I don't know, I'm from Phoenix

A big military camp, especially one with an airstrip, is like a big, breathing, living beast, its generators cluttering, big machines rumbling away between the tents, flights taking off and shaking the containers, and everything is big, big, big, the wire around the base, the concrete blocks separating the streets, even the food hall is so huge you can hardly see its ceiling. It's so vast and raw it will get to me in a few days, I hope I can get the flight out to the south tomorrow.

My interview this morning was cancelled because my Afghan fixer, who also works for an American newspapers, received word that somebody wants to drive a fuel tanker into their office, and so he sped off to move his boss to a hotel. Unsure how safe those are but at least I don't have to go out to the freezing cold. Here's a photo of a few Afghan geezers who clearly haven't been so lucky.


The New York Times says the Americans may be gearing up for an offensive in Helmand. Not sure whether this is good news for me or not.

On a lighter note: it took a while to find the internet tent, this place is so big. I asked a random bloke but he just looked at me blankly and said, "I don't know. I'm from Phoenix."