One of the greatest satisfactions of my career is having conversations with others about this world.  With permission, I am reprinting a recent piece of correspondence from an Army officer who is frequently deployed to the middle east.  

I spent time in the middle east as a naval intelligence officer in Desert Storm in the early 90s.  

Drew,

I hope all is well. It’s Derek, the skier/soldier, we chatted a little last year. Of course my luck, I deployed in March and missed the amazing finish to last season, but so is military life. I’m back and already getting out to checkout the snow. Very interesting start to the season. 

So, I had an experience over there that was similar to what the snowpack is doing this year. My Team was assigned to Train, Advise, Assist and Accompany some indigenous fighters against the regional faction of the Islamic State. Our country recognizes the threat but doesn’t want to commit to an all out war, so that’s where we play in the gray area. 

When we arrived, we dug into the intelligence (like your team does for snowpack) and got out to see the ground and local people for ourselves (like touring low angle just to see what the snow and wind trends are). 

After the first couple weeks, we realized the danger to us was higher than the previous team had described to us. In our attempt to remain low visibility while out and about the countryside, we used up-armored Toyota HILUXs Trucks and Land Cruisers. We recognized that these Toyota’s were cool looking and probably afforded us a lower signature, but the enemy tactics of  using roadside bombs, the dreaded persistent weak layer of mounted convoy operations, was on the rise. There wasn’t an IED used against any friendly forces within 200km of our location, but we knew the trucks we had wouldn’t survive a blast. So we requested and received military vehicles called M-A.T.V.s (mine resistant armor protected all terrain vehicles). Basically a tank with wheels. 

Just like skiing, you might be able to go all over the place and ski all sorts great lines, but it’s that one little slope, or in our case, that one little road where the sleeping danger waited for us. After a crazy wind storm halted all operations for a day or so, we grabbed our kit and went to work. Even though we did our best to avoid patterns and become too comfortable in our surroundings, it happened, my truck hit the IED and it blew my truck apart. The storm completely covered all ground sign that would have led us to believe something was buried, sounding familiar isn’t it.

It didn’t dawn on me until later that night when the bells stopped ringing and we were all back at our outstation that just three weeks prior, we had equipment that would have failed us. My three guys and I wouldn’t have survived the hellish blast. 

As I was getting ready to come home from the deployment, I realized that blast reinforced a lot of good practices that mirror safe skiing in the Wasatch. 

Evaluate the risk and make a call, but always assume the worst will happen and will you survive. Although we thought we might be attacked much further north towards the enemy’s safe haven, they hit us close to where we lived and operated. Much closer than anyone could have imagined and everyone from my Commander to the Ambassador was shocked it happened. 

I liken this to Pink Pine, Cardiff Bowl, Grizzly Gulch and other dawn patrol favorites that have low angle offerings that can be used during potentially dangerous times. Having the M-ATVs is like having all your avalanche safety equipment even when the danger might not appear high. Having that gear and being able to quickly dig someone out in the event of an unexpected slide could mean the difference between a many ski seasons and a funeral. 

My team rehearsed and acted quickly when it happened to ensure we maintained the initiative and had overwhelming combat power available to make sure the fight wouldn’t go passed the blast. Like skiing, those early season shake-out sessions and burial practices are just as important as carrying the gear. 

All of the analysis and practice has me skiing in the Wasatch this season and being around to watch my son grow-up. 

When we talked about traumatic exposure last year, those lessons came back too. As the Commander of my Team, I immediately started to openly talk about my injuries and state of mind. Images of the blast and getting ragged dolled haunted me for the months to follow. My brain needed time to heal, I had to process the flashbacks, and the team workload had to be cross leveled. Because we had already developed an open forum, it was easier to recover because I didn’t guard or hide what was going on. All four of us were able to make a full recovery and return to duty. 

As a military man, I’m sure you can see the thousands of similarities of this instance. I could go on for days. But at the end of the day, my cathartic process is to apply the lessons learned to other potentially risky behaviors and actions in my life. 

My goal this season is to practice what you’ve been preaching, patience. Don’t run to that slab buried in the ground like the IED that almost took my life. 

I’ve attached a few pictures for context. Thanks for all the work you put into keeping us safe and informed. And being a sounding board from one soldier to another. 

Derek

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