by Bing West
A second theme that emerges is strategic overreach at senior operational levels. Our generals insisted that democratic nation-building was the only viable military strategy. Grunts like Swenson and Meyer knew nation-building was too ambitious. A thousand years of culture, religion, and traditions separated us from the tribes.
No outpost was ever established in the valley of Ganjigal. Qari Zia Ur-Rahman, the Taliban commander during the battle, was a hard-core Islamist dedicated to winning. He often boasted of his victory at Ganjigal and circulated pictures of the equipment taken from the bodies of Team Monti. Despite a $350,000 bounty, Rahman has remained in command of Kumar for years without being betrayed, a disturbing indicator of the tribal loyalties and the balance of power along the 1,500-mile border. In ten years, U.S. leaders failed to develop a method for changing the nature of the Islamic mountain tribes.
We should have deployed thousands of advisors like Dakota to train Afghan soldiers, and then left. Instead, our generals focused on winning the hearts and minds of tribesmen hurtling headlong into the ninth century. This resulted in top-down rules of engagement that paralyzed mid-level staffs like the TOC at Joyce. The ROE “expressly prohibited” air or artillery strikes unless the ground commander had “positively identified enemy forces within a residential compound.”
Not even the Kiowa pilots flying ten feet above the houses could “positively” identify enemy who didn’t wear uniforms. Capt. Kaplan, who had been on the southern outpost (OP), told the investigators that the rules of engagement shielded the villagers who were helping to kill Americans.
“The ROE protects civilians at the cost of American lives,” he said. “I understand this to be within the spirit of COIN (counterinsurgency), and the intent of the Commander, but it does not adequately account for situations in which there may be no non-hostile actors.”
With the villagers aiding the Taliban, who was not hostile? Using stronger language, Fabayo echoed Kaplan’s condemnation.
“I have never heard of a rule that would not allow you to fire on a house,” Fabayo said. “They always teach you that you always have the right to defend yourself.”
Gen. Scaparrotti had promised, “our fallen heroes and Gold Star families, you’ll not be forgotten.” The angry Gold Star families, however, believed that the investigation was a cover-up for the higher-ups. Swenson was so furious that he mocked the senior staffs for playing video games.
“The ground commander is calling in that mission because he feels that he needs it,” Swenson testified. “It’s not JAG [lawyers’] responsibility to interject to say, ‘Hey, we are concerned that you’re going to hit a building … I am concerned with saving as many lives as I can … When I am being second-guessed by somebody that’s sitting in an air-conditioned TOC, well hell, why am I even out here in the first place? Let’s just sit back and play Nintendo … I am not a politician. I am just the guy on the ground asking for that ammunition to be dropped because it’s going to save lives.”
The senior command had issued rules of engagement without addressing who had the authority to make the final decision. Maj. Williams believed he was only an advisor, and that the Afghan major, who didn’t know how to call in fire, was in charge. Swenson believed he had the right to assume the role of ground commander and make the decisions. The staff back at the ops center in Joyce overrode his fire requests. Authority was diffuse, and no single person was held accountable. What a mess!
Gen. Colin Powell, widely admired as chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the early 1990s, had a strong opinion about command decision-making. “The commander in the field is always right and the rear echelon is wrong, unless proved otherwise,” he wrote. “In my experience, the people closest to the problems are often in the best position to see the solutions. The key here is to empower and not be the bottleneck.”
* * *
The third—and most important—theme of the book is grit. Under fire, some men put their faces in the dirt, most shoot back, and a very few charge forward. Dakota’s story was remarkable for its dogged aggressiveness. Most acts of bravery occur at a single point in time; Dakota rushed toward death, not once, not twice, but five times. Between each attack, he had time to reconsider. Once inside the wash, he repeatedly left the truck for so long that Rodriguez-Chavez several times thought he had been killed. Can you imagine dodging bullets to carry back wounded Afghan soldiers, or leaning over the side of a truck to shoot a man, or pounding in a man’s face with a rock?
The Medal of Honor pays no attention to rank, education, or background; it symbolized the American fighting spirit. In concept, Dakota understood that the Medal honored the sacrifice of his comrades. At night, though, monsters crept out of his closet. When he sipped a beer with his commander-in-chief, I knew what he eventually blurted out.
“You either get them out alive, or you die trying,” he said on 60 Minutes. “If you didn’t die trying, you didn’t try hard enough.”
Dakota believed he was accepting an award for failure, a burden he no doubt will carry with him for the rest of his life. But had he not driven off the jihadists who swarmed his truck, the medevac helicopter would have been a sitting duck—Fabayo tried to wave off the chopper—and the escape route out of the valley sealed off, turning a tragedy into a full-blown catastrophe. Intellectually, I think he understands that. Emotionally, he focuses on what he is convinced that he did not do—save his brothers.
What drove him forward? Was he shaped by his upbringing in a farming community with traditional American values, or by his tough training as a Marine sniper?
His nature led him to charge into the fire. That instinct sprang from a Kentucky upbringing that stressed determination. Finish the game.
Regardless of his grit, in that valley he was a dead man, had he not been so expert with a variety of weapons. He wouldn’t have stood a chance had he not been able to handle a .50-cal, a 240 machine gun, a grenade launcher, and an M4 rifle without ever thinking. He had the muscle memory of a professional athlete, an instinct acquired by thousands of hours of practice. Four years of Marine training and discipline had nurtured his skills.
So was it nature or nurture that drove him forward into the fire? In the case of Dakota, it was both—testimony to the invincibility of the American warrior.
Kunar River (Monti at center left). (Capt. Jacob Kerr)
Combat Outpost Monti (Afghan section at lower left). (Capt. Jacob Kerr)
Big Mike Meyer, Dakota Meyer, and Bing West at Big Mike’s farm. (Bing West)
Dakota Meyer, October 2009.
(Bing West)
Dakota behind the .50-cal in the turret of a Humvee. (Bing West)
Dodd Ali and Dakota.
(Dakota Meyer)
Dab Khar Valley. (Capt. Jacob Kerr)
The kill zone at Dab Khar Valley. (Capt. Jacob Kerr)
Lt. Mike Johnson. (Dakota Meyer)
Doc Layton. (Dakota Meyer)
Dakota and Staff Sgt. Kenefick.
(Dakota Meyer)
Team Monti. (Dakota Meyer)
A typical village elder. (Capt. William Swenson)
The mountains at Dab Khar. (Dakota Meyer)
The fatal wash at Ganjigal. (Capt. William Swenson)
The slopes of Ganjigal.
(Capt. William Swenson)
Capt. William Swenson.
(Capt. William Swenson)
Dakota and President Obama at the Medal of Honor ceremony.
(AP Photo/Pablo Martinez Monsivais)
Dab Khar fighters: Gunnery Sgt. Kevin Devine, Lt. Jake Kerr, Cpl. Dakota Meyer, Staff Sgt. Richards, Sgt. 1st Class Dennis Jeffords. (Capt. Jacob Kerr)
Dakota and a young admirer.
(Dakota Meyer)
Dakota walking back from the Freedom Tower, September 2011.
(Marine Sgt. Randall Clinton)
“For those who gave all. Semper Fi.”
(Marine Sgt. Randall Clinton)
The memorial at Monti.
(Dakota Meyer)
<
br /> To Team Monti:
Lt. Michael E. Johnson
Staff Sgt. Aaron M. Kenefick
Corpsman 3rd Class James R. Layton
And to all the men and women who paid the
ultimate sacrifice for our freedom:
Gunnery Sgt. Edwin W. Johnson, Jr.
Staff Sgt. Kenneth W. Westbrook
Mary Kate Moore
Justin Nathaniel Hardin
Acknowledgments
For a long while, I tried to forget about Ganjigal. When that didn’t work out so well, I decided to go through what had happened to me, piece by piece. I had written some stuff when I was up at Monti, mostly about my team and the battle. Later, I talked into a recorder for hours—about growing up, being a Marine, the ambush at Ganjigal, and coming to grips with life after the battle. The pictures I had taken and the dozens of statements in the investigations were a big help. The hardest work was going over draft after draft, sorting out what happened when.
I regret that I cannot share the names of several of the Afghans who stood by us Americans in those moments of agony. Intellectually, I understand it was their duty to defend their country. Emotionally, though, I was deeply touched by those who fought in conditions beyond the call of duty. The sad part is that I cannot divulge some names because those Afghans would be placed on a Taliban hit list inside their own country. How’s that for irony?
Bing and I would also like to thank the many who took the time to talk with us, including Lt. Col. Ishaq Tamkeen, Lt. Col. Dan Yaroslaski, Capt. Ademola Fabayo, Capt. Ray Kaplan, Lt. Jake Kerr, Gunny Kevin Devine, Sgt. Maj. Jimmie Carabello, Lt. Col. Mark O’Donnell, Brig. Gen. Daniel Yoo, Capt. Michael Harrison, Gunny Mike Skinta, Gunny Joshua Peterson, Staff Sgt. Chuck Bokis, Staff Sgt. Juan Rodriguez-Chavez, Hafez, CWO Yossarian Silano, Dean Chris Schmidt, my dad, Big Mike Meyer, Ann and Toby Young, my grandfather and grandmother Mema and Pepa, my teachers Mrs. Tana Rattliff and Heather Moss, and coaches Mike Griffiths, Toby Curry, and Will Hodges.
Our editor, Will Murphy, Mika Kasuga, Dennis Burke, and our agent, Sloan Harris of ICM, labored mightily through several drafts to impose an understandable narrative on a confused battle.
The comradeship and help I have received from the Marine Corps as an institution have been tremendous. I would especially like to thank the Commandant, Gen. Jim Amos, and also Gen. Joseph Dunford, Sgt. Maj. Mike Barrett, Lt. Col. Chris Hughes, Punch Haynes of the Marine Corps—Law Enforcement Foundation, and Owen West of the Marine Corps Scholarship Foundation.
The Marines who had the most influence on my life were: Gunny Soto-Rodriguez, Gunny Peterson, Gunny Duprey, Gunny Rich, Gunny Nunn, Sgt. Rooney, Sgt. Pape, Sgt. Kreitzer, Sgt. Smith, Staff Sgt. Gavin, Sgt. Moenich, CWO Skinta, Cpl. Morin, and Cpl. Coggins.
I would also like to thank the family members who stood next to me when I returned home: my brother Tim, uncle Mark, aunt Cindy, Matt and Jennie Meyer, Troy, Steven, Casey Danzinger, and Austin Nettleship. My friends who were always there: Mike Staton, Dean Adams, Jeff, Vikki, Blake, and Randy Hatcher, Mike and Amy Mitchum, Levi Burton, Randy Hadeed, Reed Bergman, Keith Delucia, Maurice Freedman, Gary and Kevin Vernon, Adam Weinbrenner, Ben Madden, Joe Mangione, Dana, Ray, Diane, Ryan, Jay, and Sabrina Benedict, Andy Olson, Clint Walker, Jeff Suratt, and Monica Johnson. One look at those names and you can see that I am truly blessed.
And thank you to all who have donated to the Dakota Meyer Scholarship (www.dakotameyer.com). So far we have raised more than one million dollars for the education of the children of the wounded.
Every word in this book is what I remember to the best of my ability. I’ve been over this book time and again, separately with Bing, with our editor, Will Murphy, with Dean Schmidt, and with Toby and Ann. Will Swenson was also a great help. Perhaps writing the narrative will help me come to terms with what happened. I hope so.
To the families of Lt. Mike Johnson, Staff Sgt. Aaron Kenefick, Doc Layton, and Edwin Johnson, I offer my everlasting and profound regret. The Marine Corps teaches you not about trying, but about doing, and I didn’t get there in time. I will forever miss my team.
Appendix 1
GANJIGAL TIMELINE
(EVENTS OF SEPTEMBER 8, 2009)
TIMELINE
0100-0400 Numerous enemy groups moving toward Ganjigal.
0330 Embedded training team (ETT) 2-8 and Askars link with Highlander 5 and border police; in a file of vehicles, they turn off main road and head east into Ganjigal Valley.
0400 One mile inside the valley, they stop at operational release point (ORP); they dismount and proceed on foot.
0530 Afghan National Army (ANA) observation post to north above the wash leading into Ganjigal (Marines on the outpost [OP] were Miller and Valadez).
0530 Kaplan and Cpl. Norman and twelve ANA set up southern OP with a 240 Golf machine gun.
0530 1-32 scout-sniper team called Shadow 4 on OP farther back on south side, 1,200 meters away—too far to apply direct fire, but in excellent position to relay radio messages from the valley to the tactical operations center (TOC) at Joyce.
0530 (0100 Zulu) Contact reported to TOC of Battalion 1-32 at Camp Joyce.
0530 Lt. Johnson four-man party (Team Monti) 100 meters in front of TAC/Command Group when firing begins; Swenson runs 100 meters forward to join Lt. Johnson’s TAC (tactical command post) and calls suppression artillery fire.
0537 Shadow (Staff Sgt. Summers and Staff Sgt. Alvarez) reports first 120-millimeter mission KE 3070.
0545 ANA soldiers disperse among terraces.
0545 Rodriguez-Chavez on radio hears Lt. Johnson tell Fabayo he needs fires to get out of a house.
0545 Meyer’s requests to enter wash are denied via Fox 7 (Valadez radio relay).
0546 Call for fire KE 3345.
0547 Meyer, Valadez, and Rodriguez-Chavez in discussions.
0550 Splash KE 3345 four HE 120s fire from Joyce; Garza testified this was effective fire.
0551 Swenson requests air—told air is coming in fifteen mikes (minutes).
0556 Call for fire KE 3365.
0557-0630 Kaplan calls/relays seven smoke missions; denied because too close to civilians.
0600 Splash 3070 four HE 155s from Asadabad (A-Bad).
0600 Staff Sgt. Kenefick tries to give grid.
0600 Meyer and Rodriguez-Chavez disobey orders and drive toward the battle.
0600 TOC via Shadow again assures Highlander (Swenson) that CCA (close combat aviation) helo support is “fifteen minutes away.”
0605 Splash KE 3365 eight HE 120s; Garza testified this had no effect, even when adjusted.
0605 Swenson and Fabayo agree to pull back.
0610 Meyer and Rodriguez-Chavez signal to five ANA soldiers to get into their truck.
0615 Staff Sgt. Lantz, NCO in charge in TOC at Joyce (Hammer), contacts 7-17 Cav (Pale Horse) in direct support of 4/4 BCT in Op Lethal Storm in Shuriak Valley, 5 kilometers to the north of Ganjigal; Lantz requests re-tasking two OH-58 (Kiowas) Scout Weapons Team (SWT) 1.
0615 TOC directs Dog platoon to prepare to go forward.
0616 In TOC, joint terminal attack controller (JTAC)-qualified Tech Sgt. Matzke asks officer on watch to declare an air TIC (troops in contact) to bring in fixed-wing CAS (close air support), but request is denied.
0618 Swenson calls for fire for smoke at grid 902 515 to cover withdrawal; denied.
0620 7-17 ops center denies Lantz’s request on procedural grounds “not routed through brigade”; 7-17 declares SWT 1 is “in support of higher-priority mission.”
0620 Villagers join attack.
0625 Shadow reports to TOC that the ANA (Askars) are under fire from the north, east, and south—eight to ten enemy positions with rocket-propelled grenades, PKM machine guns, and mortars deployed in a horseshoe around Ganjigal village. (Note: battle captain [senior watch officer] was located in southwest corner of TOC, could not hear radio transmissions, and relied on others to tell him what was said.)
0625 Command Group in wash
falling back toward the west.
0630 Maj. Williams and Maj. Talib request help; Talib calls Afghan battalion commander via cell phone.
0630 TOC orders Dog to move forward; platoon leader complains he has no grid for link-up or LOA.
0633 Will Swenson throws grenade and kills three insurgents in ANA gear.
0634 TOC requests CCA via Task Force Pale Horse 7-17 ops center; again, this creates hesitation because it is out of the normal request pattern, but 4/4 Brigade Ops Center intervenes and backs up 1-32 request.
0635 Shadow reports Dog platoon breaking down its TCP (traffic control point) to move to support.
0635 Command Group forced to fall farther back; reporter does not move with the group.
0639 Splash white phosphorus four rounds from 120 mortars to east of village, too far away to provide concealment for Team Monti.
0639 TOC denies any more artillery support, citing garbled communication, lack of situational awareness on part of Shadow, and incomplete fire mission procedures; no more arty fired until 1615 of that same day.
0644 Swenson sends his initials for polar fire mission—denied; Capt. Ray Kaplan doing same.