The Angry Commander

After lunch one day we were told not to go anywhere.  Clearly something was up.  We were quickly put in teams of five and given a scenario to review for ten minutes.  Shady things had gone in at a distant Police Station and we MoDAs were to visit with the Police Chief to assess the situation and report back.  Our group huddled, arriving at three topics we wanted to discuss with the chief and see how it went from there.  The interpreter assigned to us had no INTEL in the police chief, so we were going in cold.  I was assigned as the team lead on the ride over to the Police HQ. 

We arrived to uniformed Afghan guards all about the front of the HQ nestled deep in rubble of Simville.  Suddenly this was starting to get real.  We said our pleasantries to the guards and staff as is customary, then quickly huddled again in the lobby to review our plan.  Every once in a while you could hear yelling from the basement below which was unnerving.  “The Chief of Police will see you now” said the aid after only a few minutes.  We made our way down the hall and into a rather small office.  First mistake, our Interpreter was on the wrong side and I was not in the middle facing the Chief. A few more pleasantries, which went well, then the Chai-boy came in to serve us all.  More pleasantries and it looked like we were getting into a rhythm, when the chief began laying out his grievances and concerns.  I tried to temper his concerns by relating how over time things will mellow, like a wine.   Mistake #2, I mentioned alcohol to an Islamic man who I do not have an established relationship.  Mistake #3, we didn’t make our sentences short so our interpreter got confused. 

Then, in walks the border Guard Commander, a tall and focused man.  After a few more pleasantries, he begins railing in on us about training for his men, the poor condition of his weapons, slow pay and the US commitment to Afghanistan.  This was hard, but I knew if I just let him vent a bit, then there would be a pause where we could get down to specifics.  All of a sudden the Commander gets up, walks to the corner and reached for his Kalashnikov rifle.  None of us moved and he calmed down after a bit.  Fred pushed back on the Commander with veiled accusations about his equipment bill and what happen to all the gear he was authorized.  We had entered into honor and face saving territory and things could go “sideways” pretty quick.  “I sold it to the Pakistanis” he blurted out wryly.  We got out a few more sentences before one of our team leaned forward and requested that we all summarize what was said.  Slam…..our door had been shut by our own teammate.  We had nothing more to do or say, so we politely got up and exchanged handshakes and hugs as a gesture of goodwill before we left for the debrief.  The surprise scenario was over and from where I stood, we accomplished little. 

At debrief, we talked with the instructors who were observing us.  Mistakes, 1, 2 and 3, check!, Butting in on the team lead and shutting down communications, check!  Overall they said we did ok.  An Air Force observer went high order on us for allowing the Commander to reach for a loaded weapon.  I guess its all in optics.  The commander did grab the weapon, but in the middle and held it out to demonstrate his point.   That said, the Colonel was right, this stuff could go sideways pretty quick. 

For me, the session was a letdown, but one to learn from.  The US was not well represented at that meeting and if this was real, we would probably not ever be invited back to see the Chief.  Dealing with different cultures, especially a warrior one is tough.  The real world is gonna be much tougher than Simville.