I’m going to miss this place, she thought. The guys she worked with, the missions she went on, the women and children she talked to each night, the children and their beautiful eyes. The moments of compassion and caring buried among the horrible moments of war. Even the smell of the poo pond.
On their way back to America all the CSTs would meet in Bagram for one last time as a team. They would fill out the last of their paperwork and find out for certain whether they could stay on as CSTs doing the job they now knew well, felt qualified for, and loved. Tristan missed Kate and Amber and Cassie and Sarah and Kimberly and all the other girls. She couldn’t wait to hear their stories; she knew that as soon as they started to tell them it would feel as if they hadn’t been apart for the last four months.
But before she boarded a plane out of Kandahar for the last time she would write one last letter.
We are leaving today.
Everything is packed and I have returned to my room for a few short moments. Just wanted to take one last look at the bed where I spent so many hours lying awake. Where I silently thanked God for returning me every night. I wanted to look one last time at Ashley’s sneakers. Just waiting faithfully to be taken for a spin. I wanted to thank Ashley for the quiet strength she has given me over the last few months. I know we all have a lot of talking to Ashley to do in the next few weeks. I know watching KAF disappear will be hard. We will feel like we are leaving Ashley for good. But we are not leaving Ashley anywhere. Ashley will be with all of us, wherever we go, for the rest of our lives.
Goodbye little room.
Epilogue
On Memorial Day 2012, Lieutenant General John Mulholland stood before an assembly of grieving families to honor the Army special operations soldiers who had given everything to their country.
“It is important that we never forget that Ashley and her brothers-in-arms were truly exceptional people,” he said during the annual ceremony held on the U.S. Army Special Operations Forces Memorial Plaza. “They had and always will have a value beyond measure; they are supremely competent in what they chose to do, were clearly committed to making a difference in the world in which they lived, and they unquestionably did so.”
Bob and Debbie White, along with Jason and Ashley’s siblings Brittany and Josh, sat among the audience on their folding chairs, holding red roses and listening as Ashley’s name took its place on the Army Special Operations Command Memorial Wall alongside SFC Kris Domeij, PFC Chris Horns, and eight other Rangers killed in action in 2011. Ashley was the first CST whose name would be etched on a nameplate and join the granite memorial to the fallen.
Back at Bagram a month earlier, a number of the CSTs asked if they could extend their mission. But it was not to be. CST was a one-year deployment and now it was time for the soldiers to return to their home units. The next class awaited. More female soldiers had put their hands up to serve with the fighters of special operations and now it was their turn to deploy.
The problem was, returning to their pre-CST lives was the last thing many of the soldiers wanted.
Cassie couldn’t fathom going home. She had been out regularly on missions with her strike force. She had cheered when her partner, Isabel, had been nominated by the Rangers for an IMPACT Award for finding explosives and other intel-related items that “would have been overlooked” in her absence. She even had the privilege of having one of the officers she served under inscribe her copy of Sebastian Junger’s book War just before she left her base.
“You are a true warrior leader and your exploits in ‘Leading the Way’ for women in combat will be told one day,” he wrote to Cassie. This officer had been one of the soldiers featured in the book she had carried with her to Afghanistan.
Next thing she knew, she found herself in an auditorium at Bagram listening to Kate explain to one of the generals who had come to offer his thanks to the CSTs that she and some of the others wanted to keep doing what they had been doing.
“Sir, with all due respect, you don’t understand,” Kate had dared to blurt out. Given the ban on women in direct action roles, “This is it for us. There is no place else for us to go. We have done nothing better and will do nothing better. And now we are being sent back to our units. Nothing else will compare to this.”
When they returned to Fort Bragg, Cassie walked back into the Landmark Inn, this time without the hope and excitement of her last visit. How could she possibly go back to her old Army assignment and “normal life”? Whatever that was. The only people who understood her now were her fellow CSTs. They were as much her family as her family. Maybe more so.
Six more CST classes followed in the years that intervened. I recently had the privilege of spending an evening with a group of women from different years of the program, nearly all of whom had served the direct action mission. The connection they shared, even among those who hadn’t before met, was obvious and immediate. What struck me that night was the same sense of intense friendship I felt the first time I met Ashley’s teammates. They finished one another’s sentences, served as each other’s career counselors, divorce therapists, spiritual advisors, and baby shower hosts. It was clear the soldiers were bound by a bond that no one outside their small, invisible band of CSTs would ever truly understand. Leda’s leadership, Ashley’s loss, the mission they had loved and couldn’t go back to, the fact that no one outside the group of soldiers and SEALs alongside whom they served knew what they had done and seen, all combined to create an unbreakable connection forged at war and cemented at home. They were all they had and they understood why.
In the years that followed Ashley White-Stumpf’s death, being her parent became a full-time job for Bob and Debbie White. Ceremony after ceremony, memorial after memorial, they would sit in the audience and hear people honor and talk about Ashley. Sometimes they spoke as well. Each week they returned to her grave behind the church to clear the many mementos people had left her: kettle bells, silver charms, flowers, letters on lined notebook paper telling her she was their “motivation.” Their mailbox filled with letters from people who knew her in Afghanistan, had met her in Ohio, or simply had read her story in the local newspaper. At Kent State a memorial scholarship and an annual run were established in Ashley’s name. Her old high school hung her photo in a glass case. The North Carolina National Guard unveiled a granite memorial to her at the Goldsboro National Guard Armory. Her brother Josh gave a powerful speech at the Ohio Statehouse memorializing his sister and addressing the loss experienced by every family who loses a son or daughter at war. The Ohio legislature named part of Route 44 in Marlboro Township the 1st Lt. Ashley White-Stumpf Memorial Highway.
In January 2013 the ban on women in ground combat units officially ended. The rules had at last caught up with reality.
“A hundred and fifty-two women in uniform have died serving this nation in Iraq and Afghanistan. Female service members have faced the reality of combat, proven their willingness to fight and, yes, to die to defend their fellow Americans,” said Secretary of Defense Leon Panetta at a news conference with Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Martin Dempsey. “Every time I visited the warzone, every time I’ve met with troops, reviewed military operations, and talked to wounded warriors, I’ve been impressed with the fact that everyone—everyone, men and women alike—everyone is committed to doing the job. They’re fighting and they’re dying together. And the time has come for our policies to recognize that reality.”
Said Panetta, “If they are willing to put their lives on the line, then we ought to recognize that they deserve a chance to serve in any capacity they want.”
Six months later, in June 2013, the Cultural Support Teams came up at a Pentagon news conference focused on integrating women into jobs that previously had been off-limits to them, including roles as special operators.
“Quite frankly, I was encouraged by just the physical performance of some of the young girls who aspire to go into the cultural support teams,” said SOCOM’s Major General Bennet Sacolick, who called the
program a “huge success.” He went on to say, “They very well may provide a foundation for ultimate integration.”
By January 1, 2016, special operations command and each of the services will either fully open up all roles to women or explain the reasons why they will stay male-only. All exemptions will have to be approved by both the secretary of defense and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs.
On Veteran’s Day 2013 First Lieutenant Ashley White-Stumpf marked another milestone: she became the first woman to have a tree dedicated to her on the Memorial Walk of Honor at the National Infantry Museum in Columbus, Georgia, just outside Fort Benning. Her fellow CSTs led by Amber and Lane raised the money for the tree and plaque in her honor. Then, almost exactly two years after Ashley’s death, a second CST, First Lieutenant Jennifer Moreno, an Army nurse, died in action in Kandahar Province alongside two Army Rangers and an Army criminal investigator. She would join Ashley on that Memorial Walk.
At that Veteran’s Day ceremony on the grounds of the National Infantry Museum, members of CST-2 gathered before a square, gold-rimmed plaque whose first line read:
CST PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE
That mild November day beneath a blue-gray sky Bob and Debbie White sat next to the soldiers who had known and loved their daughter and who, by now, had become members of their own family.
Tristan took to the podium.
When Ashley White-Stumpf became an angel she was at the apex of her life. She was a newlywed with an incredibly loving and supporting husband. She had just purchased her first home. She had a good job and an amazing family. And yet Ashley asked, “what can I do, how can I make a difference?”
Think about that for a minute. How much better would this world be if every person, at the happiest, most fulfilled point in their life, thought not of themselves, but of the good they could do for things bigger than themselves?
It is a question for each of us.
Acknowledgments
For two years Bob and Debbie White have allowed me into their home, their lives, and their family. Their unending generosity and relentless determination to remember their daughter made it impossible for me ever to forget the stakes of this story. At a time when we seem as a country to have strayed from some of our most deeply held values: hard work, a commitment to merit, humility, sacrifice for the next generation, and the importance of serving others, the White family is a reminder of who we are at our best—and proof of the power of kindness and courage in action.
Ashley’s husband, Jason, is an example of valor and grace in the face of grief. Those who knew Ashley at Kent State and afterward inevitably began conversations by mentioning the central role her husband had played in helping her to become who she was. Experiencing his commitment to honoring her legacy was both incredibly moving and an urgent reminder of why this story mattered.
Ashley’s twin sister, Brittany, and her brother, Josh, and his wife, Kate, shared stories and memories and much more, and I am thankful for their openness in the face of such a monumentally difficult task. It is a kindness I have never taken lightly.
To everyone who serves America each day and each night, I hope these pages have done their small part to remind readers of the reality of your work, the value of your service, the costs of your sacrifice, and the importance of engaging with the wars you fight in America’s name. I will be thankful always for the opportunity to shine a light on a world with which too few of us are familiar.
Getting to know the leaders who shaped the fight in Afghanistan has been a privilege and a pleasure, and I feel daily the weight of the responsibility of these stories. Thank you for allowing me to see the world as you do and for trusting me to share your stories with a country which must better understand what is asked of you, why you do it, and what that means for all of us. And to all the public affairs teams who shepherded my early calls, thank you for what you do and for your wisdom and care.
The soldiers in these pages share the unbreakable bonds of war. They are friends in battle and family for life. I knew the first time I heard Ashley’s story that America had to meet them as well, and I am thankful for the opportunity and the great responsibility of this challenge.
And to the Afghan-Americans who served in this war and who helped to create this story and make it theirs, thank you for sharing your insight and your world.
So many people offered their views, their voices, and their memories to this project. I have worked to do justice to all that you have shared. To the ROTC leaders at Kent State, Ashley’s friends from home, classmates from college, and fellow soldiers in North Carolina, thank you for making the time to help assemble this story.
Jim Gregory offered a gracious hand to help this story and incredibly valuable insight. Claire Russo, Matt Pottinger, Zoe Bedell, and a slew of others helped me to understand the origins of this program, and I am thankful for their wisdom. My Council on Foreign Relations colleague Janine Davidson, an Air Force pilot who flew C-17s and C-130s, offered valuable time and perspective, as did Susan Marquis and Linda Robinson of the RAND Corporation, author Dick Couch, Rebecca Patterson, and retired U.S. Navy Captain Lory Manning, who got me started with a reading list and a sense of history. Vice Admiral Lee Gunn offered his help and encouragement from the start. Jeremy Bash shared valuable wisdom and a big-picture perspective. Thank you to all.
My literary agent, Elyse Cheney, is the one you want next to you no matter the project; her tireless devotion to getting the shape and structure of this story right at the outset made all that followed far more manageable. Sam Freilich, Alex Jacobs, and Tyler Allen helped alongside. Jonathan Burnham at Harper believed in this story and pushed for it throughout. My wise and wonderful editor, Gail Winston, turned around the pages in record time, and each time the narrative returned stronger, sharper, and far more succinct. The incredibly capable Emily Cunningham made words flow and our production schedule manageable. Lisa Sharkey believed in Dressmaker from the outset and this book from the start, and I am thankful for all her support. Big thanks to our tireless publicity leader Tina Andreadis, marketing’s Leah Wasielewski and Stephanie Cooper, and the sales team, including Doug Jones, Josh Marwell, and Kate Walker. To everyone at CFR, including Richard Haass, Jim Lindsay, Irina Faskianos, Hannah Chartoff, countless military fellows, and the indefatigable Lisa Shields, thanks for the encouragement throughout.
I am blessed with wonderfully talented—and generous—friends and colleagues. My assistant, Christy Morales, kept me on track and our research organized. Melissa Stack lent a spare office and Robin Wood Sailer and Tara Luizzi their spare rooms. Marketing mind Chris Villareal shared his wisdom and his creative talent, as did Gina Bianchini. Laurye Blackford helped to map out the book’s launch from the start and offered invaluable advice and perspective all along the way. Willow Bay offered the very first set of notes for this book and the story was far stronger for them. Arash Ghadishah saw the power of this story at the same moment I did and was a consistent champion for this book. Lucy Helm, Anne Kornblut, Melinda Arons, Marc Adelman, Anna Soellner, Lee Gonzalez, Betsy Fischer Martin, Juleanna Glover, and Anna Robertson all supported this story in important ways. And you couldn’t have a wiser friend or smarter sounding board than author and editor Annik LaFarge.
Family is at the heart of this story and I must thank my own. My mother-in-law is the best agent a writer could have and helped in countless ways. My aunt and my godmother, Gloria Rojas and Elaine Cameron, told me to keep going no matter what. Laurie Sheets Forbes served as resident designer and Mark Cohen taught me a while back to never look for the easy path and that doing work that mattered was “supposed to be this hard.”
And finally, thank you to my husband, a former Naval officer who talked with me at length about military culture and offered unwavering support for this story. He is at the center of making this and much else possible.
This book is for so many and a great number of people helped bring it to life. Telling this story has altered and moved me beyond anything I had imagi
ned at the start. It is in the memory of all who have served and sacrificed that I say thanks to each of you reading these pages for being part of it.
Select Bibliography
America’s Post–9/11 Wars
Bergen, Peter. Manhunt: The Ten-Year Search for Bin Laden from 9/11 to Abbottabad. New York: Broadway Paperbacks, 2012.
Bowden, Mark. The Finish: The Killing of Osama Bin Laden. New York: Atlantic Monthly Press, 2012.
Broadwell, Paula, and Vernon Loeb. All In: The Education of General David Petraeus. New York: Penguin Books, 2012.
Kaplan, Fred. The Insurgents: David Petraeus and the Plot to Change the American Way of War. New York: Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 2013.
Mazzetti, Mark. The Way of the Knife: The CIA, a Secret Army, and a War at the Ends of the Earth. New York: Penguin Books, 2013.
McChrystal, Stanley. My Share of the Task: A Memoir. New York: Portfolio/Penguin, 2013.
The U.S. Army/Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007.
Special Operations
Bank, Aaron. From OSS to Green Berets: The Birth of Special Forces. Novato: Presidio Press, 1986.
Marquis, Susan L. Unconventional Warfare: Rebuilding U.S. Special Operations Forces. Washington: Brookings Institution, 1997.
Maurer, Kevin. Gentlemen Bastards: On the Ground in Afghanistan with America’s Elite Special Forces. New York: Berkeley Caliber, 2012.
McRaven, William H. Spec Ops: Case Studies in Special Operations Warfare: Theory and Practice. Novato: Presidio Press, 1996.
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