At about that time, Bill van Ree had returned from Pakistan as a demining adviser where he had met and got to know the head of the Afghan Technical Consultants (ATC) who were the largest demining group in Afghanistan. ATC was a large Afghan Non-Government Organization, or NGO. They deployed close to 1,000 Afghan nationals inside Afghanistan to undertake the complex and highly dangerous work of landmine clearance. ATC was based in Peshawar, Pakistan, but had several sub-offices and work sites throughout Afghanistan. The problem was that ATC deminers were trained by Australian and other international demining advisers in Pakistan, though none of these army men were authorised by their countries to travel inside Afghanistan to see them operate. Subsequently, no actual feedback or assessment as to how effective the training was could ever be made. So, Bill had concocted a vision of him returning to Pakistan, not as part of the demining training program but as the sole technical adviser for this NGO. This would enable him to work independently with ATC and to cross into Afghanistan unlike any other military persons who were required to remain clearly and solely in Pakistan.
But unfortunately for Bill, the grand plan he had developed and convinced the army’s senior management to support was about to go pear-shaped. Bill’s wife Maureen was dead against him going back to Pakistan, or to Afghanistan, and so after the post had been approved at the highest levels, Bill decided not to go. It was then that my name was dragged up by the Military Secretary’s office. My mentoring officer thought that I’d be just the right guy to replace Bill and so I was informed. Now for me, this was better than the MO post in Iran as this was for an entire year, not just six months. Better still, I could take my wife, Judy, at least to western Pakistan.
ooOoo
Sometime in about July 1990, as I lay lazily in my bed that Saturday morning, I realised Jude was up and about. I was hoping she would soon bring me a nice cup of tea, when suddenly she bounded back into the bedroom with a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat. I noticed she had something in her hand though clearly it was not my cup of tea. “What colour is that?” she burst out. I unenthusiastically accepted the thin tube-like device she thrust at me and looked. There were two mild stripes across a small opening in the tube that appeared to be red. It then hit me what was happening and I realised we were now confirmed to become Mum and Dad. By the time I heard of my new posting to Afghanistan, it was late 1990 and Jude was very pregnant. In fact, as we were departing Perth for Pakistan, she was five months into the pregnancy and it was showing. Both Jude and I were concerned this might interfere with the Pakistan posting and we remained terrified that, again, an opportunity for an overseas posting could be cancelled. But that did not come about, and I was eventually sent off by the Australian Army to Pakistan, with clearance to travel in Afghanistan as and when required.
ooOoo
Before we departed I was required to go through extensive pre-departure briefings in Canberra by the joint intelligence folk. During my first briefing, as I walked into the intelligence offices buried far below ground in the secretive domain of the intelligence world, I was with some other officers who were going to other overseas posts. The lieutenant-colonel who was to provide my specific briefing asked out loudly to us all, “Ok, who’s the silly fool being sent to Afghanistan?” to which I proudly said, “It’s me,” and was sent off separately for a long and detailed briefing. He told me of the warring groups, the unpredictability of Afghans, their history of fighting, the new terrorists groups training inside the Afghan borders and a host of other threatening scenarios. After he finished, I asked about carrying weapons and he simply said, “No.” I asked about emergency extraction and he said, “None.” I asked about life saving support and he said, “Look Graeme, this is a high risk posting. The Minister of Defence had to get the Prime Minister’s concurrence. But there really is no protection or support for you there. You’re basically on your own.” Now that is a hard apple to swallow when during all of your career, you spent a great deal of time determining the safety and care of your troops in combat or hardship. But to be honest, this new high-threat environment invigorated me. I realised someone had some confidence in me and at 33 years of age, I’d have to survive on my good deeds and with some good luck. I was ready to go!
ooOoo
Finally, the day of departure arrived and Jude and I had leased out our recently purchased house in Perth and were ready for the airport. We were both sitting on the floor of our house, with bags packed to our left and right, waiting for the taxi. The house was completely bare as all the furniture was now in storage. We chatted about how we really loved this place and recalled the work we had done to it, including the laughter we shared when we re-polished the timber floors and built the rear pergola and side fences … noting that I had forgotten the trailer was in the back yard and I needed a dozen soldiers to help me lift it back over the new fence. It really was a beautiful little house and we loved its broad rear garden.
Just then, across the other side of the room, from an in-the-wall oil heater that had been hidden by our couch, the head of a snake appeared. I stared and told Jude to look. We goggled at the snake. It was a long, dangerous brown snake called a dugite in Western Australia that is considered to be deadly. As it began to slither out into the room, Jude and I bolted upright and were ready to run, but it stopped. Its head moved back and forth with its tongue spitting in and out as it sensed our movements. Then, just as smoothly as it had slithered in through the heater, it reversed its movements and disappeared back into it. I looked at Jude in amazement and said, “Let’s get out of this crazy dump,” to which she replied, “I never really liked this place. Let’s sell it,” as we scurried outside to the now arriving taxi.
Later, at the airport, we eventually passed through check-in and immigration, then customs, to wait for our flight. We would catch the Qantas flight to Singapore, in business class thanks to the Australian Army, before changing over for the longer flight to Karachi. The real unknowns would then be waiting for us.
The adventure was just beginning.
ooOoo
We were one of the last passengers to board and the plane was really crowded, though it was to be only a short flight to Singapore before a stopover, then off to Karachi. As I sat down, a good looking stewardess came over and said, “Good afternoon sir. Would you like something to drink before take-off?” I was a bit taken aback and said, “Yes please. What have you got?” to which she responded quickly, “What would you like?” I knew then that I was in pseudo-heaven. So I had a glass of champagne and orange juice, and Jude, to my surprise, had a cognac. Just as I finished, the same lovely hostess came back, gave me a broad smile and took our now empty glasses as the aircraft began to be pushed back. I was feeling mighty relaxed and comfortable on my first real deployment overseas.
The next many hours were filled with the watching movies, more food followed a long sleep. At some point I recall being awoken by a soft pat on my shoulder and we seemed to be just 20 minutes from landing in Karachi. I forced myself to awaken quickly and started to go through the issues we might expect in Karachi. I got out our passports, filled in the immigration cards, and checked that indeed we were booked into the Sheraton hotel and that I had the on forwarding tickets from Karachi to Islamabad. All seemed good and I felt ready for the adventure to begin, though I really wanted to stay on this plane … forever. The food and service were so good I thought that perhaps I should become a permanent international business class passenger, though the practicalities of this might have been a concern. Finally, the aircraft tyres screeched again and there we were, in Pakistan.
ooOoo
For those of you who have been in this part of the world, you might understand how the situation might be, though in 1991 I can assure you it was much worse. The current Karachi airport was first opened in January 1994 and as this was still early 1991, we arrived to the old airport which was horrible. Jude and I said farewell to the Qantas crew and walked down the steps to an awaiting bus. It was old and dirty even though this was the business class bus. We arrived in the airport to join in with the crowding of hundreds of Pakistanis and others in similar