I may be a war correspondent but I find the real peril these days is delving into Super Bowl politics, so I officially won’t pick up a team. But this year’s game takes on a special meaning for the troops serving in Iraq. No, your U.S. military has not been overrun by Cardinals or Steelers fans. It’s overflowing with beer, two beers for each solider, sailor, airman and Marine to be exact. For the first time, U.S. troops in Iraq will be allowed to drink two beers while watching the Super Bowl. Gen. Raymond T. Odierno, the top military commander, signed off on the order, in part to lift the spirits of his troops, he said, many have served multiple deployments without a drop of alcohol. Odierno said he got the request from one small unit and decided to approve it for them and everyone else.

It sounds small, but it’s become a big deal. Football has always been an important part of life in Iraq and Afghanistan for the troops. Somewhere along the way, sports became a necessary connection to home.  I have found the most remote bases somehow find a way to get games on their television sets. I’ve seen fights break out of people wanting to change the channel off of football. And to add beer to the equation, well that changes everything. Troops are clamoring over it. What kind of beer will they ship in? Is it better to drink them fast or savor each sip? What will it be like to drink beer again? My friend Wright Thompson at ESPN has written a great piece about this, which I will link to tomorrow.

 So when you are watching the game this Sunday, lift a can for the troops in Iraq. Half a world away, they may be lifting one to you as well.

After four weeks of talking to soldiers and Marines stationed throughout Afghanistan, I discovered a secret: U.S. troops who have fought in Iraq before arriving in Afghanistan often say they like fighting here better.

Time and time again, they would tell me this – in the battlefield, at the chow hall, even in their offices. They always offered their views without me asking the question, usually in a hushed tone. “Can I just say I like the fight here better.” or “These guys fight. This place is better.” Their reasons usually fell along one of two paths: 1. The Afghan security forces are more apt to fight the rogue forces moving into their country, or 2, The Taliban play fairer than the Iraqi insurgency.  Let me explain.

When violence spiraled out in Iraq, it was not uncommon for Iraqi forces to run away from the fight. Now to be fair, the fighting was brutal for the most sophisticated Army. And while Afghans have faced the Taliban before, the Iraqis had never faced an insurgency. But nonetheless, there was a time when the Iraqi forces ran, sometimes while turning to their American counterparts and saying, “ What are you doing to do about this?” But Afghan forces are eager to jump into the fight. They don’t always have battle plan, mind you, but they are ready to go. And this appeals to American troops.

On the other side, the Taliban attacks far differently than the Iraqi insurgency. While their use of IEDs and other asymmetric tactics is rising, they also employ more conventional tactics. They mount platoon and company-sized attacks. Where the Iraqi insrugency somtimes hid behind civilians, the Taliban clears an area of women and children, even though it costs them the element of surprise. That is, they take fewer cheap shots by military standards. Moreover, they recover their wounded. They fight in a way more familiar to American troops.

One Marine put it to me bluntly: “I respect the enemy here; I don’t respect him in Iraq.”  We will see whether U.S. troops still feel this way six months for now, but from what I saw, there is a greater mutual understanding here.

Happy New Year! I am writing this before I can actually post it for reasons I will explain below. But for now, hello from Kandahar, Afghanistan, home to one of the largest military installations here. This once was a Taliban headquarters, and some argue it is fighting now to win this southern region back. So it’s a lively place. 

I just finished an embed on the border of Helmand province with the 3rd battalion, 8th Regiment based out of Camp Lejuene, North Carolina, and I had the best time with those guys. I was Marine tough, I will have you know. I didn’t shower for eight days and refrained from screaming like a girl when the Taliban started shooting. Afghanistan is a stunning country, and we saw some most beautiful mountainous terrain while on patrol.  I sometimes can’t believe they are paying me to learn more about the troops and burden placed them to turn Afghanistan around. The Marines, the Afghans, the land, the history and the complexity of it all is fascinating.

But I’ve learned over time, seeing the troops up close comes with a personal cost – a constant sense of worry for the safe return of those I just met. It suddenly becomes so personal. After I leave, I end up following their tour, praying for their safe return. I checked on the 101st Airborne Division everyday they were based in Samarra, Iraq until the day they left. Before that, I was looking up the 3rd Infantry Division and the Louisiana National Guard and on and on. I don’t know, but I think the shared rush, fear, curiosity and longing for home creates an indescribable bond, despite our sometimes necessary adversarial relationship.

I hated to leave the camp but logistics forced me to come back here.  It was a sad return indeed. Upon arrival, I learned that the battalion lost its first Marine since it came here in the fall, and his body would be loaded onto a C-130 for the trip home. I could see the scores of troops lined up outside the aircraft on the runway, and the large American flag hanging inside the plane, which would eventually look over his coffin. I decided to watch the ceremony.

I feel like no words can properly describe it. It was heartbreaking. Navy Chaplain Steven Unger, 50, who came out to our barren base for a Christmas ceremony, prayed for the fallen Marine and his family. (Because the Defense Department just posted his name, I can finally tell you about him.) He was Lance Cpl. Alberto Francesconi, 21, of Bronx, N.Y. He died Jan. 1 while supporting combat operations in Helmand province, Afghanistan. Chaplain Unger said he was on his second combat tour.

The upbeat chaplain who encouraged forgiveness on Christmas, who had to make due with chow hall juice and bread for communion was now solemn at this formal ceremony. He told the troops to pray for Francesconi’s family. I wondered how many times he has had to stand before a line of troops, utter that prayer and somehow sum up a life of a young man taken too soon. The Marines flag was lowered as several men carried the flag-draped coffin toward the C-130. Scores of troops saluted him. The silence was only broken by those whimpering at the devastating site of it all. The back of the plane then came to a close. There was nothing to say.

But the worry set in and has been with me ever since. So for the next six months, I will check in and hope for the best.  It’s what comes with learning about what it is like for those who serve.