Quote of the day: "You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough."- Frank Crane

     Back in 2003, just after Operation Iraqi Freedom ended (hooray we won!), I was redeployed to Kyrgyzstan, near Bishkek. I was just a few months into being a Staff Sergeant and still learning how to lead, and really found my niche at Ganci Air Base. When we hit the ground there I learned that there was no established search division for the base, so I established one. I hired and trained my people for explosive ordinance detection (I'm technically an expert lol) and worked very hard at maintaining a close relationship with our interpreters, who worked kinda for me, kinda for a local contractor.

     The first day I worked with the interpreters, who were highly-educated people from Russia, Georgia, Kazakhstan, etc. I picked up a couple words in Russian. However, they were a little leery of me still, being the new American boss, so the words I was picking up were from other Americans, most of whom were severely butchering the language. I set up my own people, got their schedules and postings set, and we no longer had to rely on people unskilled/unsuited for the task at hand.

     I then bought a Russian phrasebook, and began friendships with all of the interpreters. Prior sergeants who had worked with them has mostly treated them rudely, but I had a lot of respect for them, and it became a two-way street. They saw that I was putting a lot of effort into learning more Russian, so they started helping me learn the language. I've always had a knack for picking up the vocal part of a new language (sounding quite natural) and they were quite helpful, especially in helping me get the most out of my phrasebook. I started going hours without saying more than a few words in English, and those were mainly to my own subordinates.

     This is when the rumors started among the locals. In addition to searching vehicles for explosives and contraband, my people were in charge of personnel working on base; locals from the area were hired to work on base, and they would have their bags and persons searched prior to entering, and receive a work badge. Between 200-300 locals would come through my office each day, pass in front of my eyes, being searched and whatnot. Because of a combination of my efforts in learning the language, the assistance of my coworker-interpreters, and my natural knack for speaking a different language clearly and naturally, the rumors started that I was actually KGB, and from Moscow.

     If you look on my profile at the photo of me in uniform, clean-shaven and smiling, that was taken duriing this time. My hair was lighter even than what it appears to be in the photo, I'm fair skinned, and I speak with Russian with a near-perfect, proper Moscovian accent. I was also in a position of strict authority, presiding over who comes on base and how, searching everyone and everything, and  having people constantly checking in with me in both English and Russian. It was neat, but when I found out about the rumors I was at once amused, flattered, and horrified.

     I was amused and flattered for the obvious reasons, and that's generally what I think about to this day. I was also horrified, however, when I thought of these poor people who have been so conditioned to fear and control by their governments that their paranoia carried over and was even projected onto people not even from their same homelands.

     This probably didn't help matters, either. One day a few new girls were coming on base to apply for jobs at the barber shop. They were meeting with the manager, a small,  uncomfortable Russian man of Asian lineage, and they only knew upon arriving that they would be searched by Americans, and led to the meeting by Russians. I heard them giggling and talking in the waiting room, just outside the door to my office (really, part of a tent). I could see them on the camera, and could clearly see their nervous banter about what was to come. I boomed from beyond the door "SleDOOshea, paZHALsta!" (next, please!) and chuckled as they all startled, nearly to attention, and lined up to come through the door. Through the metal detector they nervously walked, and were searched by my troop, an 18 year old American girl.

     The local girls didn't see anyone not American, so they started conversing nervously at first, then a bit more brazenly and giggly. They maintained eye contact with me and I felt that they may have been talking about me, so I just stood still and held my gaze, with a slight smirk. Just then, an interpreter came from the other side of the wall, and asked me, in Russian, if they could go to lunch. I said yes, and enjoy, and the girls were once again frozen. I smiled as they walked to the badge station, KGB reputation intact (and strengthened).