Too Good To Do What Must Be Done or COIN And The Regimental Bhisti

I recently moved to a new office  It was a short move - just down the hall and around the corner. Outside the old office stands a large blue recycle bin for plastic water bottles and aluminum soda cans. These containers are everywhere on NKC. They are a small but integral part of our COIN strategy here in Afghanistan. 

The contents of these containers are emptied, when full, by the local national cleaning crews that work here. The bags of recyclables are given to a local entrepeneur in Kabul who recyles the cans and bottles and sells the raw materials to somebody in Pakistan. All while employing several people who would normaly be jobless. Good deal, right? Check out the picture below:

So, why is that container overflowing you may ask? Well, the container sits in an area that was put off limits to the cleaning crews. A reasonable step to take since in the offices around there we have material that must be kept away from prying eyes. It's a win win situation. The "Hajis" have less to clean and we, the imperial overlords, can protect our stuff. But wait. Why is that can overflowing?  When I worked in that area myself and Barry would take the necessary steps to keep that can empty. We would either take full bags outside to the dumpster or take the bag a few steps down the hall where another container sits in an unrestricted access area. See the below picture showing the other can. (The people in the picture are some of the cleaning crew. ) :

Again I ask. Why is that can overflowing? Well, in the restricted area where it sits, there is a distinct lack of lower enlisted soldiers, DA Civilians or contractors. The surrounding offices are overflowing, much like the container, with soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines of higher rank. Not one sees or maybe, more accurately, chooses to ignore the opportunity to contribute not only to COIN but to contribute to the well being, cleanliness, and morale of the organization.

I shan't forgit the night
When I dropped be'ind the fight
With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.
I was chokin' mad with thirst,
An' the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.
'E lifted up my 'ead,
An' he plugged me where I bled,
An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green:
It was crawlin' and it stunk,
But of all the drinks I've drunk,
I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
It was "Din! Din! Din!
'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;
'E's chawin' up the ground,
An' 'e's kickin' all around:
For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!"

Gunga Din (excerpt) - Rudyard Kipling