by Oliver North
Then came Iraq. The start of Operation Iraqi Freedom, in March 2003, created a virtual news vacuum in Afghanistan, and it has been pretty much like that ever since. Though there have been brief moments of media interest—such as the Oct. 9, 2004, election that brought President Hamid Karzai to power—the potentates of the press largely ignored developments in Afghanistan and focused instead on predictions of disaster in Mesopotamia.
By the spring of 2008, success in Iraq was an undeniable reality. But in Afghanistan, Taliban insurgents and foreign fighters, flowing across the porous border with Pakistan, commenced a vigorous offensive against the elected Karzai government. U.S. Army General David D. McKiernan, the new NATO commander in Afghanistan, asked for reinforcements. When our European "allies" balked, President Bush ordered 3,500 more American troops to the theater—most of them, Marines. Enemy contact and American casualties increased almost immediately, but the mainstream media, preoccupied with a hotly contested U.S. presidential race hardly noted what was happening in Operation Enduring Freedom.
A Taliban resurgence began in early 2008
In July, Senator Barak Obama paid a brief visit to Bagram Airbase north of Kabul. Though he was accompanied by scores of journalists, reports on the trip devoted considerably more broadcast time and column inches to the presidential candidate's basketball prowess than they did to the U.S. troops serving there. When the senator departed, the media left with him.
Just days after this "high-viz" political event, producers Greg Johnson and Andy Stenner and I departed for Afghanistan. In Dubai we linked up with cameraman Chris Jackson and after a seven-hour layover—during which we negotiated the transfer of our body armor and helmets through Dubai customs—we flew to Kabul. There we were met by Chuck Holton, who took so many of the magnificent photographs in this book and an officer from the Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force, who arranged for us to catch a U.S. military resupply flight south to Kandahar.
More than forty hours after leaving the U.S., we arrived at the austere headquarters of Marine Expeditionary Unit 24—a Marine Air-Ground Task Force or MAGTF—deployed from Camp Lejeune and New River Marine Corps Air Station in North Carolina. There Col. Pete Petronzio, the commander of 24 MEU briefed us on the mission of his 2,300 Marines and the heavy contact they had already encountered with the Taliban in southern Helmand Province.
That night we took a two-hour helicopter flight and then a bone-jarring, "dust-sucking," sixteen-hour cross-desert land convoy to "embed" with Battalion Landing Team (BLT) 1/6. On the way, a sudden sandstorm blew in and we had to "lay over" until dawn. Built around the 1st Battalion, 6th Marines, BLT 1/6 is the Ground Combat Element of 24 MEU—and they have seen plenty of ground combat.
Official information about the 33,000 U.S. soldiers, sailors, airmen, Guardsmen, and Marines here in Afghanistan are preceded by the "slug line"—"Operation Enduring Freedom." Our FOX News team dubbed our reports—"Dispatches from a forgotten war."
Talking with 1/6 CO LtCol Anthony Henderson, USMC
GARMSIR, HELMAND PROVINCE AFGHANISTAN AUGUST 2, 2008
It is more than 115 degrees Fahrenheit. We're soaked with sweat. The Marines fighting here since April say it is cooler now than a month ago, when temperatures were above 125 degrees—as high as the thermometer will go. The bright sunlight is oppressive and fine dust, the consistency of talcum powder, permeates everything. Terrain more than a few hundred meters from the Helmand River looks like desolate lunar landscape. In this climate, drinking at least ten liters of water a day is essential for survival. We all drank that much and more on the convoy from Forward Operating Base (FOB) Dwyer.
According to Lt. Col. Anthony Henderson, the commanding officer of BLT 1/6, nearly half the Marines in this unit were with us in Iraq. Some have made as many as five combat deployments. All of them are volunteers. Though U.S. forces don't keep score with "body counts," the Helmand Provincial Government credits the Marines with killing more than four hundred enemy combatants in this Taliban stronghold. No one here disputes the number.
Since arriving in Afghanistan in April, the Marines of 1/6 have had numerous gunfights with the Taliban. They don't swagger, but they know that they are making a difference even though this is the most difficult country to get around in I have experienced since Vietnam. As we arrived at "Strongpoint Bravo," we had no idea how much more challenging things were about to become.
STRONGPOINT "BRAVO," AUGUST 3, 2008
On the modern battlefield the U.S. military employs a wide array of sophisticated technology: satellites, manned and unmanned aerial vehicles, thermal imaging devices, electronic intelligence equipment, laser targeting equipment, radio jammers—and that's just the unclassified stuff. Yet, even with all this gear, the best way to keep an adversary off balance is to conduct patrols.
Patrolling, especially in a counterinsurgency environment, is essential for collecting intelligence, denying the enemy safe-havens and hunting down insurgents. Foot and vehicle-mounted patrols are a key component in "winning hearts and minds," and in Afghanistan patrols go on around the clock, "twenty-four seven." They are all inherently dangerous.
As we arrived at Strongpoint Bravo—a fortress constructed of dirt-filled Hesco barriers and bunkers—a squad-sized foot patrol was just returning from a reconnaissance mission. They were searching for improvised explosive devices and the Taliban terrorists who build them. They found neither.
Getting ready to go out on patrol
A few hours later Maj. Michael Little, the 1/6 Weapons Company Commander, asked if two of our FOX team wanted to "ride along" with a platoon-sized, five-Humvee "presence" patrol to a small agricultural community a few kilometers north of the strongpoint. Cameraman Chris Jackson and I donned our flak jackets and helmets, grabbed our camera gear, and reported to the dust-covered vehicle staging area.
Lieutenant John Branson issued a detailed patrol order describing the enemy and friendly situation, the mission of his patrol, and the tactics, techniques, and procedures to be used during the operation and we mounted up. I piled in behind Lt. Branson. Cameraman Chris Jackson took a seat in the right rear of the vehicle commanded by Sgt. Courtney Rauch and introduced himself to the driver, Cpl. Arnaldo Figueroa, Cpl. Donald, manning a .50 cal machine gun in the turret, and Cpl. Wright on left rear security.
Sergeant Rauch was a reassuring factor. I saw him in action in Ramadi in 2006. Big, tough, and smart, the amiable Pennsylvanian and his wife Vanessa were part of our FOX News documentary, "From the Frontlines to the Home Front." He exuded competence and the Weapons Section he now led reflected his experience, skill, and steady leadership. After checking all his men, they "locked and loaded," and we rolled out into the desert toward a scattered collection of mud-walled orchards, houses, and opium poppy fields.
We stopped three times within the first two hours, asking questions of the "locals" we encountered, checking documents, patiently probing about Taliban sightings through the interpreter, an Afghan-born American citizen known to the troops as "Frank the Terp." The patrol was about 500 meters from a walled compound when Sgt. Rauch saw something suspicious in front of us and signaled an immediate halt. It was too late.
The massive IED detonated directly beneath Sgt. Rauch's lead vehicle of our five-Humvee patrol. The blast blew Cpl. Donald out of the turret and Cpl. Wright and cameraman Chris Jackson out the left and right rear doors. Though heavily armored, the Humvee was immediately engulfed in flames.
Trapped in the front of the burning vehicle were Cpl. Figueroa and Sgt. Rauch. Despite his own wounds from shrapnel and the blast, Jackson immediately jumped up and scrambled back to the burning vehicle. With ammunition "cooking off" inside the Humvee, he somehow jerked the buckled armored door open and dragged Sgt. Rauch to safety. On the left side of the vehicle, Cpls. Wright and Donald did the same for Cpl. Figueroa.
Both badly wounded Marines were dragged to safety behind the next vehi
cle in the column. While two U.S. Navy medical corpsmen, Jose Pena and Gregory Cox, administered first aid, Lt. Branson deployed his Marines to secure a helicopter landing zone.
Within minutes of the explosion, a Humvee-mounted Quick Reaction Force (QRF) from the Marine strongpoint, an armed UH-1N "Huey" and an AH-1J "Cobra" gunship were headed our way. They arrived—accompanied by Chuck Holton—just as a CH-46 Sea Knight helicopter swooped in to evacuate the casualties while small-arms, rockets, and machinegun ammunition exploded in the diesel-fueled flames of the lead Humvee. Fewer than twenty minutes after the blast that almost killed them, the two wounded Marines were in the air, headed for the big British hospital at Camp Bastion.
Weapons company Marines carrying Sgt. Raucch to a CH-46 Cas-evac helicopter
The wrecked Humvee burned until well after dark. When the fire finally died out, a Vehicle Recovery Team removed the wreckage to deny the Taliban a chance to exploit the incident in their prolific propaganda. The only indication left behind was a fire-blackened hole in the dirt track.
It was well after midnight when we made it back to the strongpoint. Once inside the little base, the Weapons Company Corpsman examined the shrapnel wound in Chris Jackson's leg, cleaned it thoroughly and bandaged him up. After checking for signs of traumatic brain injury, the "Doc" offered to have him evacuated after first light. His response was classic "hero humor."
Cameraman Chris Jackson after surviving the IED
HERO HUMOR
Jackson's cameras and equipment in the Humvee were blasted to pieces and burned beyond recognition. He had a shrapnel wound in his right leg and undoubtedly a concussion from the explosion. Yet, he refused to be evacuated, claiming he had to stay in the field because "In every hour of videotape that Oliver North shoots there are five or six really good seconds. I know I can do better." That might have been true before the IED went off, but for a while, I had the only camera.
STRONGPOING "BRAVO," AUGUST 4–7, 2008
Shortly before dawn, Lt. Branson awakened me and said, "We're going back out to where we got blown up yesterday, want to go along?" We went.
With a UAV overhead and fixed-wing close air support aircraft standing by if needed, eight Humvees converged on the mud-walled compound nearest to where the IED detonated. Using a bullhorn, Frank the Terp summoned the village elder to a shura—a meeting—in the open next to Branson's Humvee. Just to make sure everyone watching got the message, the Lieutenant secured the Stars and Stripes to the whip antenna of his Humvee.
To reach us, the local headman had to walk across a field of opium poppies. When he arrived, the Marine Lieutenant told him through the interpreter, "Yesterday some bad men planted an explosive device that damaged one of our vehicles and hurt two of my friends. We must find out who did this. If we do not, we will have to stop helping you with new wells, irrigation, and medical supplies. The school you asked for will never get built because the Taliban will come back in force."
Speaking with a villager to get information
The old man said nothing. He glanced around at the Marines dismounted from their vehicles, looked at the large American flag waving from the rear of Branson's Humvee, nodded his head and walked back to his family compound. The Marines loaded up and headed across the desert to their strongpoint.
The next day, with information provided by the locals corroborating other intelligence, the Marines apprehended six military-age males with explosive residue on their hands and clothing. Sometimes just showing the flag helps win "hearts and minds."
Camp Bastion is no five-star resort, but to us it felt like one
CAMP BASTION, HELMAND PROVINCE
AFGHANISTAN, AUGUST 8, 2008
It took us nearly twelve hours of cross-desert movement in trucks and Humvees and a two-hour, middle of the night flight in a CH-46 helicopter to make our way from Strongpoint Bravo to Camp Bastion. This British-built fortress, perched on a plateau in southwestern Afghanistan, is well-named.
Surrounded by miles of open desert, the citadel has its own concrete runway, water supply, sewage, electricity, Level 3 trauma hospital, even fire mains—all constructed in the past thirty-six months. The heavily armed camp quarters British, Danish, Estonian, and Czech troops of the International Security Assistance Force. It's also home to Task Force 2/7—built around the legendary 2nd Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment. Based at Marine Corps Base Twentynine Palms, California, these troops came from the best possible place to prepare for this austere terrain and oppressive heat. Camp Bastion is also an outpost of sanity in an otherwise insane part of the world.
Life in Helmand Province has changed little in five hundred years
Helmand Province is the heartland of the Taliban, the Islamic radicals who won a bloody civil war to rule Afghanistan in 1996. Once in power, the Taliban imposed strict Sharia (system of law) and brutalized the largely impoverished Afghan population. Taliban leaders also provided a haven for Osama bin Laden's al-Qaeda to launch the 9/11 attacks. In November 2001, when they were deposed by the U.S.-backed Northern Alliance, many of the Taliban fled south to Pakistan and east to Iran. In the spring of 2008, they came back intent on overthrowing the democratically elected government of President Hamid Karzai. That's when the Marines of TF 2/7 arrived "in country"—ostensibly to train and mentor Afghan army and police forces.
It's been a challenging assignment for the 1,300 Marines, sailors, soldiers, airmen, and civilians of TF 2/7. The unit's area of operations is more than 28,000 square kilometers—roughly the size of Vermont. There is only one paved highway. Overland transport to some of the fifteen forward bases and combat outposts where TF 2/7 operates often takes more than twenty-four hours of continuous day and night movement through the desert. Until mid August, when four CH-53 transport helicopters and four Cobra gunships arrived, the task force had to rely on NATO aircraft for close air support, aerial resupply, and casualty evacuation. Parachute drops of food, water, and ammunition are often necessary.
Before they could train their first Afghan soldier or national policeman, the Marines had to fight their way into the districts where they were to do the mentoring. Since then, they have had to battle the Taliban to keep their overland supply lines open and their outposts secure.
Lt. Col. Richard Hall, the TF 2/7 commander and I once served together in 3rd Battalion, 8th Marines. He's a smart, no-nonsense, level-headed professional, not given to hyperbole. He describes the nearly nonstop gunfights, indirect fire, and improvised explosive device attacks as "a very dynamic, complex, and often hostile environment." That's putting it mildly.
Because there were no police stations or Afghan army units in most of the remote locations where TF 2/7 is operating, the Marines had to construct their own security outposts—a Herculean effort, given the lack of paved roads and primitive infrastructure. As Lt. Col. Hall put it: "We have simultaneously fought the Taliban, built more than a dozen defensive strong points, trained new Afghan National Police, and conducted civic-action programs to win over the local population. And we're getting it done. Our motto, 'Ready for all, yielding to none,' says it all."
By the time we linked up with them in early August 2008, the Marines and Navy medical corpsmen of TF 2/7 had suffered more than one hundred casualties from enemy action. Since they arrived, they have confronted the Taliban, unrelenting heat, innumerable exhausting patrols wearing 40 pounds of armor, and persevered in the roughest living conditions I have experienced since Khe Sanh or Con Thien, forty years ago. More than half the task force has served previously in Iraq or Afghanistan—some in both. Yet the unit's re-enlistment rate is 118 percent—among the highest in the U.S. armed forces.
Loading up on a Brit helicopter at Now Zad
FORWARD OPERATING BASE
NOW ZAD, AUGUST 11–15, 2008
To link up with Company "F" 2/7 at this remote Forward Operating Base, we flew from Camp Bastion aboard a British CH-47 Chinook helicopter transporting
a load of ammunition in a cargo net, slung beneath the bird. Several times during the flight it seemed we were going so low and so fast that either the rotor tips or the load of ammunition—or both—would hit the ground.
The ammunition, it turned out, was an emergency resupply of 81mm mortar rounds. The Marines and their British counterparts at this isolated NATO outpost were down to 18 rounds, split between two locations, saved for "final defensive fires" in the event they were being overrun by the Taliban.
As they have since arriving at Now Zad, the Marines and their British comrades in arms patrol day and night to keep the enemy off balance in this Taliban stronghold. Capt. Ross Schellhaas, the "Fox Company" commander, and the son of a Naval Academy classmate, says "Nothing in the field manuals could fully prepare us for this, but we adapt and overcome." And they have.
Over the course of the time we spent with "Fox" Company, Chris Jackson and I accompanied them on patrols into the deserted city. Once a "model agricultural settlement" for the UN and NATO, nearly 20,000 residents called Now Zad home before the Taliban drove them away.
Acres of almond and pistachio trees were planted. Irrigation wells and piping systems were installed. The town once had running water, electricity, medical and veterinary clinics, schools, paved streets, a busy bazaar, and a civic center. Today it's a ghost town—devoid of human habitation. Except for the Taliban who slip into the deserted city to plant IEDs and snipe at the U.S. and British troops, it is an eerie, empty place.