Andrew W. Nunn

After taking a long hiatus and sabbatical from photography, and giving myself some time to heal and process, I am making a return to my passion, my trade, my craft. The road here has been long, but I believe that I have finally found my place, and a healthy relationship to photography, as well as a specific niche for it within our modern, and rapidly growing world.

I thought I had what it took to be a war photographer. I thought I had the resilience, the empathy. I thought I had the bravery, the courage. I thought that if anyone around me would be hurt, I would too, and that I wouldn’t have to live with the consequences of my actions. I thought that the pictures I made would somehow make the world a better place.

I was wrong. I was weak. I was ill prepared (at best). War is trauma. War is suffering. War is business.

I thank those who helped me along the way: the fixers, drivers, translators, aid workers, journalists, artists.

Thank you. We are all in this together.

These images were made on an 18x24 cm field camera made in the early 1900’s, using a piece of cardboard with a pinhole poked into it, or another cardboard lens with a magnifying glass taped to it, then placing two pieces of 5x7” silver gelatin paper which I rescued from a garbage dump into the film holders, developed as paper negatives, and scanned and stitched in Photoshop.

(ongoing project)

A stolperstein (German pronunciation: [ˈʃtɔlpəʁˌʃtaɪn] from German, literally "stumbling stone", plural stolpersteine) is a cobblestone-size (10 by 10 centimetres (3.9 in × 3.9 in)) concrete cube bearing a brass plate inscribed with the name and life dates of individual victims of German Nazism. The stolperstein art project was initiated by the German artist Gunter Demnig in 1992, and is still ongoing. It aims at commemorating individual persons at exactly the last place of residency – or, sometimes, work – which was freely chosen by the person before he or she fell victim to Nazi terror, euthanasia, eugenics, was deported to a concentration or extermination camp, or escaped persecution by emigration or suicide. As of 11 January 2015, over 50,000 stolpersteine have been laid in 18 European countries, making the stolperstein project the world's largest decentralized memorial.

The majority of stolpersteine commemorate Jewish victims of the Holocaust. Others have been placed for Sinti and Romani people (then also called "gypsies"), homosexuals, Jehovah's Witnesses, black people, members of the Christians opposition (both Protestants and Catholics), the Communist Party and the European anti-Nazi Resistance, military deserters, and the physically or mentally disabled.

The Makhtab Khalid checkpoint acts as a border between Kurdish controlled territory and Islamic State controlled territory in Iraq. These images were shot on assignment for The Wall Street Journal, near Kirkuk, Iraq.

On the 23rd of August 2013, in Pul-E-Alam, Afghanistan, at an American outpost called Forward Operating Base Shank, my dear friend and Army flight medic, SGT Eric Williams was killed by a Taliban mortar round.  At this time in the war in Afghanistan, soldiers being killed was not an uncommon occurrence.  American media and media consumers had grown weary of the seemingly never-ending war in Afghanistan, and certainly of news that men and women were still dying there 12 years later.  What's more tragic, is that Eric was at the end of a 12 month deployment, with many missions in harm's way, and recommendations for medals of valor for his many heroic feats.  He was supposed to have been on an airplane a few hours before, flying to Kyrgyzstan, beginning his long voyage home.  Instead, while walking back to a tent his unit was staying in from a cigarette break, he was struck from what I understand directly by a mortar round, or that it landed directly in front of him, somewhat shielding the two soldiers walking behind him from the blast.  

Eric's death happened at a time when I was already working through a fairly disabling case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from my service in the Army as a medic, where Eric and I met.  Eric was my subordinate  on my final deployment to the Sadr CIty neighborhood of Baghdad, Iraq.  Prior to the deployment, he and I bonded quite quickly.  I was the senior line medic of A Company 1/6 Infantry, we had just returned from deployment less than a year before, it was clear that we were going again, that it would be bad again, that not all of us would come home again.  As my military service was ending, Eric's was just beginning.  I knew that I would have friends who would continue to deploy after I got out, but I never thought it would be someone I was so close to.

While perhaps misled and nationalistic, Eric's reception to his beautiful home of the Inland Empire, in sunny southern California was one that he would have perhaps been proud of.  

"What a cruel thing is war; to separate and destroy families and friends, and mar the purest joys and happiness God has granted us in this world; to fill our hearts with hatred instead of love for our neighbours, and to devastate the fair face of this beautiful world! I pray that, on this day when only peace and good-will are preached to mankind, better thoughts may fill the hearts of our enemies and turn them to peace. … My heart bleeds at the death of every one of our gallant men."
--Robert E. Lee

Following 1/6 Infantry's deployment to Sadr City, Iraq from early April 2008 to late June 2009, the unit, as well as its' soldiers went through changes. These images serve as documentation of how these soldiers adapted to the change, from being deployed to Iraq, to returning to Germany, to being able to have some sense of personal freedom, to training for war, and for some, being put out of the Army. 
1/6 Infantry of the 1st Armored Division was changed to 2/18 Infantry, of the 170th Light Infantry Brigade, in July of 2009. Many of the commanders and leaders, who knew what the soldiers endured while deployed to Sadr City, had left and were replaced with new, inexperienced leadership , who didn't know, and didn't care about what the soldiers had done. A saying began looming over the Infantry Battalion, "It's not what you've done for the Army; it's what you've done for the Army lately."
The 170th Infantry Brigade directed that many soldiers who had issues with reintegrating back into a garrison, non-combat environment, be discharged by any means necessary. Infractions from aggravated assault, to being drunk on duty which under the old command climate, may have resulted in a non-judicial punishment, now resulted in dishonorable, and other than honorable discharges. Soldiers who had gone on multiple deployments were being pushed out, regardless of their service record, valor, or witnesses of character.
Witnessing and also living through this transition, I documented it, as I was a part of it. The name is an effort to address the name of the operation, which they had engaged in, and the lifestyle choices of the soldiers, following the deployment.

"Still, my vision was blurred - by wind and sand and distance, by false signals, poor communication, and bad coordinates, by stupidity and fear and ignorance, by valor and false pride.
I remember most of the names and faces of my platoon mates. I remember the names and faces of some of their girlfriends and wives. I think I know who cheated and who stayed faithful. I remember who wrote letters and who drove their men mad with silence. I remember some of the lies and most of the questions. I remember the dreams and the naïve wishes, the pathetic pleas and the trouser - pissing horror.

I remember some of the sand, but there was so much of it, I should be forgiven.

I remember being told I must remember and then for many years forgetting.

We are afraid, but that doesn't mean we don't want to fight. It occurs to me that we will never be young again. “

—Anthony Swafford, Jarhead

By Andrew Nunn 

6 June 2014 

Far off the beaten path of high-speed rails, the Autobahn, factories manufacturing precision German products, and in the farmlands of Germany lies a tiny village named Baumholder. The town, located in Rheinland-Pfalz, closely bordering Saarland, surrounded by rolling green hills topped with electricity generating windmills is home to 4,000 Germans, 6,000 Americans, an estimated 36 different ethnicities from around the world, and no major employer outside of the United States military. 

Baumholder’s history supposedly starts back at around 50 B.C. as there are archeological relics of Roman Soldiers passing through the town area.  In about 500 AD the town was settled by the Celts, then the Franks, and in 1156 the first documentation of the name “”Bemundula” (what is Baumholder today), placing it in the Holy Roman Empire. During Europe’s exchange of empires and civilizations, Baumholder and the surrounding areas changed hands often, until it got its start as a military town in 1941, when the Nazis established a barracks and training area here. Following the German surrender of World War II in 1945, Baumholder was occupied by the French military, then taken over by U.S. forces in 1951. Its fate has been linked to the ups and downs of the American military ever since.

Baumholder and was once a boom town. In the post war years, as American GIs with expendable incomes and families poured in at the dawn of the Cold War, dozens of bars and restaurants sprang open to keep up. The Smith Barracks garrison of Baumholder has housed infantry brigades for deployments ranging from Vietnam to the former Yugoslavia to the Afghanistan and Iraq Wars, and over the years, most of Baumholder's economy has adapted to serve the military community and their families: duty-free car sales, bars, restaurants, payday loans, barber shops, strip clubs and brothels. These establishments of drinking, eating, and entertainment are often housed in run-down buildings that are on the verge of being condemned. A European franchise of the American chain of bars “Coyote Ugly” was once housed in Baumholder at what was formerly the city’s train station, now it remains closed, with many of its windows broken out. Another example is the “Vegas Table Dance” club, which held a long history of being open or closed on the current troop levels in Baumholder, which currently remains closed.

In 2007, at the height of the Iraq war, there were an estimated 20,000 total U.S. personnel living on the base and its surrounding satellite installations, and many of the locals tell tales of the days when the large numbers of forces stationed in the city would result in havoc. In 2005, following an 18-month deployment to Iraq, a group of soldiers from the 1st Armored Division led by PFC Zachary Watson and Specialist Samuel Bell went on a violent crime spree [http://www.stripes.com/promotions/2.1066/soldier-gets-15-years-for-baumholder-crime-spree-1.44724 and more… http://www.stripes.com/news/arson-crime-test-patience-of-germans-in-baumholder-1.38271], robbing houses, businesses, taxi drivers and even burning down the city hall, on a rampage that caused over 1.5 million euro in damages. 

But the end of the Iraq War, and the slow wind down of the war in Afghanistan have brought with them their own problems. Today there are an estimated 2,000 U.S. service members stationed in Baumholder (with their dependents, they number a total of 6,000 Americans) and rumors persist throughout the local Baumholder community that the base -- currently home to a sustainment brigade with a logistics company, multi-medical battalion, quartermaster, transportation, military police, signal, and medical support units, and an international military training area -- may be marked for closure. 

Since President George W. Bush’s decision to begin reducing troop levels in Germany in August of 2004, 59 bases have closed, leaving 37 manned bases in Germany.  While the importance and necessity of some bases to remain open and manned, such as Rammstein Air Force Base, which serves as a hub for U.S. and NATO forces throughout Europe, the Middle East and Africa, or Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, which has been an invaluable lifesaving asset to U.S. and Nato forces between combat zones and other military medical assets, the necessity for Baumholder’s training areas is uncertain. These days, the bars and restaurants of Baumholder remain mostly vacant, the streets empty and quiet, save for the occasional bursts of machine gun fire that ring out day and night from the training areas, the rumble of military vehicles and the sound of fighter jets strafing dummy targets.

Peter Gotten and his stepdaughter Daniela Ramos own a hotel and restaurant named Stadtkrug, on Poststraße in the town’s center. Opened in 1979 by Peter’s late spouse, Stadtkrug specializes in wood-grilled steaks and ribs, and has a few rooms upstairs for guests. The walls are decorated with photographs of high-ranking military officers, certificates of appreciation from various units in the German and American militaries, and license plates from every state in America -- all keepsakes handed down from guests and customers over the years.

“We have a lot of American customers, that’s true, but we also have German guests,” Gotten said. “But I think that we have to change the business if the U.S. Army would leave this region.”

Baumholder was different before the draw down, Daniela said – full of bars and restaurants “Baumholder does not have its own history outside the U.S. Army,” she said. “If the barracks would close, everything in Baumholder would fall apart.”

Just across the street from Stadtkrug is Afrin Döner Kebab Shop, owned by a Syrian Kurdish immigrant named Khalil Kanji Kamis. Kamis said he fled to Germany 21 years ago after being imprisoned by the Bashar al-Assad regime for teaching Kurdish children the Kurdish language. He took his wife and two children to Germany to start a new life.

“I came first to Baumholder, because I had relatives here. From Baumholder we went to Trier to apply for asylum. My brother-in-law lived here before and opened the kebab store about 20 years ago,” Kamis said.

He added he was grateful for the opportunities the town had given him.

“In 2014 I went back [to Syria] for 5 days because my mother died. When I got back and saw how bad Syria is right now, I knew how happy and lucky me and my family are to live in Germany,” Kamis said. “I don’t want to see my children grow up in a place like that. Germany is my home.” 

My children feel the same,” he continued. “We speak all very good German and we are very well integrated.”

Baumholder has become his family’s new home, and Kamis too is concerned about the future. “I took the store from my brother-in-law about 10 years ago. Since we opened the store our main customers are the Americans. I would say that I have 95 percent American customers,” he said.

“Since the US Army reduced the soldiers here, my business is getting worse,” Kamis added. “If the Americans leave Baumholder I will have to close the store and leave the region.”

He continued by saying there were rumors that more soldiers were coming, not fewer, but that rumors about base closures and expansions are frequent, and seldom pan out. But, “all the businesses in Baumholder are hoping for more U.S. soldiers,” Kamis said.

When asked about the rumors, military officials say "Baumholder is enduring, and here to stay, with plans of even growing the base in the future,” Ignacio Rubalcava, the American public affairs liaison for the Baumholder U.S. army garrison, said bluntly during a phone interview in March of 2015.

When asked about rumors the base might be closed or repurposed to train and house special operations forces, Rubalcava was mum: "I can't comment on that, there are some plans about that, but I cannot comment on current special operations forces in Baumholder.”

Charles Benson, 37, runs the NU LOOK barbershop just outside the main gate of the base. Originally from Ghana, Benson came to Germany with his wife in search of a better life, and better opportunities. He got his start in Mannheim, where he cut hair for soccer players and American troops stationed there until that base closed in 2012; that same year, he also went through a divorce, and decided to make a fresh start in Baumholder, which he’d seen was home to 20,000 soldiers. 

“Unfortunately for me when I came what I saw on the Internet was not the same," he said. Business owners throughout the town are all asking themselves what they’ll do if the base closes, he said.

“It's a very rough and tough situation,” he said. I can barely pay bills. I'm just waiting till my rental contract ends in June, then move on to something else.”

Today, the town’s reputation as a rough and tumble, mostly American city seems like a distant memory. The base once had a main street adorned in German and American flags to signify German-American friendship. Today, it is now full of buildings being renovated, poised to become newly refurbished housing and barracks – signs of hope that Baumholder has a future with the U.S. military after all.