KIRTLAND AFB, N.M. -- The Air Force recently announced it would stand down its combat search and rescue squadron at Kandahar Air Base, Afghanistan, as part of the deliberate withdrawal of U.S. forces, ending 11 continuous years of rescue alert there.

There are still American and coalition forces suffering combat injuries on a regular basis, so the need for our rescue professionals continues. While Air Force rescue forces remain at other locations in the region, Kandahar was our first rescue outpost.

This story is personal for me, because as a captain, I was called on to stand up the Kandahar rescue unit. It's worth sharing how we opened the base to honor the brave men and women who carried the mission forward to its conclusion.

My squadron deployed to Jacobabad, Pakistan, in November 2001, to provide combat search and rescue and medical evacuation support for the entire Operation Enduring Freedom area of operation - more than half a million square miles. To reach the Afghanistan border, we had to fly for an hour and refuel in flight, meaning our effectiveness in reaching any pilot who bailed out was marginal, at best. In January 2002, we were directed to send a detachment forward to the recently liberated Kandahar International Airport. I was given command of 10 Airmen from different Air Force Specialty Codes, including two Ohio Air National Guard civil engineers, and presented simple orders:

"Establish a Forward Operating Location to house approximately 32 personnel, build operations and maintenance facilities, determine local operating procedures, establish communications links with Jacobabad and the Joint Search and Rescue Center, establish fuel, water, electrical power, and communications accounts, as able, and make contacts within the local base infrastructure."

On Feb. 2, 2002, our team arrived at Kandahar Air Base. I walked into the newly liberated air terminal and was greeted by U.S. Marines sweeping up broken glass from the previous night's battle with the Taliban. There was no running water at Kandahar and bottled drinking water was tightly rationed. The only hot food was heated MREs. Field latrines built from 55-gallon drums were scattered around the base, and each night dozens of smoke plumes rose as waste was burned off - that was a pleasant smell. Several cases of malaria and leishmaniasis (a potentially fatal parasitic infection) had been reported. There were no phones or radios available to us. Since somebody forgot to pay the satellite phone bill, our planned link with Jacobabad became a 10-pound paperweight in my helmet bag. The only Internet access was through borrowed satellite links that frequently failed.

I was not happy with the exposed real estate options available to us, but we selected a small area on the extreme east side of the runway, next to a bombed-out hangar and an unused, torn up taxiway. The ground was littered with unexpended ammunition and explosive squibs from ejection seats used by old Soviet fighters. We found several 2.75-inch rocket launchers, with rockets in various states of decay. Navy explosive ordnance disposal took them away and told us to be careful what we kicked and picked up, since they hadn't cleared the site yet. We were more than 300 meters away from the base proper, so we strung a barbed wire fence between empty rocket launcher pods to mark our perimeter and prevent theft.

We began building up our detachment immediately, borrowing a bulldozer to fill in mine craters and hammering wood together to frame the "hardback" portion of our four tents. We worked nonstop, other than to eat (on the run, usually) and grab a few hours of sleep. Fox Sports had set up a "live from Afghanistan" television feed for the Super Bowl in front of the Kandahar terminal, but we were too exhausted and busy to watch.

Our tents went up quickly and the heaters were turned on. On day two, our generator failed when it ran out of fuel. One of our aircraft maintenance troops 'acquired' an unused Army 500-gallon fuel bladder and adapted a special fitting to support the thirsty generator - a great example of the "can do" attitude our enlisted professionals brought to this mission.

In less than 72 hours, we had defined, secured and built our compound, ramp space for the helicopters, and maintenance facilities, got our comm system working, and notified Jacobabad that Kandahar was ready for business. On the afternoon of Feb. 4, 2002, the first two HH-60G helicopters arrived and signed on alert. Just a few weeks later, our crews launched from the little detachment to support Operation Anaconda, saving the lives of a dozen soldiers. They would be the first of more than 1,200 coalition "saves" for the U.S. Air Force Kandahar rescue team.

Standing up Det. 1 of the 66th Expeditionary Rescue Squadron (call sign "Godzilla") was one of the most satisfying jobs I've had. I'm extremely proud of what we accomplished and what all of my brother and sister Gecko, Shocker, Habu, Devil, Rodan, and Pedro drivers have done since. All told, Air Force rescue crews held the alert for more than 97,000 hours. That staggering figure had significant strategic impact in the region, and I was honored to play a small part in that mission.