THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY
There would have been no Charlie Wilson’s
War without the dramatic trip to Afghanistan
taken by Joanne Herring, a Houston socialite
and talk show hostess; yet it never got into
the screenplay. Neither did the humanitarian
soldier-of-fortune and sometime Houston
visitor Charlie Fawcett whose
smuggled note said: “Come
immediately. Bring film equipment.
The world doesn’t know what’s
going on here.” She went, disguised
as a man and packed into a barrel.
Washingtonians attending
balls and embassy galas 25 years
ago remember well the fun and
laughter, gowns and jewels of this
curvy ZsaZsa Gabor blonde (played
by Julia Roberts in the movie).
She gave lavish parties here and
in Houston; one such welcomed
Prince Bandar to Washington as the
Saudi Arabian ambassador
Fawcett guided Joanne and her
barrel into the war zone, where he
was training the mujahideen freedom
fighters – shoeless boys and weaponless men
defending their villages against air strikes.
Joanne interviewed them for Courage is Our
Weapon, the documentary they filmed; he got
pal Orson Welles to narrate, and they set off
to tell the world.
Congressman Charlie Wilson (played by
Tom Hanks in the film) was a slim, handsome
Texan, seven feet tall in his cowboy boots,
widely known around Washington as a “harddrinking,
skirt-chaser,” which flamboyant
Charlie never denied. He barely knew Joanne
then, though she was later his fiancée.
A longtime anti-communist, the Soviet
invasion of Afghanistan made her an activist.
Seeking Washington support, she urged Wilson
cameras. Chris and Mitch, a fit couple from New
York City, were the group’s pacesetters and kept
us moving along at a good clip. Gillian and Alan
were a couple from Chicago who held hands the
entire time. Tim, a doctor from Kentucky, and
his daughter rounded out the group. Everyone
was strongly motivated to reach the top. Mitch
was doing it for his 50th birthday, Gillian wanted
to prove that women over 40 could do it, and I
wanted to prove to myself that I could successfully
complete one of the most physically demanding
challenges. I didn’t think it was possible.
At 10,000 feet, we signed the books at the
first overnight camp. I put on my Ugg boots
and made hot chocolate with marshmallows.
We were encouraged to bring such “tastes of
home” with us, and I can’t emphasize enough
how crucial these were. Before dinner, the
sherpas brought us each a bowl of hot water
to wash our hands and feet.
The twelve of us crammed into the food
tent for a meal of bread and soup. There was
always a carb-loaded choice, such as corn or
potatoes. Even more potatoes or pasta followed,
sometimes potatoes and pasta in the same dish.
The main meal had meat: chicken, beef, or
even fish, along with vegetables. Dinner was
usually over by 9 p.m. then, we would discuss
the following day’s climb and go to bed.
An achievement in itself: every day, the guides
were able to provide three hot meals – several
courses each – for the group. At 12,000 feet, I
had fresh guacamole with chips. Every morning
we ate sausage, eggs and bacon. The cook’s
specialty was fried bananas with a papaya sauce,
and though I had lost much of my appetite to
altitude, I couldn’t stop eating them.
I had a medicine chest with me; for days,
I had been taking altitude sickness pills called
Diamox. The important thing is to go “polli
polli” – Swahili for “slowly, slowly” – while
drinking plenty of water. Our guides were
militant about rehydrating. By the second day,
I was suffering from mild headaches, similar to
a faint ice cream headache. These twinges came
and went throughout the day, even after being
on a steady diet of Advil every couple of hours.
I never threw up or had bad stomach cramps or
nosebleeds, but the altitude was intense enough
that several people had to turn around.
Our exhaustion levels mounted as we climbed
higher and as the terrain became increasingly
foreign. We started in a rainforest and then
hiked through a desert that turned into a barren
landscape dotted with big boulders. All in all, we
moved through five distinct climate zones. Above
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