Operation Endearing Funniness
“Special Farces”
Afghanistan Comedy Tour Nov. 15th
– 29th, 2004
Monday, Nov. 15th – 6 am:
The wake-up call came too early. I had just finished a week at a comedy
club in Reno, NV, and now I had to catch a plane to Los Angeles to make my
plane to Afghanistan for a two-week, nine-show, twenty-one flight comedy
tour for the Troops. It would be my 11th Military Tour in as
many countries, and it wouldn’t be my 1st time in a war zone, but
it would be the closest I’d been to actual danger spots. As I waited for
the shuttle to the Reno airport, I decided to stick one quarter in a slot
machine to see what kind of luck I’d have that day. It paid ten bucks – a
good omen. Now I had to deal with a pocket full of quarters at airport
security. There’s really no such thing as pure good luck. It was a quick
flight to LAX, and Mike Burton, the guy who booked the tour, met me at the
airport right on time. The plane landed at 10:30 am and my flight to
Frankfurt left at 2:45 pm. This gave me about an hour at home to unpack
from Reno and pack for Afghanistan. We got to the airport in plenty of time
and LA Hardy, the other comedian on the tour, was there waiting for us. We
said goodbye to Mike after getting some last minute instructions and checked
in for our flight. As we got to the Lufthansa agent, LA said “Oh no, I
forgot my passport!” What a joker, I thought… no he meant it. We still had
an hour before the flight actually left, so he called his wife and she
zipped down to the airport with his passport. Crisis averted. We made it
to the gate with ten minutes to spare. The flight to Frankfurt took 11
hours, and I got about three hours of sleep. After going through
surprisingly easy customs, we were met by two military personnel who drove
us to the military airport where we got our orders and boarded a normal ATA
737 to Incerlik, Turkey (3hrs), and then on to Manas, Kyrgyzstan (5 hrs).
We got Lucky and caught the next plane out of Manas after a four hour wait,
during which we played pool and quaffed our two allotted Kyrgyzstani beers.
This would be the last alcohol we would imbibe for the next two weeks.
The plane from Manas to Bagram, Afghanistan, was a C-130, a military cargo
plane with canvas seats, and we were packed in like sardines. The flight
was four and a half hours, and it kicked our already tired asses. It was
loud as hell even with earplugs and impossible to sleep or even move. We
arrived in Bagram thirty-six hours after we left LAX, and I felt like an
extra from “Dawn of the Dead”. It was great to finally get out of the
stuffy C-130 and breathe in a lungful of fresh dust. Afghanistan had the
dustiest air I’ve ever breathed. You get used to the taste and grit in your
teeth after awhile. Now we had to find our contacts. We just assumed they
would be there to meet us, but they had no way of knowing exactly when we
would get in. Manas is one of the hardest places to get out of – some
people are stuck there for days – we just got lucky. After waiting for a
few hours in a sleep-deprived stuper, we got the bright idea to try and call
someone and let him or her know the comedians are here. A few minutes later
Chuck Younglove burst through the door. At 6 foot 7 and weighing around 350
lbs, Chuck was a veritable mountain of a man. An honest, laid back, tell it
like it is straight shooter, he reminded me a little of an oversized Wilfred
Brimley on steroids.
Chuck had a devil may care relaxed
attitude which helps when dealing with the military’s hurry up and wait
policy. We were informed that we had no show that night (It was Wednesday
noon by then) and we would leave the next day by Chinook helicopter to do
three bases (Orgun-E, Shkin, and Carlson) with Lt. Wnuk in the southeastern
region; and then Chuck would take us on the second half of the tour mostly
on the western part of the country. Our accommodations in Bagram consisted
of canvas cots for beds in a plywood hut called a “hootch”, equipped with a
refrigerator and a DVD player and monitor. If we wanted to make a call to
the States or check email, we just went next door and got in line. Every
base we went to, no matter how remote, had an email connection. After
getting eight hours of much needed sleep, we met the Lieutenant at the
Chinook bright and early Thursday morning. The Lieutenant was a slender,
attractive young woman with a quick smile and high pitched feminine voice –
the polar opposite of Chuck. It was a two-hour flight to the base and we
were given an extensive tour and had Chai (sweet green tea) with a native
Afghanistonian in his mud hut as his camels stood watch.
Then it was time for the first
show. LA and I decided to Flip Flop (Switch off going on last) and I would
open this one, he would open the next one, etc. We just had to do a half
hour each, which is cake. LA killed with his bit about the one lone woman
on base with all the horney guys. The one lone woman was the only one not
laughing. She just sat there clutching her rifle and glaring. That’s the
intimidating thing about doing shows for soldiers in a war theater. All the
audience members are armed. You learn to stay away from bits that cut down
a state or sports team. There is a no alcohol policy on all the bases so
we didn’t have to deal with drunks, just less than ideal sound equipment and
bad lighting. It always takes a few minutes to warm the crowds up to the
set-up-punch line cadence of standup. The first few jokes I did were about
being on the base and dealing with everyday life in Afghanistan and then I
just did my normal set. The soldiers really enjoyed the show and we were
given a certificate of appreciation and a coin commemorating the war effort
and we signed tons of autographs on printouts we brought. They let us crash
on cots in the heated headquarter room. It got very cold at night and all
the soldiers had to use heavy sleeping bags. Going to the toilet (or piss
tube) was an uncomfortable experience. All the bases had Piss tubes,
plastic tubes protruding from the ground just about crotch level. I always
tried to find them at night, but usually ended up peeing on the ground. The
toilets were another story. Many of them were portapotties and some were
plywood with improvised tire seats. I found the Michelins to be the most
comfortable. The next day we were allowed to shoot the 50 caliber gun, a
huge weapon, the kind you have to climb into. It was the first gun I’d ever
fired and, man, that thing can inflict some damage. It’s amazing having that
kind of power at your thumb tips. Friday morning we flew by Blackhawk to
Camp Shkin, set up the speakers and did a show at 11 am, got back in the
bird and flew to Camp Carlson and did a show at 3 pm and flew back to Bagram.
Carlson is very close to the Pakistani border where the Taliban retreated to
and where Osama Bin Laden is supposedly hiding out. There were some cool
Special Forces guys on the helicopter who let us shoot their machine guns at
targets in the desert. I was starting to get good at hitting my targets.
The three-hour flight back to Bagram was at dusk and the ride was freezing,
but it was cool to see the sunset from a helicopter.
We made it back to Bagram
around dinnertime Friday, and we got to sleep in on Saturday because our
next show was right there in Bagram on Saturday night. This was a much more
organized show because Bagram is a pretty big base with about 14,000
coalition forces living there. They packed the Clamshell theatre(with an
actual stage) with about 500 mostly US uniformed men and women. You looked
out from the stage and saw a sea of rifle butts pointed your way. We had a
killer show and signed autographs until our hands were sore. After the
show I went back to the hootch by myself and popped in a DVD (Louis CK Short
Films). Five minutes into it I heard a huge BOOM that shot through my
entire body. I ran to Chuck’s hootch next door and banged on his door. He
calmly opened it up and said, “Yeah, whadda ya want?”. I said, “What the
F**k was that?” “Oh, sorry about that” he said, “That was me, the PX
meatloaf didn’t agree with me.” Everyone’s a comedian. “C’mon, what was
the boom?” I pleaded. “What am I Kreskin? How the F**k should I know?
If you hear ‘red alert’ just put your long pants on and meet me in the bomb
shelter,” came the Brimleyesque response. I went back to my cot and had a
restless night listening to the airships taking off and landing. The next
day I found out the boom was an IED (Improvised Exploding Device) that had
been fired from a nearby mountain range and had landed less that 500 meters
from me. I was told that the Taliban followers put crude timers on rockets
and send them into Bagram base at least once a month. It had been two
months since the last IED, so they were due.
The next day we were up at
6 am to catch a flight to Herat on the Iranian border. We waited until 6 pm
(12 hours!) and finally heard that the flight was canceled. We spent the
evening talking to the Lt. and Mike, a special forces dude, who filled us in
(as much as he could) on what it was like to do his job. The Special
Forces are like the cowboys of the military. They get their mission and McGyver their way around Afghanistan carrying out their orders. This guy
was out to get Osama, but was not eligible for the 25 mil reward. I made a
deal with him – he catches the asshole, brings him to me, I turn him in and
split the dough.
We were in bed by midnight
and at 4 am there was a bang on the door. I stumbled through the dark and
unlocked the door and saw a soldier standing there. “You sirs leave for
Farah in 15 minutes, sirs”. He said in a Radar O’Reilly way. Yes we were
“Sirs” on this tour. Our Military rank was GS-15, which is quite high for a
civilian. It’s kind of like being a Corporal. It’s pretty odd to waltz
onto a base and outrank most of the people you see. It’s cool during the
show though, because when I got a heckler they’d have to say stuff like,
“Respectfully request permission to tell you you suck, sir!” I’d just deny
the fucker and make him do 50 pushups. So there we were at 4:30 am at the
airfield with all our bags and the sound system and we didn’t take off until
8 am. More hurry up and wait. We boarded a small plane with actual seats
and flew quite close to the ground giving us a close up view of the villages
and camels along the way. Some people would wave and others threw stones.
We made two stops on the way to Farah – one of which was Herat, the base we
were supposed to go the day before. There were pieces of downed aircraft,
mostly Russian MIGs, littering the ground. The pilot was a grizzled,
chain-smoker who flew daily missions in Afghanistan, and in the States he
was a daring firefighting pilot in Oregon.
The Farah Base was the
smallest one we’d seen so far. Up to this point they never had any live
entertainment of any kind – we were the first. We set up chairs outside the
PX, backed up a Hum Vee and used the headlights for a spotlight. It was a
great show and everyone seemed pleased. They had excellent showers and
toilets so I finally had a decent wash’n’poop. We slept in a building with
at least ten other guys, side by each on cots. A whole lotta snoring going
on. The guys we met at this base were very bored. One guy told me in a
southern drawl that he was so bored that the other day --he almost read a
book! They should change the missions name to “Operation Enduring Boredom”
for those guys. Maybe it’s Bush’s plan to build an army that is
invincible….. at Madden ’05. Those guys are good.
The next day (Tuesday Nov.
23rd) we took a three-hour flight to Kandahar, one of the largest
bases. Once again we flew very low to the ground, barely missing the jagged
mountain peaks. We fly low because the sound travels faster to the people
on the ground. If we fly high, they can hear us 5 miles away and that would
give the AMC (Anti- Military Coalition) time to set up a rocket launcher or
something to shoot us down. By flying low they can hear us only a mile
away. On the Kanahar base we had VIP lodging. This was an actual building
with a real bed. LA, Chuck, and myself, roomed together, and another
snorefest ensued. Once again we were all forced to wear earplugs.
At 7 pm we did an indoor show in the game room. This room had pool tables,
foosball, ping pong and rows of TV’s set up for any kind of video game you
wanted to play. Most soldiers were playing that violent San Andreas game
where you are a gang member and you go through cities car jacking and
robbing and killing people. Good clean American fun. The show was not
easy. The microphone did not work at first and when it did it was so tinny
that it hurt your ears. My voice was like an annoying mosquito to them.
Good sound is so important to a comedy show. The next day (Wednesday, Nov.
24th) we had off so we could rest up for the big Thanksgiving shows.
Chuck woke me up at 6 am on
Thursday, Nov. 25th and asked where LA was. I told him it was
not my turn to watch him. He was probably checking email or making a call
home. We figured we’d run into him at the PX, so we went there to get a
bite of breakfast. After the powdered egg and unidentifiable meat omlet , we
went back to the room. Still no LA. We drove all around looking for him
but no luck. Finally we realized that we probably had to do the shows
without him so Chuck and I started working out a two man act. We got to the
airbase and went to the Chinook 15 minutes before we had to take off, and
there was LA waiting for us. He told us he couldn’t sleep so he went to
work out early in the morning and when he got back to the room we were
gone. He said he looked all over for us and just sweet talked his way to
the helicopter. Good security, huh? Oh well, all’s well that ends well.
The Special Farces were back in action and ready to roll! Our first stop
would be Lashka Gah, and on the way they let us shoot the Chinooks’ fixed
guns (M60’s) into the Sahara for fun. We had a great show in Lashka Gah at
11 am. The homesick soldiers enjoyed the show so much they almost forgot
they were in Afghanistan, away from their families on Thanksgiving. Then
we jumped on the Chinook and flew to Tiger. The crew of this particular
helicopter were called“The Fat Bastards”. They were a ragtag team of
fun-loving fly-boys who really knew how to handle the bird. We went
careening through the mountain passes and canyons like a roller coaster. It
was exhilarating!!! We found out later that they had bets to see which
comedian would puke first. We never even came close to horking. Every time
they’d look back we were laughing and whooping it up.
We got to Tiger around 2 pm
and right away the whole atmosphere seemed sad. We set up the speakers on
a flatbed truck and started the show, but it was like pulling teeth to get a
laugh. Complete opposite of the previous show 3 hours ago. It was our
toughest show by far but we pulled it off like the pros we are. It wasn’t
the soldiers’ fault; they were pissed off that they had to spend
Thanksgiving in that godforsaken place and my little dick jokes didn’t make
it any better I guess.
Then it was time for the
quick 20 minute ride back to Kanahar. The Fat Bastards let LA sit in front
and I got to sit on the open tailgate in back. That was scary and cool at
the same time. It was “scool”. It was wild taking off and watching the
ground just leave and get smaller. I got some great video. They actually
let LA land the thing. I’m glad I didn’t know that at the time. On the
ground the Fat Bastards commended us for being such fearless flyers and gave
us one of their “Fat Bastard” sew on patches. Way cool day at the office.
We got back to Kandahar in time for Thanksgiving dinner, and boy, were we
hungry, having had nothing to eat since breakfast. They served roast
turkey, Cornish game hens, lobster, mashed potatoes, and a bunch of other
stuff. We were exhausted and hungry so we just dug in. We overate but
that’s the American way.
We got to bed early
because we didn’t know what time our next flight to Sahron (our last show)
would be. We were told around 4 am, but nothing was certain. LA and I
took some sleeping pills at 9 pm, which seemed like a good idea at the
time. At 2 am Friday morning (Nov. 27th) Chuck flashed on the
light and said we had to be at the airport in 15 minutes. I thought it was
a bad dream. Sleep deprivation is like a bad drug. I can see how it can be
useful in torture. We got to the airfield and waited until 4 am, when we
were told our aircraft was broken. This meant that the show in Sharon had
to be scrubbed, and the tour was completed after a total of eight
Afghanistan shows on eight bases. Now we had to try to get home. We knew
it was gonna be difficult and iffy as the flights are never certain and
they’re always packed when it comes to getting out of there. It’s a case of
being at the right place at the right time and being persistent and lucky
and knowing the right people.
Luckily, Chuck was well
connected and he had been doing favors for people so he could call in a
few. Chuck is like the Radar O’Reilly of Afghanistan. He can get things
for people and get them to far away bases so people want to be his friend.
We finally got out of there and caught the midnight flight (a C-130) to
Bagram. We arrived an hour later at 1 am and immediately checked in for a
flight to Frankfurt. We were told to be back at the airport in three hours
(4am). We did and then we waited around for another five hours before
boarding the C-17 to Germany at 9 am on Saturday, Nov. 27th.
Of course we didn’t know
it at the time, but one of the planes that left Bagram that day did not make
it to its destination. I read in the paper that a Casa 212 civilian fixed
wing transport plane that left Bagram on Saturday Nov. 27th with
three US soldiers and three American crew members aboard went down in the
Hindu Kush mountains southeast of the city of Bamiyan with no survivors.
They don’t know why it went down but it really shows how dangerous flying in
Afghanistan can be.
The C-17 we were on was a
huge military cargo plane that carries large metal containers. The
“passengers” sit on canvas “seats” that line the inside edge of the plane.
The flight from Bagram to Frankfurt took eleven hours including a two-hour
fuel stop in one of the other “Stans” (I think it started with a “T” and was
desperately in need of buying a vowel). Having had a sleepless night the
day before I was pretty tired, so I put some blankets on the floor and tried
to sleep. Some Marines were on board and they graciously let me have one of
their MREs (meals ready to eat) – Beefsteak with mushroom sauce. They
showed me how to heat it up with a chemical packet and water. The meal was
pretty cool, and not bad tasting either.
We landed
in Frankfurt at 4 pm local time on Saturday. I set my watch back from
Afghani time. It was very confusing for the past two weeks coordinating
flight and show times. I had my watch on Afghani local time, LA kept his on
Los Angeles time and Chuck used the military Zulu time (whatever THAT is).
Chuck would say “Show’s at 4 am” and we would have to do algebra to figure
out when it was. I guess you do use that stuff you learned in high school
eventually. Our scheduled Lufthansa flight to Los Angeles left at 10 am on
Monday. That was almost two days away.
No one told us what we
were supposed to do once we got to Frankfurt so we decided to try to get to
the main civilian airport and get an earlier flight home. We yanked our
bags out from the palet on the C-17 and tried to get on a bus going to the
airport. The guy wouldn’t let us on, and thank goodness he didn’t because
when we went into the military airport there were some people, Bill and
Monique, waiting for us at baggage claim. They told us they were there to
pick us up and take us to the Sheridan Hotel that is right off the Frankfurt
Airport.
We had Saturday night off
and on Sunday we were to do a show at the Rein Mein base just a few miles
away. Good thing we didn’t get on that bus! The driver was Bill, a 28 year
old southern good ole boy with a sly grin and a lead foot that made his
beamer fly down the autobahn. Checking into the hotel and having my own
room was like a dream come true. Just walking on flat ground was a treat.
In Afghanistan we walked on rocks all the time. Stumbling became a way of
life. I’ve never appreciated a shower and toilet more in my life. I must
have used the latrine about five times in the first few hours. I didn’t even
have to go - l just liked sitting there. We were tired but we figured if we
went right to sleep, then we would not sleep through the night.
Bill picked us up two hours
later and we went out to the Frankfurt bar scene – Sachsenhausen, to be
exact. We had some Vienerschnitzle und Spatzzle and a few alcholholic
beverages at various cool bars and by midnight I was in my own room sawing
logs. It was my first earplug free night in two weeks. It poses the
question; “If a man snores in the middle of the forest, and no one is around
to hear it, is he still an asshole?”. Boy, did I sleep! 10 much needed
hours.
The next day (Sunday), Bill
took us around the city and out to dinner and we did the show at 8 pm. The
American football games were on and they left all the TV’s on during the
show. At least we got them to turn the sound down. It’s a lot different
crowd when you do a base in a big city as opposed to a small isolated base.
They have so much else to do on the big bases they don’t appreciate the
comedy show as much as the smaller bases.
The show went well though
and then it was time to have a few festive beverages. Maybe a few too many
for our driver because he took off and didn’t tell anyone where he was
going. This would have been all well and good, but I had left my stuff,
including my passport, in his car. I had to be at the airport in 7 hours
and I had no passport! We got a ride back to the hotel from some kind
soldier and I just lay in bed cursing my luck. To have come so far, and to
be so close to going home, and now I was going to be stuck in Frankfurt
until I got my passport back. I had to do a show in La Crosse, Wisconsin,
on Tuesday; now that would have to be cancelled. As I lay there
berating myself for leaving my passport behind, a knock came at my door. It
was 5 am, and it was LA with my stuff!!!! I tried to kiss him but he wanted
nothing to do with that kind of behavior. He said something about meeting in
the lobby in the morning, but I was pretty delirious and it didn’t
compute. I was too happy to sleep – so I just packed and went down to the
lobby at 7 am.
I tried to call LA’s room
and I pounded on his door, but no answer. I asked at the front desk if he
checked out but they said they could not divulge that information. I
thought he must have gone to the gate so I just went ahead and figured I’d
meet him there. It was harder than I thought to get through German
customs. There were at least five check points with metal detectors and
searches. I finally made it to the gate, but no LA. He showed up a half
hour later very angry. He said we were supposed to meet at 7:30. I messed
up.
The flight back was 11
hours long. I slept about four hours and got a cab to my apartment and had
one hour to unpack from Afghanistan, pack for Wisconsin, and get another cab
back to the airport for my flight to Milwaukee for my next week of work.
Whew, no rest for the
weary. I’m not complaining – I like to be busy, but it would have been nice
to have a day to recuperate. As it was, I had to drive to La Crosse on
Tuesday, Dubuque on Wednesday, and Madison Thursday through Saturday.
Sunday was my first day off
since Nov. 9th and I really appreciated it. Now I have a few
Corporate gigs in the Midwest and then it’s back to Los Angeles for a week
or so. I have some fun gigs coming up so stay tuned for the next road
story.
     
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