22 Bunkers is an Afghani ammo depot near Kabul. It is a national level ammunition storage area where this country stores some of their strategic reserve of Class V. I have seen pictures of it. It is a place best described as a horrific explosive disaster waiting to happen. It is a question of when, not if, the entire place will go high order. The pictures I have witnessed show ammo of every imaginable size and type strewn about. On the ground and in the storage "structures". They even have it in and around the admin building - it's everywhere! Several structures in the area are nothing more than piles of rubble because ammunition spontaneously detonated due to negligence or someone just had the one last cigarette in their miserable life.
Most of the ammunition there is stacked without regard to compatibility or any semblance of Net Explosive Weight considerations. This is especially true if the ammo came in wooden boxes. There are very few items in boxes. The people who work there take the boxes for firewood, leaving the rounds exposed and haphazardly stacked or thrown in piles. They break open large caliber rounds to pour out the propellant that they use to ignite the boxes. Subsequently, propellent grains of various shapes and sizes are everywhere underfoot.
I was invited to go there tomorrow. I'm not going. I'm too scared. No, not because 22 Bunkers is the epitome of everything opposite I was ever taught about ammo. I would love to go there. It is the haunted house, freak show, train wreck, animals loose in the zoo, git down party one in my profession would love to see. Heck, I'd pay to go there. No, I'm not going because I don't want travel there through unknown territory with folks I don't know and without a firearm of my own. My first chance to go outside the wire and I turn it down.
Most of the ammunition there is stacked without regard to compatibility or any semblance of Net Explosive Weight considerations. This is especially true if the ammo came in wooden boxes. There are very few items in boxes. The people who work there take the boxes for firewood, leaving the rounds exposed and haphazardly stacked or thrown in piles. They break open large caliber rounds to pour out the propellant that they use to ignite the boxes. Subsequently, propellent grains of various shapes and sizes are everywhere underfoot.
I was invited to go there tomorrow. I'm not going. I'm too scared. No, not because 22 Bunkers is the epitome of everything opposite I was ever taught about ammo. I would love to go there. It is the haunted house, freak show, train wreck, animals loose in the zoo, git down party one in my profession would love to see. Heck, I'd pay to go there. No, I'm not going because I don't want travel there through unknown territory with folks I don't know and without a firearm of my own. My first chance to go outside the wire and I turn it down.
Good choice.
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