Crossing Paths With Alexander The Great

Alexander the Great passed this way 1000 years ago, and left his mark in the form of this ancient fort where I spent last weekend. At least his army came this way. To be honest, we’re not sure he or his army ever came here, but it makes a good local legend, and the fort is sitting at what was back then a major trading juncture (actually, he came to this part of the world about 2400 years ago - still makes a good legend, though). Remarkably, it is still largely intact, and strong enough to be used in today’s defenses. The mud walls are many feet thick, held together with wattle – fine stems of wheat, because insects would get into and eat wood, and rebar was in short supply in those days.

From the battlements, picturing marauding armies on horseback is easy - and so is imagining Clint Eastwood in slow-motion glint-eyed pursuit of the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Wide wheat fields stretch from one side of the fort, and poppies on the other. In the distance is a low mountain-range, and nearer is a cliff that looks like it belongs in the Painted Desert. Within the walls of the fort, the rooves of pre-Taliban health facilities are now decked with satellite dishes and communications antennas. The bad guys had this place for a while, and when they departed (rather hurriedly), they stripped out all of the copper wiring and fixtures, and set the buildings on fire. Of course, being constructed of cinder-block, they only succeeded in adorning the ceilings with an ash patina. In this austere world, though, any splash of color is appreciated.

We got out into the local populace – to be accurate, I should say we got out into about half of the local population. I never saw one single woman or one little girl. Only the men were out and about. They look beleaguered. In Iraq, despite their travails, much of the population was vibrant. Girls and boys played in the streets, and followed us enthusiastically. Not so here. The boys listened intently, but they looked aged beyond their years. Their clothing is colorful, but smiles were scarce. That they currently feel fairly secure reflects in one of their most repeated concerns: the lack of cell-phone service. Beyond that, they say, they are not sure how they will earn livings when the poppy crops are gone for good.

Marines here do what Marines and soldiers do everywhere – accomplish their missions and find ways to pass time when not on mission. In this place, they have a dog adopted as a puppy, and now intent on staying with its wards when they patrol – and keeping danger away from them. In self-appointed air-field security detail, he is aided by his friend and companion – another dog. They have captured the hearts of the Marines – we only fear for their futures when we depart.

At any time, the MWR is in active use – Marines calling home. Ironically, here it is easier than in the larger FOBs. Without the large numbers attempting to access at the same time, connections are easier and faster. And, because they are constantly aware of those waiting, if a line forms, it moves quickly – our kids, sent to fight, and considering each other.