Michael Yon - Online Magazine

FYI: Paperwork for Afghanistan Media Embed

2009-11-18T03:56:01Z

17 November 2009

There has been much curiosity about the procedures involved during the embed process. The process is constantly changing, and is different for Iraq than for Afghanistan. A Philippines embed is different still, and requires embassy approval because, am told, the State department is worried about what one might say. In Afghanistan, the process with the British and Lithuanians also varies. The process can be dramatically different for powerful media outlets, who often come in on "junkets." In Iraq, in 2005, saw CNN have two helicopters dedicated to it for a day in Diyala Province. (I went with them.)

The process can be simple and easy, or very complicated. For instance, I was recently asked to go to Iraq and agreed. That got bogged somewhere so Iraq is out unless I go alone, which will probably do in 2010. There is no standard.

As of today, this is the first set of paperwork for Afghanistan. Minutes ago, I completed and emailed these forms to Afghanistan for an embed with the Stryker Brigade. Looking forward to getting back with the infantry:

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2009-08-03T04:55:51Z

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Great Britain Loses one of its Finest

2009-11-03T05:34:28Z

03 November 2009

British soldiers at war are an incredible group. Courageous, competent, and committed in very difficult conditions. An email came today from London, from a BBC correspondent who has been to Afghanistan saying that Staff Sergeant Olaf Schmid had been killed.

To see the article in the BBC was deeply saddening: Soldier Killed While Defusing 65th Bomb.

On a side note, the British soldiers are conservative. Though this is not very important, it’s difficult to imagine that Olaf had only destroyed 64 bombs before being killed. Just on this single mission, during which all these photos were taken, and during the surrounding few days, his crew must have destroyed several dozen bombs. You had to be there. By the time the mission in these photos happened, the crew was very experienced.

Courage is as common as boots among these soldiers, but Olaf stood out even in that company. You could tell that Olaf knew his business from mean experience, and that he was ready for battle. His mind was very quick.

His crew was competent and confident, and worked faster to clear bombs than any I had seen. If not, the soldiers could never have completed this mission, because there simply were too many bombs. They say all beekeepers get stung, but these are not bees. These soldiers were facing an extraordinary number of bombs and booby-traps that are designed to kill the team.

According to the Oxford Mail,

“During the course of his tour, he attended 41 tasks, rendered safe 64 IEDs and attended 11 finds of bomb-making equipment.”

The married father-of-one lived with his family in Winchester. His wife Christina said: “Oz was a phenomenal husband and loving father who was cruelly murdered on his last day of a relentless five-month tour."

Olaf was lost on his last mission. The enemy are blowing up civilians everywhere, and taking a toll on our folks.

According to the BBC:

Lieutenant Colonel Robert Thomson, commanding officer of 2 Rifles Battle Group, said: "Staff Sgt Oz Schmid was simply the bravest and most courageous man I have ever met."

"No matter how difficult or lethal the task which lay in front of us, he was the man who only saw solutions."

"He saved lives in 2 Rifles time after time and for that he will retain a very special place in every heart of every rifleman in our extraordinary battle group."

According to the Oxford Mail,

Lt Col Robert Thomson, the commanding officer of the 2 Rifles Battle Group, said: “Staff Sgt Oz Schmid was simply the bravest and most courageous man I have ever met."

“Under relentless IED and small arms attacks, he stood taller than the tallest. He opened the Pharmacy Road and 24 hours later, found 31 IEDs in one go on route Sparta. Every single company in 2 Rifles adored working with him."

They really did. Everybody liked to see not just Olaf, but his entire great team. The mission succeeded that day. For more about the lives, and missions of these excellent soldiers, please read Bad Medicine.

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Bad Medicine

2009-08-23T18:49:13Z

On Pharmacy Road

24 August 2009
Helmand Province, Afghanistan

The British soldiers of 2 Rifles had a mission: clear and hold Pharmacy Road.

FOB Jackson is currently home to Battlegroup headquarters for 2 Rifles. The area around the river is called the “Green Zone,” but just as appropriately could be called the Opium Zone. During season, the area is covered with colorful poppies, whose 2009 products are probably showing up by now on the streets in Europe. European money flows back here and buys fertilizer in the Sangin Market, which can be used to make bombs, produce more opium, get more money and make more bombs and grow more opium and make more money and bombs and grow more opium. Sangin is at once an ATM and weapons bazaar for the enemy. Nearly all fatalities in this unit have been caused by fertilizer bombs. The decision to mostly ignore the drug dealers has been a strategic blunder.

This mission was about tactical exigencies created by the strategic realities. Though FOB Jackson is small enough to walk from one end to another in a few minutes, it is the main base in Sangin, with smaller patrol bases spread around the Sangin area of operations. Two of those bases are Patrol Base (PB) Tangiers and PB Wishtan. Tangiers is an Afghan National Army (ANA) PB often used by 2 Rifles, while PB Wishtan is manned by C Coy of 2 Rifles. (“Coy” is British for “Company.”)

From Jackson, one can often see or hear fighting related to Tangiers or Wishtan while tracers arc into the night, and illumination rounds cast long, flickering shadows as they float to Earth under parachutes.

Though PB Tangiers seems randomly named, PB Wishtan is named after the local area which the locals call Wishtan. The main resupply route from Jackson to PB Wishtan goes through the Sangin Market, past Tangiers, and west along the approximate 1 kilometer of Pharmacy Road through Wishtan to PB Wishtan.

British soldiers from 2 Rifles said they had sustained approximately twenty fatalities and injuries in the area. (More were killed and wounded in Sangin since this mission.) The situation is reminiscent of so many roads in Iraq, such as Route Irish, previously dubbed the most dangerous road in the world. The short stretch of Route Irish is situated between main bases in Baghdad. Since we never had enough troops in Iraq, the route was difficult to secure despite that it was a short stretch with bustling military traffic nestled between huge bases. A lot of people were killed and maimed on that short stretch—I have little idea of the numbers of casualties on Irish—but the total must have reached at least the hundreds. Irish was eventually made far more secure by allocating substantial Iraqi and Coalition troops along with what must have been many millions of dollars’ worth of physical defenses, all augmented with frequent coverage from the air. Despite that, car bombs, IEDs and small-arms attacks continued to occur on a less frequent basis. I’ve probably driven Irish a hundred times with no dramas, but it was never safe. Despite international infamy and the sharp political desire to secure at least one small stretch of road between main bases in Baghdad, Irish was never completely secured. Pharmacy Road in Wishtan is a small-town redux of Route Irish in Baghdad.

Pharmacy Road was effectively closed by enemy harrasment, including a blockage caused by two blown-up vehicles (a “jingo truck” and a British tractor). Resupply and troop movements were performed by helicopter, despite that a patrol could walk from Jackson to Wishtan in an hour, and straight driving would only take fifteen minutes. A bypass route was made with similar results. Captain Alexander Spry told me that Wishtan is like something from a Freddy Kreuger movie where bombs are planted in broad daylight and the enemy chisels small firing holes through the fifteen-foot walls and launches bullets down the tight spaces and alleyways. The Afghan mud walls are so robust that the 30mm cannons from the air will not penetrate. Dropping a 500lb bomb into the middle of a compound will leave the walls standing. In Wishtan, our snipers are of little use because they can’t see or shoot through the walls, and there is no commanding terrain other than the air. As with Route Irish and probably hundreds (thousands?) of other routes in Iraq and Afghanistan, routes cannot be secured without pinning substantial numbers of troops. Life is far easier for the guerrilla than for the counterguerrilla, just as arson is easier for arsonists than for firefighters.

With the shortage of helicopters in mind (and the fact that an RPG was recently fired at a helicopter as it lifted out of PB Wishtan), closure of Pharmacy Road increased enemy freedom of movement while decreasing our own. Though British forces continued to push into combat around Wishtan, battlegroup commander LtCol Rob Thomson wanted Pharmacy Road open.

Most of us tried to sleep the night before the mission, but there was much to do. At one point, perhaps half a dozen 81mm mortar illumination rounds from another base were shot straight over FOB Jackson. The empty casings, weighing perhaps 2lbs each, swooshed through the darkness, possibly at several hundred miles per hour, and thumped onto Jackson. (Terminal velocity varies from object to object.) One casing was heading toward a sergeant named Marty who runs Flight Ops. Marty hit the dirt and the casing landed just next to him.

The mission began under cover of darkness. Conditions were far too dark to focus and the soldiers were not using lights, so focus was done by trial and error. A sniper team quietly sat beside a dog and its handler. The dog seemed to take interest in the sounds of the camera.

The few who speak only whisper. A soldier checks his night-vision monocular.

Flipping up the night-vision monocular puts it on standby.

The mission will be very dangerous and the soldiers, who mostly could not see me taking photos unless they were using night-vision gear, seemed lost in thought.

The friendly attack dog. A dog handler recently told me he was urinating when an Afghan soldier tried to grab his willy. The handler said the dog bit the Afghan soldier who needed a few stitches.

We set off down the market road. Some folks believe such reports are “security violations,” as if the thousands of people living here do not know exactly where the bases are, or do not know exactly where we came from and went to. Operations take place here every day. Civilians are everywhere.

We made it to FOB Tangiers with no dramas. Some Afghan soldiers were on guard while others seemed comatose.

The commander of 2 Rifles is Lieutenant Colonel Rob Thomson (right), who this morning was constantly studying maps or soaking up information by talking with soldiers whose ears were glued to radios. Most soldiers did the smart thing and immediately began to fall asleep; experienced combat soldiers never miss a chance to fill canteens or sleep. Meanwhile, the Commander’s work has just begun (despite my having seen him work late the night before). LtCol Thomson has chided other officers and NCOs about sleep, saying it’s an advantage of growing older. You just don’t need as much sleep. Plus having children is good training for combat.

Corporal Mark “Axle” Foley (left) is the JTAC who controls air strikes. Axle is a good-spirited soldier and funny to talk with, always cracking jokes though sometimes I have difficulty understanding his accent. When Axle picks up that radio, a magical toggle-switch clicks in his head from “fun” mode to “all business.” While Axle talks business with the pilots, one can only wonder how well the American pilots understand Axle. Yet the pilots work with Axle all the time, and seem to understand him perfectly on the first go, and he understands them. One night, I heard a Southern accent come down from an aircraft, which set the Brits to laughing and trying to immitate the accent. Brits and Europeans often get a big kick out of thick Southern accents but all attempts to imitate the twang seem to fall flat. (Except by country bands in Germany who can perfectly imitate the patois as if they grew up next door to Willie Nelson.)

Axle, who often works with American pilots, says these A-10 and B-1B pilots are probably the best to work with because they come to Sangin so often that they know the terrain, the roads and bases, so they are easy to talk onto targets.

Sitting there in the darkness, Axle works the radio while watching the downlink screen. As the A-10s approach at about 0314, the aircraft are still about 40 miles out, and a pilot starts listing off all the various sorts of weapons they are carrying. They had more spells than Harry Potter. As the A-10s close in on our postion, Axle picks up a downlink and suddenly he can see through the A-10 crosshairs. Whatever the pilot is looking at comes on Axle’s screen. Axle gives the pilot some reference points and each time the crosshairs instantly go to that point, and within maybe thirty seconds, the crosshairs slewed precisely to the spot where we were sitting. Axle told him that’s us, which probably sounded to the A-10 pilot something like, “Ah roga, dat’s us,” and then Axle starts walking the pilot through to all the friendly locations so he can know where our guys are.

An A-10 was transmitting downlink but we were getting interference, maybe from the building or other radios. Axle moved outside where Corporal Henry Sanday from Fiji came in. Henry is a good man whom I got to know in Iraq, and sometimes we have lunch or dinner at FOB Jackson, where he constantly invites me on missions. Henry is battle-proven and very good under fire. When your life is at stake, Henry is a man you want to be with, as you will soon see. This morning, his men were falling asleep, but as a section leader Henry kept working. Major Karl Hickman (right) is the A Coy Commander, and while his men plopped down to sleep, Karl kept working. I’ve never been in combat with Major Hickman, but his men say he’s good and steady under fire. Axle as JTAC is a crucial link to this mission, which explains why when Henry and Major Hickman might be sleeping, they are checking in with Axle to keep their SA (Situation Awareness) updated.

We had the A-10s for only a few minutes when a radio call from a different net came to Axle to release the A-10s for a TIC (troops in contact) somewhere in South Helmand. Axle radioed the pilots to switch freqs, and I recall a pilot apologizing and saying he looked forward to getting back up here. Axle put down the radio and looked straight at me, saying, “That’s such a bummer,” as if his fishing buddy had to go home early, then Axle finished with, “However, the guys that get them will be well happy,” and started shutting down his gear as the sounds of the A-10s faded into the darkness. While Axle worked, I asked about times when he “smashed” the Taliban. British soldiers like to use the word “smashed” when talking about the Taliban. When Axle would finish talking about one fight, I would ask about another. Finally, Axle said, “You Yanks are great. You like to hear stories about us smashin’ the Taliban but people at home want to know how much we miss our families.” We both chuckled, and I asked, “Really? They don’t ask you about smashing the Taliban?” “That’s right,” then Axle said something like, “They only want to hear how sad we are.” Axle and I got along great because I didn’t care if he missed his family and he didn’t care if I missed mine. This part is about smashing people who would help those who smashed the World Trade Centers and blew up people in London and Bali and Jakarta and Israel and Spain and the Philippines and anywhere else they can reach. There is a crucial development and governance aspect to this war, and still a crucial smashing side. Sometimes you’ve got to swap hats for helmets. Mullah Omar is still alive, apparently in Pakistan, and he needs to be killed. Just on 20 August I heard a Taliban singing over a walkie talkie that Mullah Omar “Is our leader,” and they were celebrating shooting down a British helicopter only twelve hours before just some miles from here. There will be time to hug families later. Now is a time for fighting.

We talked some more about smashin’ the Taliban. When the A-10s turned toward some distant battle, nobody here complained. Yes, we need more helicopters, but since I have been in Sangin, we never have been short on attack aircraft. The JTACs are happy. Air cover, since I have been in Sangin, is better than we could honestly hope for. Axle talked about strike aircraft; “The F-15E Strike Eagles are brilliant,” he said. The JTACs, if given a choice of the other fourteen types of piloted aircraft that come on station, seem to vote for F-15E Strike Eagles.

The F-15E package (weapons, electronics, and strike pilots) is particularly lethal for this fight. When strike aircraft come onto station, the pilots declare their weapons load. A typical F-15E declartion sounds like this: An American voice crackles over the radio, “Good morning. I’ve got 4 GBU-12s, 6 GBU-38s, 2 GBU-31s, and 1,000 x 20mm cannon.” [GBU-12: 500lb Laser Guided Bomb is the JTAC favorite here; GBU-38 is a 500lb JDAM and also very good; GBU-31 is a 2,000lb JDAM and too big for use in Sangin but there are many other fights in Afghanistan; 20mm cannon can destroy armored vehicles but bounce off the compound walls here.]

In total, the two F-15Es arrive with a dozen accurate bombs, a thousand rounds of 20mm, incredibly good optics, and a great downlink package so the JTACs can peer through F-15E crosshairs and coordinate with the pilot. Most importantly, the Strike Eagle pilots are specifically trained for this mission. Nobody on the ground complains about this package.

Whereas Strike Eagles are favored in Sangin, there are close runner-ups. B-1Bs are called “Bones” because B-One spells bone. Bones were made for nuclear war with the Soviets and for carrying hydrogen bombs, and so they don’t carry a lot of different tricks for small battles. B-1Bs do come with 12 GBU-38s and 8 GBU-31s, very good optics and Axle says the pilots are easy to talk onto targets. When a B-1B runs low on gas, refuelers can fly to us. One day, Axle could see Bones refueling directly overhead while continuing to track a target.

In all, about fourteen types of aircraft fly topcover, including American, Belgian, British, Dutch and French. JTACs here say the least desirable aircraft of those fourteen are the French M2000D. A package of two jets carries no cannon, no downlink and a total of only 4 GBU 12s. The optics aboard the aircraft are not good, and the trail aircraft spots targets with binoculars like the Red Baron. Also, the French and British have problems understanding each other’s accents. The British who work with French forces refuse to say a bad word. They say the French are good and ready—which can be surprising because the Brits and the French like to slag each other—but the French aircraft simply are primitive in comparison to the American jets. An American unit in Zabul Province last year said that some French pilots probably saved them, or at least made a big difference, and so any words about primitive aircraft should be taken in light of respect for the pilots.

No mention is made of the Apache helicopters because Axle was talking about jets. The Apaches seem to do most of the heavy lifting—for every jet strike I must have seen 5-10 Apache strikes. Apaches are very effective. We are too far out for coverage from Kiowa Warriors. Predators are excellent but Reapers are especially welcome.

The A-10s were gone and so Axle headed to sleep but Corporal Henry Sanday keeps working while all his men are zonked out.

The following account does not pertain to Pharmacy Road, but pertains to Corporal Sanday, his men, Axle and others in these photos. These photos were made on 09 August. On 13 August, a bomb detonated at 0523, wounding Matthew Hatton and two others. Sanday arranged to evacuate the wounded by helicopter but there were IEDs along the routes to the HLS (Helicopter Landing Site).

As Daniel Wild and Mark Hale helped the wounded Matthew Hatton, they were hit by a second bomb, killing all three men. In total there were five casualties, and call-sign “Pedro,” helicopters from the United States Air Force had come in to evacuate the killed and wounded. Henry Sanday was acting Platoon Sergeant and wanted to land Pedro on a roof but the roof was too small. He finally got the casualties loaded out. After suffering three killed and two wounded, the men continued the mission though some of the men were very rattled. Later that evening, when the mission had been completed and the soldiers were moving back to FOB Jacskon, they were hit by a third bomb leaving two casualties. Sanday was setting up another helicopter extraction when a fourth bomb detonated and an interpreter turned into a “white mist” leaving only a leg. The interpreter went MIA. Sanday asked the Apaches to search for the body but they found nothing. I’d seen this happen in Iraq and it took us a long time to find two of the bodies. One missing body was maybe a hundred meters away. The other body was farther. It’s been a long time, but I think it might have taken an hour to find the last body, and we had dozens of people looking. Sanday was down to four unwounded soldiers in his section and in Sangin the IEDs often seem to come in big clusters. No matter which way you go, there is a high probability of more. Two interpreters were killed in the strike and three were wounded.

Some of the men were in shock and did not react to Sanday’s commands. They were seriously battle-affected and refusing orders, though others rose to the occasion and were the glue. I’ve seen this breakdown happen. Soldiers typically bounce back. Two officers described to me their thoughts on Corporal Sanday. “He is an absolute hero,” said one, and the other agreed. Sanday’s name was mentioned with respect all the way back in Iraq. Now in Afghanistan he continues to rise to the occasion, but now with more experience. The next day, Sanday went on a combat mission in Sangin. About 100 meters in front of him an IED detonated on another section. Three soldiers from the Royal Regiment Fussilliers were killed. During extraction to the HLS, a pressure-pad IED caused more casualties. Again, I am told Sanday and others rose to the occasion.

The interpreter who disappeared was found in the Helmand River, about 20 miles south at FOB Price.

But those attacks were still a few days away. Today, Sanday had more dangers to lead his men into, and through, and as they slept, he worked.

Body armor for a pillow. Many soldiers buy those bracelets because they say the profits go to support wounded warriors. Next time I’m in Camp Bastion, I’ll buy a couple.

“Axle” Foley, who was on that horrible mission with Sanday, went to sleep until more aircraft were scheduled to show up. This photo was made at about 0517 and I put down the camera then my head down at 0521, just in time for the first explosion seven minutes later at 0528. The explosion was close and powerful and literally raised some dust. AFTER it exploded, someone said it was EOD for the first controlled detonation. The Bang Boys were out there in the danger zone, cracking away. I said a little prayer for them and put my head back down and that’s when the rooster started crowing—from inside the building! Look at the halls in the photo. A rooster is very loud inside here, as if he were crowing straight into our ears. The ANA keep the rooster for fighting. He was incredibly loud. BOOM at 0540. EOD was back at it, and at 0548, then 0558, then 0610 and 0612 and 0621. The EOD soldiers were into a rhythm. Between the rooster crowing inside the building and EOD blasting away nearby, sleep was hard to come by, so I got up and walked to one of the guard towers. LtCol Rob Thomson seemed to be the last one working, and warned me not to get shot. (During the bad morning on the 13th, LtCol Thomson saw some gloom on a few faces and he jerked those faces back into the fight.)

The British call guard towers “sangers” (a word the Brits picked up during a previous Afghan war). At the bottom of the ladder, I announced my presence to the ANA soldier and he waved me up.

The EOD were blasting just a few hundred meters away, and after every explosion, the ANA soldier would imitate and laugh, “BOOM, BOOM, hahahahah BOOM, BOOM, hahahaha.” He was like a big kid. He begged to have his photo taken and then wanted to stare at his photo and begged for another photo and another. Finally, he got behind the machine gun and acted like he was shooting. He was saying “gugugugugugugugugugugugugugug” like he was firing the machine gun. I walked over to make sure the gun was not aimed at any British EOD soldiers, who were in a different direction off to the left. The ANA soldier kept making the gun rattle, “gugugugugugugugugugugugug,” while laughing like a six-year-old boy, “gugugugugugugugugug.” Where were the 3- to 5-round bursts? He was wasting imaginary ammo. I said “No! It should be gugug…..gugugugug…gugugug. Not gugugugugugugugugugugug.” He wrapped his finger on the trigger and started to pull, but before doing so, a red LED seemed to flash inside his brain. He stopped. And there was a long pause, like on one of those old-timey calculators where you press “2” “+” “2” “=” … and then wait five seconds for the answer “4.” He checked the safety which, predictably, was on FIRE despite that a long belt of ammo was draped from the loaded gun. He clicked the safety on and pulled the trigger and kept going, “gugugugugugugugugugug.” Some men should not touch guns. He made me nervous that he might accidentally shoot someone, especially a British soldier, and so I distracted him with the camera, and started taking notes. Every time the pen hit the paper, he would lean over and stare at the writing, as if he were going to accidentally poke out his eye with the pen.

“Gugugugugugugugugugugugug.”

That’s when his buddy showed up with the dog. In Afghanistan mostly only villagers keep dogs, but the ANA are copying the British and adopted their own guard dog. Sometimes I wish all the readers could just come out here for a single day. Readers would never forget it. Look at that dog. What’s he going to do against Taliban with RPGs? He’s hardly got energy to bark. The gugugugugugugug man insisted that I photograph his friend and the dog, and then Dog Boy sprinted to the base of the sanger, tied the breathless guard dog to the ladder, climbed up breathlessly and stared at his photo and laughed and smiled and started jabbering on and giving the thumbs up, crawled back down, untied the dog and ran away laughing while the dog tried to keep up and they both disappeared around that corner.

The British and American soldiers often like the Afghans they work with; most of the Iraq veterans (British and American) did not make friends in Iraq, but most soldiers who work closely with Afghans seem to like them. The Afghans do some crazy, goofy things, but something about Afghans can be very likeable. Practically none of us want to be here, but nobody seems to have malice for Afghans. It’s difficult to explain.

Mud walls meet cinderblocks. Locals fill the cinderblocks with mud. If the people spent as much time building roads as they do building walls, this place would have more roads than California.

Sangin from the Sanger. The town of Sangin is not exactly Jurassic Park like most of Afghanistan. Despite that the British have been here since 2006, some people just a few miles from town still think the British are Russians, and the more enlightened ones seem to think the British are Americans. Most people seem to know who Michael Jackson is, but few have heard of Canada.

A couple days before this photo, British soldiers on FOB Jackson were firing large .50-caliber machine guns over my head, intermittantly, for about an hour. I thought they must be shooting someone, but this dispatch was a work in progress and so eventually the .50 caliber noise started affecting my concentration while I sweated over the keyboard. Finally, I pulled out the earplugs, walked outside and asked why the heck they keep shooting right over base?! There was no return fire. Turns out they were test-firing the machine guns, but every time the Fire Support Group launched bullets, villagers would see tracers and run toward the beaten zone where dust poofed up and rocks splintered through the air. Each time the soldiers fired the machine guns, the British soldiers would have to wait for the villagers to clear out, then fire again and the villagers would run back to the impact zone. The soldiers and I laughed at the absurdity. Iraq was almost never funny. Afghanistan can be like a war version of Comedy Central.

That man is walking on Pharmacy Road. Most of the the walls are roughly fifteen feet tall, though the walls behind him are shorter. There is no commanding ground—this is about as good as it gets—and the snipers cannot get long shots or observe far. The enemy are aware and use the labyrinth of walls nearly as effectively as if they were tunnels.

Scrap in front of PB Tangiers.

The mercury rose with the sun. LtCol Rob Thomson gathered up some men and wanted to go see the EOD soldiers as they were clearing some of the most dangerous ground. Though they had just cleared this stretch, there have been many instances where soldiers got blown to pieces by ground that was just cleared. Cleared is more like “cleared.”

The EOD soldiers said this dog missed a big pressure-activated bomb and led his handler right over it. Luckily the team didn’t step on the device. The dog is better at finding shade than bombs, apparently. Probably should be a drug dog. I’m no expert on search dogs, but it is true that glaring sun can bake away scent. I had the feeling that the soldier felt like he let people down, but nobody said any such thing. Everybody knows it’s tough out here and sometimes you simply miss the bomb.

The “Wishtan 5” were killed on the Wishtan market road on the top left. Those five soldiers were killed in a similar attack wherein soldiers who survived the first attack were killed while rescuing their buddies.

We came into a compound that had been “cleared.” Without EOD, our losses would be far higher in Afghanistan. The EOD soldiers get special respect and earn every ounce of it.

LtCol Thomson checks progress.

The imagery from November 2004 does not show the power lines in the photo below. I made the photo below from nearly the same angle as the image above. So, the EOD soldiers on top of the truck are in the corner of the compound overlooking Pharmacy Road. The soldiers are a few meters from where the yellow thumbtack denotes “Blown Vehicles.”

The EOD team is rigging this wall to blow part of it down. On the other side of the wall are the two blown-up vehicles; one of the vehicles is British and the other is the trailer from a “jingo truck.” The area surrounding the trucks is booby-trapped with explosives, and the vehicles also are booby-trapped. So the goal is to blow down the wall and drag the vehicles off the road and into this compound.

These EOD soldiers wear a Rainbow patch and call themselves Team Rainbow, which of course seemed quite curious.

The wall is so thick and strong that Team Rainbow put about 200 pounds of plastic explosive in all the right places, then rolled out the wire. The reader might be surprised to see what 200 pounds of high explosives does to the wall.

Team Rainbow and LtCol Thomson stayed up close, but I got behind the farthest vehicle because I have no pride in my courage. Some people think this is crazy work, but I’m actually a safety fanatic.

When the enemy hears a detonation—which typically occurs many times per day—they wait for helicopters, knowing that if helicopters swoop in and land, they have achieved success. Many of the enemy bombs in Sangin are detonated by command wire, while many others are pressure-activated and are simply improvised land mines. The enemy often uses pressure cookers to make bombs, just as was done by the Maoists in Nepal. In Nepal, the government began confiscating pressure cookers (which angered many people), and the government often shut down cell service (angering many people) because the Maoists used cell phones. The Maoists won the war. We are operating far smarter in Afghanistan. Here it’s the enemy who actually shuts down cell towers—and this angers the people. Also, the enemy bombs around here are killing a lot of innocent people, and this also angers the people. Despite progress made by the Taliban, they alienate many people.

And so that’s all that 200lbs of high explosives, in perfect contact with the target, placed by experts, could do to this wall. When soldiers come back from Afghanistan and say that the compounds are like fortresses, this is what they mean. The electrical wires, which cannot be seen in the Google Earth imagery of 2004, got blown down. The EOD soldiers wanted to avoid the live electrical wires. EOD called the Royal Engineers to come up with a non-destructive solution to the wires. Within minutes they thought of a solution. The vehicle above cut a notch in the top of the far wall with his scooper.

He drove the scooper machine to the front and opened the wall to let a bigger truck inside. The Engineers hooked webbing around the electrical wires, and using the winch on the big truck, pulled the wires up and draped them over the notch the scooper had cut. EOD was back in business clearing Pharmacy Road. In fact, the soldier who is driving the scooper is the same driver who got blown up on Pharmacy Road, and his blown up vehicle is one that they were about to drag into the compound.

It can be very rattling out here. But they keep getting blown up and going, and the enemy is getting it worse.

Preparing plastic explosives in slivers of shade. Iraqis thought our body armor was air conditioners, and thought we have “cold pills” to chill us out. The soldiers carry far more weight than I do, and they work three times harder. This heat is bad even for me, but much worse for them. Often U.S. and British soldiers end up back at the hospital after they collapse, but in nearly all cases they come straight back to the fight. There was a U.S. battalion in the 1st Infantry Division in Baquba, Iraq, who were constantly pumping IVs so they could outlast the enemy.

SSgt Schmid of the Joint Force Explosive Ordnance Disposal (JFOD). Dealing with hidden bombs made by pernicious enemies requires special people. I asked Ssgt Schmid which wire he cuts when dealing with booby-traps—red wire, or the green?—SSgt Schmid just laughed and kept working.

The blown-up vehicles were dragged through the blown-up wall under the blown-down wires.

As the midday sun pounded down, the EOD soldiers continued to work in the heat. LtCol Rob Thomson stayed out in the boiling sun with the men. I retreated with some others to a cooler place that was halfway underground. Most of us soon fell asleep as the EOD soldiers kept blasting, blasting, blasting. They must have made dozens of explosions during the day and they never seemed to take a break. None of them, nor LtCol Thomson, ever took even a minute of shade break with us.

After an afternoon of blasting, LtCol Rob Thomson headed to PB Wishtan, but my gear was back at Tangiers, where some ANA were preparing for a mission.

During the clearance, this soldier fell off a ladder. He was all the way at the top, about fifteen feet high. Luckily he was wearing his helmet because he said he also cracked his head. His spirits were good but he seemed a little embarrassed for falling off, but accidents like this happen a lot. Even when nobody is shooting, there are plentiful ways to get hurt out here. In the background are two improvised cots where I slept the second night. Just on the other side of the barrier, the Hescoes got hit some months ago by an RPG, as seen below.

RPGs are simple but enormously effective.

As the shadows grew longer, the British and ANA began playing volleyball while EOD kept blowing up charges along Pharmacy Road.

When people complain about the British rations, I think of Laxle Kedian Harris, more commonly known as “H.” I offered some weightlifting tips but H laughed and changed the subject. But make no mistake—the rations are . . . to put it kindly, bland.

It’s dangerous to leave a camera unguarded around soldiers. It could have been much worse.

That night, we stayed in the field because the mission was not merely to clear Pharmacy Road, but to build a sanger (guard position) about halfway down—one which would be constantly manned. While we slept, soldiers from 2 Rifles and the engineers worked all night erecting the sanger.

After a long, hot day taking back Pharmacy Road.

Some work while others sleep.

And that was it. Pharmacy Road was cleared and the sanger was built and most of us headed back to FOB Jackson just as the sun was rising on the second day.

Later that afternoon, back on FOB Jackson during the Battle Update Briefing (as Americans would call it), a BOOM shook the room. Word came that a local person was pulling parts from one of the vehicles that were dragged off Pharmacy Road. He encountered a Taliban booby-trap and he was killed. EOD had not cleared the vehicles of booby-traps; the two vehicles had merely been pulled off the road. Next day another local was killed on a parallel road that he thought the British had cleared. It had not been cleared. The Taliban blows up a lot of local people in Sangin.

The mission was an obvious success. It was surprising that we endured no fatalities or serious injuries. The mission was well-executed and since many of the soldiers have substantial combat experience from Iraq and Afghanistan, major dramas were averted. Murphy had smiled upon us. The only injury to my knowledge was the soldier who fell off the ladder. Soldiers who had previously fought on Pharmacy Road said we had sustained about twenty fatalities and injuries in that general area. And though at least one IED has been placed on the road since last week, C Coy and the ANA are now regularly patrolling and the freedom of movement has resumed.

This is a brutal fight. Since that mission, eight more British soldiers and two interpreters have been killed in this area. That’s ten KIA plus the wounded. The soldiers keep going.

Coming up next: the fighting we saw on election day wherein the soldier beside me got his antenna shot off.

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Adopt-a-stan

2009-10-19T00:03:15Z

18 October 2009
By Michael Yon

The inbox was peppered with hyperlinks to Dexter Filkins’ story in the New York Times, Stanley McChrystal’s Long War. One message came from Kathryn Lopez at National Review, asking if I had seen the article and for any thoughts.

It should be said that I respect the work of Dexter Filkins. Mr. Filkins is a seasoned war correspondent whose characterizations of Iraq ring true, while Stanley McChrystal’s Long War resonates with my ongoing experiences in Afghanistan. Despite the great length of the article, the few points that did not resonate were more trivialities for discussion than disagreements. Mr. Filkins did a fine job.

To be clear, I have developed a strong belief that the war is winnable, though at this rate we will lose. Mr. Filkins seemed to unfold a similar argument. In my view, we need more troops and effort in Afghanistan—now—and the commitment must be intergenerational.

In Mr. Filkins’ article, a couple of seemingly small points are keyholes to profound realities, and to a few possible illusions. For instance, the idea that Afghans are tired of fighting seems off. Afghans often tell me they are tired of fighting but those words are inconsistent with the bitter fact that the war intensifies with every change of season. The idea that Afghans are tired of war seems an illusion. Some Afghans are tired. I spend more time talking with older Afghans than with teenagers, and most of the older Afghans do seem weary. Yet according to the CIA World Factbook, the median age is 17.6 years; meaning half of Afghans are estimated to be this age or below. The culture is old, but the population is a teenager. Most Afghans today probably had not reached puberty when al Qaeda launched the 9/11 attacks. Eight years later, Afghanistan is more an illiterate kid than a country. The median age for the U.S. is given at 36.7. In addition to the tremendous societal disconnect between Americans and Afghans, there would be a generational gap even if those distant children were Americans. Clearly this could lead to frustrations if we expect quick results.

We ask Afghans for help in defeating the enemies, yet the Afghans expect us to abandon them. Importantly, Mr. Filkins pointed out that Afghans don’t like to see Americans living in tents. Tents mean nomads. It would be foolish for Afghans in “Talibanastan” to cooperate with nomadic Americans only to be eviscerated by the Taliban when the nomads pack up. (How many times did we see this happen in Iraq?) The Afghans want to see us living in real buildings as a sign of permanency. The British at Sangin and associated bases live in temporary structures as is true with American bases in many places. Our signals are clear. “If you are coming to stay,” Afghans have told me in various ways, “build a real house.” “Build a real office.” “Don’t live in tents.” We saw nearly the opposite in Iraq where pressure evolved to look semi-permanent. The Dr. Jekyll–Mr. Hyde situation in Iraq seemed to seriously catch hold by 2006 or 2007, by which time Iraqis realized we were not going to steal oil and might decide to pull out while leaving them ablaze in civil war.

A great many Iraqis wanted to know that we would stay long enough to help them stand, but were not planning on making Iraq part of an American empire. It became important to convey semi-permanence, signaling, “Yes we will stay and yes we will leave.” Conversely, Afghans down in the south, in places like Helmand, tend to have fond memories of Americans who came mid last century, and those Afghans seem apt to cooperate. That much is clear. But Afghans need to sense our long-term commitment. They need to see houses made of stone, not tents and “Hesco-habs.”

It’s crucial to hold in constant memory that Afghanistan is the societal equivalent of an illiterate teenager. The child-nation will fail unless we are willing to adopt the people. Many Afghans clearly hope this will happen, though of course we have to phrase it slightly differently. Afghans are, after all, proud and xenophobic. They are not just xenophobic but also afghanophobic. Most houses are built like little Alamos.

Half-solutions failed in Iraq and are failing in Afghanistan. There will be no cheap, easy or quick compromise that will lead to long-term success in AfPak. Erroneously adopting a paradigm that scales back to a counterterrorism approach would be like dispatching the potent but tiny Delta Force to the Amazon jungles with orders to swat mosquitoes. We can give them every Predator and Reaper in the arsenal, yet twenty years from now they’ll still be shooting Hellfires at mosquitoes. Gutting mid-level enemy leadership has been very effective in Iraq and Afghanistan, but only in a larger context. Using strictly a counterterrorism approach, we’ll end up killing relatively zero mosquitoes—the birthrate alone will see that we never win—before coming down with war malaria and nothing will change. Counterterrorism in today’s context remains important but CT is only one of many subheadings in the great accounting. It’s time for CT to crawl into the backseat, not take the wheel. Afghanistan was a special operations playground for more than half a decade. Nobody can argue that special operations forces were not given plenty of assets and discretion with special affections from the White House. They also got more than a half-decade of free press passes. Many people argue that the press lost the war in Vietnam, but that argument has no fizz in Afghanistan. Nobody knows that better than Stanley McChrystal, who today is asking for more troops, not fewer. We need to provide General McChrystal with the resources to win and nobody is in a better position to know what he needs.

If Afghanistan is to succeed, we must adopt it. We must adopt an entire country, a troubled child, for many decades to come. We must show the Afghans that together we can severely damage the enemies, or bring them around, and together build a brighter future. The alternative is perpetual war and terrorism radiating from the biggest, possibly richest and most war-prone drug dealers the world has ever seen, and what could eventually reverse and become the swamp that harbors the disease that eventually kills Pakistan, leaving its nuclear weapons on the table.

Adopting this child-nation means more than the relatively simple task of building security forces bankrolled by foreign governments. Afghanistan cannot finance its police and army, much less the education and vast infrastructure needed to fashion and fuel a self-sustaining economy. The Coalition has already adopted the Afghan security forces and this remittance arrangement is perpetual until we squeeze the account and watch it die, or Afghanistan stands. The illiterate people of Afghanistan are multiplying like rabbits, and so thousands of schools, teachers and entire educational infrastructure must be raised up; uncontrolled population growth, among Afghanistan’s countless other problems, is born in the bed of ignorance. Only through education and opportunity, and eventual meritorious inclusion into the international community—if meager—can narcotics production, criminality, warlordism and fanaticism be eroded and whittled back. By adopting Afghanistan, bringing peace and creating a nucleus for progress, the many private donors who profoundly help develop countries such as Nepal can operate freely to spread seeds of civilization not just in Afghanistan, but in the region.

Finally, we are not the Russians, nor the failed Soviet Union. It is important to learn from Soviet success and failures, but comparing too closely Coalition efforts to theirs quickly becomes silly. The Coalition can succeed where the Soviets failed, and it should be remembered that the Soviets failed in the “easy” places where democracy now thrives, such as Lithuania, Poland, Czech Republic, Hungary, and a distinguished list of others who this moment are helping in Afghanistan, and whose countries are today thriving and where we are welcome.

I remember Poland, East Germany, Czechoslovakia, Romania and others during the dark days. It is no wonder to me that the Soviets failed while freedom and democracy succeeded. People who saw Prague then and can see it today likely will have great difficulty explaining the differences to the uninitiated. The Coalition in Afghanistan is largely comprised of nations who have suffered greatly in recent times. They get it.

We should adopt Afghanistan for the long term. If not, there will be perpetual and growing trouble. This Coalition can succeed in Afghanistan where others failed.

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Pedros

2009-09-14T02:45:13Z

14 September 2009
Helmand Province, Afghanistan

With the war increasing, Air Force Pararescue has been crisscrossing the skies picking up casualties.

That’s the Green Zone of Helmand Province, the opium capital of the world. Those fields are the great ATM of our enemies here. The fertilizer used to make those fields green is the same fertilizer used to make countless bombs.

We are flying in a special U.S. Air Force Blackhawk helicopter to fetch a seriously ill British soldier.

In Iraq, many of the casevacs were done by ground forces. In other words, if we hit a bomb or got shot, soldiers would load up the dead and wounded and rush them to the CSH (Combat Support Hospital or “cash”). But in Afghanistan most of the fighting occurs outside the cities and far away from the base hospitals. Rescue helicopters stationed at places like Bagram, Kandahar Airfield and Camp Bastion have been flying thousands of missions.

There are numerous helicopter rescue “services” in Afghanistan. For instance, the British have MERTs (Medical Emergency Response Teams) that fly in a CH-47, and the U.S. Army uses Blackhawks as does the U.S. Air Force. Special operations teams normally cover their own evacuations.

This U.S. Army rescue helicopter parked at Camp Bastion (Helmand) flies with the red cross symbol allowing the enemy to get a better aim at the helicopter. Unfortunately, by displaying the red cross symbol, the helicopters are not allowed to carry miniguns or other large weapons. This seems a rather questionable decision given that the Taliban and other enemies could not give a hoot about law. It is unclear why the Army decided that a red cross provides more protection than miniguns.

These Air Force “Pedro” rescue helicopters have two miniguns each (total of four miniguns), and the PJs all carry M-4 rifles. They do fire those weapons in combat. In July, a helicopter swooped down during a rescue and picked up some wounded soldiers and then was shot down. The second Air Force helicopter had to get the U.S. Army patients off the bird that had been shot down. But there was not enough room in the second bird for the Pedro crew. (No injuries.) So the tiny Army OH-58 Kiowa helicopters flew out—Kiowas only seat two people and both seats were full—and some of the Pedro folks had to clip onto the skids and fly out like James Bond.

The damaged helicopter was left behind. Bullets had hit a fuel line and caused the fuel to leak out, and so the pilot had no trouble landing, but the helicopter was now stuck in the middle of nowhere. So after the Pedros rescued U.S. soldiers who then rescued Pedros, other soldiers flew out to rescue the Pedro helicopter. The plan was to cut off the rotors and have a bigger helicopter use a cable to lift out the Blackhawk and fly it back to base. But when the soldiers started using a saw on the rotors, sparks hit the fuel that had leaked and the Blackhawk burned to the ground. The Army killed the Air Force’s helicopter.

The helicopters take hits. On another mission in Helmand, an RPG shot through the tail but luckily it missed the transmission; if the RPG had hit the transmission, the entire crew likely would have been killed. And so . . . those miniguns come in handy. The gunners are great shots and can return accurate fire within seconds.

Some readers have gotten upset that I call them “Pedro,” thinking the name is secret. The concern is welcome but not warranted in this case. The Pedros don’t care and they even have a Pedro patch.

The Pararescue medics are often called “PJs.” The SEALs, Delta, Rangers and Green Berets all hold the PJs in high regard. Firstly, the PJs are among the best medics in the U.S. military (we have incredible medics—so that’s a significant statement). Secondly, PJs go through just about any combat training available, ranging from HALO to mountaineering to scuba. They’ve got scuba gear here at Camp Bastion and have had to use it to recover soldiers who were killed after the enemy blew their vehicle into some water. In a different war, the Pedros would be tasked to rescue pilots who might be shot down hundreds of miles into enemy territory.

As we fly out to pick up a sick soldier, the door gunners and PJs test-fire the miniguns and M-4s.

When we get low, the PJs sit with their feet hanging out the doors so they can return fire, but up high they relax and take in the scenery. That’s the Helmand River and part of the “Green Zone.”

The Pedro commander, Major Mathew Wenthe, said that Secretary of Defense Robert Gates had issued a directive that all casualties be evacuated and arrive at the hospital within one hour of the call. Pedros intend to fulfill that directive.

The Pedro crews at Bastion have three helicopters but they only take two on missions. Major Wenthe gave high credit to the mechanics who are constantly changing out parts, up to and including seven engines in the last few months. The birds are ready, and that’s the first step.

There are two Pedro shifts who work 12 hours on, 12 hours off, with no days off during the tour. The first shift starts at 0200 and runs to 1400 and the second shift takes 1400 to 0200.

Inside the TOC (Tactical Operations Center; the HQ), Pedro has a big board where reports from around Helmand Province scroll down. If a British unit gets into a firefight, for instance, Pedro knows about the firefight within probably a minute because the messages are relayed to TOCs that need to know. At least one person is always watching that screen, and so you might hear a pilot say, “The Marines are in contact near such and such.” Or, “The Brits just hit an IED near Sangin.”

The casualties are classified as Category A, Cat B, or Cat C. Cat A basically means the soldier is probably going to die, lose a limb, or lose his eyesight if not quickly treated. Cat B is more like someone who’s gotten shot in the foot. It’s a big deal, but not immediately life-threatening. Cat C might be some kind of non-life-threatening illness or a broken finger.

When the Pedro crews see injuries scroll down, they rush out to the helicopters like Batman and Robin heading to the Batmobile. Really, you’ve got to get out of the way or they will knock you down. Within a few minutes the rotors are spinning but the Pedros actually have not yet been tasked to go. The British-run JHTF (Joint Helicopter Task Force) is watching the same information but they also have other assets that can be sent, such as the U.S. Army or the British MERT (Medical Emergency Response Team) in the CH-47. The Pedros are always the first who are ready to go, but it might make sense for JHTF to send MERT because MERT is a bigger helicopter and so it flies faster than Blackhawks. Plus, the doctor on the MERT can actually pump blood into patients, because when the patient gets shot or blown up, medics on the scene radio the blood types, and the MERT crew can actually fly out with the right blood. Pedros don’t push blood but do start IVs. However . . . the CH-47 is a big helicopter and is easier to shoot down, and so if the landing zone is going to be tight or under fire, it might be better to send Pedro. Yet much of Afghanistan is high and hot and the CH-47 can fly in thinner air than can Blackhawks.

While the JHTF makes a decision, Pedro is waiting with rotors spinning and all they need to hear is “Go Pedro.” Thirty seconds later they are gone. (The British MERT CH-47 flies faster, but it’s slower to start.)

Every day is a “National Geographic” day. Afghanistan is incredible.

As we approach the LZ, the PJs pull on rubber gloves; the helicopter is subject to getting bloody.

This rotation of Pedros had done just under 400 missions in three months. Similar crews in Iraq might do half a dozen missions in the same period.

These PJs have treated hundreds of patients and gone into dangerous areas every day.

Typical compound.

Afghan interstate system.

The Afghans call this the Dasht-i-Margo (Desert of Death).

The roads of nowhere.

Lone vehicle in the Desert of Death.

Some compounds are miles from the nearest neighbor, yet they still have walls. Afghanistan is the land of a million Alamos.

When Afghans build a home, they start by building a wall. When the wall is finished, they start on the home.

The pilots swoop in for the patient. There is only one thing that British soldiers love more than mail and that’s Pedro. When I told British soldiers from 2 Rifles that Pedro was going to take me, many British soldiers asked me to say “thank yous” to the Pedros. The Pedros are a great morale booster because we know when we take casualties, Pedro is coming with miniguns and incredible medics. When other helicopters are grounded by bad weather, Pedro goes. When bullets are flying, Pedro comes in with miniguns blazing. They also rescue Danish, Americans, and others, including contractors and Afghan civilians sometimes.

We picked up a British patient from 2 Rifles, one of my favorite infantry units. The British are more sensitive about casualties than Americans (many Americans don’t care about photos if they are wounded, though some do). Although I was not embedded with the Brits and so do not have to follow British rules, I respect the soldiers.

And so, without the patient’s consent (which was hard to get because he was in pain and the helicopter was loud and the PJs were working), these photos will not show his face.

The problem was apparently appendicitis. The PJs went to work and at one point a PJ smacked the bottom of the patient’s right boot. The PJs said that if his appendix is bad, smacking the bottom of his right foot should cause sharp pain in his abdomen. And true enough, when the medic smacked his boot, the soldier winced in pain.

As we are flying back, vitals and other information are being transmitted back to Camp Bastion so that when we land, the right doctors and nurses will be ready.

The medical evacuation system is excellent. Our folks work hand in glove with British and Danish back at the hospital.

During the flight, the PJs also put earplugs in the patient so that his head isn’t rattling from this very loud helicopter. When patients are brought aboard, the PJs slide the doors shut.

This was an easy mission, but at other times there will be multiple amputations and KIAs and so the helicopters can get full.

British fire crews rush to grab patients.

The hospital is about 30 seconds away from the LZ and the PJs usually go inside so that they can do a handoff to the doctors. Then we fly back to the runway about half a mile away, refuel, and get ready for the next call.

The motto of Pararescue: “That Others May Live.” And they mean it.

Don’t mess with the miniguns . . .

The next mission took us to a Special Forces base where an ANA soldier had somehow managed to get shot in both feet. It was lucky for him that he was with Special Forces; the Green Beret medics also are tops. I’ve seen the Green Beret medics at work on countless occasions. It’s bad to get shot, but if you must, it’s best to happen in the presence of Green Berets and to get picked up by Pedros.

Some Green Berets helped load the patient and then went back to whatever it is that Green Berets do out here.

The medic(s) on the scene already have prepped the patient, so the PJs don’t have to bandage him up other than plugging his ears, taking vitals and other tasks.

The pilots flew very hard and at times.

On the way back with the ANA soldier who managed to get shot in both feet, another call came so we diverted to get two more patients.

Americans lived down here before the Soviet invasion and built much of the irrigation networks. The poppy has already been harvested this year and other crops are in the fields.

The other Pedro bird flies in to get the two patients.

We fly low and make hard turns. The PJ has to crane his neck back just to see the horizon.

In combat, the Pedro can land and get a patient loaded in about thirty seconds.

The patients are loaded and off we go. One guy had a tooth problem, and the other got bitten by a bat.

The last mission. Just under 400 on this tour, and I had the honor of going along. We’ll never know how many lives the Pedro crews saved this year in Afghanistan, but it was a lot. A book could be written about their tour, but alas, this is likely about all the recognition they will ever get. The two crews that I did missions with were:

Pedro 35
Maj Mathew Wenthe
1Lt Josh Roberts
CMSgt Rick Nowaski
TSgt Christopher Gabor
Capt Dave Depiazza
TSgt Tom Pearce
SrA Eric Mathieson

Pedro 36
Maj Mitzi Egger
Capt Adam Tucci
MSgt James Patterson
SrA Adrian Jarrin
SSgt Joe Signor
SrA Anthony Daroste
SrA Alejandro Serrano

The crews assembled and asked me to make their photo, but . . .

Just as they were starting to line up for the photo, a call came in and the helicopters flew away.

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MARKET GARDEN

2009-10-12T13:42:27Z

Market Garden

A Remembrance During Time of War

Kandahar City, Afghanistan

Slowly, surely, the city is being strangled. Signaling the depth of our commitment, security forces are thinner in Kandahar than the Himalayan air. During the days and evenings, there were the sounds of occasional bombs—some caused by suicide attackers, and others by firefights. The windows in my room had been blown out recently and now were replaced. We came here to kill our enemies, but today we want to make a country from scratch.

A world away from Afghanistan, over in Holland, was approaching the 65th anniversary of the allied liberation from Nazi occupation, and I had been invited to attend by James “Maggie” Megellas. Maggie, who had fought his way through Holland and is today remembered there as a hero, is said to be the most decorated officer in the history of the 82nd Airborne Division. Now 92, Maggie has recently spent about two months tooling around the battlefields of Afghanistan, and though it would be an honor to finally meet him, there was the matter of extracting myself from Kandahar City and getting through about forty minutes of dangerous territory to the military base at Kandahar Airfield.

And so a friend and I donned local garb and loaded into the car.

Criminals and Taliban were on the lookout for westerners to kidnap, and unknown to us an intelligence report had just been issued that men in a stolen Toyota Corolla were on the prowl in Kandahar City.

The camera was mostly kept down but occasionally I lifted for quick shots. Kandahar City, like other main Afghan cities, belies the fact that most Afghans will never have one minute of electricity, nor will they ever see a westerner.

Afghan police love to jet around at high speeds in their trucks, often with powerful machine guns mounted on back.

Shortly after this photo was taken, my friend, who had been a South African cop for 16 years, spotted two men in a white Toyota Corolla who had locked onto us. They drove swiftly by for a look-see, then hit a Y intersection ahead on the right. They tried to get back in, but traffic slowed them by about ten seconds. I was watching over my shoulder when they dangerously bolted back into the traffic a couple hundred meters behind us. The camera was on the floorboard. I had picked up a pistol and rested it on my right thigh. My friend rolled down his window and I rolled down mine. They were moving in. In less than a minute, someone probably would die. The car was speeding closer when per chance a green Afghan police pickup rocketed by the pursuers. The green police truck was mounted with a machine gun, and a long belt of ammo was dangling, while a policeman kept his hands on the gun. I hid the pistol. The pursuers slowed. We continued at about 40mph as the police swooshed by. The police pulled off the road a few hundred meters ahead of us and the white car fell back more, until it passed the police and began to speed up, but that was it. The pursuers were caught behind too many trucks and fell away. I put down the pistol and picked up the camera.

None of the paved roads in Afghanistan were built by Afghan vision with Afghan resources. If not for the many foreign invaders, this land would be road-and runway-free.

An American convoy of MRAPs approached from the front and a soldier in the lead vehicle shot a pen-flare, causing everyone to pull off the road. The convoys are more menacing from the outside and in fact I kept the camera down and this is exactly why Secretary of Defense Robert Gates is concerned about adding too many troops. Can’t argue with his reasoning; convoys and troops truly are menacing despite that U.S. and British soldiers are very disciplined. It must look far worse to Afghans. Most Afghans never talk with foreign soldiers and those who do normally only see us in passing. In fact, most soldiers never leave base. Our forces at KAF (Kandahar Airfield) have a base so large that this commercial jet is about to land there after flying dangerously over this unsecured road.

After arriving at Kandahar Airfield, the Dutch Air Force took me, and long after midnight we boarded a Canadian C-130 and flew to Dubai.

From Dubai, the Dutch soldiers got onto a chartered flight to Eindhoven, Netherlands.

Over the Arabian Gulf, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Syria, skirting Iraq.

Finally into Holland, we landed at the Dutch Air Force Base at Eindhoven, where families and others were waiting for Dutch soldiers. Someone shoved a rose and a gift into my hand and I smiled, protesting that I am only a writer, and tried unsuccessfully to return the rose and the gift.

There was a short taxi ride to the hotel.

And right there in the lobby was a throng of World War II veterans whose first trips to Europe had been either under parachute into combat, or by gliders into combat. (As would be revealed over the next five days.) So I sat down with Guadelupe Flores because he was sitting alone while people crowded around other vets. His grandson Matt came over. I hadn’t even fully checked in yet. Guadelupe said he was from Texas originally but now lived in Ohio, and he’d just arrived. “Did you parachute in this time?” I asked. Guadelupe only chuckled, “Not this time,” and chuckled some more. Please have a look at Guadelupe’s left eye. This is the last picture before he got the black eye, which is a funny story. (Guadelupe was on the Army boxing team, he would later say.)

Maggie Megellas was there along with a large group of American university students who had broken off with small groups of veterans. A man said that General Petraeus’ staff was here and General Petraeus was coming to stay at the same hotel.

Finally I got to the room and there was an email from Afghanistan:

I've heard we had to be on the lookout for a group of kidnappers, targeting expats in Kandahar. Apparently they are using a stolen white Toyota Corolla station wagon and a red Toyota Surf. Wonder if we “met” them yesterday?

Actually there had been two suspected vehicles that seemed like they might be working together, but I didn’t mention the second vehicle. Every day in the war is a close call.

The Market Garden remembrance was to begin in the morning.

DAY ONE

Before the description of this incredible remembrance begins, it must be noted this was all paid for by the Market Garden Committee (MGC). The hotel, buses, many of the meals, was all paid and arranged for by the Dutch. Alex Ohmof was the ringleader for the MGC and it can now be said with certainty that Mr. Ohmof is a master coordinator. Over the next nearly week, I was the only man who got lost from the group. We seemed to drive all over Holland and didn’t lose a single veteran or soul, other than me.

Next morning we—the veterans and university students who were traveling with them—loaded into a bus and drove to Margraten Cemetery, the only U.S. military resting place in the Netherlands. Margraten was immaculate and huge and the Dutch people were treating our veterans extremely well, and some were saying “Thank you for liberating us.” (Over the next days, this must have been repeated thousands of times.)

Veterans arrived who were not with our group, including this gentleman whose accent was difficult to discern. His accent didn’t sound American but his cap and words were 100% “Made in USA.” He talked with other veterans about landing on D-Day. When he finished, I asked, “Are you American?” and again he laughed, “Of course, son, look at dis hat!” and he tapped his hat. “But your accent doesn’t sound American.” He was from Georgia but after the war had married a Belgian girl. He wanted to take her home to Georgia but she wanted to stay in Belgium. He’s been married ever since. In Belgium. We must have talked for twenty minutes. His story was so interesting that I didn’t even ask his name.

The caretaker of Margraten welcomed the veterans and gave a little speech and told some history. He seemed proud of his important responsibility.

We walked out to the graves where 8,301 Americans are at rest. Several Dutch would say that every single grave has been adopted by a Dutch family and they put flowers on the headstones at special times.

Robert G. Cole earned the Medal of Honor.

Homage.

An American who parachuted into combat at sixteen years of age. He recounts the day that he and his sixteen-year-old buddy were crawling in a low space and a couple German soldiers threw in a grenade and blew off his buddy’s face, killing him. But the Germans didn’t see this soldier, so he shot them and then killed two more. Stress washed over his face as he recounted that day.

Maggie recounts how his buddy 1 LT Harry Busby had a premonition before crossing the Waal River, that he would be killed. So Harry stripped off watch and other valuables and handed those to his buddies. To try to understand why the Dutch so revere these men, and what Maggie was talking about when he, Harry and the others crossed the Waal River, it would be good to watch this trailer from A Bridge Too Far.

This clip depicts the Waal River Crossing.

After paying respects at Margraten we loaded on the bus to a village called Eerde. The corn in Helmand, Afghanistan is taller now. Firefights will be occurring today in cornfields in Afghanistan.

In Eerde were many dozens of World War II re-enactors who take their roles seriously, trying to accurately maintain or reproduce everything from the tiniest part of bootlaces to rifles, cannons and airplanes. They were a sight. They were living out there for some days, complete with World War II tents of all sizes, sleeping bags, jeeps and the works.

A re-enactor loads a rifle with blanks. Usually blanks are not loud, but these were ear-splitting like the real McCoy.

Looks can fool: The most dangerous animal on the planet is a young infantryman.

Many or all of the re-enactors here seemed to be Dutch. They brought an eerie realism, maybe because just yesterday I came in from Afghanistan. This was like a big movie. Two movies. Afghanistan and now a World War II set. It felt strangely like home. I remember one mission in Iraq, when we were moving into ambush and soon would successfully kill some insurgents, when it felt so incredibly eerie, as if I had done this thousands of times over thousands of years. With the birds and frogs and insects filling the night with sounds, and the firefights in the distance all around, and us moving in for the kill, it was like an eternal groundhog day, and then we killed them and went home. The soldiers did the killing and I just watched and said good job and later went to bed as if we had only gone to the movies.

In addition to the World War II veterans and re-enactors, there were dozens of U.S. active duty soldiers from the 101st and 82nd.

Many of the re-enactors seemed better versed in the history than the veterans. This would not be surprising; combat troops are so focused that they rarely have any idea of what’s happening outside of their gun sights. After war, many of them spend decades trying to forget about it. It’s not hard to find people who’ve done a couple hard tours in Iraq who don’t really know much about the bigger picture and don’t care to think about it for now.

Re-enactors.

All the gear is privately owned.

The re-enactors seemed to be having a ball.

Medic!

The local band.

When a U.S. soldier wears a patch on the right shoulder, it means a combat tour was done with that unit. The 101st liberated Eerde and so the people put on a parade and there must have been a thousand thank yous.

During the speeches and ceremonies, Dutch kids read poems to the veterans, the band played music and people recounted the Nazi times. One person said that the Nazis threatened to hang one man, one woman and one child if the train tracks were again sabotaged. The story ended there. The Dutch, who have been fighting well in Afghanistan, had adopted a stance of neutrality and pacifism in face of the Nazis and were gulped down. Some people resisted while others collaborated. The Dutch say that even today the scars caused by collaborators have not completely healed. Imagine going through life knowing you had collaborated. Better to be dead.

American paratroopers landed near the village. During the ensuing battles, Americans, British and others, with help from the Dutch underground, routed the Nazis from Holland.

DAY TWO

The veterans and university students loaded up the bus and headed to a village that Maggie and his men had parachuted near and walked into.

The dike we are on has a cornfield on one side and homes and buildings on the other. Guadelupe was coming down the way and I snapped a photo and looked at the image and said, Whoa! “Matt, what happened to your Granddad’s eye?” The automatic doors at the hotel can be tricky and Guadelupe walked into a door as it was opening, which nearly had gotten me, too. “I think he needs to go to the hospital,” I said. Guadelupe wasn’t going to roll like that. Later I told Matt that it would be easy to call a doctor and ask the doctor to come. This is the Netherlands. All is possible here. But apparently Guadelupe didn’t have time for bleeding. More on that later.

Dutch people were coming out of the woodwork to talk with the vets. We were heading to a special house and a family rolled up in several cars.

The kids had sunflowers which made the photo of the day.

Maggie received more than 25 medals, including the Distinguished Service Cross, 2 Silver Stars, 2 Bronze Stars, 2 Purple Hearts and was recommended/nominated for the Medal of Honor for actions at Herresbach, Belgium on 28 January 1945. During this important remembrance, Maggie also received a Medal of Honor from the Mayor of the City of Nijmegen.

Airborne.

U.S. Paratroopers had arrived to deliver some airmail packages to the enemy.

After the jump during World War II, Maggie came to this house. One of the Dutchmen would say today that he remembered Maggie showing up with a pistol in his hand, saying, “Where are the Germans and how many are there?”

And so the family gave Maggie an old photo of the same house with a piece of parachute from that day, and they said “Thank you for liberating us.”

They gave Maggie a photo with some important words, which were captured by a Dutch television crew. It aired that night.

A Dutch woman explained how the Nazis had taken everything they could find, even their bicycles. But Maggie said after his soldiers parachuted in, the Dutch had stuff hidden everywhere, including weapons, vehicles, motorbikes and the works. They started hauling it out to help with the fight. He said the well-organized Dutch underground was delivering the most important weapon of all: intelligence. The Dutch had been keeping close tabs on the Germans and began unloading the info, which was the key to the kingdom.

Carole Megellas is Maggie’s better half, and I realized on the first day that she is actually the commander. (No kidding.) In fact, Carole is the one who has been reading this site and getting the mailouts. We talked every day. She was always in the background but she is running the show.

A family worth fighting for. They talked about their lives and it sounded like after liberation they made the best of life and liberty.

The older ones are gone and the younger ones are old.

On the way out, some school kids were riding by with teachers. The vets and the kids were all waving at each other.

Like it was all just yesterday, fighting in these fields.

We loaded back on the bus and headed to a drop zone where re-enactors started jumping out of airplanes, including these two who collided just in front of me.

No broken bodies that time.

Barely missed the trees.

One of the C-47s had blown an engine so re-enactors, ironically, had to rent German-owned Russian biplanes for the jumps.

A parachute landed nearby.

A crowd swarmed around.

This veteran had jumped tandem. He was going to turn 90 in a few days. Actually, two veterans jumped at Overasselt. Unfortunately the other got a severe concussion and a broken shoulder.

Thousands of people had turned out, though the big jump was next morning where some people believed that maybe 50 to 100 thousand spectators showed up. While I talked with some active duty soldiers and vets, time slipped away and so did my bus. Our hotel was about 40 miles away. A policeman said the taxi might cost $300! I hitched and an elderly lady stopped immediately and drove about twenty minutes to Nijmegen Train Station. She was very friendly and happy to see the veterans come back.

In the station were European veterans in old uniforms catching trains to who knows where.

Eindhoven was about an hour away. Along the way it occurred to me that Maggie and the other veterans had jumped nearly this exact time, and maybe the corn was just like this in September 1944. Maybe they had fought through this corn as is happening now in Afghanistan.

Eindhoven.

But where is the hotel? Everywhere were veterans and re-enactors or active duty American soldiers. Some Dutch re-enactors showed the direction to the hotel.

That evening, a big parade was brewing and more veterans were arriving.

Thousands of people were assembling near Eindhoven City Hall.

The veterans took VIP seating while crowds had to stand for hours.

General Petraeus arrived and said hello to each veteran, some of whom shook his hand while others saluted. If General Petraeus had any idea of the hectic schedule that was still unfolding, he’d probably have wanted to get straight back into the war. It seemed like everyone in Holland wanted to see the vets, and despite that the old soldiers were in their eighties and nineties, they kept going and going.

There must have been hundreds of vehicles in the parade.

And there on one of the military vehicles was Guadelupe with a big bandage wrapped around his head, like he’d been shaved too close by a bullet. Most people probably thought he was just role-playing with all that gauze. As it happened, the Market Garden Committee was keeping an angel eye on the veterans and took Guadelupe to the hospital but there was a crowd in the emergency room. (How could there be a crowd in Eindhoven? Bicycle pileup?) But when the doctors realized Guadelupe was a veteran who liberated Eindhoven, they made Guadelupe the number one priority and he was first to be helped. By the time Guadelupe got his head wrapped like a mummy, the parade was started and it was hard to get through town. Some re-enactors saw Guadelupe and loaded him into a jeep and that’s where I saw him, rolling in the parade with that bandage.

So when Guadelupe got in front of General Petraeus and the Mayor, they stopped the parade and came down to check him out! Guadelupe had a huge grin on his face, which unfortunately the lens didn’t catch.

The parade kept going, on and on.

Streets full of people.

Some Scots arrived and so this is some gratuitous advertising for RAFHALTON.com.

It kept going…

Veterans of the 82nd and 101st whose forerunners had helped liberate the land.

Never forget the Red Cross.

A big screen for those who could not see up close.

Are you tired yet?

Then came the kids bearing fire.

That’s Ralph Manley holding the torch. Ralph was constantly on the radar screen. Ralph was like Maggie; if he was talking, people listened. He’s one of those men who once you meet him, you know you will never forget him. Within the first minute Ralph had handed me an Eisenhower silver dollar and proceeded with what obviously was an oft-told story about meeting General Eisenhower. There was something magic about Ralph. When Ralph was eighty-two, another vet said, he had danced three women into the ground during a remembrance. And so there he is up front and he’d somehow gotten hold of a torch.

It seemed like a matter of time until someone was set ablaze.

Dutch Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts marched by.

The parade finally ended. It seemed to last all night but probably was only a couple hours, depending on when you started and stopped the clock.

Turns out, Ralph was carrying the torch to light the eternal flame.

Moments of silence under the glow of the flame. Over the days, Ralph always radiated a powerful ambience when he saluted the flag or sang the National Anthem.

More honors are rendered.

These signs were all around, thanking the British and American soldiers.

After an exhausting day, some of the eighty- and ninety-plus-year-old veterans actually went out for a beer, while people danced in the streets to the Scottish bagpipes.

DAY THREE

Americans have a habit of making a first visit to Holland by parachuting in. Next morning was a big jump as members of the 101st and 82nd Airborne did the same. Nobody knows how many people attended but some say it was maybe fifty or a hundred thousand spectators.

Later that afternoon, the bus headed to the “U.S. Army Garrison Schinnen,” where there was a party and barbeque along with a live band.

Re-enactors were there with these signs. More reminders of Afghanistan. “Roadside bombs” are nothing new to warfare. The Iraqis did not invent IEDs. Similar bombs were used during World War II.

More Afghanistan reminders.

There were U.S. Civil War re-enactors. Many Germans are involved in reenacting our Civil War, and though they are not permitted to re-enact World War II in the Netherlands, some actors talked about Germans who reenact entire battles in the United Kingdom.

There were Dutch soldiers present who had fought in Urozgan Province and every one of them wanted to return to Afghanistan. Every Dutch Afghan veteran I have met—whether that be in Borneo, Afghanistan, UAE or the Netherlands—all want to return to combat in Urozgan.

The students often lined-up with the veterans for a photo.

DAY FOUR

We loaded the bus and rallied somewhere—by now there had been so many events (not all described herein) that time had melted into goo and I often didn’t know where we were. Some German veterans arrived and we spoke at length in German. One had been a POW in Colorado picking potatoes and said his treatment had been very good and honorable, a story oft-repeated.

We loaded onto the bus and headed to the Waal River, where Maggie and others had crossed under heavy, direct German fire. The crossing seemed suicidal. Today the Dutch people had set up a giant monitor and two viewing sections where veterans would again be honored.

More veterans joined in.

Bus after bus arrived next to the Waal River.

Still more veterans.

Captain Will Garrison, a veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan, had driven in from Germany.

Guadelupe unraveled the mummy bandage and was sporting his shiner. Asked if it hurt, Guadelupe said he used to box in the Army and didn’t feel normal unless he had a black eye.

Again the ceremonies last hours and again the best part was the kids.

That’s the Waal River in the background. This photo is taken from the viewing area as veterans again cross the river. In order to secure the nearby bridge to keep pursuing the retreating Germans, Maggie and his men were tasked to cross the river and attack across this open space and secure the bridge that was loaded with explosives. Please make sure to watch this movie trailer: A Bridge Too Far.

The movie “A Bridge Too Far” includes a reenactment of the Waal River Crossing.

America lost 47 men during The Crossing.

And so they crossed again, and were greeted by Dutch and American soldiers and lots of cameras.

Maggie, who had made the crossing then and today, said the government of the Netherlands will soon build a new bridge. This sign will mark the bridge that will be called The Crossing (De Oversteek).

The ceremonies continued with more talks and the names of the fallen were remembered and flowers were placed.

Veterans and General Petraeus gave inspiring talks.

This veteran had everyone rolling with laughter at his stories.

Maggie could probably talk for two days without a note. After maybe thirty minutes, a note was slipped to him that Queen Beatrice was waiting to meet him. He needed to cut it short, but Maggie said she could wait and everyone kind of laughed because he was not really joking, but then after some more minutes Maggie cut it short. At ninety-two and with all Maggie has lived through, he was having a say.

When he finished, General Petraeus and the rest high-stepped it over to see Queen Beatrice and Prince Philip. Some folks said Queen Elizabeth was coming.

Maggie, General Petraeus and crew where whisked off to the Royalty while we Commoners loaded into the long line of buses.

When we arrived to downtown Nijmegen, another big parade was looming. Folks who had joined my Twitter page and kept getting Tweets that the Dutch were treating our veterans like rock stars and Royalty can now see there was no exaggeration. British soldiers from the Nijmegen Company of the famous Grenadier Guards marched in. Today they were in Nijmegen, but by the time this is published these British soldiers will be arriving in Afghanistan. God bless them. Many of these soldiers will not come back alive. The only thing assured is that they will fight well.

Grenadier Guards.

Though ceremonies were all over the news, this was a non-commercial remembrance. In fact, I sensed that it was taboo in Holland to attempt to profit from this remembrance. Nobody was around selling hotdogs and hawking t-shirts. We were given shirts and hats and accommodations of all sorts. Free food, free soft-drinks, beers, coffees, whatever.

The Grenadier Guards saluted Queen Beatrice of the Netherlands and Prince Philip from the United Kingdom. Queen Elizabeth did not arrive.

Queen Beatrice must have been about the safest woman on the planet. She was surrounded by British, Dutch, and American soldiers, gobs of whom are combat veterans and no strangers to drama, not to mention the old veterans who still have fight in them.

Prince Philip.

The people seemed very fond of Queen Beatrice. Someone said she chatted thirty minutes with Maggie.

National Anthems were played.

Ralph, with that look on his face, was singing the National Anthem.

This Army soldier had parachuted in.

The Polish Ambassador and others placed wreaths.

The Canadian defense attaché placed a wreath.

As did several others.

Germans were welcomed and also remembered.

Again, the highlight was the kids who read poems.

And then another parade including driving safety violations too numerous to count.

The kids were having a time.

Veterans huddled like normal.

Of course there was another group photo.

Now do you believe that Dutch people treat our veterans like rock stars and Royalty? Are you tired? Is this dispatch too long? But wait. It’s not over yet.

Conversation with General Petraeus

After all that and lots more, the bus took us to a reception at the town hall where food and drinks were served and there were loads of soldiers, including Brits who were about to head over to Afghanistan. Some German veterans were there and Americans pulled around them for translated accounts. One Panzer veteran said his outfit was the best in the world, even better than Patton’s that had beaten them. He must have been ninety years old but he was drinking beer and showing an American veteran of the similar age how to prost, German Army style. He said that for decades it had been “streng verboten” (Strongly Forbidden) in Deutschland to talk about war experiences, and especially not so in any proud light.

Time and conversations melted by until there was a tap on the shoulder, asking if I wanted to talk with General Petraeus. We were staying at the same hotel but I wasn’t going to bug him; there was too much going on. But the tap on the shoulder was opportunity knocking, and soon I walked upstairs where General Petraeus had a little command center, where he was running CENTCOM.

I asked General Petraeus about his dad, and he said his dad was a Dutch ship captain and was at sea when the Germans invaded Holland. And so he sailed to New York and there eventually met his American mom. (Touchdown for the United States.) His dad joined the Merchant Marines, who suffered more casualties per capita than any other service during the war. I asked General Petraeus what he thought about all these incredible remembrance ceremonies, and he talked about the Margraten Cemetery, saying a Dutch family had adopted every single grave. General Petraeus was struck by the Dutch gratitude and talked about it for some minutes, saying in part, “This is a country that makes an enormous effort to remember and honor those who liberated them.” “Symbolically,” he said, “in saving a bridge, we strengthened enormously a bridge between two countries. That relationship is exceptional.” “I am struck by the sheer sacrifice that was made,” he said, “Just the river crossing, there are 47 names on that plaque.” General Petraeus had long-commanded the 101st, including in combat in Iraq, and had briefly been acting commander of the 82nd, the two principal divisions being honored today.

General Petreaus recounted working with the Dutch in the Cold War, Haiti, Bosnia, Iraq and Afghanistan, and now on counter-piracy efforts off of Africa, saying of Holland, “This is a country that punches above its weight class.”

On Afghanistan, I brought up the severe shortage of helicopters, saying this shortage is hampering our ability to fight, and at one point I said, “But I am talking to the choir,” to which General Petraeus answered, “Yes you are.” He said we had doubled our helicopters in the last four months and that we are about to add a couple more “fistfuls.” I asked how many we have and how many we need but he would not go there, which was understandable but it doesn’t hurt to ask. I told him about the pathetic helicopter debacle unfolding with the British and mentioned that the British MoD had recently kicked me out, apparently for reporting the helicopter debacle. The MoD screams bloody murder at papercuts, I said.

General Petraeus said that he watches the helicopter and other statistics very closely (and I know they do, having sat in on many briefings at lower levels), he said, “What we watch very closely is medevac—I specifically watch that closely,” and he said “average medevac time is about 50 minutes.” I told General Petraeus about the U.S. Air Force Pedros, saying they are beating the clock and doing stellar work, which brought a smile to the General’s face.

(General Petraeus’s words are a fact when it comes to U.S. medevac. But I am very uncomfortable if our soldiers operate in areas that are not covered by U.S. or British medevac; I am not confident in some of the other partners’ willingness or ability to go into crucial situations. For example, one U.S. captain told me about a U.S. soldier who died because a non-U.S. non-British partner failed to extract him in time. I continue to hear similar reports from U.S. officers and NCOs. I did not ask General Petraeus about this but should have. Our folks need an American or British medevac umbrella.)

Questioned about national commitments of various countries, the General wasn’t going to touch that for obvious reasons, but again it doesn’t hurt to ask.

I asked General Petraeus about troop levels and he said he was waiting for General McChrystal’s report. General Petraeus said he had not yet seen the report but that it should be out in a couple of weeks. (Hours later the “big memo” was leaked by the Washington Post, which I first heard about the next day from General Petraeus.)

I’m as confident in General Petraeus today as back in January 2007 when we were on the brink of losing the war in Iraq. Afghanistan is looking like Humpty Dumpty, though.

DAY FIVE

The next morning, Maggie and General Petraeus were scheduled to give a Freedom Lecture at a local university. Word had come that protestors of some species or another were using SMS and emails trying to make a “flash protest,” to yell about something. It was unclear what they were going to protest. Some guy had run out in protest at one of the parades, in front of the stands where General Petraeus was standing, and everybody just laughed at the guy. I didn’t even bother to make a photo. Apparently sensing he did not have any popular support, the guy disappeared and the cops didn’t seem to bother going after him. (Maybe they did, but I didn’t see.) If any protestors arrived today, they remained invisible.

Before the talks began, distinguished folks talked by the stage. The man behind General Petraeus who is shaking hands with Maggie is Captain Marco Kroon. Alex Omhof told me that Cpt Kroon resisted coming today because he is uncomfortable with all the attention. He would rather be back in Afghanistan, but was in essence ordered to come. Captain Kroon had been awarded the Dutch Medal of Honor for his actions in Urozgan Province, Afghanistan. Alex Omhof would later write me,

“Regarding CPT Marco Kroon, he didn't want to receive the Dutch Medal of honor because he wanted that his buddies who he fought with should have been honored too. Maggie had met Marco before during and after the Dutch Medal of Honor ceremony. The Dutch MOD had flown [Maggie] over for this ceremony because Maggie received the Dutch Medal of Honor on behalf of the 82d Airborne Division in 1945. He was hereby the first American to be decorated by the Dutch Government.”

The speeches began and when Maggie got there, he went for maybe an hour without a single note.

General Petraeus, of course, brought PowerPoint and a laser pointer, as do U.S. Commanders. He talked about the challenges of the CENTCOM AOR (Area of Responsibility) and focused some time on Iraq. Progress is unfolding in Iraq and despite the problems, progress is undeniable.

Examining the graph closely, violence was at an all-time high in about June 2007, right when I reported on the Hugh Hewitt radio show that the Surge was working. Needless to say, a lot of people said that was crazy. (Just look at that graph!) During a more recent interview with Hugh, we remembered that interview in 2007. But look what started to happen in July. When I was reporting the growing civil war in 2005, the civil war was not yet showing itself in the statistics but I could feel it growing. By 2006, Iraq was starting to burn down, but by June 2007 the Surge obviously was working even though Iraq was mad with violence at that time.

In this type of war, as with Afghanistan, the statistics lag behind the realities. This month’s statistics are ancient news even though the events that underpin the graphs just occurred. A witness must be on the ground and know what to look and listen for, and be willing to disregard what the crowd is saying (unless they are right). The witness must be politically tone-deaf.

If General Petraeus did not take the Iraq reins in early 2007, I would say there would have been maybe a 90% chance that genocide would have occurred. Of course Petraeus never said anything like that during today’s talk, nor did he tell the audience that he had taken command in late January 2007 and that by July 2007 violence began to subside. Those are the facts.

General Petraeus mentioned during the talk that the Washington Post had just released the classified message from McChrystal to the White House. The memo has since set Washington ablaze, yet the McChrystal document delivered news so old and parched that Indiana Jones might find it more useful for finding hidden treasures. That Washington finds the ideas new or shocking only shows that Washington is shot full of painkillers and can’t feel a thing. The report should have been submitted by the Commanding General in Afghanistan in 2006.

Petraeus’s talk included a description of good progress on the Pakistan side, which looked pretty doggone bad earlier this year. Back in December in Bahrain, I had put General Petraeus on the spot about Pakistan and our supply routes. His descriptions back then actually are coming true, though at the time it had been doubtful.

His descriptions about Afghanistan were accurate in fact and in tone.

Last year I said during an interview with Glenn Reynolds at Instapundit that we need tens of thousands of more troops. What is coming on the radar these last couple weeks is ancient history and in fact the war at this rate is tantamount about lost. General Petraeus did not say this, but it’s true. My instinct is that if the President does not make a quick decision to send those troops and resources, the war certainly will be lost.

General Petraeus talked about the trends. In April 2006, I told Hugh Hewitt on air that we were losing Afghanistan, and then wrote twelve dispatches that we were losing. The statistics flew in the face of the claims and, ironically, the statistics seemed to be reasonably accurate. I never disputed the statistics that appeared to shoot down the claims. The violence, or lack thereof, lags behind the causes. Violence is not the disease but a symptom that changes post facto.

Despite all that, morale remains good, and General Petraeus’s slide showing the July 4th reenlistment ceremony is an accurate reflection. We can still make success in Afghanistan, but time is just about gone.

The speeches were over and we headed to a big lunch with the veterans who liberated the Netherlands and other places.

At the lunch, General Petraeus walked over to Captain Marco Kroon, Dutch Medal of Honor recipient, and they stepped out of the main hall to a quiet spot, but I spoiled the moment for a photo. General Petraeus said, “Michael, do you know who this is?” “Yes Sir, I do,” and I snapped a photo that didn’t turn out so well.

And that was it. A remembrance during a time of war, and now it’s time to move back to the war.

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Two Firefights: One Video

2009-09-27T03:17:24Z

05 October 2009

In July, British soldiers and I boarded a CH-47 helicopter at Camp Bastion for the flight to FOB Jackson at Sangin where fighting is brutal. The helicopter was so stuffed with men, gear and supplies that the cargo was not even strapped down. We steadied the long stack with our hands and prayed that the pilots not begin flying violent evasive maneuvers. The tail gunner partially lifted the ramp to prevent bundles from tumbling into the skies, and that was it for securing the bundles. Just a week before, a giant MI-26 helicopter was shot down on final approach to this same landing zone. All aboard died in flames, as did two children on the ground.

This is, interestingly, the same landing zone where I would make the photos for “The Kopp-Etchells Effect” dispatch, which was published in many languages around the world. Many readers have weighed in with ideas about the causes of the glow. Some say the cause is St Elmo’s fire or the triboelectric effect, or perhaps the piezoelectric effect. The actual cause does not seem to be surely known, according to J. Gordon Leishman, D.Sc.(Eng.), Ph.D., F.R.Ae.S., Minta Martin Professor of Engineering, Department of Aerospace Engineering at the University of Maryland. I don’t know. Maybe it’s caused by angels. It definitely is beautiful.

We landed and British Soldiers from “2 Rifles” swarmed in to help unload cargo. Since I made this photo, at least two British CH-47s have been lost in combat operations, one of which was just north of here.

We need more gear and more forces now. We can outfight these enemies and we can win the war, but at this rate a favorable outcome is difficult to imagine. This war shows signs that it will become more intense than Iraq at its peak. As with my twelve dispatches from 2006 warning that we were losing this war, the warnings over the past couple of years seem to be falling on incredulous ears. We will lose the war unless we get more troops and more gear soon.

This weekend we lost eight more soldiers in a firefight. I learned about it while they were still fighting, but did not report it until just before the media broke the story the next day. Still unreported, to my knowledge, sources tell me that FOB Keating was destroyed and that troops were under siege for up to 24 hours before Air Force Para-rescue got them out. (Subject to confirmation.) The fighting will only intensify. We can beat these guys, but not under current conditions.

The last two missions I did with British 2 Rifles ended in firefights. Due to bandwidth difficulties, only a small part of the video was uploaded. Those two firefights were melded into one short video. These are just typical hum-drum day-in day-out missions, nothing like what happened this weekend in Nuristan.

Please click Firefights.

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Smithsonian Air&Space on Kopp-Etchells Effect

2009-11-05T03:11:02Z

November 04, 2009

Helo Halo

Luminous halos twirled above a Boeing CH-47 Chinook on a recent night around 11:30 p.m. local time at Forward Operating Base Jackson in Sangin, Helmand Province, Afghanistan, as helicopters ferried casualties and supplies in and out of the base. The photographer was independent journalist Michael Yon, a former U.S. Army Special Forces soldier who has covered Iraq, Afghanistan, and the Philippines with a camera. Helicopter pilots don't have a name for the effect, but one explained to Yon, "Basically it is a result of static electricity created by friction as...dissimilar material strike against each other. In this case, titanium/nickel blades moving through the air and dust." Yon says, however, that a researcher studying helicopter brownout emailed him to say that scientists are not 100 percent sure what causes the effect. Depending on the viewing angle, it creates dazzling little galaxies. An even longer exposure reveals stars and another aircraft marked by a string of lights at upper left of center; Yon suspects this aircraft was a Predator or Reaper UAV, which, unlike manned military aircraft, fly with their lights on in the Afghan night to avoid collisions. Yon, who made these shots with a Canon 5D Mark II with a 50 mm lens at an ISO of 800, claims that the night was far darker than his sensitive camera conveys, as evidenced by the green chemlights on the ground to guide the pilots. He was moved to create a name, the Kopp-Etchells Effect, for the rotor phenomenon to honor a pair of fallen soldiers, U.S. Army Corporal Benjamin Kopp and British Army Corporal Joseph Etchells, who died one day apart in July after fierce fighting in Helmand (Kopp had been evacuated to the U.S. before he died). "The tent in the foreground is a medical tent," says Yon, "so that casualties can be kept in a tent until the last minute. A substantial number of British casualties in Helmand have been lifted off of this exact spot...because this is probably either the most dangerous place in Afghanistan, or nearly the most dangerous."

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