Eagle Down

by Jessica Donati

  “First, I’ve decided to maintain our current posture of ninety-eight hundred troops in Afghanistan through most of next year, 2016. Their mission will not change. Our troops will continue to pursue those two narrow tasks that I outlined earlier, training Afghan forces, and going after al Qaeda,” he told reporters. “Maintaining our current posture through most of next year, rather than a more rapid drawdown, will allow us to sustain our efforts to train and assist Afghan forces as they grow stronger.”

  President Obama did not acknowledge the critical role that US Special Forces had played in recapturing the city of Kunduz, nor how dependent the Afghan government was likely to remain on US military support for years to come.

  “Today, American forces no longer patrol Afghan villages or valleys. Our troops are not engaged in major ground combat against the Taliban. Those missions now belong to Afghans, who are fully responsible for securing their country,” he said.

  “Mr. President, can you tell us how disappointing this decision is for you? Is this—can you tell us how disappointing this decision is for you?” a reporter asked.

  “This decision is not disappointing. Continually, my goal has been to make sure that we give every opportunity for Afghanistan to succeed while we’re still making sure that we’re meeting our core missions,” President Obama said.

  Contrary to his assertions, the United States was about to have a much bigger role in combat going forward. The decision to keep Kandahar Airfield allowed the US military to take a more aggressive approach to beating back the Taliban’s gains in the south.

  The first order of business was to intervene in Helmand, where the insurgency’s rapid gains over the summer had left the government in the province’s capital all but surrounded. There were real and immediate concerns that the province could fall soon, delivering another humiliating defeat to the Afghan government just weeks after the loss of Kunduz. Things were about to change dramatically for the Green Berets already stationed in Afghanistan at a time when US capabilities and resources, from intelligence assets to surveillance to logistical support, were limited and drawing down.

  Furthermore, President Obama’s staff would soon sign off on a tranche of new authorities that would give SOF greater freedom to operate in Afghanistan. The rules would allow a more flexible use of airpower and increase the military’s ability to dispatch ODAs on missions with the Afghan commandos. In effect, the decision to call off the US withdrawal would extend the SOF’s role in the Afghan war indefinitely, and their contribution was set to grow as the Taliban made gains against the government.

  CHAPTER 13

  The Taliban Must Shoot First

  HELMAND

  US SPECIAL FORCES ramped up quickly in Helmand after the White House agreed to keep operations running in the south. The first order of business was to prevent the fall of the province and a repeat of the disaster in Kunduz. The Taliban had captured a suburb on the outskirts of the provincial capital, and the Special Forces were tasked with working with the Afghans to win it back.

  Captain Jeff McDonald had served in the Marines before September 11 and first deployed to Afghanistan with Special Forces in 2003. His team was chosen for the mission to save Helmand province’s capital, Lashkar Gah. He had more experience than most detachment commanders, having spent years as a communications sergeant. His team, ODA 9114, was always the company’s first choice for a difficult mission. Babaji, as the suburb was known, had been the epicenter of Operation Panchai Palang, or Panther’s Claw, in 2009—the British army’s largest air assault of the war.

  Now that Babaji had fallen again, the helicopter pilots refused to drop Jeff’s team any closer than ten kilometers off target because it was too dangerous, so they had to drive. Even so, the mission turned out to be a huge success. Jeff’s team ran into a gathering of Taliban on the outskirts of the city and stirred up what commanders described as a “hornet’s nest.” Aided by an AC-130 gunship above, they killed some forty-five Taliban who were fleeing a safe house, US records showed. Even though they didn’t make it to Babaji, word of their success spread up the ranks, and the generals were excited.

  In the northern region of Helmand, where Caleb’s team was based, a crisis was unfolding at the site of USAID’s unfinished flagship reconstruction project to add a third turbine at Kajaki Dam. The Taliban had reached the last checkpoint before the installation, and capturing the dam would be a big win. Once the reconstruction project was complete, the hydroelectric dam was supposed to deliver power to almost two million people across Afghanistan’s impoverished south, winning hearts and minds in the Taliban’s former heartland. Planned for completion in 2005, it remained unfinished a decade later. As was the case with many of the best-intentioned projects designed in Washington, corruption, insecurity, and other problems had caused the cost to balloon, from $20 million to over $300 million.

  Caleb’s team, which had been assigned to work with the Afghan commandos to prevent the dam from falling, was ordered to deploy to Kajaki as soon as possible. But the team resisted the order, arguing that they were unequipped to carry out a multiday operation in such a remote area. Maj. Gabriel, the company commander, was troubled by the team’s reluctance to agree to the mission. He didn’t know them well, because they belonged to Bravo Company in Utah, but teams were expected to eagerly comply now that restrictions on missions appeared to be lifting.

  Maj. Gabriel knew Caleb from the Special Forces Qualification Course and leaned on him for information. Either ODAs worked as a tight-knit unit or things ended badly in the field, and Maj. Gabriel was concerned that this team was heading for the latter. But Caleb felt uncomfortable, torn between loyalty to the team and duty as a soldier, and tried to stay out of it. The truth was, the acrimony between the team and its leadership that had started before the deployment had evolved into all-out confrontation.

  About a month into the mission, Chris Clary, the Bravo who had driven the casualties to the helicopter after the insider attack, had read aloud a letter on behalf of the team; it listed all their concerns about how the captain and team sergeant were running things. Team members wanted leadership to address the chronic logistical problems like shortages of food, water, and ammunition. Their trucks still needed crucial repairs. The biggest dispute was over the procedures at the Tactical Operations Center (TOC), which the team saw as a violation of operational security.

  The TOC contained classified computers, the countrywide communications satellite (SATCOM) radio, and classified surveillance feeds, which the Afghans weren’t allowed to view, and yet the room always seemed to be full of 215th Corps soldiers. Chris rebelled and built a new operations center for the Afghans to use, with cleared maps and feeds, which upset the captain but solved the problem.

  The team’s relationship with the Afghan commandos was at rock bottom after the insider attack and difficult to repair due to unresolved legacy issues. The 7th Group team had damaged the commandos’ sewage system by blowing up the camp’s swimming pool, and it was still in need of work. The 7th Group team had done it apparently to get rid of debris caused by an unexplained fire in the camp. They had also dumped trash on the commandos’ camp because they didn’t have the means to dispose of it. That didn’t help the relationship with the Afghans either.

  IN THE END, the Kajaki mission went ahead. Caleb compiled intelligence briefs and gave the guys good news: the forecast said clear and sunny all week. Cloud cover blocked the view of surveillance aircraft like drones, thereby limiting air support. He called home to tell Ashley he’d be offline for a few days, but not to worry. At night, the team loaded the gear onto Chinooks and flew north under the cover of darkness.

  The flat, desertlike terrain gave way to mountains and a silvery river that meandered into a lake. The Kajaki Dam appeared on the horizon. They landed at the contractor’s base before sunrise and set up in a dilapidated concrete building that had empty frames for windows and gaping holes in the ceiling. The attached infantry squad started a guard rotation while th
e rest of the soldiers finished unloading. In addition to ammunition, mortars, radio equipment, and food, they had brought their surgical team because there were no medical facilities located within a distance that could be reached in the “golden hour”—the first hour after a traumatic injury, considered the most critical for a soldier’s survival.

  The Green Berets learned the next morning that the Taliban and the government had a tacit agreement not to fight during the day. There was a daily cease-fire between ten a.m. and four p.m. to give farmers time to tend their crops. No one was in any rush to fight the war. The US team found it surreal. The team’s leadership set to work on a plan with the Afghan commandos while Caleb gathered intelligence. Chris and a few others left to set up a firing position on the mountain.

  The Afghan army had built a small base overlooking the lower checkpoint in the valley before the entrance to the dam. They hauled boxes of supplies up the steep and winding path, which seemed to cut through a Soviet-era minefield marked with piles of rocks painted white.

  “Just stay between the rocks,” one of the Afghans said, waving away their concerns as they lugged the mortars up the mountain.

  Chris didn’t ask what to do in case of an ambush. They’d probably just dive into the minefields and hope for the best. The battalion had selected him for the tour from a different team and considered him one of the most promising weapons sergeants in the company. He noticed climbing equipment affixed to the rocks that dated back to the Cold War. American aid workers with USAID had built the Kajaki Dam in the 1950s as a hedge against Soviet influence. In the 1970s, the US agency added a powerhouse and made plans to expand the dam’s capacity, but the project was abandoned before the Soviets invaded. It was now 2015, and the third turbine had yet to be installed.

  The Afghan army base at the top of the mountain was built out of mortar cans filled with rocks and corrugated tin. Chris and Ben White, the other weapons sergeant, got to work setting up the mortar system and a camp, with camouflage netting for shade during the day and sleeping bags for the nights under the stars. Caleb headed up to the camp to see how it was going. He’d become close friends with Chris and with Ben. The view was spectacular. The turquoise river ran south out of the reservoir and flowed around the soaring mountains that rose and fell into the horizon.

  Chris and Ben were tasked with partnering with an Afghan mortar team during the operation. The team of three Afghan commandos were enthusiastic about learning to refine their technique on the mortars. They spent the day identifying targets for the mission, setting up quick mortar references on the Taliban’s positions. The fortified mud-brick compounds were booby-trapped with homemade bombs or appeared to have machine guns positioned at the slits in the walls.

  The mission launched that night. Two assault forces of US Special Forces and Afghan commandos drove down toward the valley to attack a fortified line of Taliban positions from the south and west. They aimed to push back the Taliban and recapture some of the lost Afghan army checkpoints. As the assault forces turned into the valley, the US and Afghan mortar teams at the top of the mountain began to fire at the targets they’d scoped out during the day.

  They were interrupted by a call on the radio. Maj. Gabriel demanded to know why they had started shooting. According to their rules of engagement, the Taliban had to be the first to fire. He ordered them to stop firing immediately or get pulled out. Chris exchanged glances with Ben.

  “They want us to wait for the Taliban to shoot first?” he asked.

  Ben stared at him and shrugged. This was apparently an offensive operation, and it hadn’t occurred to them that the restriction on strikes would apply in these circumstances. Chris thought it was dangerous to wait until their teammates came under fire in the Taliban-controlled valley, where the insurgents had had months to settle into heavily fortified compounds that could not be penetrated by gunfire. But they stopped immediately, waiting until the team members called in the “troops in contact” message (which meant they were under fire) before starting on the mortars again.

  Lieutenant Colonel Zabihullah Mohmand, the grizzled, heavy-set commander of the 7th Special Operations Kandak, which was responsible for Helmand, stopped the commandos at the last covered position. He wanted the Americans to carry out an airstrike on the Taliban’s defensive line of fortified positions in the valley; it was too dangerous to send the commandos over open ground to attack the fortified positions, and the mortars were ineffective.

  He could hear the AC-130 buzzing overhead and was furious when the request for air support was denied. It was hard for the Green Berets, who were supposedly their partners in this, to explain that an American life had to be in danger to justify the strike. Lt. Col. Mohmand couldn’t understand why the Americans, having finally sent a US Special Forces team all the way to Kajaki, were now withholding critical assets. He was outraged at the request to send his men to the fortified Taliban positions, straight into the line of fire from the heavy machine guns positioned inside. He told the captain that he wouldn’t send the commandos to the Taliban’s defensive line unless the United States dropped on them first.

  The captain tried to relay the situation over the SATCOM radio to Maj. Gabriel, who was observing the operation over video feed from Kandahar, along with the rest of the US military in the country.

  “Tell them they have to move forward,” Maj. Gabriel said, aware the whole world was watching.

  “I can’t force him to clear the compounds,” the captain replied.

  The back-and-forth continued. In the end, Lt. Col. Mohmand, losing patience, ordered his men to retreat before daylight. They failed to capture the Taliban’s positions or push them back into the valley and away from the Kajaki Dam. Chris viewed the episode as further evidence of how poorly their leadership understood the operational environment. The commandos weren’t cannon fodder. The US military’s reluctance to engage was sure to further undermine their relationship with the Afghan soldiers.

  Chris thought back to his two previous deployments and how things had been different. In Uruzgan a couple of years earlier, on his second tour in Afghanistan, he had been tasked with raising a militia out of former Taliban fighters. His team shared meals with them and lived in the same village, which built the trust that was essential in a firefight. When he had stepped on a pressure plate bomb and narrowly avoided detonating it, he had felt that the mission was worth it, even after seeing the giant cloud of dust it threw into the air when the soldiers blew it up from a distance. Now, he wasn’t sure what they were achieving, except convincing the commandos that America didn’t think their lives were important enough to merit an airstrike.

  The Taliban ambushed the Afghan checkpoint the following day, taking advantage of bad weather. There was a running joke in the team that Caleb always got the weather wrong. Chris and the other Bravos helped the commandos repel the attack from the mountain using the mortars. They stayed a few more days, drank tea with the Afghans, and helped them set up a new checkpoint in the valley. When they returned to Camp Antonik, the frontline was little changed.

  IN THE CAPITAL OF HELMAND, Lashkar Gah, the early success produced by Jeff’s team proved difficult to repeat. Roadside bombs and ambushes bogged down follow-up missions to the surburb of Babaji. Several Afghan soldiers were killed, which made them reluctant to sustain a high pace of operations. After a fortnight, Jeff’s team swapped out, starting a rotation with another Kandahar team. While they didn’t advance much farther for the remainder of the tour, Lashkar Gah remained in government hands.

  The fundamental dynamics of the war continued to undermine the mission: the local government was corrupt, and its security forces were overused, exploited, and poorly led.

  CHAPTER 14

  Mission to Save Marjah

  CALEB

  AFTER CALEB’S team returned from Kajaki, the US Special Forces battalion wanted them to continue to aggressively push back against the Taliban’s gains in northern Helmand, to prevent a string of districts from fal
ling under insurgent control. The captain and the team sergeant remained on poor terms with the team and could not get them on board. Team members argued that Helmand was too isolated for a high-risk mission at a time when air support was so limited.

  Maj. Gabriel, the company commander, eventually told them he would be forced to swap them out with another team unless they began to operate in their area. He didn’t want to fire the team, but the battalion had noticed their lack of aggressiveness, and there was a perception that northern Helmand was eroding around ODA 9123. Another team based at Camp Morehead in Kabul was edging to run missions and had built a strong reputation with the battalion. Crucially, some of its team members had already rotated to Helmand to assist other ODAs during large-scale operations and had performed well.

  Caleb urged everyone to agree on a plan and make the best of the situation. He stood in front of a map of Helmand and dramatically swept a hand over the province.

  “Take your pick,” he said. “Let’s make it a big one. Let’s make it worth it.”

  They were in the middle of planning a ground mission when Maj. Gabriel interrupted them with orders from Gen. Swindell to deploy urgently to Marjah. The town was falling, he told them, and the orders came from the top.

  Marjah, a cluster of mud huts and farms irrigated by the Helmand River, had never really been under government control. Operation Moshtarak, which took place there in 2010 and was the largest US-Afghan operation of the war, aimed to deliver the district a “government in a box” and win over hearts and minds. Instead, dozens of US Marines died in the slow-burning battle that followed.

  Caleb was skeptical. There was no one at Marjah to hold ground, and the town was sure to fall back into Taliban hands after they left. Still, the team scrambled to prepare and set off at night. They ran into several ambushes along the way, and those, along with the battalion’s refusal to allow airstrikes and a broken remote weapon system in one of the trucks, made the trip seem interminable.