POWERGRAMS

I returned home from my last deployment to Afghanistan in the spring of 2013 and I can honestly say that not a single day has gone by since where I haven't thought about the place or its people or those I served with. Some days I think about all three. Some nights I dream about them. Some nights, I have nightmares. I watched one of those nightmares play out on the news in the chaotic way the U.S. left Afghanistan and in the way the Taliban once again took control of the country. As of this writing in September, the Taliban is establishing a government even as a resistance force is fighting them in the Panjshir Valley and as women protest throughout the country in an attempt to preserve the freedoms they've gained over the past 20 years. Those protests carry a deep-seeded fear that life will return to the oppression they knew before the U.S. invaded after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks. My first deployment to Afghanistan in 2007-08, I was an embedded trainer. I lived, ate, trained and fought along with the Afghan soldiers and police. At the heart of that mission was instilling a sense of nationalism in the Afghan men we trained. Afghans identify first as members of tribes – Pashtun, Tajik, Uzbek, Hazara, etc. – and not as Afghans. The establishment of a new Afghan flag was important and gave all tribes something to rally around as a source of national pride. The black, red and green flag symbolizes the dark past, the bloody fighting and the hopeful future. When I returned to Afghanistan in 2012 for my second deployment, that flag was everywhere. I could see signs of improvement throughout the country. One of those signs was the lack of the full-body burqa women were forced to wear under the Taliban. Some women still wore them, but five years earlier they were everywhere. I also saw many more girls going to school, something that did not occur under Taliban rule and took years to restore. One of the females in our unit was part of a team of women soldiers training the first all-female platoon of the Afghan National Army. I attended the graduation and wrote a story about the monumental event. An Afghan National Army general even brought his young daughter to witness the ceremony. I was struck by the sense of pride of these women as they celebrated receiving their certificates. I was also struck by the fact that many different tribes were represented in this one platoon. While in Afghanistan, I got to spend time with the soldiers and police I trained, the women at the women's center that U.S. soldiers adopted, the children at the orphanage we supported, the teens we helped rescue from the snow as they made their way into the city to take the college entrance exam. The resolve of all of them to never again return to life under the Taliban left me convinced that the Taliban was fighting a pointless battle. The Afghan people would never again allow them into power. That's why I struggled with witnessing the Taliban return to power as the Afghan military buckled when the U.S. pulled out its support. I watched the pundits – many of whom I doubt have ever set foot in Afghanistan – declare America's military mission there a failure. But then, in the days since, and even to the time of writing this, despite the Taliban establishing its own new Afghanistan flag, the protests have a common symbol. Even at threat of gunfire, men have climbed poles to fly the black, red and green Afghan flag. Women wave the flag. One woman kissed and clung to the flag, begging a Taliban soldier not to remove it. The anti- Taliban forces in the Panjshir Valley carry the colors of the Afghan flag. Did we fail? You tell me. I devoted more than two years of my life to Afghanistan. I sacrificed birthdays, anniversaries, soccer games, basketball games, dance recitals, helping with homework, times when just being home would have meant something to my wife or to my daughters. I say this not seeking sympathy or a pat on the back, but to make it clear that Afghanistan matters to me. I quickly went from empathy to true love for the Afghans – a love where I want what's best for them, not for what it means for me or my sacrifice, but for what it means for them and their future. One evening as I sat with my interpreter sipping chai and contemplating the future of Afghanistan, I told him that I hope for a day when I can bring my wife and daughters to Afghanistan and visit. I still hope for that. Should that happen, I think I know what flag will be flying in Kabul. Afghanistan not a failure but a distant memory for Public Relations employee HHHHHH A FIRST-PERSON REMEMBRANCE HHHHHH BY MIKE TOMBERLIN Tomberlin was deployed to Afghanistan 2007-08 and 2012-13. 5

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