Shot of Whiskey - Sex Stories

Shot of Whiskey

... the while, civilian leadership in the unit was trying to help the provincial government establish basic government services and push out concepts that to us seemed like givens, necessary elements for a nation to exist. They were trying to convince people to accept the concept of a nation for one; the importance of impartial rules; the right of the state to enforce laws. More complicated ideas also needed to be taught from scratch, like the right to petition local government or the establishment of laws to determine what was legal and what was illegal in social interactions like marriage, divorce, indentured servitude, the sale of child brides and so much more. They were trying to explain the concept of flying an airplane and had to begin by explaining the wind.

At some level, we knew there were traditional systems working behind the scenes and that much of what we Westerners saw was a performance, the appearance of Westernization so as to keep the coalition pumping billions of dollars into programs that people really did not want. Perhaps in the large cities to the north things were different but, in the Pashtun tribal areas, as long as the money was flowing, training classes would be full and we would have enough images and stories to tell one another, enough information to perpetuate the lie, that we were making progress.

And as we went, we were constantly aware of the threat of attacks. One day, about a month into my tour, I was surprised to find a group of about ...

... twenty Polish soldiers crowding the showers. They were gorgeous and friendly, a platoon of twenty and thirty-somethings with classic Slavic features, bright blue eyes, hair cut nearly to the skin, and all uncut with zero shame. I would have enjoyed their company and maybe even flirted with them, but I quickly found out that they were there because we had more sophisticated medical treatment facilities than at their base a bit south of us, and one of their colleagues needed to be stabilized before he could be transferred out to Dubai, then Germany where most coalition forces were being treated. He had been hit by a sniper while eating lunch outside a district center. He died at our clinic. We sent him home to be buried. I invited them all into a private meeting room and shared a drink with them in his honor.

Lieutenant Aleksander Gorecki, may he rest in peace.

Until we completed our commitments, our tours or our contracts, or until we were placed in a casket, we were all trapped there. The Afghans were trapped by their poverty and traditions, performing the role of the enslaved wishing to be free when they wished no such thing. Their bondage to tradition was wholly and persistently voluntary. And we on the other side of the tightly guarded fences, inside our enclaves with Pizza Hut and Gloria Jean's, we performed the role of liberators, well-meaning foreigners here to offer a helping hand. And everyone knew it was a performance, everyone except perhaps the Colonels and ...