What is an ETT?

Most of my posts so far have been about what we've done over here. I realized recently that this is all well and good, but I haven't really explained who we are and what we're doing besides basics. So for those of you expecting a post about the daring-do of our ETT Team, be forewarned, this is a history lesson and the actual mechanics of an ETT. N'Shallah, I will write more about my experiences soon.

Before coming over to Afghanistan, I did a fair amount of research on what is an ETT and what an ETT does. From what I found, everyone's experiences are different. No one does the same thing and that's sort of the point. First ETT stands for "Embedded Training Team." It's the military's idea of fusing host nation forces together with a team of Americans who will help train, advise and then go on missions with them.

The history of ETT is an interesting one. Traditionally, an ETT mission was done by someone like this...



Yes, that's John Wayne from the movie, "The Green Berets." Traditional "ETT" missions were performed by Special Forces in Vietnam. The concept was simple: Drop into a village somewhere, train the locals to fight the communists, advise them on how to better their lives and then go out and fight alongside of them. It was a good concept and the Special Forces community had a great deal of success especially with the Montegnard tribe in Vietnam. With the implementation of conventional forces into Vietnam after 1965, the U.S. military took on the brunt of fighting in effect sidelining local fighters. After conventional U.S. forces entered Vietnam, most of the counter-insurgency fight was done by conventional military forces. However, the Marines instituted a program known as the "Combined Action Program" that embedded U.S. Marines with South Vietnamese units.



This program had a fair amount of success but was strongly resisted by those who favored fighting the communist insurgency through large-scale battles fought over vast swaths of land. The communists did not comply. Instead, they fought where they chose and while never quite winning a tactical victory against the United States, they won in the court of public opinion. The battle was for something greater than "body counts." It was a battle for something more abstract: the support of the population. It was something that U.S. commanders realized far too late to have any real impact.

This brings us to the "Global War on Terrorism" or "Global contingency on Terrorism" or whatever it's being called now. I'll stick with the label "war" for the time being as it most accurately reflects events on the ground. Initially, small units of Special Forces soldiers operating with the Northern Alliance utilizing superior firepower and small-unit fundamentals defeated a much larger, better-equipped force of Taliban and Al-Qaeda fighters. Within 6 weeks, 80% of Afghanistan was held by pro-U.S. forces. Special Forces soldiers went to battle like this


This was one of the most successful uses of small teams of U.S. forces embedded within local national people ever achieved. However, the Taliban wasn't done. Firefights erupted across Afghanistan and large-scale battles were waged which cost many American and Afghan lives. I recommend the book "Not a Good Day to Die" by Sean Naylor as a good example of the vicious nature of post-invasion fighting in Afghanistan.

And then there was Iraq. Whatever the merits of the invasion, it was conducted very conventionally with an armor-heavy assault through the Iraqi army to get to Baghdad as quickly as possible. Like the communists in Vietnam, the Iraqis realized that they couldn't fight against the Americans conventionally. Soon after the invasion, anti-American Iraqis and Al-Qaeda forces began utilizing unconventional tactics - Improvised Explosive Devices planted along the sides of roads, suicide bombers, ambushes, vehicle-borne explosive devices. American forces would typically win these tactical engagements but the momentum of the insurgency continued. More Americans died. Public support for the war in Iraq waned. The insurgents seemed to take a lesson from the Viet Cong that an insurgency fight was not about winning or losing on the battlefield, it was about winning the battle for the population, a war of public opinion.

Some coalition commanders realized as much and began to fight a true counterinsurgency war in Iraq. Part of the equation in counterinsurgency was training what's known as "host-nation forces." In Iraq, they introduced Military Transition Teams (MTT - pronounced "mitt") in order to train the Iraqi army and police to take responsibility for their own country. Eventually, MTT teams trained over 300,000 Iraqi police and soldiers. Part of the success story of MTT teams can be seen in the Battle of Basra (2008) where Iraqi army and police (with American MTT support) defeated Moqtada Al Sadr's Mahdi army. MTT teams continue to work in Iraq.

Afghanistan seemed peaceful in contrast to Iraq for a while. Eventually, the Taliban regrouped a bit and was out and about fighting an insurgency. American casualties increased (and still are increasing) in Afghanistan. The Afghan National Army and Afghan National Police were in need of some serious training and mentoring. That's where we come in.

First, for those who might be reading this for the first time, here's what we're not. We're not Special Forces. We don't have super-human strength. None of us have been to Afghanistan before. Here's what we are: National Guard soldiers, most of the guys in my team are in their late 20s or early 30s, my guys are Field Artillery guys (I have an infantry background), street smart, lots of military experience (whether in the Guard or the active duty time). These are the kinds of people that you want for a mission like this.

Our mission here is to advise an ANA Kandak (equivalent of a battalion). When I say advise, I should probably also mention the word "mentor." Mentorship is the name of the game. Afghans look to Americans to make decisions for them. We don't and we shouldn't. We advise. We offer other options. We're the guys who say, "Have you considered..." That's us. We also don't give them supplies. One of the earliest issues we've encountered here is that the ANA always asks us for supplies. Whether it's ammo or communications equipment or vehicles, they are constantly asking for everything and anything. Our response: Use your supply chain; fill out your supply form and use it. It's frustrating to them. It's frustrating to us. We want to help them, but we also want to create the framework by which they can help themselves when we leave.

We focus on the basics. Everything we do is very basic. As an old Special Forces guy told one of my soldiers, "It's not that we have some secret skills that no one knows about. We just do the basics over and over again in order to master them." That's what we're doing. We go over the basics ad nauseum until they have mastery over it. Moreover, we teach their officers and sergeants about the basics so they can teach their guys.

The work is frustrating and very rewarding all on the same hand. We make friends quickly with the Afghans, but are sometimes frustrated by progress. What we have to realize is that progress isn't measured in American terms. We're not looking to create the next Afghan Ranger Battalion. We're looking to mentor Afghans who want to stand up for themselves and for their country. Here's what an Afghan soldier looks like


And here's what he's fighting for

Dushman (Enemy)

"If I see Taliban, I will kill him with my own hands." I'm sitting over a meal of rice, beef, chickpeas and a flatbread that resembles Naan with one of my interpreters who is putting the chickpeas, rice and meat together with the bread and eating it with his fingers. I try to emulate. We're both sitting cross-legged on the ground next to the supply truck. "Why do you say that?" He looks at me and gives me a serious look and says, "Taliban blew up my vehicle, only the platoon commander and me survived . Everyone else died. So when I see Taliban, I will kill them." I asked if he was injured. He said yes, and showed me a scar on the top of his head and said that he was in surgery for several months. I asked him how old he was, he told me 20 years old. He looked at me again with that same seriousness and said, "I will kill Taliban for what they did." I told him I liked his spirit. He gave me the last of his flatbread.

The sun rises lazily over Kabul. It's obscured by the hazy pollution that sits over many third world metropolises. It doesn't matter. Our vehicles are rolling along the outskirts of Kabul. The streets are crowded with vendors and vehicles. No one thinks twice about cutting their vehicle into our convoy. It's unsettling, but we drive on. We drive into the Afghan National Army (ANA) compound and we make our way out to the training area where our Afghan counterparts and the Americans are setting up for the day. Unfortunately I don't have my camera (for reasons I'll explain later), but picture a valley surrounded by high mountains all around with snow capping the tops of them. It's picturesque.

The ANA commander shakes my hand, "Good morning!" This is about the extent of his English. He beams with pride. For an Afghan, he is tall and slightly regal looking. They told us that many of the senior ANA commanders are old Mujaheddin fighters from when the Soviets were here in the 80s. I'm not sure if this guy is or not, but he grips my hand with the confidence one expects of a senior officer. He speaks through my interpreter, "I am happy to have you as my mentor!" I respond, "I am pleased to be working with such a fine unit." We exchange further pleasantries and he went about commanding his unit.

My role is not to be the Afghan commander or make decisions for him. I'm his mentor and adviser. I don't offer solutions, I offer suggestions. At the moment, I'm working with another American unit who is doing their training, so my role right now is mostly observation until the ANA unit becomes operational. When it becomes operational, we assume responsibility and start working with them.

The ANA is doing heavy weapons training on this day. We watch as Romanian soldiers unload Rocket Propelled Grenade launchers and the rockets for the launchers. The Afghans are huddled around this. They like weapons that make a great big explosion. We do too. The Romanians speak English and teach the Afghans how to load and carry the launcher and we wonder whether we might be given the opportunity to fire one of these rockets. We also watch as other American soldiers set up 50 caliber machine guns in order to familiarize the ANA with their use and how to load, unload and fire them. WHOOOOOSH BOOM! I turn and one of the Romanians has fired an RPG at the rusted hull of a tank 300 meters away. One of the things about Afghanistan is that relics of previous wars are never in short supply. Rusted out tanks and armored vehicles dot the landscape as do bombed out houses. We always have something to shoot at. The Afghans cheers and start shouting. Some of their own line up to fire RPGs. They're given 30 rounds. They hit the tank 4 times. This is considered a success. They cheer whenever a round impacts the tank and we cheer right alongside of them. Meanwhile, the Afghans are struggling with the .50 cals. They are cautious of the weapon and the first couple of soldiers who try to use it fire single shots. Eventually, they start getting into it and started firing sustained bursts. Nothing quite like RPGs and .50 cals going off at the same time.

One of the more interesting aspects of work out here is working with our interpreters. We call them "Terps" for short. They're young men for the most part and speak enough passable English to interpret our conversations with the ANA. They think they're bad, but we try to straight them out. Interpreters here are given the opportunity to get a Visa to move to the United States after 2 years of interpreter work. It's dangerous work and we have heard that the Taliban is paying $20,000 for a dead interpreter. They're smart and funny and think it's cool to try and use American lingo. We frequently have to remind them to stop cussing so much. They respond that they are only copying how the Americans talk. We have nothing to say to this.

Training is wrapping up. Afghans don't like to train after 3 pm. We return to our base. Two days later, we head out again to the training where the ANA is drawing equipment. We don't stay too long. We've received another mission to make a humanitarian assistance (HA) drop at a local school. One of the soldiers has received a a poster from the Library of Congress in DC depicting "woman in science." The only problem is that we don't know where the school is, so we improvise. We pull off the side of the road and ask one of the locals for directions to the nearest school. He points us in the right direction. Several U-turns later, we are winding down a bumpy, dusty road.

Afghans love us or hate us. Mostly, these emotions are often seen within short spans of time. Afghan children run up to our vehicles. We dismount our vehicles and I start saying "Salaam Aleikum" to the kids. They surround me saying, "Mister, mister! Chocolate! Candy! Pepsi! Pen! Notebook!" I smile and feign my best "ignorant westerner" smile and walk toward the school.

We are allowed permission to enter the school. We walk in and speak to the administrator. He's excited about the posters. I realize the posters are in English, but I smile away anyways. He offers us chai. We decline as hospitably as we can. We have to go. Before we go, he has a list of things he needs. I write them down. We bid goodbye to the school administrator and walk back to our vehicles. A mob of children surround me and start reaching into my pockets to take my stuff. I'm dumbfounded by this. I tell them, "No! No! No!" They don't listen. As I'm climbing into my vehicle, they're still clawing at my pockets and trying to pull me back down into the crowd. Fortunately, I'm able to climb up into my vehicle and close the door. I check all my stuff to make sure I have everything. Wallet, cell phone, ID, wait, where's my camera. I check all my pockets. It's not there. I knew I had it before, but I don't have it now. The kids stole my camera. All the pictures I've taken of Afghanistan are now in the hands of thieving children. I am not pleased.

Afghanistan is a beautiful country. The mountain ranges are immense. I would have pictures of this, were it not for children and their small thieving hands. Work here is tiring but I think it will pay huge dividends, not only for us but for the country of Afghanistan as a whole. Thank you again for the encouragements you've sent. Keep in touch.

The rocky road to Kabul

"Did that Afghan just flick me off?" We had just left Kabul International Airport and someone noticed a pair of Afghan men in an alleyway giving an upturned hand gesture toward our convoy. It seemed angry, but having been in the country for all of about 2 hours, we weren't entirely sure. Welcome to Afghanistan....

Much as we might have wanted to stay in Louisiana (be assured we didn't), our path led elsewhere. We arrived at the airport around midnight and began our journey halfway around the world. We were packed into our plane tight as could be and began journeying first to Maine, then Ireland and then Kyrgyzstan. Flying into Kyrgyzstan, the only thing I could conclude was that it was a sparsely populated country.We landed at Manas Air Force base and waited for transportation to Afghanistan. We didn't know how long we were going to be there. They told us it could be a week or 24 hours. We tried to enjoy our stay as much as we could. They had amenities that made us feel like Kyrgyzstan was nothing more than a vacation. It wasn't. The hesco barriers and armed guards at the gate were a constant reminder.Finally we got word that we were about to be locked down in preparation for our flight into Afghanistan. We loaded all of our gear and equipment and sat in a large building and waited...
Finally we got word to grab our carry on items and make our way to the bus. We boarded the bus and drove out to the runway and began boarding.
Our flight took off and we rapidly ascended. I took this opportunity to read, but someone told me that we were able to go up to the cockpit. I jumped at the chance. When I made it up to the cockpit, the view was breathtaking.The co-pilot even took a picture for me through his heads-up display.
One of the crew chiefs told me that we were flying over the Hindu Kush mountains. I was impressed. As I descended from he cockpit, I noticed that the crew had strung an American flag and I know it's corny, but I felt moved by it.
We were told to take our seats as we flew into Afghan airspace. What seemed like a peaceful ride made a somewhat turbulent turn as the plane descended into Kabul. When one thinks of a descent, it's usually gradual as to not cause too much discomfort. I cannot say the same for this ride. It was a rapid descent and felt more like a roller coaster than anything else. We landed with a thud and many of the soldiers who had been sleeping were jarred awake.
We exited the aircraft and Kabul International Airport lay before us. Ringed by hilltops to our immediate front and the Hindu Kush mountains farther away, it was an impressive site.

We waited around Kabul airport for transportation to Camp Phoenix. When we finally got it, we got our first look at what Afghanistan looks like. I don't have any pictures of that yet. All I can say is that the country is... different. We weren't in the countryside for long, but my observation is that the country is impoverished and crowded. People milled about our convoy as if no one noticed that armed Americans were driving through the street. Shops were open all around us. When I say shops, picture boxed sheet metal with a signs written in Dari, Pashto and English. Goods were sold at every corner. Our drive was short, but something sparked one of the soldiers. A soldier pointed at something outside of the window and shouted, "Did that Afghan just flick me off?" We all laughed, but I couldn't help but feel somewhat unsettled. Was it anger or something that our non-adept American minds couldn't perceive? I don't know. As we become accustomed to Afghanistan, perhaps it will all be made clear, but perhaps not.

I have to run for now, but I'll try and write something about Camp Phoenix at a later point. Cheers.