Full Battle Rattle

by Changiz Lahidji

  Trouble always loomed outside the gate in the form of IEDs, insurgents, and armed farmers who didn’t want us there. A sign on the gate advised: USE OF DEADLY FORCE IS AUTHORIZED.

  Most of the people who worked at TK never left the wire. They spent their free time working out or watching movies on laptops or tablets. On a daily basis I saw groups of muscular guys in gym clothes moving around the base, often applying Blistex to lips cracked by the dry wind. A form of defense-speak was generally spoken—a polyglot of acronyms that included DFAC (dining facility), ECP (enemy control point), DG (dangerous goods), DPCU (disruptive pattern camouflage uniform), LN (local national), OMF (opposing military forces), PAX (passengers), TB (Taliban), and TIC (troops in combat)—adding another strange element to an already surreal environment.

  While in TK, we were told to keep body armor close at all times in case of a “situation” or the warning siren went off. When that happened, everyone would jump into action, filing into our “rocket-proof” sleeping quarters, where we were told to put on our armor and helmets until further notice. There, we’d sit silently, usually thinking of family and friends back home.

  I tried to make the best of an unusual situation, keeping the boredom at bay by jogging, lifting weights, reading, and watching the news. One day during my time off, I was watching a US senator being interviewed on CNN. While he was expounding about the dangers of terrorism, he said that he believed all Muslims were terrorists, including those born and raised in the United States.

  It felt as though he was talking about me. I thought: How fucking dare you, you asshole? I wanted to ask him if he had ever served in the military and the number of years of combat experience he had.

  One night, while on duty in the PTDS command module, I saw a Black Hawk hover over three individuals on a dusty street on the outskirts of Tarin Kowt and shoot them dead. When I played back the tape, it appeared that the locals weren’t armed.

  I reported it to an officer in our unit and never heard another word about the incident.

  But it bothered me a lot. As a member of SF, I appreciated the importance of winning the support of the local population. Apparently, a lot of people in the USG, including high officials and some senators, didn’t.

  I’d been at Tarin Kowt almost a year, when in 2010 I was summoned to the office of our Australian TL.

  He said, “Sorry, mate, seems like you’re being called back to the States.”

  Immediately I thought of my mother and her precarious health.

  “Why? Is something wrong?”

  “It appears your security clearance has been denied,” he answered.

  I did a double-take. “My security clearance … denied for what reason?”

  “All it says here,” he said, pointing to the email, “is ‘investigation.’”

  “Investigation? Of what?”

  He shrugged. “Sorry, Changiz, but as a result your contract has been suspended. You better gather your things, because you’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  I was stunned. How had I become a security risk overnight? Why was I being forced to give up the $45,000 that was still owed me under the contract with CACI?

  I racked my brain all the way back to Fort Bragg, trying to figure out what I could have done. Had someone taken revenge on me because I had reported the incident with the Black Hawk? Was this part of the fallout from another contract I had been involved in?

  These questions were answered when I arrived at Bragg and learned that my security clearance had been suspended as a result of information discovered during the course of updating my background information. According to the Statement of Reasons (SOR) filed by DOD’s Central Adjudication Facility (CAF), investigators had learned that I had an uncle in the Iranian Revolutionary Guards.

  The charges were absurd.

  My only course of action was to file a detailed written response and request an appearance before a Defense Office of Hearings and Appeals (DOHA) administrative judge. They asked for a full accounting of how I had immigrated to the US, including a copy of the visa I had obtained thirty-eight years ago. All of it was stupid and insulting, and took eight months. I spent that time teaching Arabic, Dari, and Farsi at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California, and racing motorcycles.

  Finally, in February 2012, I appeared before the female DOHA judge who had flown to nearby San Jose for the hearing. I said, “Your Honor, I worked for the government for thirty-three years. When I was getting shot at or going behind enemy lines, no one challenged my security clearance. Now when I’m trying to support my family, they pull my clearance and claim that I have an uncle who is a member of Iran’s Revolutionary Guards. First of all, my uncle has never been a member of the Revolutionary Guards. In fact, he despises them and always has. Furthermore, he’s been retired for over fifteen years and is now an old man. So none of this makes sense.”

  The judge overturned the ruling against me and informed me that I could now apply to have my clearance restored. But I was sixty-two years old, and it seemed like a good time to finally settle down.

  The Monterey Peninsula appealed to me for a number of reasons, including the spectacular setting and proximity to my family. One day as I walked through a house that was for sale near the coast, I came face-to-face with a woman I had imagined thirty-some years ago in the Philippines when I asked a local artist to draw a portrait of my dream woman. She turned out to be a beautiful Native American named Linda.

  I ended up buying the house from her and soon after that we started dating. Two years later, she moved in with me. The portrait of her hangs in our living room. We’ve lived together ever since.

  Life is good!

  EPILOGUE

  Hearts and Minds

  Because of my background as an Iranian-American, I often see at least two sides of any situation. During my career, that usually meant the objectives of the US military and the perspective of the people I encountered in the countries I was stationed. Sometimes we were in those places as friends; sometimes we were fighting enemies. One of the many things I admire most about US Special Forces is the emphasis it places on winning hearts and minds. It’s one of the reasons I succeeded in Special Forces and it suited me so well.

  When Brigadier General Robert McClure helped found the Green Berets in 1952, he understood that winning a war requires more than weapons, supplies, and troops. Successfully achieving military goals in any country is contingent on the support (or at least compliance) of the local population. General McClure realized that the help of local populations in Europe and elsewhere was a key to the Allied success in World War II.

  Because of this, General McClure not only was a strong proponent of bringing the psychology of winning the hearts and minds into the realm of military science but also making it one of the cornerstones of the Green Berets. Since the inception of Special Forces, every recruit, including myself, has received instruction in Psychological Operations (PSYOPS) at the Psychological Warfare Training Center at Fort Bragg. Recruits are also trained in languages, cultural sensitivity, and the study of particular areas of operation (AOs).

  To my mind, it’s this aspect of Special Forces that makes them “special”—namely, the importance placed on establishing cultural and personal rapport with other peoples. Today, after my many years of service, it’s something I believe in even more strongly. I’m encouraged that other elements of the US Special Operations Command—including the Operation Detachment Delta and the US Naval Special Warfare Development Group, commonly known as DEVGRU or SEAL Team 6—are following the SF example.

  I grew up in a country in the throes of political turmoil and saw how it impacted my friends and family. I thank God that most of my fellow US citizens have never had to experience violent, abrupt political change. But I’ve observed that because many people here don’t understand what it’s like to have their political system uprooted, they lack sympathy for those who do and
forget that living under a stable, representative government is a rare privilege that needs to be nurtured and protected.

  Our government was designed by enlightened people who realized that individuals are happiest and most productive when they can live under a set of laws that protect their ability to choose what they believe in. Freedom of religion and freedom of speech are unknown in most parts of the world. Kids growing up in many countries in Africa and the Middle East have a set of political and religious beliefs drilled into their heads from birth. Because they aren’t taught how to read or write, they have little ability to learn anything else. They’re told to distrust Westerners and are highly suspicious of people different from them.

  I don’t pretend to be a strategist or a political philosopher. Most of what I’ve learned is based on experience and observation. I believe we as a people and a country face a fundamental choice. We can either make friends around the world, or we can make enemies.

  The first step toward making friends is to realize that a huge majority of the people in other parts of the world want the same things we do: peace, prosperity, and happiness. They want a better life for their children. There are more similarities between individuals in Santa Clara, California, and Islamabad, Pakistan, or Tehran, Iran, than there are differences.

  It’s ignorance, fear, and distrust, often exacerbated by differences in religious beliefs, that underline our differences. It’s ignorance, fear, and distrust on our part that could cause us to lose the war on terrorism.

  I love the United States and our country’s core values, and I’ve dedicated a large part of my life to defending them. Instead of putting so much emphasis on dropping bombs, launching rockets from drones, and, as an unintended consequence, killing innocent civilians, I believe we should be investing more in helping poor people in the Middle East and North Africa and disseminating our message of tolerance for all people and respect for personal freedom.

  Don’t get me wrong—there are bad people out there spreading terror, death, and hatred, like the followers of ISIS and Al Qaeda, who need to be captured and destroyed. But in doing so, we have to stop blaming entire religious and national groups. It’s wrong and counterproductive.

  So far I’ve visited and worked in fifty-three countries. I’ve observed over and over that most people everywhere want peace, and a good, healthy, happy life for themselves and their families.

  If we help and encourage them in achieving those goals, we will prevail.

  Me as an eager young gym student in Iran, 1967.

  Standing guard during the Shah’s massive festival celebrating the 2,500th anniversary of the founding of the Persian Empire, October 1971.

  Teaching in a Kurdish village as a member of the Sepah-e Danash, a special unit of the Iranian Special Forces, 1971.

  Working the pumps at my brother’s gas station, Santa Clara, California, 1974.

  My very dear mother and niece, taken at my brother’s house in Santa Clara, 1979.

  Studying martial arts in San Jose, California, 1974, in preparation for joining the US Army.

  Receiving my black belt, 1975.

  Returning to San Jose after graduating into the US Special Forces, 1979.

  That’s me in the center about to be pulled into the air by an aerial balloon while training for a secret mission to Tehran, January 1980.

  Minutes later. I’m the dot hanging from the rope behind the C-130 that is about to pull me in during training in the Nevada, 1980.

  As a member of an SF A-Team, we trained constantly. That’s me at Ft. Bragg, North Carolina, 1979.

  Me in the center breathing oxygen before a record-breaking 37,200-foot HALO jump in Guam, 1987.

  Minutes later, jumping from 37,200 feet. What a thrill!

  That’s me in the center, entangled with another jumper during parachute training in the Philippines, 1986. Not a great position to be in, but I survived.

  I’m on the right carrying a rucksack and training with my team sergeant, Ft. Bragg, 1979.

  Doing PT in the Egyptian desert during Operation Bright Star, 1983.

  With a good friend from SF Fifth Group as he and his lovely wife renewed their vows, Okinawa, Japan, 1985.

  Sniper training, Okinawa, Japan, 1986.

  Training with a .203 machine gun, the Philippines, 1986.

  Standing with my brother John on a New York City subway platform, during my special assignment to the FBI, 1991.

  Confiscating weapons in Haiti as a member of ODA 326 during Operation Uphold Democracy, 1994.

  On special assignment for the DEA in Spain, working with members of the Spanish FBI, 1996.

  Close quarter battle training with members of Delta Force, Thailand, 1986.

  A rare look at me in my formal uniform, 1997.

  With President Jimmy Carter in Darfur, Sudan, 2006.

  Teaching self-defense in Senegal, 1996.

  Demining in Cambodia, 1995.

  Standing with friends I made while distributing food in Haiti, 1994.

  Training President Karzai’s security detail, Kabul, Afghanistan, 2002.

  Minutes after the Black Hawk helicopter I was riding in was shot down near Firebase Wilderness, Afghanistan, 2008. I’m smiling, because I’m still alive. The pilot and another man died.

  Riding a camel to meet rebel leaders as a peacekeeping monitor in Darfur, Sudan, 2007.

  Discovering a Taliban arms cache near the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan, 2009.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Changiz would like to extend special thanks to his Special Forces teammates 1st Sgt. IMA Fenny, 5th SFGA CSM Lopage, Jack Joblen, Paul Pool, members of his first A Team ODA 561: Team Sgt. Phil Quinn, Team leader Mike Repass, and all the rest of the guys who supported me at the beginning; ODA 134 Team Sgt. Larry and all the rest; blood brother and team leader Bernie O’Rorke, who almost killed me; “Black Frog” Charlie Sammon, who can swim like a fish; Sgt. Major Carlo Farnquet, Colonel Boyet; and all my other SF brothers who have fought beside me in combat: Doug Watson, Ron Johnson, Dave Hutchenson, Tom Mude, and Carlo Eshinder. I love you all and would do it all again! God bless America!

  And he expresses his eternal love to Linda and his family.

  Ralph expresses his deep appreciation to Eric Lupfer, Marc Resnick, Jaime Coyne, and all the copy editors, proofreaders, designers, and marketing and publicity people at SMP. To his dear friends, Changiz and Linda, and especially to his family: John, Michael, Francesca, Alessandra, and Jessie.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Retired Master Sergeant CHANGIZ LAHIDJI is a highly decorated member of the US Special Forces with over twenty-four years of active service. He’s participated in many top secret missions in Asia, Africa, the Caribbean, and the Middle East. He later worked as a cease-fire monitor in Darfur, a tactical advisor to the US Army in Afghanistan, and guard force commander for the US Embassy in Kabul. You can sign up for email updates here.

  RALPH PEZZULLO is a New York Times bestselling author whose books include Jawbreaker, Left of Boom, and Inside SEAL Team Six. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Prologue

   1. Tehran, 1980

   2. Childhood, Iran

   3. Pakistan

   4. Beirut

   5. Grenada

   6. The Far East

   7. First Gulf War

   8. FBI Special Assignment

   9. Black Hawk Down

  10. Haiti
<
br />   11. Spain

  12. Afghanistan

  13. Darfur

  14. Combined Joint Task Force Paladin

  15. 10th Group Special Forces

  Epilogue: Hearts and Minds

  Photographs

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Copyright

  FULL BATTLE RATTLE. Copyright © 2018 by Changiz Lahidji and Ralph Pezzullo. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  Cover design by Rowen Davis

  Cover photograph courtesy of Changiz Lahidji

  Smoke © Ammit Jade/Shutterstock.com

  texture © Brocreative/Shutterstock.com

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows: