Elyse Chazan, a Canada AM producer, spent an action-packed week at a Canadian Forces training facility in Wainwright, Alta. that simulates an Afghan war zone. From ducking bullets to feeling first-hand the concussive force of an IED explosion, she collected her story from the front lines, working closely with troops. Here, she walks us through a day at Wainwright.
Saturday, 7 a.m.
We're finally going to get up in a helicopter today to get some aerials of Wainwright. It has long been the plan but I think our request languished on someone's desk under a pile of other paperwork. Colonel King, Commander of CMTC, got the ball rolling when I mentioned to him that I was stressing about getting a shot of how big the base really is for my introductory piece.
Plus, DJ, my cameraman really wants to fly. It must be a guy thing -- the desire to be tethered inside a chopper with the doors open, hanging out over the world with the ground 200 feet below you.
I have never been on a chopper before. The closest I've come was a couple of years ago when I bailed out on Seamus. That time I put him in a Sea King for another military series and waved goodbye as they took off. One too many jokes about how often those fall out of the sky kept me grounded.
I choke down my eggs in the officer's mess hall hoping that they'll not make a reappearance later as the chopper swoops and dives. I have been warned by King that if it's a ride I want, it's a ride I will surely get. Gulp!
9 a.m.
We get to the flight center and I bundle up. It's cold outside, and I am quite certain that up in the sky, with the wind howling around me, I am going to freeze. Or die. Whichever way, it's not going to be pleasant.
The flight engineer hands me something as he helps me onto the Griffin helicopter: "Your boarding pass, ma'am". On closer inspection, it's a vomit bag. Nice touch.
The pilots do their checks, double-checks, and triple-checks, and slowly, I begin to feel more confident. DJ gets hooked in and we're finally good to go.
We travel low at first, then climb up, hover over what looks like a village, and the engineer opens up the doors on both sides. It occurs to me to take my pulse, but it's too noisy to do anything but sit back and take it all in. This flying thing is pretty amazing. My only real worry is that DJ is going to knock me out cold with the 40-pound camera as he swings around trying to get the best shots.
We pick up a couple of soldiers from the Provincial Reconstruction Team and fly them to a drop-off point. I've lost my bearings. Wainwright suits Alberta -- big open spaces dotted with cows. Yes, cows. They are all over the base here and when I asked if they ever get in the way of the training exercises, someone, nameless, explained that when live rounds are fired they usually take cover. The odd cow doesn't make it to the slaughterhouse. I didn't press for details.
After an hour's flight I am a total convert and try to do the mental gymnastics/math to see how old I'd be if I started working on my pilot's license now. No time. We are landing at a Taliban village and DJ and I are about to be embedded with the opposing force.
11 a.m.
My rational mind is telling me to get a blank tape ready and check if our camera battery is ok as we land. The producer in me is trying to figure out what kind of story we can get here and how much overtime will I be paying out to do it. But my gut is saying "run!"
Wainwright and the Canadian Maneuvre Training center is all about "playing out here what we'll eventually face in Afghanistan," credit Col. King. They go to the nth degree to make the 2 weeks of Weapons Effects Simulation training as realistic as possible, including installing an opposing force -- the insurgents. The dreaded Taliban, who are right now watching me and DJ get out of the helicopter, and not looking too pleased about it either. They look mean. We approach anyway and I make sure the armband I have been given to wear, designating me a non-player, is visible. I'm walking sideways, shoulder first.
I say hello first and I am pretty sure we get names. I am too fascinated by their costumes, their weapons and their village to really notice. One of our hosts is carrying a device to launch a rocket-propelled grenade. The other has some sort of big gun -- that's girl-speak for "I haven't got a clue what that thing is just glad it fires blanks today"
The village looked pretty pockmarked with bullet holes, burned out cars and graffiti.
Gathered around a fire were a group of the insurgents -- smoking, laughing, and shooting their rifles in the air from time to time. I felt like I had just landed on another planet.
We're quickly introduced to the leader, and told that we are going to go with them in their pick-up trucks over to a spot where they know troops will be passing in a convoy. It's a busy road leading from the military forward operating base. A few calls between cell phones and we load into their vehicle. Leather seats, nice touch .I mention it.
"Oh yeah, they rent these for the exercise -- they come fully equipped. Most of us sleep in them too at night, especially when it's cold."
This band of soldiers is really something else. They absolutely look the part -- scary, wild, a little bit mean. But they are all here because they have something to offer the troops being trained here -- they have almost all faced-off against the real insurgents in Afghanistan, and they want to help keep our guys alive.
We arrive in high style-through the bramble of late-fall Alberta flora after a little off-roading in a rented pickup truck. I don't ask about 4-wheel drive and hope they have a good deal with the rental company.
Everyone gets out, and then we huddle. We are going to set an improvised explosive device along the roadside. Apparently there are two kinds: pressure triggered and rigged to go off on demand. I am not sure which one is ours but we hunker down and wait. And then DJ and I realize that we really want a better angle on the action so we stumble through the bush, putting a bit of distance between us and them.
One hundred meters up the road there is a guy in army fatigues and big red bushy beard. This place is so odd.
He beckons to us and we approach. He is here to set a real blast and by the looks of it is having one too. He explains that the IEDS the insurgency set are only going to put out a little smoke and powder, but that he uses real explosives so that the troops feel its concussive energy.
We ask about camera angles and safe distances, and are told to lie down on the ground, put our fingers in our ears and open our mouths. DJ sets the camera, I pull grass out of his shot, and less than a minute later, we hear the rumble of trucks coming down the road.
We both hit the ground. And then the ground hits us.
The blast was unbelievable! Now I know what the expression "rock my world" really means.
I hear gunfire and DJ and I run to catch it on camera. I think to myself: 'this piece is going to cut together very easily.'
Elyse Chazan, producer, Canada AM
