Rambo's Gate

Rambo’s Gate   

    This is a little story a buddy of mine told me about his time in Afghanistan.  He was a specialist in a MP unit working on a forward operating base north of Kabul.  Their job was to guard the entry control point, the main gate to the base.  It was here that my friend had the pleasure of knowing a local Afghani contractor known as “Rambo.”
   
    I guess they called him Rambo because they couldn’t pronounce his real name.  Whatever the case was, he took his nome de guerre as a term of endearment.  Rambo worked every day at the gate from sunup to sundown, and often times well into the night, helping to interpret for the Americans.  He loved his job and worked tirelessly, never leaving his post and rarely taking breaks.  He lived alone in a one room mud hut just a short distance from the base.  Every morning he would show up bright and early with a big smile and a broken English greeting for everyone.  Each time he arrived, he would immediately make himself a pot of hot chai tea and offer a cup to every soldier he came across.  Oftentimes he would also offer some of the bread he would bring with him as well.  The soldiers rarely took his offerings, but Rambo would insist.  In return they would give him cigarettes or something from the dining facility.  Everyone liked Rambo.
   
    Rambo was a small guy, but he could be fierce when he needed to be.  He was very loyal and took his job seriously.  The local Afghans who came to the base always obeyed Rambo.  He was all business and he loved his job.  They all knew that it was his gate.  All the MPs at the gate agreed, Rambo was by far the best local contractor they had.  Even their company commander recognized this and told his men that Rambo was to be treated the same as any American on base.  The soldiers took this to heart.
   
    The winters in Afghanistan can get bitterly cold, but Rambo never complained.  He didn’t own many clothes, and would often wear the same thing for weeks.  The MPs decided that they would all pool their money together and get Rambo a nice Gortex jacket to keep him warm during the winter months.  When they gave it to him, Rambo was deeply touched.  He proudly wore it all day, every day, even when it wasn’t that cold.  He would show it off to every Afghani who came through the gate.  That jacket gave Rambo a tremendous sense of pride and honor. 
   
    One day Rambo arrived at the base and found a couple of local Afghani police trucks parked too close to the gate in an area that nobody was allowed to park in.  The police should have known better.  Rambo went ballistic.  He started yelling and cursing at the policemen demanding that they move their vehicles immediately.  When the two officers refused, Rambo started yelling and cursing at them even louder.  He was pounding his fists on the hood of one of the trucks and kicking the door.  Things were getting real heated and by now Rambo had the attention of the entire gate guard.  Finally one of the Afghani policemen decided he had had enough and drew his pistol, leveling it right in front of Rambo’s face.
   
    Bad idea.  Almost simultaneously, rounds were chambered in the weapons of every soldier on guard duty and the distinctive click, click that is the universal language for “I mean business” got everyone’s attention.  The two Afghani police officers looked to the towers and the guard shack to see about twenty pissed off American soldiers aiming their weapons directly at them.  Rambo simply looked right back at the police officers and smiled.  This was his gate.  Don’t fuck with Rambo!  The one who drew his pistol wisely put it back and both immediately moved their trucks to the proper vehicle holding area.
   
    Rambo was honored that the Americans had stood up for him.  He had always been fiercely loyal to them.  To see it repaid in such a manner had no small effect on this man of short stature.  With his American Gortex jacket, he now walked around like he was ten feet tall.
   
    Word spread quickly throughout the base about the incident at the gate and a senior officer soon came by to investigate.  What he found was an Afghan national wearing an article of US Army regulation uniform.  This was a clear violation of the rules, according to this officer.  Afghanis are explicitly forbidden to wear US Army uniforms.  Rambo was told he couldn’t wear his Gortex jacket.  He was devastated.  The MPs were shocked when they found a heartbroken Rambo standing at the gate without his jacket.
   
    The MP platoon that gave him the jacket immediately recognized the gross injustice that had been done upon Rambo, the best local contractor they had working on the base.  They went straight to their commander and told him what had happened to Rambo.  Something had to be done.  The commander went straight to the senior officer and explained Rambo’s special status and complete dedication and loyalty to his job.  Eventually he managed to convince the senior officer to reverse his decision.
   
    When Rambo found out how the MPs had stood up for him again, he was so grateful he almost cried.  They knew how important that jacket was to him.  To strip him of that jacket was like trying to strip him of a medal.  It was an affront to his honor.  Well, Rambo got his jacket back and continued to wear it every day he worked at the gate.  And why shouldn’t he?  After all, it’s Rambo’s gate.