Read Online The Taliban Don't Wave by Robert Semrau - Free Book Online Page A

a single large silver fan to keep us cool. No windows, no a/c. I had stayed in worse places, and so had the warrant, but judging by the looks on Fourneau's and Hetsa's faces, they were disappointed by our new digs. It'll be good for 'em. Put some hair on their chests!
    We dumped our kit and then walked over to meet the outgoing OMLT team. I knocked loudly on their door and heard a “C'mon in,” so we walked inside and immediately felt the nice cool air from their air conditioners on the walls going full blast.
    â€œHey guys,” Stephens said, “let me introduce you to my band of killers.” One guy was shirtless, cleaning his C9 (Minimi light machine gun) over at a table, and another guy who seemed quite a bit older was working on a computer. Stephens's youngest team member was playing an Xbox game in a comfy chair over by the TV. “This is Mike, Chris, and Joe,” he said. They came over and we all shook hands.
    â€œRCR in the Stan!” Chris said, “You guys'll have a hard time killing the Taliban, what with your daily show parades and fancy drill sessions on the main square three times a day!” Ah yes . . . our reputation for immaculate parades precedes us.
    â€œFive times a day,” I quickly replied. “But the Regimental Sergeant Major said we can cut them back to two, if we work extra hard to clean up your guys' mess and finally win the damn war!” I finished shaking hands and said, “We've heard that the PPCLI has cocked this little sweep-and-clear operation right up, so we're here to put things straight with our boot bands, spit, polish, and sharp drill! By the way, I like the OMLT fish hook on your door—I take it you guys have been used as bait a few times for Timmy?”
    â€œHmm,” Stephens mused, “you could say that. I'll show you later, but I've got a set of orders from a battle group operation that states, ‘OMLT will patrol forward with the ANA until they come under contact, then manoeuvre until the battle group can take over.’ Nice, eh? ” His team wasn't laughing. Clearly this had been the battle group's SOP a couple of times too many for the OMLT's liking.
    Seven Two Alpha broke off to mingle with their opposite numbers as my counterpart showed me around the building. They had a pretty good set-up. Encrypted work computers in the corner; an entertainment centre; a bunch of bunk beds in the back, with Hessian sack hanging over them for privacy.
    Stephens then took me outside for the full tour of Sperwhan. We walked past several rows of ANA buildings, including their kitchens and ablutions building. Whenever we passed any Afghan soldiers and said ah salaam ah'laikum , they would stop whatever they were doing to say hi back.
    I looked at Stephens's travelling hobo look and asked, “Hey, what's with you guys with your shirts untucked and not wearing your trouser pants tucked into boot bands? We'd catch major flack if we tried that!”
    â€œScrew that,” he said, “We're OMLT. We dress to kill! Do you really think we have to follow the stupid battle group's dress code? To hell with that! Keeping your pants tucked into boot bands isn't going to win this war!”
    â€œBrother,” I said solemnly, “right now, you're facing the choir and preaching your sermon to the converted and the perverted. You need to do a one-eighty, and face the heathen in the pews! I'm already a believer, baby!” Finally, someone understood that boot bands weren't Canada's secret weapon that would win the war in eight weeks. I was always so hot anyway, the last thing I needed was to trap heat in my pants. I needed to vent, damn it!
    I saw the Canadian artillery howitzers, or “boom-sticks” as I liked to call them, in the southeast corner and hoped I wouldn't need to use them. Then we walked by the showers and ablutions tent, where I was told we could shower once a day, for exactly one minute. The water for the showers