, occasionally in the air on helicopter supported missions and now and then attending ramp ceremonies, where fallen comrades were loaded into aircraft to be returned to Canada.
As with any armed forces group, Alfau’s time in Afghanistan alternated between quiet, dull times at the base, tedious hauling of goods to re-supply outlying posts and the adrenalin rush of firefights, which Alfau would be in the thick of; calling in artillery or air strikes to support ground troops.
He hated riding in windowless LAVs in particular, but the situation was more tenable in the dawn light of 3 or 4 m., “when people were sleeping, nobody was watching us and we were less likely to be hit by an explosive IED or surprise attack,” he said.
“There were no typical days. We’d sometimes put in 14- to 16-hour days while on rotation at the base. Driving was the most dangerous thing we had to do because of IEDs (the improvised explosive devices made famous through their usage by Taliban).
“We were in firefights quite often, but I really only remember having someone shooting directly at me a couple of times. Getting a ride on a helicopter was pretty sweet because you could get where you were going without getting blown up. At that time, there was no Canadian aviation, but we got a percentage of U.S. or British flights, so we worked hard to have air support or overwatch flights, which meant no IED strikes.
“We were very motivated to ensure that at every possible opportunity we could put a helicopter over our troops.
“The Americans were amazing about it. They’d be up there in a Kiowa, with no protection, no doors, and if they’d fired all their rockets and machine guns, they’d lean out of the doors and fire rifles and handguns.
“They knew the stats; when they flew over a convoy, that convoy didn’t get hit. We were good friends with the Americans.”
An example of a U.S. air-supported mission is one where Taliban had been attacking a base and causing casualties. While en route to that base in a RG-31, two Kiowa and an Apache attack helicopters were called in to “annihilate the Taliban. It was already a bad day to be a bad guy after our losses,” said Alfau.
On the other hand, a mission could be a quiet one. “One time we were at a base that was being hit on a daily basis,” he said. “So we went and stayed there for three days and waited for the Taliban to do something. Nothing happened, but the guys got a break.
“In Afghanistan, things changed all the time, nothing was set on paper and we constantly changed procedures so we wouldn’t be predictable. But, to get from A to B, there were only so many roads, and they were always dangerous.”
As a radio operator (see photo), in the field Alfau carried not only his radio and extra batteries for at least 12 hours’ activity, “my battle gear usually included a ton of water, my rifle and 13 magazines for it, three or four smoke and explosive grenades, some food, armour plates and flak vest. If we were out for longer than usual, we increased the water and food.
“We’d usually have four or five litres of water on a patrol, and it was heavy.”
Working with his partner Bucky (last name withheld), Alfau said he was often chasing him around. “Bucky was a superstar because the guy who controlled airplanes was key and he was hard to keep up with or get in front of him to protect him. I wasn’t usually stressed because someone was shooting at me, but when there was a firefight, we had to run to it and coordinate an air strike.”
In working and rolling with Afghanistan Army personnel, sometimes in vehicles, sometimes as a dismount, with interpreters along, “we were just trying to teach them to be professional soldiers. They were great guys, but they needed to learn things like never hunkering down and sitting in a circle on a halt, and in a firefight, to cover their arcs and get in proper defensive positions.
“The interpreters were phenomenal, but if they weren’t around, sometimes all we could do was point at their rifle, and point to where they should be.
“They were experienced; they’ve been fighting in that country forever, so they’d know what we meant, they just needed more basic infantry training.
“They’d been fighting their entire lives; against each other, against the Russian, against the Taliban … and they were still alive. We were just trying to tweak what they did and help them understand rank structure and discipline and lead by example. They were all good fighters, we were just trying to make them more professional.”
After returning to Canada from Afghanistan and being injured in a training incident, Alfau was diagnosed with PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). Now living in Lac Des Arcs, he’s undergoing counselling and working to help others who suffer. On Facebook – You Are Not Alone Canada(YANACanada).
