[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 150 (2004), Part 13]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages 18009-18010]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                 HONORING THE 367TH ENGINEER BATTALION

                                 ______
                                 

                          HON. BETTY McCOLLUM

                              of minnesota

                    in the house of representatives

                      Thursday, September 9, 2004

  Ms. McCOLLUM. Mr. Speaker, almost every Member of Congress has 
constituents who are honorably serving overseas in Afghanistan or Iraq. 
Many are regular military personnel, while others are serving in the 
National Guard or Reserves. They are all to be commended and thanked 
for their dedicated service to our nation.
  Today I would like to recognize the service of one particular group 
of Minnesota soldiers in the 367th Engineer Battalion. The 367th 
Battalion is currently serving in Afghanistan where they are helping to 
clear Afghanistan's minefields of the millions of explosive devices 
left over from decades of conflict. Donning body armor, protective 
boots and face shields, the men and women of the 367th canvass the 
countryside looking for unexploded ordnance and other remnants of past 
battles in Afghanistan. Their work is dangerous and difficult, but they 
are doing a tremendous job.
  All too often, the hard work of our military personnel in Afghanistan 
is overlooked and unknown to the American public. Unfortunately, many 
remarkable stories, like the story of the 367th Battalion, are never 
told.
  I am pleased that a local paper in Minnesota has highlighted the work 
of the 367th and put the article on the front page. I mailed this 
article to the soldiers of the 367th in Afghanistan, so they are 
reminded that the families they protect back home in Minnesota are 
thinking of them and are thankful for their service. I would like to 
include this article (``A delicate and dangerous job''--July 7, 2004) 
in the Record following my remarks.
  The reconstruction of Afghanistan will take many years and require a 
sustained U.S. commitment. Much more work needs to be done before the 
Afghan people can truly begin rebuilding their lives and providing for 
their children and families. I am proud that men and women from all 
across Minnesota--including those of the 367th Battalion--are playing 
an important role in this process.

                 [From the Star Tribune, July 6, 2004]

                      A Delicate and Dangerous Job

                         (By Sharon Schmickle)

       Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan.--Inviting the danger that 
     Afghans dread every day, Sgt. Gary Feldewerd manipulated a 
     control panel inside his armored cab and started slapping the 
     ground with chains in search of land mines and other 
     unexploded weapons.
       As the resulting dust plume drifted, Feldewerd, from New 
     Munich, Minn., saw that the flail had uncovered a mortar 
     shell and a battered explosives box.
       The work that Feldewerd and other Army reservists in 
     Minnesota's 367th Engineer Battalion are doing to help clear 
     Afghanistan's minefields came too late to save Parwana Meer's 
     right leg and Gulmarjan's life.
       Gulmarjan, 13, was herding goats near his village, 
     Lalander, in May. One goat strayed off the path. The boy ran 
     to fetch it. And suddenly, his lower body exploded in a cloud 
     of red vapor, his cousin said. A pile of stones marks where 
     his family buried what was left of his remains.
       Meer, also 13, was cooking rice in her family's mud and 
     stone house near Bagram when an explosion shattered one of 
     her legs below the knee and severely burned the other.
       Sitting by her bed at a U.S. Army field hospital in June, 
     her brother told a story that is all too familiar in this 
     war-ravaged land where weapons continue to kill and maim long 
     after the clashing armies have left.
       Meer and her family returned this year to the village they 
     had fled when it became a battleground between the Taliban 
     and rival northern tribes, Naseer Meer said. What the 
     villagers didn't know is that the retreating Taliban forces 
     had booby trapped their houses--in the Meers' case, planting 
     a mine under the kitchen's dirt floor.
       Such tragedies are everyday occurrences in Afghanistan, one 
     of the world's most heavily mined nations. Blasts from land 
     mines and other ordnance kill or maim dozens of people every 
     month.
       No one knows how much unexploded military junk remains 
     strewn around Afghanistan. By any estimate, there are more 
     than 10 million explosive devices in a space the size of 
     Texas, said Maj. Paul Mason of the Australian Army. He 
     coordinates the Minnesota battalion's mine-clearing projects 
     under the United Nations' larger effort in Afghanistan 
     involving work by military and civilian groups from many 
     nations.


                          children vulnerable

       In Afghanistan, where women have been secluded, three out 
     of four victims are male. The blasts have been most deadly 
     for children, however, because their vital organs are closer 
     to the explosions. And children are more likely than adults 
     to pick up strange objects. Especially tempting were toy-like 
     ``butterfly mines'' the Soviets dropped from aircraft.
       Most of the mines uncovered in Afghanistan were laid by 
     Soviet forces and their supporters from 1979 to 1992, 
     according to Human Rights Watch. But the United States 
     provided mines to anti-Soviet mujahedeen fighters in the 
     1980s.
       The United States is not known to have used anti-personnel 
     land mines since the Gulf War in 1991. Still, it is sharply 
     criticized by groups working to rid the world of land mines 
     because it hasn't signed a mine ban treaty, ratified by 142 
     other nations, including Afghanistan.
       Beyond mines, cluster bombs are a major concern because 
     they scatter explosives that often lie in wait rather than 
     going off on impact. Many remnants of the bombs the U.S.-led 
     forces dropped during 2001 and 2002 were designed to 
     deactivate after a set period, Human Rights Watch said, but 
     critics aren't satisfied that the feature works.
       The United States has paid for a good share of the land 
     mine removal in Afghanistan, along with European nations, 
     Japan and Canada.
       Despite the global cooperation, no one expects Afghanistan 
     to be mine-free anytime soon.
       To understand why, join the Minnesota teams as they clear a 
     patch of land near Bagram Air Base. The area is to be used 
     for military operations now and eventually turned over to the 
     Afghan people.


                              the hydrema

       Climbing into the Hydrema, the mine-clearing vehicle, is 
     like getting into the cab of a construction crane, except 
     instead of a long arm, this beast has a turntable holding a 
     steel blast shield and a 72-chain flail. The cab's windshield 
     is pocked and battered by blasts. The last battalion to use 
     these machines set off an anti-tank mine. It blew out an 
     engine and rear axle, but the soldier inside the armored cab 
     survived.
       There will be no stepping out of the cab, Feldewerd orders. 
     Sometimes, he'll scramble over the top of the Hydrema to 
     handle a problem. Feldewerd is operating one of three 
     Hydremas working together to clear a lane just over 3 yards 
     wide.
       Bounce. Jolt. Slap. Slap. Slap.
       Each of the 30-inch chains is spun into the ground with a 
     force of 2,000 pounds per square inch. The dust is so 
     blinding that Feldewerd has no idea what's being unearthed. 
     The other two Hydrema operators spot for him. As the dust 
     clears, they see an artillery casing from a tank round and a 
     lot of other debris that may or may not blow up.
       Whenever possible, the soldiers try to spot explosives 
     without detonating them. When Feldewerd saw the mortar shell, 
     he fixed its location with a global positioning device and 
     reported it to explosives teams for disposal.
       Since beginning work in late April, the Minnesota battalion 
     and a private contractor working with the troops at Bagram

[[Page 18010]]

     and another airfield near Kandahar have uncovered hundreds of 
     bombs, a dozen anti tank mines and more than 200 anti-
     personnel mines. They also have unearthed a well-fortified 
     Soviet fighting position with a steel roof that was covered 
     by dirt.
       Scary stuff? Maybe. But Feldewerd is a study in cool 
     control.
       ``I like the minefields,'' he said. ``Mostly because there 
     isn't anybody out here bothering you.''
       Indeed.
       Once the heavy equipment operators have flailed a safe lane 
     through a minefield, they hand off to a team that works the 
     ground much like archeologists on a dig, probing and sifting 
     dirt cupful by cupful. Except, of course, relics here are 
     more volatile than dinosaur bones. This is slow, dusty work, 
     much of it done while crawling or lying belly down.
       Sgt. Steven Tyler from Sleepy Eye, Minn., is training 
     others to use a device that resembles a beachcomber's metal 
     detector. Only this gadget also has ground-penetrating radar 
     capable of sizing up objects as deep as 8 inches.
       Because this ground is littered with metal shrapnel and 
     trash as banal as old sardine tins from Soviet mess kits, a 
     metal detector alone would give so many false positives that 
     the job would never get done, Tyler said. Further, some mines 
     are mostly plastic and give only a weak hum on the metal 
     detector.
       ``Ground-penetrating radar is a lifesaver out here,'' said 
     Tyler, who learned to clear mines in Korea in 1988 and took 
     extra training at Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri before 
     deploying to Afghanistan. More than 100 troops are getting 
     their first hands-on intensive training here in the 
     minefields.
       Donning body armor, protective boots and face shields, they 
     work in pairs to clear branches off the safe lane. First the 
     soldiers check a patch of soil for visible debris, then scan 
     it with the metal detector/radar gizmo, marking suspicious 
     spots. Finally, they get down on the ground and gingerly dig 
     around the marked spots with a probe and garden trowel.
       The hard-packed dirt is not helpful. A little heft behind 
     the probe is needed to break the soil. Push too hard, though, 
     and there's a danger of setting off a blast. The point is not 
     to blow anything up but to mark the hot stuff for explosives 
     teams.
       Inching forward hour-by-hour, the manual detection teams 
     clear criss-crossing lanes through the field, leaving large 
     patches in between.


                           Next step: canines

       Now come the dogs, pacing each uncleared patch, nose to the 
     ground. They belong to RONCO Consulting Corp., a Virginia-
     based contractor working with the Minnesota battalion. The 
     military also owns dogs the troops will use after the teams 
     are trained.
       The dogs are trained to smell explosives, plastics and 
     metals, said Joel Murray, RONCO's program manager, and to 
     signal a find by sitting in a certain way and looking at a 
     handler. Trust between dog and handler must be unshakable, 
     Murray said, and it takes months of training to develop.
       ``You have to trust the dog because you have to walk 
     through the areas the dog has proofed,'' Murray said.
       Even so, the soldiers use a two-dog test before they trust 
     a patch of land. And they're careful to work under conditions 
     that are ideal for the dogs--never when the wind is behind 
     the dogs or when the dogs are tired.
       When a dog makes a hit, the manual detection team follows 
     through to size up and carefully uncover the find.
       Mine-clearing has become one of Afghanistan's largest 
     industries since the United Nations began coordinating the 
     effort in 1990. The work has been paced by fits and starts 
     because Afghanistan has been so politically volatile.
       During the 1990s, the Taliban and other warring factions 
     raided de-mining project offices, seizing equipment and 
     assaulting staff members. Operations were sharply curtailed 
     in 2001 as it became clear the United States would attack 
     Taliban and Al-Qaida forces in response to the Sept. 11, 
     2001, attacks.
       Since then, insurgents have plagued mine-removal teams. 
     Last year, the United Nations suspended operations in eight 
     provinces because of threats against workers. Assailants who 
     ambushed their vehicle, shot and killed four U.N. de-miners 
     in Farar Province in February, the Associated Press reported.


                            Many casualties

       Despite the attacks, there is little doubt that most 
     Afghans are deeply thankful for the effort. Almost every 
     family has suffered the casualties seen at an orthopedic 
     clinic in Kabul run by the International Committee for the 
     Red Cross. Nine in 10 of the workers and most of the patients 
     are mine victims, said the director, Najmuddin, who like many 
     Afghans goes by a single name.
       He lost both of his legs 22 years ago while hauling sand 
     from a riverbed near Kabul. His truck hit a land mine, 
     knocking him unconscious for five days. When he woke, his 
     life seemed to be over at age 18. After five empty years at 
     home, he found the Red Cross clinic and a new life.
       ``I got prosthetics and they pushed me to walk,'' he said.
       Deeply grateful, Najmuddin volunteered to work for the 
     clinic for free. Instead, the clinic hired him and educated 
     him as a physical therapist. In the 16 years since then, 
     Najmuddin has seen a heartbreaking parade of mine victims: 
     ``I have seen many who lost one leg to a mine, then hit 
     another and lost the second leg. I have seen one man who 
     survived a third encounter. His wheelchair hit a mine, and he 
     lost a hand and an eye.''
       For land mine victims, this clinic offers physical 
     rehabilitation--new feet, legs and hands, along with lessons 
     in using them. It also provides social rehabilitation, from 
     processing the emotional horror of the blast to learning work 
     skills.
       Like Najmuddin, everyone has a story. Paranaz Spandyar, a 
     12-year-old wisp of a girl with haunting eyes, believed the 
     pasture where she was herding goats had been cleared of 
     mines. It wasn't. She lost her left leg below the knee in 
     April.
       Abjalal Hormat was a soldier when he lost a leg 12 years 
     ago.
       Fahim, 15, was walking near an abandoned Soviet checkpoint 
     last year when a blast took one leg and severely burned the 
     other, damaging his nerves. He dropped out of school after 
     fifth grade.
       Nasir, also 15, took one step off a well-worn walking path 
     in his village in Parwan Province and lost one leg above the 
     knee.
       These are the lucky ones, Najmuddin said. They survived.
       Any rewards the Minnesota troops gain from mine-clearing 
     come from a sense of duty and humanitarianism. They get 
     hazard pay for being in Afghanistan, a war zone, but nothing 
     extra for hunting mines. Many of them will leave Afghanistan 
     with skills they don't expect to use in the mine-free 
     Midwest.
       Specialist Douglas McLellan from Carlton, Minn., joked that 
     the proof of his expertise will be going home in one piece: 
     ``Ten fingers and 10 toes, that's my resume.'' Seriously, 
     McLellan said, the mines are ``all the proof I need that the 
     work we're doing here is important.''

                          ____________________