CTV's Canada AM will broadcast live from Kandahar, Afghanistan, on Thursday, Nov. 9 and Friday, Nov. 10 for a special salute to the troops ahead of Remembrance Day.

In Pictures: Seamus O'Regan and Canada AM in Afghanistan

Follow Seamus O'Regan as he travels to the Canadian military base and shares his experiences meeting frontline soldiers, service producers and medical staff.

Friday Nov. 10

Well, the show just ended, and, by all accounts, it went well. We tried to tell the stories of the troops today - to demonstrate to Canadians that these are their neighbours, friends, and family that are living here - on an air field, on the other side of the world, away from home.

The troops who stood with us during the course of the show laughed and cried, and were deeply moved that so many Canadians were watching and so many cared enough to watch.

The roll call of casualties at the end was difficult for them. There was silence for about a minute. None of them moved from their chairs. Eventually, I thanked them for being here, and told them that it was an important show. They stood and applauded.

They want to know that we appreciate them. Today, we told them that we do.

Thank you for reading this blog. My ambition for it was to paint a picture of the lives of these servicemen and women, working here at Kandahar Air Field.

It was to give you my impressions, not to draw conclusions.

That, I leave to you.

Seamus O'Regan

Thursday Nov. 9, 2006

I woke up excited at the prospect of going on the Blackhawk helicopter. This time, we were not disappointed. The American crew could not have been more friendly or accommodating - we had both side doors open for the trip, and they provided Tom with a latch for his camera to ensure it didn't fall out en route! Once we buckled ourselves in, we taxied down the tarmac to position, and took off.

It was an amazing three hours.

I'd assumed that beyond the jagged peaks that loom near the airfield that the mountains continued. This is where enemy territory begins, after all. In fact, Kandahar City lay behind and around these desert mountains, and its all the more sinister when you realise that the Taliban hide amongst the homes, gardens, farms and makeshift graves underneath.

Kandahar is a sprawling city, and there are a lot of graveyards.

We were two Blackhawks, flying in tandem. It's an imposing sight. When I looked down at the men, women and children looking up, I wondered what they saw? Is it protection, security, and an attempt at rule of law, or is it invasion, occupation, and possible suppression? I remember seeing two Blackhawks and Marine Two, the U.S. Presidential helicopter, flying slowly over the busy streets of Dublin the day before President Clinton's 1995 visit there. It was one of the most menacing, chilling things I'd ever seen. And I knew differently.

We make several stops ferrying people back and forth along the front and back to the base. The only camp we could not photograph belonged to Canadian Special Forces. But we visited the Provisional Reconstruction Team in Kandahar City and two Canadian Forward Operating Bases (FOBs) in the Panjwaii - Sperwan and Massingar.

The chopper didn't stop at Sperwan, but our fellow Blackhawk did while we guarded its approach. It is a sight, believe me, to see the Canadian flag flying highly out here in the 'hot zone', atop an outcrop overlooking the lines of grape vineyards below. I suspect our Hercules airdrop was not far from here, but it's difficult to tell.

We made our way to another Canadian FOB - Martello -100 kilometres north in the mountains along a major road, where we immediately felt the chill of the altitude through the open doors. Again, the other Blackhawk made the landing and the pick-up - a VIP we're told, but that's it. The trade route looked newly paved, but there was nothing, nothing at all, for kilometres.

This is a vast, jagged, starkly beautiful country. Like our own, you often wonder how anyone could live in such extremes. Then, you see a shelter, a herd of goats, or sheep or camels, and a family. Women, even here, deep in the wilderness, wore their burkas.

As we came close to Kandahar Air Field for the final approach, a bank of dust could be seen from miles away, spewing from the back of a speeding NATO tank. Up on the hillside above it lay the husks of burned Soviet personnel carriers.

Much of the rest of the afternoon and evening was spent preparing for Canada AM, which begins at 4 PM here in Afghanistan! The show went well, especially our interview with Warrant Officer Lavoie and Cpl. Chase - they were pros. It was good to hear the voices of Bev, Marci, Jeff and Jen in my ear, and that of our producers and crew. A live show from half a world away - it is a marvel.

I'll end here with a few of the hazards of Kandahar Base life. Some are routine, others simply haunt us.

• Outdoor toilets. It's a fine line between hydration and a late night trip to the loo. I heeded the good advice of my colleague Janice Mackey Frayer: "Do not drink a lot of water before you head to bed as it's a long, long, long walk to relief." And it all ends up in...
• Emerald Lake. The tongue-firmly-in-cheek name for the raw sewage pool on the base. When the desert breeze drifts across the lake, I'm told it can actually wake you, gagging. They keep the journalists in tents nearby, but I'm sure that's just a coincidence.
• Saw Scale Vipers. One was discovered on the Canadian compound near the medical clinic, but was not caught. They are small but deadly, deadly poisonous. Worse, they enjoy crawling just under fine sand, much like the fine sand found between our barracks and our bathrooms. Saw scale viper
• The Camel Spider. Highly territorial, they move at 10 mph and actually chase after humans, capable of taking out chunks of flesh. The offices of Canada's battle group, just down the street from our media tent, were overrun with them last July. These beauties warrant their own web site: Camel Spiders Take a look. I wish I hadn't. Bless 'em.

Towel over the laptop. Tomorrow, the Big Show.

Wednesday Nov. 8, 2006

The warning sirens started wailing at 3:20 a.m. I'd been told in days previous that we were lucky - there hadn't been any missile attacks on the base in three and a half weeks and there was hope that this daily ritual had come to an end.

I opened the blinds and saw no one and nothing - no panic or fast-paced walking. I hadn't been told I had been assigned a bunker, just that I should stay in a hard-walled building which, fortunately, our barracks is.

So I lay in bed, and about ten minutes afterwards, I heard a new horn that was unmistakably an 'all clear' - it wasn't exactly melodic, but it ended on a high note. It was enough for me - I was asleep again in seconds.

The thumping of helicopter blades, the whirl of Hercules propellers, and the whoosh of jets of every capability and speed are constants. I grew up next to an air base - CFB Goose Bay - and worked there, so I take some comfort in all the ambient commotion. It reminds me of home.

We find out at breakfast that the alarm was sounded for two missiles that had landed just outside the base perimeter. No one seems jarred, just slightly disappointed that the period of relative tranquility had ended. There's all sorts of speculation on the origin, but most agree that they are smaller rockets that are fired on no particular target either by timer or by mobile phone. The quiet time is attributed to either the skill of NATO forces catching the perpetrators, or because the carpet sellers who are allowed near the base had their market shut down until the firing stopped. It depends on who you talk to.

The Brits watch the perimeter and known to be aggressive. You can hear flares go off before they illuminate the night sky - both to expose those who are too close and to warn other from getting any closer. It's a beautiful, but eerie site.

First order of business is to meet two soldiers who will be appearing on Thursday's show: Corporal Kathy Chase is a forklift operator and Warrant Officer Claude Lavoie trains the Afghan National Army recruits. We tape Cpl. Chase as she drives her 'baby' around the yard, and she has a chance to meet me before we go live on AM. I assure her that it's all conversational, and that I'm just asking her about her experiences.

Claude Lavoie cannot wait to tell his stories! And he has many, training former mujahadeen for the ANA. We want to tape him at the place of his work - I can't go as I haven't yet had the required training, in case anything went wrong. Tom has that and the benefit of years of experience in the field, so he and Claude head off and return with some terrific footage.

We wanted to get an idea of how the ordinary soldier lives in Kandahar Air Field - we went to the cafeteria, the tents where they sleep, the bunkers where they go during alarms, Tim Horton's, the Canadian hockey rink, and Canada House, their recreation centre. (Most of the younger soldiers I saw were sitting together watching TV on the big screen, while watching DVDs, surfing and emailing on their Wi-Fi laptops, with headphones on.)

I feel awkward barging in, camera and mic in tow, on the little quiet time and privacy these men and women are afforded here. But Jenna and Tom are tactful and exceedingly polite, so we tape the scene and chat to a few on what Remembrance Day means to them when they are here.

On our way to Canada House, though, the alarms sound again. We're in the Canadian "neighbourhood" of weatherhaven tents, but it's dark and I've been separated from Tom and Jenna. I headed for the nearest bunker, walking at the same pace as everyone else, which is a saunter, not a trot.

Tom had done the proper thing when the alarm sounded - he fell to the ground in the case of shrapnel from a nearby explosion. Jenna followed suit. Next time, I thought after they told me.

In the dark, we had a few laughs with the Canadian troops there. Apparently, we scored - it's a U.S. bunker, which has benches built along the inside of the concrete blocks. You have to stand in the Canadian ones. The all-clear sounds 15 minutes later. No one knows what happened.

Missiles book-end the day. I blog. Towel over the laptop. Good night.

Tuesday Nov. 7, 2006 -- Later that day 

See Seamus' video filmed in the cockpit

I'd refuelled many large, sophisticated military planes in the summers at CFB Goose Bay, Labrador, but I was always told that the more modest Hercules C-130 was the military workhorse of the world.

It is. It is also remarkably versatile and stable. We found out first hand.

Before we got to the target site for the airdrop, I heard  "wushing" sounds from the sides of the plane, and a sharp banking. (When we landed, I learned that these were anti-missile flares that were fired from the Hercules and some evasive manoeuvres in response to a "potential threat" that had appeared.)

Troops on the ground waiting for the drop take pictures of the payload being tossed from the plane. (image: CTV.ca)

Then, the drop. We can't say where we were exactly, other than to say it was a "hot" battlefield in southern Afghanistan, and Canadians on the ground were in need of food, water, fuel and ammunition. The Hercules is capable of lifting 16 2,200 pound pallets of equipment and supplies. We were dropping two 2,000 pound loads.

I was standing for much of the trip, and then watched as the payload made its way out of the back of the Hercules "On Time, On Target" - the motto of the Canadian Air Force Southwest Asia Tactical Airlift Unit, whom we flew with. If you look carefully at the remarkable photo that Jenna took: you can see the dust from the payload landing, but just on its left are the green plumes from the flare that Canadian troops had set off to indicate the drop target. It's bang-on.

The parachutes open on the packages being dropped to soldiers waiting on the ground. (image: CTV.ca)

The Detachment Commander, Capt. Tom Kolesnik, was so impressed with Jenna's shot that he asked us for a copy, which he promptly blew up for the unit members as a morale booster. He gave us some great shots and video from previous missions, in return.

The skill involved in doing this is beyond my ability to comprehend, but these Canadians are the best at it. Aircraft Commander Capt. Denis Bolduc, First Officer Capt. Aidan Costelloe, and Navigator Gary Stone are part of a unit known in Afghanistan as the "Go-To" crew by their ISAF colleagues. They are quietly proud of the work they do and the reputation Canada has at this airfield because of them.

Unlike other air forces here, they have no restrictions on their operations. In other words: they'll fly anytime, anywhere. In the past three months, the aircraft we flew has 240 hours of flying time, has moved over 1 million pounds of cargo and 2,800 troops; and has airdropped well over 100,000 pounds of food, water, fuel and ammo, and humanitarian supplies.

And they attribute all of this to "good ol' Canadian can-do" - just finding a way to make things work.

This drop had historical significance - it was the first time that Canadians had airdropped to Canadians in the battlefield since the Korea War.

But, more importantly, it demonstrated a real and effective alternative to convoys in getting supplies to field infantry. Too many Canadians have been killed by mines and IEDs ("improvised explosive devices") in this conflict. These men and women may have changed that.

It was a privilege to fly with them today.

Tuesday Nov. 7, 2006

Today, I flew low-level in a Hercules, watched an airdrop of supplies land for Canadian troops in the battlefield, and, possibly, had a missile shot at us. The military called it a 'potential threat', but the Herc fired off flares, and evasive manoeuvres were taken just a few hundred feet over the 'hot zone'. It was close.

It was a smooth landing. Looking at the crew's smiles, you know they were pleased. They deserved to be. This was an historic day for the Canadian military.

But, you'll have to watch Canada AM on Thursday to get the whole story, and see it all happen for yourself!

We actually began the day visiting the ROLE 3 Multinational Medical Unit, alongside the airfield. Canadian Forces Major James Bradley kindly gave us a tour, from the perspective of a wounded

NATO soldier, which we'll be airing on Friday. It was terrific to see Lindsay Elford, who we would also be speaking with on Friday. She's the operating room nurse who has a husband, Lt. Commander Robert

Elford and their two children back in Halifax. She's already getting emotional at the thought of being 'reunited' with them on AM this Friday.

Then, off for our waiting Blackhawk helicopter! The U.S. team was going to give us a tour of the base and the surrounding area. We arrived five minutes early at the airfield, but the chopper was diverted and had to leave early. I was disappointed, but we left word that they could call us anytime and we'd be good to go. (We all have our own cell phones, which Steve Chao brought over from Beijing - reception is spotty for our poor civilian mobiles, though, with so many electronics on the base).

Linda Sylvester, of the CF barbershop across the way, dropped by to say 'hello'. Actually, that's not completely true - she had someone keelhaul me from the media tent and bring me to her. She's a powerful woman around here, I quickly learn! Normally working at CFB Gagetown, she is the proclaimed "Mom" to "Her Boys." She forced me in her chair in a photo op she'd designed herself - I sat down and pretended to have my hair cut while Roxanne, the CF photographer took pictures. I smiled...because I had no choice!

I kid. Linda's a wonderful woman and a mother - her son-in-law is serving here as well. She's been on the front lines of this conflict both literally and figuratively - she's had men cry in her chair as they tell her the things that they've seen at the front, and she has been to the front herself several times. As she told me, she's their Mom, and it's easier for her to see what they're going through then to sit home and imagine it. I wanted to have her on the Thursday or Friday show, but she's going 'over the wire' again. As much as she's a fan of Canada AM we didn't stand a chance.

Back in the media tent, we got word of another American soldier killed the day before. Sobering news and a stark reminder where we are, and why we are here.

Monday Nov. 6, 2006

It dawned on me, as I opened the door from our compound the next morning, that I'd really seen nothing of this place the night before.

Now -- blinding sunlight, dust immediately landing on my bare arms and face, sparse trees covered in the stuff, construction everywhere and 25 degree heat at 8am -- I was finally being introduced to Kandahar Air Field. There were enough familiar things around to get my bearings. (Are freight containers everywhere? Yes, they are.) But it still looked like a conceptual earth colony on some spartan, alien planet.

The organization required for these 10,000-plus people to simply exist here is mind-boggling. Toilets, showers, road equipment, phone lines, and fresh pineapple -- all flown in and then parsed out in such an efficient manner. And that's just for these 30 plus nations to live together. They also have to fight the Taliban and defend this place.

But first they need to eat, which they do together in common dining halls. The main one is conveniently located only metres away from the Canadian compound. There's quite a selection of food available. After you wash your hands and sign in, the first thing you see are the deep fried entrees. The food is supplied from Texas, and they know their fry. As my friend Janis Mackey Frayer warned me: "Beware while running the deep fried gauntlet at the dining hall -- incoming tater-tots". They're too good to avoid.

Lt. Stefko meets us at our barracks -- she's our Canadian Forces "sherpa", so to speak. She's been very helpful in navigating the red tape for us, multinational red tape at that. We're given our "Embedded Canadian Journalist (Escort Not Required)" passes. With this comes an extensive signed agreement. The most important condition is that we do nothing to inadvertently give away soldier positions, or the placement of military assets. Common sense stuff, if you ask me. With satellite phone technology, we have to assume that the Taliban or their supporters have access to media information and the Internet, too. The mood, overall, is relaxed and cooperative.

And we conduct our business over some 'double doubles'! A Tim Hortons, with a large patio and rainbow-coloured umbrellas, just off the make-shift boardwalk in Kandahar Air Field. Much has been said of the Tim's here -- and it really is a welcome site -- but what struck me were the British, Dutch, French and American soldiers sitting together with their iced cappuccinos. It has become a central meeting point for everyone. Tim's may be a Canadian icon, but it's an international favourite here at Kandahar.

Guns and rifles are everywhere. All the troops have them, whether in uniform or in shorts, T-shirts and sneakers, listening to their iPods. For most of them, it's mandatory. We are on a frontline military base. If you saw a young man in workout gear carrying a semiautomatic through downtown Toronto, you'd be severely jostled. Here, they lay their pistols on the table while eating their Timbits. I'm not sure which is more surreal -- the sight of them, or how quickly I've accepted it.

We get word that a squadron of Canadian tanks will be heading out on training manoeuvres, and we can get some good shots. Which Tom and Jenna did (Jenna's work you can see here, Tom's comes later on AM!). I also met Roxanne of Ferryland, the Canadian Forces photographer here. A real character!

The day is spent getting our bearings -- from our barracks to the boardwalk (where the Tim Hortons is situated) to our location at the Canadian compound (where we'll also be shooting the Thursday and Friday live shows) to the gym, which I hope to get to... someday. My workout clothes don't subscribe to the gym dress code so we head to the PX, where we hope to stock up on cheap clothes (nothing in our sizes) and look for souvenirs (nothing at all -- sorry to all friends and family). On the way we pass the "TLS" -- Taliban's Last Stand (yes, everything on a military base has an acronym if it can. The building is now operational, but they've kept the large imprint in the floor from the bomb that did in the remaining Taliban left here.

Our producers thought it would be a terrific idea if I played hockey at the Canadian floor hockey rink recently constructed in front of the Tim Hortons, which we'll show on AM later this week. Conceptually, a good idea -- it was the first game of an international tournament organised by Canadians to benefit the Kandahar Orphanage. Except, no one asked me -- the last time I played hockey I had weak ankle supports in my skates, a folding chair in one hand and a stick in the other. All the scars from Grade 4 were coming back. I considered this to the most harrowing part of the trip. But I stayed "on the ice" for a full three minutes without causing my side to suffer irreversibly or embarrass myself irrevocably. Still, I'm hoping Al Stephens forgot to load any tape in the camera...

After dinner, it's back to Media Tent 1, our new home on the Canadian compound, right across the "street" from the Travel Agency (used my many troops arranging for leave back home or to less exotic locales, like Thailand and New Zealand), around the corner from Linda and Donna's popular barber shop, and behind the post office, Steve Chao loads the mini fridge with Diet Dr. Peppers, and we all sit and write, edit, file, and, in my case, blog. If some work after the cafeteria has closed, we'll order Pizza Hut.

I hear the muffled sounds of missile fire. Maybe it's flares. Then, bullet rounds. I wait for a reaction, but Steve and the other handful of journalists barely flinch. I try not to, but eventually I break and ask them what's going on! It must be our guys training, they agreed, because the alarm hasn't gone off. And there hasn't been a rocket attack in weeks (a comfort?!). But it goes on, and on. A few cocked eyebrows here in Media Tent 1, surprised of the length of this exercise, but that's it.

The night was spent coping with high-res photos and low bandwidth. I think I've mastered it and after hours of attempts, I'm off to bed. The ritual here, when you're done, is to place a thick towel over your computer to protect it from the dust. It gets into everything -- including keyboards, hard drives and, as you'll see from some of the pictures, camera lenses.

The moon is full, the towel is over the laptop, and I am off to bed.

Sunday Nov. 5, 2006 - arrival at Kandahar!

The picture says it all. I don't know whether I'm more relieved to finally be at the base or because I've got that 50 lb, mega-sized bullet-proof helmet off of my head!

The Canadian Forces Hercules takes all ISAF nations - ours was mainly populated by Dutch soldiers, and two other Canadian journalists. It's cramped quarters. You face the side of the plane and other passengers - no $5 sandwiches, bad movies, or even armrests, but there are earplugs!

We were warned to prepare for 'combat flying' - which means lots of quick manoeuvring from side to side, steep climbs, and sharp descents as we passed over and through the mountains. A stack of "sanitation bags" were next to me, piled on a metal tube that I realise is labelled "urine only". Both are positioned at the eye-level of a firmly strapped-in Tom, who is dearly hoping that everyone feels well and went.

Didn't trouble him too much, though. Tom, par for the course, slept the whole way. Even I nodded off for a spell. It was a smooth ride. We flew at night so it was difficult to get my bearings. The Dutch troops continued attempting conversation, shouting over the din. It was too dim to read (naturally, I had my Blackberry and played some electronic sudoku!) but some of the Dutch passed the time by listening to their iPods. I'd later come to understand that guns and iPods are the staples of the Kandahar soldier.

I could tell by the airfield activity and the length of our drive that we had landed at a very large, very busy place. And very dusty - so dusty that it permeates everything, like computer hard drives and tents. It's too fine to see, but it's everywhere. Your eyes become immediately irritated, and you can feel it all over your face and skin.

We go immediately to the CTV media tent in the Canadian area of the base. It's been a long time without sleep of any substance, so this is more of a courtesy call. It's great to see CTV's Steve Chao and cameraman extraordinaire Al Stephens here. Steve laughs that he's never seen me look so tired. I told him that he's never seen me without TV make-up before! Jenna, Tom and I take it as a hint, though, and we're all off to our quarters.

Our rooms are private, plenty comfortable, and clean - four bunks, one with sheets. I get settled in for the week, and then settle myself into bed. I have no problem getting to sleep for the night. It's been a long day.

Sunday Nov. 5, 2006 - Kabul

Kabul airport was built in the 1950s, and, judging by its present condition, not much has been done with it since. With its dark, low, uncovered ceilings and tight space, it was as claustrophobic as I'd ever felt. This was our introduction to Afghanistan, having flown over endless ranges of seemingly impassable mountains, with no green, only amber brown below us.

Under a large poster of President Karzai welcoming us to the country, we entered the lone terminal which stands in the middle of nowhere. We were immediately surrounded by aggressive young baggage handlers, tugging at our sleeves to vie for our business. No room to breathe. No time to acclimatize and no time to get your bearings. Welcome to Afghanistan.

Fortunately Tom, our 6' 3" cameraman, stood above the swarm, and directed us to two young fellows who had helped him on a previous trip. They had broad smiles and they remembered his name. Jenna and I stood back and the lads got the bags. Our Canadian Forces liaison, John of the Strategic Advisory Team (SAT), told us to look for a guy with a beard and a beige turtleneck. There he was, accompanied by Bill and Sean of their security attachment - one in a turtleneck, two in camouflage, and all armed to the teeth. Tom paid our baggage handlers US $10, whose smiles quickly turned to belligerence as they asked for three times that. Sorry.

We set out by armoured vehicles (modified SUVs) through the streets of Kabul. Dusty, crowded, and more chaos - no one pays attention to traffic lights or signs because there are none. Some cars have steering on the right, others on the left - the Afghans are happy to drive whatever manages to get into the country.

People look anxious but they all seem to be going about their business, working, going to school, doing what they need to do. This is a living, functioning city, with millions of people who have more on their minds than suicide bombers and insurgents' strikes. Sean read my thoughts as we drove on, right by a very crowded "Afghan Bodybuilding Club."

"Naturally, everyone back home concentrates on the bad news. But most people here are moving on, just trying to make do," he said.

It's good to keep things in context. There is a lot of good happening here.

Burka-clad women, many of them with their children, were plentiful along the streets. But I noticed that the number of Afghan women without them, bearing faces and hands and looking like many Middle Eastern women were in the majority. It's little things like this that left an impression on me.

The Embassy isn't far from the airport, and we pass through several gateposts on our way to its location. The Ambassador isn't in, but we'll see him in Kandahar. We move to the SAT residence, which is a small oasis - neat and modest, but with a beautiful rose garden and an extensive DVD collection! This is home to the Canadians "embedded" with the President's Office, Ministers and senior Afghan officials in a programme initiated by General Rick Hillier and his friend, President Karzai. Their job is to live here for at least a year, helping the government find potential Afghan leaders in its ranks who can take up pivotal positions when the Canadians go.

We chat with them for a while - they are an incredibly insightful and bright group, laid-back and easygoing. They all wear civilian clothes and a number of them have grown beards to ingratiate themselves with their hosts.

I sit down with their leader, Col. Donald Dixon, for an AM interview. He's quick, intelligent, and experienced. We talked at great length off-camera - he impressed upon me how important it is to demonstrate real commitment to the Afghans in order to gain their trust and respect. They seemed to be doing that.

Jenna has a childhood friend who, coincidentally, was just posted at the Embassy. Victoria kindly offers to take us out in one of the vehicles and an Afghan driver to see some of the real Kabul. They know where they can take us and where they can't - naturally, we follow their lead!

We're brought to a hilltop overlooking the city. It takes our breath away.

The beauty of Kabul's location, nestled amongst these magnificent mountains, countered by the devastation all around us. Here, before these views, is the King's Tomb - a monument in shatters, shell holes seen in its domed ceiling, standing as an unintentional tribute both to Kabul's past glory and current devastation.

But there on that hill we also saw children flying kites in the mountain wind and horsing around. It was amazing - innocent and hopeful.

We headed back to the SAT HQ for the best chicken tandoori I've ever had - here in Afghanistan! - thanks to our host's cook, the talented Raj.

Now, with bellies full, we grab our flak jackets and helmets, and make way to the military airfield where our Canadian Forces Hercules aircraft, and our lift to Kandahar, await us.

Sunday Nov. 5, 2006 7:00 a.m. local time.

Early morning wake-up in the United Arab Emirates, after just a couple of hours sleep. We head to Dubai airport, now one of the world's busiest - a gateway to the Middle East and western Asia.

I'm struck not by the large number of Americans here, but by the fact that so many of them are young women and older men. Judging by the gentlemen's haircuts and their demeanour, I'd venture they're part of the legions of private contractors in Afghanistan and Iraq, many of whom are retired military.

One younger American was listening to Tom, Jenna and I speaking, and inquired whether I was a journalist. I told him I was. 'I wish you guys luck, he said, 'Cause it's about to get crazy.'

We're flying an Afghan airline called 'Kam Air', but we're a little lost when the bus stops in front of a plane clearly marked 'Dubrovnik Airlines', with 'Croatia' on the tail. We're assured that this is the flight to Kabul.

Ten years ago, though, Dubrovnik may have been the war zone that we were heading towards.

I noticed in line that the same mobile phone ring tones that irritate me in Canada have followed me here. It's a strange comfort.

Off we go.

Saturday Nov. 4, 2006 5:30 p.m. ET

Bulletproof helmet, check. Wreaths for the troops, check.

My producer, Jenna, and cameraman Tom are on board with me on the overnight Air Canada flight to Frankfurt. From there, we'll catch a flight to Dubai, then an Afghan airline to Kabul. Tom's been there several times before, and even sports a smart backpack he bought in Kandahar. Show-off!

So, we feel good. We've got a terrific show planned. And great people to talk to.

Some of these people we just happened across. My brother is an officer in the navy and has been to Dubai several times. (He's insistent that I visit the Irish pubs there. I don't doubt how good they are but can't bring myself to do it. On the other hand, I may be seeking out some familiarity on the way back...) But, he also told me of a friend of his who is serving in Kandahar as an operating room nurse. She has a husband and two infants back in Halifax, who my brother and sister-in-law visit to lend a hand! We'll be following her to get an idea of her daily routine and her experiences there.

I look forward to meeting all these men and women that we speak so often of from our Canadian comforts.

Now, let's see if I can get any sleep.