We had a local national soldier come into my aid station for treatment of some superfluous condition, complaining of foot ailments, but we suspected he was either malingering or simply wanted medication he could later sell on the black market. Maybe he thought he could just complain about foot problems and we’d dole out whatever drugs he really wanted, but of course we had to examine his feet and immediately found that he was wearing my boots, which had gone missing from the front of my hooch where I had been drying them after a recent mission. I guess he failed to notice my name written inside.
Of course with the language issues he could feign ignorance, pretending not to understand what we were asking him about, but when we showed him my name inside the boot, and pointed from me to the boots, he clearly knew he’d been caught red-handed. He certainly understood enough English to recognize we were contacting his supervisor, because he rapidly disappeared from the aid station.
A little while later he returned to the aid station, carrying my boots, and demanded that he talk to me through some other soldier who did a half-assed job of interpreting for him. But my medic informed him he wasn’t going to be demanding anything of anyone, so then the thief promptly threw my boots at my medic. We reported all this through his chain of command and I heard later that someone kicked the crap out of him, not because he’d stolen from the US forces trying to rebuild his country, but because he’d been foolish enough to get caught doing it!
I wish I could say this was an isolated case of petty thievery, but we knew it was part of an almost daily pattern of misdeeds. It was very well known the local soldiers smoked pot in the fields, often pulled weapons on our guys over minor disagreements, had accidental discharges of their weapons at inopportune times—when is there ever an opportune time?— and generally hindered and endangered the missions. Granted there were a very few outstanding local national soldiers, NCOs, and officers, but the norm was the opposite. To say this country was literally a den of thieves would be a vast understatement.
—“Dr. Strike” in Shangri-La
An early morning run is a great way to jump start the battery, get the juices flowing, clear the mind, and think about what needs to be done that day. Even in a war zone, it is possible to work out, though often it is accompanied by gunfire off in the distance, swirling dust kicked up by inbound helicopters, or passing battle wagons on their way to confront the enemy beyond the perimeter fence. For Robert Strange, his morning run came at the end of a very long night . . . a night he’ll never be able to let go of.