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The Flight Was Long And Hard From L.a

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The flight was long and hard from L.A. to Istanbul and on to Lahore. When he arrived, the local host had a Customs Officer meet him. With his help, Tank found himself whisked all the way through, with no baggage inspection. As he approached the arrivals’ area, Tank had his first glimpse of everyday life in Pakistan. Soldiers and police, armed with automatic weapons, were everywhere. He had just walked through Customs, past the busy security checks and at passport control, nothing. The man who met him, handed his passport over the shoulders of those in line, to a Passport Control Officer. The officer stamped it immediately and handed back to the man with a wink. Tank felt that if it was so easy to slide through their security with no more than the wave of a hand, he would need to exercise vigilance. An armed convoy of vehicles escorted him safely to the church compound. The high walls and steel gates reminded him of Kandahar Afghanistan. It loomed large more like a fortress than a church. Every part of the reinforced concrete and steel was normal and required. In the immediate neighborhood, the detonation of homemade explosive devices was routine. Children, extremists blew to bits in their schoolyard. Their only crime, they wanted the opportunities that a decent education would bring them. Just outside of town, a young married couple they burned alive, in a brick-kiln furnace. Their judge, jury, and executioners were the Taliban. The heinous crime that resulted in their

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