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April 02, 2009

Mar 12

Feb 26, 2009

Capt. Wesselo, a former Uxbridger now a helicopter pilot with the Canadian Forces, was assigned to Afghanistan for the first time in mid-December.

There is much to reflect upon, looking back over the past few months. My time here in Afghanistan is rapidly coming to an end, and as my departure gets closer, time seems to be speeding up again. It's bittersweet as well; our group arrived in one big lift in December, we had such short notice to move that there was no other way to get us to theatre except as a single large block. Now, as our replacements arrive, we're slowly being broken off into small bits, as part of the larger rotation of the Army units. We'll complete our decompression with other troops who have fought together for months, and known each other for years.
I think it might be a bit like going back to grade 9 in highschool. You'll know a few people, but for the most part you're surrounded by strangers in a new place. This is a part of military life that never really changes, you constantly meet new people with every deployment and posting, and the military family is always there to support you.
Normally I look forward to making new acquaintances, but being away from home for so long, I feel like I'd rather stay with my crew and just get home as soon as possible. Of course that pesky reality always rears its ugly head, the deployed Helicopter Force is small compared to the number of Army troops. There is no other way for us to hand over control of the unit efficiently unless we have a slow trickle in and out. If we didn't do it this way, lessons learned would be lost, and the new arrivals would be no better off than we were five months ago.
As the crew from 430 Squadron arrive, it's interesting to see a fresh perspective on the environment here. Apart from the fact that I can barely read French, let alone understand these guys when they're talking rapidly, they seem enthusiastic to be here, much as we did when we first stepped off the Hercules.
There are significant contrasts between the two groups. We've spent months here in Kandahar, dealing with last minute taskings, changes, delays, cancellations, and it seems our group has become somewhat numb to the frustration. With this experience comes a certain comfort as well. When we arrived, we were formed into crews and sections (a section comprising two crews of four people). The crews learned each other’s quirks, how to divide their work, and how every person in the section thinks and behaves. There were a few moments of friction, as with any relationship, but they were dealt with and as a group, we moved on and became closer. Now, new people arrive and the dynamic has to be re-learned.
I don't envy our replacements. They're doing their best to hit the ground running. Arriving at the beginning of the poppy harvest and the rise of the fighting season is intimidating. The heat and pace of operations they are going to have to deal with will be far worse than anything I've experienced over the past winter. We can only hope that the lessons we pass on are of use to them, and as they operate in this hostile environment, we learn from them as well.
I am going to miss some things from Afghanistan. My life here has been relatively simple. I work, exercise, eat, and sleep. My family at home has done an amazing job of relieving me of the normal stresses, even though I still don't call my parents often enough. The work I've done here is also very rewarding. This is what I've trained years for, deploying overseas is why I chose to fly helicopters. Going home, being subject to the normal civilian rules and airspace, I think a basic training trip is going to be somewhat less than exciting compared to a mission in Afghanistan. Our door gunners are going to be posted back to their home units in Ontario, and a normal crew will once again be just two pilots and a flight engineer. We won't fly in fixed crews and sections either; while here we've never crossed the wire with less than two aircraft in a formation, while at home flying as a single ship is the norm.
I haven't even begun to speak about how excited I am to be going home, and truly I'm not sure I can properly express it in words. Soon, I will step off a plane in Edmonton and Heather will be there, grinning as always. We will hug, kiss, go home, and I'm never going to want to let her go.