by Chris Martin
This decision only served to inflame the already bitter friction that existed between the competing special mission units. Delta’s soldiers judged the sailors to be the martial equivalents of “fish out of water” in the mountainous Afghanistan, inadequately outfitted or prepared to operate in the harsh and unforgiving terrain. Meanwhile, DEVGRU considered its men more than ready for the fight, both operationally and motivationally, having been held by the collar dating back well before 9/11.
However, as the unified team of Delta Officer Pete Blaber and DEVGRU sniper Homer Nearpass illustrated, the units’ rivalry didn’t extend to its recce elements—at least not with the same burning ferocity, anyway.
“The snipers cross-train and work together much more than the assaulters do,” former Red Squadron sniper Craig Sawyer confirmed. “As a result, you don’t find that same level of animosity.”
JSOC’s snipers also opened their Afghanistan manhunt having recently worked in unison toward similar goals in Bosnia, increasing the familiarity between the units.
In early 2002, following the crushing, one-sided encounter at Tora Bora, a sizable collection of anti-American forces was suspected to have amassed in the Shah-i-Kot Valley.
As Task Force 11’s primary assault force remained leashed in Bagram awaiting word on the location of one of the big three—bin Laden; his AQ number two, Ayman al-Zawahiri; or Taliban leader Mullah Mohammed Omar—Blaber’s approach continued to contrast (and in some ways clash) with that of his boss, Dailey.
AFO recalled snipers from B Squadron’s recce troop to headline a series of arduous reconnaissance operations designed to “prepare the battlefield” in anticipation of a significantly larger military operation that was being formulated: Operation Anaconda.
Multiple trial runs meant to test both the brutally difficult terrain and the defenses of the enemy were made by two AFO field teams: India and Juliet.
India was initially just a two-man affair, but one stocked deep with talent and experience nonetheless. It comprised a pair of master hunters from the south—Master Sergeants Kevin “Speedy” Short of Kentucky and Robert Horrigan from Texas. The two were an ideal pairing—silent and unyielding infiltrators with boundless endurance. Those traits were mission critical as they trudged and scaled their way deep into enemy-laden territory marked by vertical cliffs and snowdrifts at an elevation of greater than ten thousand feet. Later, as they continued penetrating defenses, India added a SIGINT specialist from the ISA to round out their effort.
Meanwhile, Juliet was led by another southerner—the accomplished and devoutly religious Master Sergeant Kristofar Kosem of West Virginia. Kris’s team included two additional Delta recce snipers along with an Air Force Combat Control Technician (CCT) from JSOC’s 24STS and yet another soldier from the ISA.
Desperately in need of additional men boasting those same rare polished talents in order to completely blanket the expansive valley, Nearpass suggested that Blaber turn to Bagram and invite his fellow snipers from Red Squadron’s Black Team to join the effort.
Blaber’s request to SEAL Team Six commander Joe Kernan was partially met—one of the squadron’s two Reconnaissance and Surveillance elements was redirected to assist AFO in the Shah-i-Kot. Blaber’s new five-man DEVGRU recce team addition was given the code name Mako 31. Meanwhile, the remainder of Red Squadron hunkered down an hour away, awaiting the call to action should an HVT be sighted during Operation Anaconda (or elsewhere).
The trial runs complete, India went in on foot to claim their final observation points, Short armed with an M4 and Horrigan with an SR-25. The team endured a steep overnight march from the west and ascended to an elevation of 10,500 feet over a four-mile trek. Their assignment was to assume an overwatch position over the valley’s southwest.
Juliet, meanwhile, chose to ride in from the north of the valley. Piloting virtually silent hybrid electric-powered ATVs (which were classified and practically magical vehicles at the time) through the dark with the aid of similarly cutting-edge NVGs and GPS technology, the team narrowly avoided being compromised on multiple occasions. It infiltrated the small enemy-occupied village of Menewar, skirted past a minefield, and dodged an enemy machine-gun position before finally establishing a position overlooking the valley’s east. Once set up in overwatch, Juliet immediately identified an AQ infestation in the surrounding areas.
Mako 31’s SEAL snipers (along with Air Force CCT Technical Sergeant Andrew Martin) reported in to the AFO safe house in Gardez just ahead of the commencement of Operation Anaconda and therefore lacked the benefit of the advance penetration ops. Their mission was to lay claim to a position overlooking the valley’s southern edge via a grueling path earlier blazed by India.
Mako 31 completed a laborious multiday, seven-mile climb through thigh-deep snow while subjected to extreme cold and high winds in order to approach its assigned observation point unseen. However, as they neared their intended destination, they discovered the position had already been claimed by an AQ-heavy machine gun team armed with a Soviet-built DShK. Deemed a tactically critical position by AFO, the AQ fighters were ideally situated to tear apart the impending air assault that the coalition conventional forces planned to conduct the following day.
* * *
Despite the AFO teams warning that a significantly larger-than-anticipated force existed in the valley and its surrounding mountainsides—perhaps a thousand strong and owning vital strategic territory in some cases—Operation Anaconda had become a strategic freight train.
The battle plan was complex to the point of convolution and lacked effective unity of command—and therefore coordination and control. It involved multiple task forces across multiple nations in a misguided attempt to weave together a wide range of conventional and SOF forces—both air and ground—into a single, cohesive (yet rigid) operation.
Unfortunately, the cumbersome op’s momentum alone seemed to cause leaders to ignore updated intelligence and willfully choose to make poor decisions.
The existence of a single DShK in precisely the wrong spot from the coalition’s perspective had the power to upend Anaconda with spectacularly disastrous results despite its two thousand well-equipped men and technological might.
Mako 31’s unwelcome discovery certainly fit that bill. With Operation Anaconda’s leaders unwilling to adjust their assault plan, the SEAL Team Six snipers were forced to devise an audible of their own. An hour before the official launch of the offensive, the recce team sprang a surprise raid on the al-Qaeda camp. They eliminated two terrorists in the opening instants of the attack and incapacitated another. A circling AC-130H then unleashed its overwhelming firepower to mop up the remainder of the pack.
As Operation Anaconda steamrolled into action, India, Juliet, and Mako 31 called down devastation on the entrenched AQ and Taliban militants they had located, tallying up scads of casualties. Meanwhile, a number of the larger coalition force were not so effective while enduring less enviable circumstances—from being immediately pinned down by enemy gunfire to a convoy that was on the wrong end of a punishing and tragic blue-on-blue strike from an AC-130.
A conventional nine-man tactical command element had infiltrated the valley aboard a pair of Black Hawks but now found themselves sustaining considerable enemy fire. The lethal Black Team snipers linked up with the soldiers and immediately cut down an advancing enemy force. Thinning the herd through the course of the day to enable the soldiers’ exfiltration that night, the DEVGRU element dissipated in the manner they had earlier materialized, ascending back up to their OP to resume calling down air strikes on their enemy.
Ultimately, Anaconda was a massive and unsynchronized operation that had all the makings of yet another debacle. In the end, it was deemed a victory—albeit a costly one.
Without the wildly disproportionate contributions of the nation’s elite snipers, even that costly victory would have been all but impossible. As had been the case at the Battle of Tora Bora, JSOC’s recce operators were the carpenters tha
t skillfully cobbled together tactical triumphs from strategic blunders.
Delta and DEVGRU’s snipers had demonstrated a capacity to redirect battles beyond assessment. They served as the pivotal, centerpiece component at Operation Anaconda despite comprising less than a single percent of its overall strength in terms of sheer numbers.
The efforts of India’s team leader, Delta sniper Kris Kosem, and Mako 31’s 24STS CCT attachment, Andrew Martin, were recognized with the awarding of Silver Stars. It’s reasonable to assume those were far from the only medals awarded to AFO troops for their participation in Operation Anaconda; troves of commendations earned by JSOC operators deep enough to stock a museum remain classified.
However, the story of Operation Anaconda did not end with Juliet, India, and Mako 31—not by a long shot.
* * *
Back at Bagram Airfield, Task Force 11 got antsy when the action of Operation Anaconda proved hotter than it had anticipated—particularly for its wayward AFO subcomponent. Motivated to work its forces more deeply into the mix, General Dailey’s in-country deputy, Air Force Brig. Gen. Gregory Trebon, along with ST6 commander Joe Kernan, sent forth “reinforcements” from Task Force Blue to swoop in and assume control of the air strike operations from AFO.
The new arrivals at the Gardez safe house were directed by Lieutenant Commander Vic Hyder, who two months earlier had evoked unwanted comparisons to SEAL Team Six’s riotous past. On New Year’s Eve of ’01, a group of SEALs, led by Hyder, blasted through Afghan militia checkpoints in a reckless “joyride.” The vehicle was fired upon and its driver struck, forcing the DEVGRU operators to pull over and surrender their equipment to the tribesmen in humiliation.
Now Hyder came with a group of SEALs looking to seize rather than surrender. Although Lt. Col. Blaber had been informed to the contrary, upon arrival, Hyder was not only in command of the teams he brought with him, but also the AFO recon teams already in position. And at TF 11’s behest—and in direct opposition to Blaber’s recommendations—he immediately set about replacing them with the three new ST6 teams (despite their lack of familiarity with the terrain and the situation).
Complicating matters further, both Hyder and Blaber believed they were in command, and, unbeknownst to Blaber, the two did not use shared communication channels as subsequent events rapidly unfolded.
Of the three SEAL teams preparing for immediate insertion, two, Mako 21 and Mako 22, consisted of assaulters. Both were emplaced without resistance, although, lacking the specialized training and equipment required for an operation of this sort, they produced rather mixed results.
A third team, Mako 30, consisted of the other half of Red Squadron’s recce element that Blaber had earlier requested but been denied. This Black Team sniper element was tasked with the most challenging and potentially pivotal of the operation: the 10,469-foot peak of Takur Ghar, which teased a dominant overwatch position towering over the entire valley below.
The seven-man team was led by a SEAL named Britt Slabinski. “Slab,” a wiry-framed and reflective sniper in his midthirties, was the converse of the stereotypical image of a Navy SEAL.
He was joined by heavy metal aficionado Stephen “Turbo” Toboz, and Kyle Defoor, an avid motorcyclist and relative newcomer to recce. There was also a member of the secretive ISA, along with Air Force Technical Sergeant John Chapman of the 24th Special Tactics Squadron. The team was rounded out by three additional SEALs, including thirty-two-year-old Neil “Fifi” Roberts, sporting curly red hair and an M249 SAW.
Blaber knew and respected Slabinski. The two had operated alongside one another extensively prior to 9/11 in Bosnia and elsewhere.
After the two had conferred, Mako 30 planned to infiltrate some thirteen hundred yards short of their ambitious objective, providing them adequate time to complete the demanding four-hour climb with the advantage of night on their side.
This was later scrapped, however. Multiple delays had encouraged a decidedly dicier approach, and instead of marching to the peak, they chose to shift their intended LZ (landing zone) directly to the top of the mountain. This was viewed as extremely dangerous for any number of reasons—not the least of which it would signify their placement to any nearby fighters. Making matters even more dire, there was compelling evidence that suggested the “nearby” fighters would be even closer than that, with an entrenched al-Qaeda force thought to have already claimed ownership of the prized turf.
In their earlier discussion, Blaber urgently argued against an impetuous attempt of this nature. However, despite retaining notional authority, he had since been removed from the loop and was unaware of this late development. Slabinski requested that the operation be pushed back to the following evening; however, he was overruled and instructed by Task Force Blue’s TOC in Bagram to immediately go forward with the daring—arguably reckless—mission plan.
The eight-man JSOC team was ferried into position above the peak of Takur Ghar aboard a 160th SOAR MH-47E Chinook. Ignoring still more warning signs on approach, the Night Stalker set the bulky tandem-rotor craft down on top of the mountain. Within moments, the night sky strobed with a barrage of intense RPG and small arms fire.
The crew immediately reacted and wrenched the unwieldy helicopter back into the air in hopes of limping it to a safer landing zone. However, Petty Officer 1st Class Roberts was already preparing to disembark, one foot off the ramp. The DEVGRU operator was knocked off balance and he slipped out of Toboz’s grasp and into the blackness ten feet below.
Moments later he found himself all alone on the mountain peak, lying in the snow and surrounded by a pack of fanatical jihadists closing on his position. At that instant, the remainder of his team was helplessly drifting away from him in a crippled Chinook, which had suffered massive damage to its electronic and hydraulics systems in the onslaught.
The DEVGRU sniper element frantically requested for immediate reinsertion in hopes of saving Roberts but Anaconda’s ineffectual command and control (at multiple levels) magnified an already dire situation.
A second Chinook arrived at the scene of their controlled crash, but they were ordered back to Gardez. This was due to an unwillingness to abandon the downed helicopter’s crew when nearby friendly forces were mistakenly believed to be an advancing pack of enemy combatants.
Roberts’s condition and predicament were a mystery. A soupy-thick fog of war had enveloped the chaotic situation as AC-130Hs and various ISR (intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance) platforms had changed stations and were scrambling in hopes of locating the abandoned SEAL.
After hauling the spare 160th crew back to Gardez, the remaining five from Six and their CCT were finally allowed to charge back to Roberts’s aid. However, it was already too late. The precise details of his demise have been debated. There is some speculation he died almost instantly while other reports claim he fought off a mob of onrushing attackers for as long as thirty minutes, undone only after his M249 had jammed and he had run through his secondary weapon’s ammunition and stock of grenades.
Additionally, the manner in which he was killed is unclear. The rumor mill is filled with (allegedly) Predator-feed-informed anecdotes that range from an execution-style bullet to the head to tortuous brutalization at the hands of savage enemies.
Unaware that Roberts had already been killed, Mako 30 touched back down on Takur Ghar in hopes of a hasty rescue. They immediately split into three pairs and were engaged straight away in intense, close-range combat. Several al-Qaeda gunmen were dispatched in the opening frenzied moments, but the hopelessly outnumbered recce force quickly took casualties. Three of the DEVGRU commandos were wounded—including Toboz, who took a round from an RPK “Super Kalashnikov” to the left calf, ripping a baseball-sized chunk out of his lower leg.
Tragically, the 24STS Combat Controller, Technical Sergeant John A. Chapman, joined Roberts as KIA (killed in action) on the peak of Takur Ghar, downed in the firefight (though there remains some dispute concerning the particulars of Chapman’s dea
th as well).
Forced to make a desperate escape, the JSOC snipers leapt over the crest of the peak and plowed down a seventy-degree embankment at speed before clambering to cover hundreds of feet below.
SEAL Team Three sniper Brandon Webb was aboard a QRF (Quick Reaction Force) helicopter at Bagram Airfield and heard the confused radio calls as the operation spiraled deeper and deeper out of control. Ready to race to the mountain to support the cornered DEVGRU element, his Task Force K-Bar team was ordered off the helo in order to make room for an Army Rangers QRF just prior to liftoff—further evidence of Operation Anaconda’s shattering miscommunication and lack of coordination.
Webb later observed the footage captured by an MQ-1 Predator drone of the battle atop Takur Ghar.
“Part of the feed is just burned into my mind,” Webb said. “These guys sliding down this mountain with their kit.… I’m not sure what the pitch would have been, but it was incredibly steep.”
The Ranger Regiment-led QRF, which was split between a pair of Chinooks, attempted to assist the SEALs. However, one of the helicopters was mistakenly directed into the firing lines of the awaiting AQ combatants atop the peak while the other flew to Gardez before finally inserting some eight hundred meters away (now with SEAL officer Vic Hyder, who joined in the rescue effort).
The QRF ultimately took “Roberts Ridge”—as the deadly peak would come to be known—but not before the lives of five additional American warriors were taken.
While the Rangers aboard the second QRF scurried to the ridge, Hyder went in search of Mako 30.
The sniper element had been engaged for hours on end as they attempted to fight their way back to safety. Slabinski controlled the chaos throughout, alternately urging his men on and shredding through packs of assailants via the liberal application of surgical fire courtesy of “Barney”—his 7.62mm semi-automatic rifle.