Steven Moore - The Longer We Were There: A Memoir of a Part-Time Soldier

A MEMOIR OF A
PART-TIME SOLDIER

THE UNIVERSITY OF
GEORGIA PRESS
ATHENS

2019 by the University of Georgia Press
Athens, Georgia 30602
www.ugapress.org
All rights reserved
Designed by Kaelin Chappell Broaddus
Set in 10/15 Quadraat OT
by Kaelin Chappell Broaddus
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Moore, Steven, 1986 author.

Title: The longer we were there : a memoir of a part-time soldier / Steven Moore.

Description: Athens, GA : The University of Georgia Press, [2019] | Series: Association of Writers and Writing Programs award for creative nonfiction | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2019005355| ISBN 9780820355665
(pbk. : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780820355672 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Moore, Steven, 1986 | Afghan War, 2001
Personal narratives, American. | Iowa. Army National
GuardBiography. | United States. ArmyMilitary life.
Classification: LCC DS371.413 .M67 2019 |
DDC 958.104/74 [B] dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019005355

S OME THING HAD MADE THE CONnecticut troops a little crazy, which was discouraging because we had come to replace them. They were turning over their mission at Torkham Gate to us, in a process called Relief in Place or RIP. They were ripping out and we were ripping in. Ripping in was like being broken in, as though to understand a place, you first had to learn about the way it was damaged, then become that way yourself.

Torkham Gate was the busiest crossing on the AfghanistanPakistan border, a vital route for commercial, military, and civilian traffic. The road cut through a narrow pass in the mountains.

Sergeant Stein was a team leader in the Connecticut unit. He and I stood along a narrow, dusty road leading between the countries, and he showed me his job so it could become mine. His rifle hung from its sling over his chest. He didnt carry or even hold the rifle, yet it was in the right place if he needed it. I watched him direct cars away from the main road into a search area. I tried to memorize everything he did. I had been in Afghanistan for exactly five days. It was late October 2010.

One of the first things Sergeant Stein told me at the crossing was this story about chocolate pudding. We were standing along the road and he said, No matter what happens, even if one of these cars comes at you, dont throw anything at it, especially food.

What do you mean? I asked.

It was a few months ago, Stein said. He explained that his platoons job was to search cars, trucks, and pedestrians. They were looking for weapons being trafficked into Afghanistan. The border politics were complicated, he said, but basically it was like this: a lot of the insurgents had fled to Pakistan years ago, and they were running operations from the other side of the border. They lived over there and fought over here, while Stein and his platoon tried to catch them moving back and forth. He told me it was like being a goddamn traffic cop, except no one speaks the same language as you, so no one listens to anything you say. Sure, it all gets translated through your interpreter, but your authority gets lost when your words have to come out of someone elses mouth, like youre this fuckin idiot, or like youre a child, and someone else has to make sense of what youre saying. No one is gonna respect you, he said.

Stein was in his mid-twenties. Skinny guy. Long bony face. Very serious. There was something familiar about him, like Id known him for a long time. It seemed like he was trying to talk through the matter, like he was thinking out loud. He kept his gaze on the road, checking to see which cars carried only males, since they didnt have the personnel to search females. Stein chose cars without passengers and directed them to the search pit. An armored vehicle was parked behind us, with a gunner in the turret watching over the road.

Anyway, Stein said, one day, a car comes speeding down the road. Im here at the Pitcher position, and Im standing off to the side of the road kinda like we are now. And the car is speeding this way. Maybe its gonna fly right past. Or maybe its a V-BIED and its gonna turn and hit me, or the truck, and boom. So Im shouting at the car and my gunner is yelling at him to slow down. Were waving at it. But the cars not slowing down, so I aim my rifle at the windshield. Not to fire or anythingthe guys probably just some asshole whos not paying attentionbut I wanna get his attention. But of course the car doesnt slow down. Hes really taking off down the road. So my gunner back there, he gets creative. I guess he was in the middle of eating chow up in his turret, and hes got this cup of chocolate pudding. And he takes the cup of pudding and he hurls it at the car. Just throws it, as hard as he can. And its a fuckin bullseye. Hits the windshield square in the middle. Chocolate pudding all over the glass. Splatters like a fuckin paintball. And it works. The driver hits the brakes, which lock up, and he skids to a stop. Which is good, right. But then it gets weird. The driver opens his door, and hes pissed. Just pissed as all hell. Comes out yelling. And so the terp comes over and translates, says the guys insulted. Hes been disrespected. Because were throwing food at his car. Hes batshit furious. Keeps waving at the splattered pudding on his windshield, like its the blood and guts of his best friend in the whole fuckin world. Just makes a big scene. So then our lieutenant comes over. He wants to play diplomat, and the whole thing becomes a big fuckin incident. Which means it has to go in the daily report. So our CO ends up looking at it. And of course the CO is all paranoid about cultural sensitivity and being polite and all that shit, so he decides the gunner is too much of a risk to take on missions anymore. Like ever. And he bans the kid from ever going outside the wire. They put him on some bullshit detail on the FOB, sorting mail or whatever. And now our guys have to pull extra missions to make up for him. And this kid just sits on the FOB all day. Because he threw this fucking chocolate pudding at a car one time. And, like, I get it. I know the CO had to cover his own asshes gotta look like hes handling itbut he never told anybody what the kid shouldve done. Thats the thing. Like, the kid was right not to fire the drivers just an asshole, not paying attention, hes not really Talibanbut the gunner still has to do something. His job is to look out for me, you know? And all the EOF procedural bullshit doesnt work out here. I dont know what you got taught at training, but all those orange flags and laser pointers dont mean shit out here. But still, the gunner cant just let cars speed toward us all day. Sooner or later one of them is gonna be a V-BIED. Then someones gonna get fucked. So the kid was improvising. He was just trying to do something. You know?

I nodded. Yeah, I said, thats pretty fucked up.