conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Emery, Jake, Stutts with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Literature & Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'This Is Not a Drill'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: This Is Not a Drill
  A great many individuals have my thanks this second time around: Clare, my wife and my universe; Erwin Hergzeg, always in my corner, and his amazing family have my eternal friendship; the inspirational Sally and Simon Dominguez, and their single malt; Claire Atkins, a remarkable woman; Greg Waters, who underestimates the importance that his contributions make; Klaas van der Plas; Dave Sadler, a man who can really ride a motorcycle; Ross Luck; Steve Tunley; Vince and Sheman Moritti; Miranda Culley; Johnathan and Angela Catana; the De La Vega family; Geof Pacecca; Allan and Terri Cole; Steve, Pyneia and Anastasia Papal—legends all. My family Al, Liz, France, Elinor, Johannes, Callum, Rory, Alex, Mathew, James, Daniel, Carrie, Cathy, Phillip, Fingal and Tamsi (happy trails).
  All the Singapore crew, especially Drew, Les, Hiram, Myles, Adam, Ramat, JJ, Tahir, Fauzi, Joey, Bidin (who nearly cut his head off last year—glad you're still with us, mate) and Razac, rest in peace brother.
  Ambu (take that belt off), John, Don, Jake (back in the big house), Avas, Barry Reilly, Dave 'The Seal Basher' Nordli, Vodka Bob, Fat Tony, Robin, Eddie, Ronny, Smithy, Colin Henderson, Ann Smith, Sick Boy, Well Head Willy, Donald Millar, Damian Forte, Pilso, Sam Leon, Wongy, John Logan, Chris Glennon, Cameron Westholt, Tony Lacey, Capt Tom Naude, Sqd Ldr Chris Boucousis, the manager of the 'Romper-Room'.
  Special thanks to that Afghan guy near Gardez, by the side of the road somewhere between Camp 87 and Kabul on 21 April 2006, who decided not to shoot me—much appreciated.
  All of you, lying in your bunks on a rig, we are multiplied and defused throughout the world, be safe, godspeed.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Decades of war have left this once fertile jewel in central Asia with nothing... absolutely nothing. Bullets change governments faster than votes in Afghanistan, and that's why all the trees are gone, and along with them all the topsoil. Follow that up with seven years of drought and a population that dares not set foot in an open area for fear of stepping on a landmine, and you're left with air that's thick with dust and a frightening amount of faecal matter as open sewers run in all directions—I could feel 'Kabul belly' ready to leap out and strike me down at any moment.
  My first glimpse of Afghanistan was through the dirty window of an old PIA A300. Impressive snow-capped mountains dropped fast into a giant dust-bowl shambles the size of Texas. The flight had been awful, though at least Pakistan International Airlines gave me a laugh when I picked up my ticket in Dubai. The airline's current advertising tag line, emblazoned on the front of my ticket read, 'PIA: We're better than you think we are'.
  Tom was sitting nearby, asleep. He's made this trip so many times it would take a man with a bomb strapped to his waist screaming 'Jihad, jihad!' to wake him up. Tom's a polite, quiet man who looks like he could be your local GP or plumber, but he is far from it. He is a PMC or private military contractor.
  There are basically four types of expat in Afghanistan: those who are there to help, those who want to make lots of money, those who do both, and the rest who are there to fight. All those engineers, aid workers, medical staff—all of the people in Afghanistan who are from somewhere else—are relying on good security. Enter the world of the PMC. It's a growth business. These guys are former professional soldiers, using their skill sets and trade craft in this new booming private sector. And believe me, there's plenty of work.
  Although most big oil companies will never admit it, they use PMCs all the time. I had been around these guys before on rigs in nasty parts of the world, but they were always too busy doing their jobs, and I was too busy doing mine. I had always wanted to write about them. My chance to embed myself with one such organisation and to quietly take a look at Afghanistan came in the form of Chris and Tom one rainy Saturday in Sydney three years ago. They were with a firm who was moving from land-based operations into offshore security work, and not just in far-off war-torn parts of the world. Just look at the amount of piracy in the Strait of Malacca just off Singapore, where there's a gun-related incident every day. With 70 per cent of our planet covered in water, you'd think there would be more protection out there, but no, piracy is becoming a common occurrence. Forget the romantic gloss made popular in films—good-looking roguish but lovable buccaneers just having a romp through your cargo hold. Modern piracy is cold-blooded murder.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about Afghanistan, starting, protecting.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Decades of war have left this once fertile jewel in central Asia with nothing... absolutely nothing. Bullets change governments faster than votes in Afghanistan, and that's why all the trees are gone, and along with them all the topsoil. Follow that up with seven years of drought and a population that dares not set foot in an open area for fear of stepping on a landmine, and you're left with air that's thick with dust and a frightening amount of faecal matter as open sewers run in all directions—I could feel 'Kabul belly' ready to leap out and strike me down at any moment. 
  My first glimpse of Afghanistan was through the dirty window of an old PIA A300. Impressive snow-capped mountains dropped fast into a giant dust-bowl shambles the size of Texas. The flight had been awful, though at least Pakistan International Airlines gave me a laugh when I picked up my ticket in Dubai. The airline's current advertising tag line, emblazoned on the front of my ticket read, 'PIA: We're better than you think we are'. 
  Tom was sitting nearby, asleep. He's made this trip so many times it would take a man with a bomb strapped to his waist screaming 'Jihad, jihad!' to wake him up. Tom's a polite, quiet man who looks like he could be your local GP or plumber, but he is far from it. He is a PMC or private military contractor. 
  There are basically four types of expat in Afghanistan: those who are there to help, those who want to make lots of money, those who do both, and the rest who are there to fight. After twenty-five years of perpetual war the country's infrastructure is shattered, and as for the economy—well, what economy? Afghanistan is on aid, billions of dollars of aid, but because it's just so dangerous the work that is starting to slowly change Afghanistan for the better needs protecting. All those engineers, aid workers, medical staff—all of the people in Afghanistan who are from somewhere else—are relying on good security. Enter the world of the PMC. It's a growth business. These guys are former professional soldiers, using their skill sets and trade craft in this new booming private sector. And believe me, there's plenty of work. 
  Although most big oil companies will never admit it, they use PMCs all the time. I had been around these guys before on rigs in nasty parts of the world, but they were always too busy doing their jobs, and I was too busy doing mine. I had always wanted to write about them. My chance to embed myself with one such organisation and to quietly take a look at Afghanistan came in the form of Chris and Tom one rainy Saturday in Sydney three years ago. They were with a firm who was moving from land-based operations into offshore security work, and not just in far-off war-torn parts of the world. Just look at the amount of piracy in the Strait of Malacca just off Singapore, where there's a gun-related incident every day. With 70 per cent of our planet covered in water, you'd think there would be more protection out there, but no, piracy is becoming a common occurrence. Forget the romantic gloss made popular in films—good-looking roguish but lovable buccaneers just having a romp through your cargo hold. Modern piracy is cold-blooded murder.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: But that's just my opinion. Any questions you may have, please direct them to: god@theblindingwhitelight.com.
  Our 15-year-old son has just grabbed it and is already laughing and coming in and pointing out places that he has heard about and telling me that 'Dad has done stuff like that too'. When our 10-year-old grows up more he will read it too and will be able to learn more about Dad's other life.
  Would love to buy you a beer... in fact there's a small fan club of mates now that agree we'd just sit ya down, get ya drunk and let YOU do the talking.
  My brother works on rigs and will soon start working for a large spillage recovery company. If his experiences ever come close to rivalling yours, then I will be deeply and dangerously jealous.
  Thanks for the laughs and if you can offer any tips as to where I might acquire a smoking monkey buddy, I'd be forever grateful.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: But that's just my opinion. Any questions you may have, please direct them to: god@theblindingwhitelight.com.
  Our 15-year-old son has just grabbed it and is already laughing and coming in and pointing out places that he has heard about and telling me that 'Dad has done stuff like that too'. When our 10-year-old grows up more he will read it too and will be able to learn more about Dad's other life.
  Would love to buy you a beer... in fact there's a small fan club of mates now that agree we'd just sit ya down, get ya drunk and let YOU do the talking.
  My brother works on rigs and will soon start working for a large spillage recovery company. If his experiences ever come close to rivalling yours, then I will be deeply and dangerously jealous.