AFGHANISTAN. Pech Valley Kunnar. 2007. Sergeant Nick Sprovtsoff of Flint, Michigan, in his bunker at Patrol Base California. He was
on his third tour and was there to train and advise a local platoon of the Afghan Army. It was a
delicate negotiation. The Afghans were reluctant to go on patrols. They were largely in the Army
for the money as it was one of the few paying jobs available. Sprovtsoff couldn’t force them to
patrol, so he spent hours cleaning a large stockpile of weapons and doing pushups. At night he
watched DVDs and told me about his previous tours in Iraq.
His worst memory was from the second invasion of Fallujah in November 2004. Some members
of his unit had advanced on foot while the rest waited in armored vehicles. At a pre-appointed
time the soldiers swapped places, and Sprovtsoff went on foot while his best friend took a seat
inside. A few minutes later a rocket-propelled grenade hit the vehicle and his friend was killed.
In late September 2011, I received a Facebook post from a medic I knew in Afghanistan
asking me to get in touch. I sensed immediately that Nick was dead. He was the only other guy
living with us in our bunker. Nick had been on his fifth tour and left behind a daughter and a
pregnant wife.
We had emailed sporadically over the years.