Navy Seals

by Couch, Dick

  Weeks later, Osman and his SEAL platoon were assigned a maritime mission in the Persian Gulf to intercept a top-tier target related to Osama bin Laden’s earlier terrorist attacks. “The name of the ship was Alpha 117,” Osman remembered. “That’s the ship that Al-Qaeda used to smuggle the explosives into Africa for the two U.S. Embassy bombings that killed over 200 people. They wanted that ship taken down and our platoon was given the green light to do it. I remember our task unit commander saying over the radio, ‘I don’t care what you do, how you do it, but you’re gonna get on that boat and you’re gonna take it down.’ All of the joking and the grab-assing goes away and it’s game time; so it’s unzip the bags, put all the gear on, check the weapons. Make sure there’s a round in the chamber. We raced up to the stern at 40 miles an hour [in a rigid-hulled inflatable boat] in the middle of the night, hooked and climbed up the side of the ship—probably about 25–30 feet in the air—and jumped over the railing. We probably had about four or five people that had already made it over the railing, and we were setting a security perimeter when the doors opened and people started coming out. At that moment, we couldn’t even wait for the rest of the platoon, so we started the assault on the ship with four or five people. There was a seriousness about what we were doing that I hadn’t experienced before. The professionalism rose to the challenge and all of us just never really said anything. Never talked, nothing. We just operated and that’s what all that training and that sacrifice is for. So when that phone call happens, you can do that job. That ship takedown took about three minutes.”

  On 9/11, there were twelve Navy SEAL platoons deployed worldwide. Some of these platoons were aboard units of the fleet with Amphibious Ready Groups; others were assigned to Naval Special Warfare Units, overseas shore facilities that serve as home base for deployed SEAL platoons. There were SEALs in Europe, South America, and Korea, as well as throughout the Pacific. At that time there was an emphasis on placing NSW assets in the Middle East, but there was no concentration of those forces.

  Since 2001, the main focus of SEAL operations has been Afghanistan and Iraq. SEALs were in the mountains, towns, and cities of those nations, because that’s where the enemy was. They were deployed elsewhere as well, since the foes are global, but Iraq and Afghanistan were to be the SEAL focus of attention. After September 11, when the enemy fled to the mountains of Afghanistan, SEALs became mountain fighters; and when the enemy hid in the cities of Iraq, SEALs became urban warriors.

  The attacks of 9/11, operations in Afghanistan, and the invasion of Iraq quickly drew the full attention and deployment commitments of the American military, including the SEALs. For the SEALs, all deployments became combat deployments, and that’s the way it has been for close to a decade and a half. There were maritime operations associated with the initial combat operations in Iraq, but for the most part, SEALs have taken their work inland, to the mountains in Afghanistan, then to the cities and villages of Iraq, and then back to Afghanistan.

  When new technologies or perishable intelligence presented opportunities with short lead times, SEALs became adept at compressing their reaction time to take advantage of this real-time intelligence capability. That’s what SEALs are best at: changing tactics and adapting methods to meet new threats and changing environments. One thing has remained constant from Vietnam up through the intervening years to the current conflict: good intelligence makes for good operations. It was as true then for a platoon in the mangrove swamps of the Mekong as it is for today’s SEALs, whether they were in the mountains of Afghanistan or the streets of Baghdad. And it’s hard to find good intelligence without help from the locals.

  Before 2000 and the war on terrorism, the SEALs were a built-in Navy force. They usually deployed with units of the fleet and to theater commanders such as the Pacific Command, European Command, Central Command (the Middle East), or Southern Command (Central/South America). While on those deployments, they were attached to a parent command—afloat or ashore—under a conventional-force command structure. SEAL platoons deployed with little command presence and limited logistic or operational support.

  After Vietnam, the need arose for smaller, raiding-type coordinated special operations and interventions like those in Panama and Grenada, so Congress established the beginnings of a Joint Special Operations structure that included the SEALs. Many in the Army and Navy didn’t like this, as they lost some control over their special operations components. But when 9/11 happened, it seemed like everything that happened between 1986 and 2001 was to prepare special operations and the SEALs to step into this new role in dealing with al-Qaeda, the rise of nonstate actors, terrorism, and smaller-scale interventions. The deployment of SEALs with beefed-up staffing and combat-support capability in self-contained squadrons was put in place just in time for the heavy combat rotations that followed 9/11.

  Many of the most effective SEAL operations are the ones we’ll never hear about because they’re classified and may remain so for a very long time.

  In the wake of September 11, 2001, the war in Afghanistan quickly turned into a ground campaign spearheaded by CIA operatives and led by special operations soldiers. The visible military targets of the Taliban and al-Qaeda were rapidly eliminated by air strikes, but the majority of the terrorists were hiding in caves and tunnels under the rocky mountains of Afghanistan. The U.S. special operations forces in Afghanistan included elements from the Army, Navy, and Air Force. Navy SEALs were on the ground in force—regardless of the fact that Afghanistan is a landlocked country and even drinkable water is sometimes hard to find.

  In the war on terrorism that began in 2001, there have been many occasions for personnel recovery, where troops have had to go in harm’s way for a fallen or captured brother or sister. In the Navy, the highest award for bravery is the Navy Cross, second only to the Medal of Honor, and two of these were awarded to Navy SEALs for personnel recovery.

  One of these actions took place in November 2001, barely two months after the attacks of September 11. In the early days of the liberation of Afghanistan, the Taliban and their al-Qaeda allies were fighting the advance of the Northern Alliance fighters every step of the way. In the vast reaches of northern Afghanistan, there were pockets of fierce resistance. Americans on the ground at that time were of two persuasions: Army Special Forces and CIA personnel, with a sprinkling of British special operators and Navy SEALs, all working closely with the Afghan resistance under the banner of the Northern Alliance. CIA officers in the area had the best working knowledge of the Northern Alliance and some of the best Arabic language skills.

  On November 25, a prisoner revolt broke out inside the Qala-i-Jangi fortress at Mazar-e-Sharif when al-Qaeda and Taliban prisoners seized the prison armory and two-thirds of the compound. The large prison courtyard became a battleground. Two CIA operatives were separated from their element, and the rescue team that was sent for them was blocked by heavy fire from the former captives.

  As the battle raged, a single Navy SEAL, Stephen Bass, then working with a British commando unit, crawled forward under heavy fire to reach the two fallen men. His Navy Cross citation reads that Bass “was engaged continuously by direct small arms fire, indirect mortar fire, and rocket propelled grenade fire. He was forced to walk through an active anti-personnel minefield in order to gain entry to the fortress.” They located one of the CIA men and he was alive, but the second American was still missing. After darkness settled onto the battlefield, the SEAL again moved forward “by himself under constant enemy fire in an attempt to locate the injured citizen. Running low on ammunition, he utilized the weapons from deceased Afghans to continue his rescue attempt.” After dark he fought his way to the downed American, who had been killed in the fighting.

  The SEAL didn’t know the fallen American, but he risked his life to reach him and recover his remains, those of the first CIA officer to be killed in Afghanistan. His name was Johnny Spann.

  WHILE THE AFGHAN NORTHERN Alliance and their American special forces alli
es completed their north-to-south sweep, the command of Captain Bob Harward set up shop in Kandahar. Called Task Force K-Bar, this component had become the authority for special operations forces (SOF) missions in central and southern Afghanistan. K-Bar, named for the military-issue knife carried by SEALs and Marines, was open for business by the first week of January 2002. It was a joint task force made up of both SOF and conventional elements from the Army, the Navy, and the Air Force, as well as a number of Marines and personnel from “other governmental agencies,” or OGAs, including the CIA. It also included SOF troops from a number of allied nations. Task Force K-Bar had a SEAL-centric command-and-control structure and bore the imprint of its SEAL commander.

  Navy SEAL Captain Bob Harward was the passionate leader of Task Force K-Bar, a job for which he was ideally suited. When the attacks came on September 11, Harward was Commander, Naval Special Warfare Group One in Coronado, and he was quickly ordered to Afghanistan. For the first time, a Navy SEAL commanded a task force five hundred miles from blue water.

  Fortunately, this was not Bob Harward’s first trip to Kandahar. Harward went to high school in Tehran while his father served as the American naval attaché to the shah of Iran’s government. Tehran, like Beirut, was at one time a safe, cosmopolitan city with a substantial Western presence. In the mountains not far from the city center, the skiing was excellent. Harward learned Farsi and a working command of Pashto, and prior to attending the Naval Academy, he and two of his high school pals spent a summer hitchhiking in Afghanistan. Now Harward was back in Afghanistan.

  In January 2002, Harward’s planners began working on a twelve-hour “boots on the ground” mission to put special operations forces, led by a SEAL platoon, into the al-Qaeda strongpoint at the Zhawar Kili cave complex in Afghanistan’s Khost province. The Zhawar Kili Valley and cave complex was some 150 miles northeast of Kandahar and had long been suspected of being the site of an al-Qaeda training camp. What made the Zhawar Kili Valley unique was its location—it opened up right onto the Afghan-Pakistani border. Fresh intelligence suggested that a number of fleeing al-Qaeda were using the valley to slip out of Afghanistan and into Pakistan. When it was determined there was a chance this might be a possible escape route for Osama bin Laden himself, the planning became urgent. That’s when Harward sent for SEAL Lieutenant Chris Cassidy.

  “What’s up, sir?” Cassidy asked. Harward said with a grin, “Fresh intel says we may have a hot one for you. You ready to go back out?” Cassidy knew the answer, but glanced at his chief petty officer for confirmation. “The platoon’s up, sir. We’re always ready.”

  Harward looked at his watch; it was already late afternoon. “Put your platoon on alert and let’s start working up the operation. We’ll insert you just before daylight tomorrow morning. Todd has the details on the target along with the latest intel.” Cassidy found Lieutenant Commander Todd Seniff, the watch officer, to find out where they were going. It was then that Cassidy learned about the Zhawar Kili caves.

  The cave complex in the Zhawar Kili Valley and its use as a Taliban and al-Qaeda stronghold were well known, even before September 11. Oddly enough, much of this underground warren had been built with American support and American money during the decade-long Russian occupation. Millions of dollars in aid and arms had been given to the Afghan resistance. This rugged valley, within sight of the Pakistani border, was a major resupply point and haven for the mujahedeen in their struggle against the Russian-backed Kabul government. When the Taliban gained control of the country, they occupied the valley and made the extensive cave complex available to their al-Qaeda allies. In 1998, President Bill Clinton sent cruise missiles into the complex in response to the bombings of our embassies in East Africa.

  Many of the allied SOF components had cumbersome planning and approval procedures and mission preparation windows, some taking as long as forty-eight hours. So did Navy SEALs, but they were quick to discard them. “In the early days at K-Bar,” Chris Cassidy recalled, “nobody could get out the door quicker than SEALs. We were very good at this. All I had to do was turn my guys out of the rack and tell them to saddle up. We’d begin the mission briefing on the helo pad and finish it on the ride to the insertion point. Nobody else could move that quickly.” Hour by hour, Zhawar Kili grew in importance and scope. The prospect of senior al-Qaeda cadres hemorrhaging from Afghanistan into Pakistan put a move into the valley on the fast track. Since it was to be a large operation with both SEALs and Marines involved, Harward installed Lieutenant Commander Todd Seniff as his ground force commander. Chris Cassidy and his SEAL platoon would be supported by a contingent of Marines.

  On January 6 and January 7, 2002, the Zhawar Kili Valley was bombarded with TLAMs (Tomahawk Land Attack Missiles) and JDAMs (Joint Direct Attack Munitions). Precision-guided cruise missiles and smart bombs found their way to previously plotted GPS coordinates, slamming into cave entrances, fortifications, and dwellings as part of the pre-ground-attack package.

  At about 3 A.M. on January 7, 2002, three large helicopters idled on the edge of the tarmac at Kandahar International. There were no lights showing, just the collective scream of jet engines. Lieutenant Commander Seniff led his seventy-five-man assault element from the task force compound to the giant whirring metal insects. They broke into three groups, twenty-five men to each bird, filing up the rear boarding ramps in good order. The planning, the preparation, and the briefings were behind them now. They were on their way downrange.

  The assault element would be inserted by three Marine CH-53 Super Stallion helicopters. Normally, SEALs are transported by special operations MH-53 Pave Lows, an electronically sophisticated helo, but the Pave Lows have only two engines. The Marine CH-53s have three engines and are configured for heavy lift and troop movement. They were ideal for insertion work in the mountains of Afghanistan, where altitude degrades helicopter performance. Seniff, the SEAL platoon, and assorted mission specialists were aboard the lead helo. The Marine security element was on the other two birds.

  Harward followed him aboard and yelled over the turbine whine, “Kick some ass!”

  “Aye, aye, sir!” Seniff shouted back. Harward shook Seniff’s gloved hand and gave him a thumbs-up, then hurried back to the exit ramp of the big helo. He quickly boarded each of the other two helos to wish the Marines good hunting as well.

  The crew chief of Seniff’s helo came over to him and yelled in his ear, “The other birds are loaded with a good head count, sir! Ready when you are!”

  Seniff looked up at the crew chief. They were bathed in dull red light, enough to see by but not so much as to affect their night vision.

  Outside, the air had been cool, even comfortable, but inside the body of the Super Stallion, sweat from heavily armed men mingled with the burned-kerosene odor of jet exhaust. Seniff gave the crew chief a single thumbs-up, then turned both thumbs out, palms up, in a jerky motion: pull chocks; let’s go. The big CH-53s lifted in turn, ran out over the length of tarmac to gain what ground speed they could within the security of the airport perimeter, and soared quickly. No sense in taking chances with ground fire at this stage of the game.

  High over the southernmost range of the Hindu Kush, the three big helos found their KC-130 tanker and topped off their fuel loads. The CH-53s couldn’t complete the trip unrefueled, so it was decided they’d make the in-flight refueling on the way in. A midair refueling between a fixed-wing aircraft and a helicopter at night calls for a great deal of airmanship; the Marine pilots pulled it off smoothly and professionally. Now they were inbound for the Zhawar Kili Valley. With the refueling behind them, Seniff had just begun to relax a little when a voice crackled in his headset.

  “Hey, Todd, we got a problem.” It was Seniff’s pilot in the lead helo. “The TOC [tactical operations center] just radioed that one of the Predators has some thermal activity at the primary insertion site; looks as if there may be a few locals moving about. They recommend the secondary. How about it?”

  This was not good—the
news that there were people moving on the ground meant that they might not be able to land where they wanted to. The plan called for them to insert at the head of the valley just before dawn and sweep down the valley northwest to southeast from the highest elevation to the lowest—7,500 feet down to perhaps 6,500. The first alternate was the middle of the valley, which meant they would have to move up the valley on foot, then back down. They say a battle plan doesn’t survive the first shot being fired. Hell, Seniff thought, we’re not even on the ground yet.

  “What do you think, Chuck?” Seniff said to the pilot. Normally, SEALs flew with Air Force special operations pilots who trained extensively for this kind of operation. But Seniff and the other SEALs were coming to respect and trust the capabilities of their Marine flyers.

  “We’ll take you where you want to go, Todd, but if it’s all the same, I’d just as soon not fly into ground fire.”

  And we don’t want to insert into a hot LZ, thought Seniff. “Tell the TOC we’re going for the first alternate. Let me know if there’s any more intel.”

  “Roger that, Todd.” The lead pilot gave instructions to the other helos, and Seniff settled back to wait out the ride. He told himself not to worry about what he could not control. Easier said than done.

  The insertion into the secondary site went without incident. The Marine Super Stallions, their pilots flying with night-vision goggles, swooped in and dropped to the valley floor. The three helos were on the ground no more than fifteen seconds. As they lifted back into the air, the men on the ground scrambled to form a loose perimeter—seventy-five pairs of American boots at seven thousand feet.