Not a Good Day to Die (33 page)

Using point-to-point digital messages similar to e-mail sent via satellite, Blaber and Goody discussed what to do about the DShK position. It clearly had to be eliminated before H-Hour. Goody asked Blaber what he thought Goody should do. Blaber typed a response that turned the question around, asking Goody what
he
thought he should do. “I think we ought to wait until H minus two [hours],” Goody wrote. “At H minus two I start moving; I engage at H minus one, and then follow up with AC-130. I understand that you have to make the decision on this and I’ll support any decision you make.” Blaber sent him a two-word reply: “Good hunting.”

Goody was relieved. Not used to being given such latitude, he was worried someone higher up the TF 11 chain of command would veto any suggestion that Mako 31 take out the DShK team on their own. (His fears were not entirely misplaced. After quoting from
Saving Private Ryan
in the wake of Juliet’s close encounter with the cave-dwellers, Blaber chose
Apocalypse Now
as his inspiration for another message up the chain of command, in which he said that he planned to tell Goody, “Terminate with extreme prejudice.” The message caused some angst at Masirah. E-mails pinged back and forth saying AFO shouldn’t jump to conclusions and Mako 31 didn’t have enough men to engage the tent and DShK position. At least one TF 11 staffer complained that such direct action missions were not in AFO’s bailiwick.)

While Goody and his men focused on the DShK position, India and Juliet continued their observation of the valley. As the day lengthened, they reported more evidence of a significant enemy presence. India Team, a couple of hundred meters south-southwest of the Fishhook, monitored three SUVs driving around Babulkhel, the village closest to the valley’s western entrance and into which the road that passed through the Fishook ran. The vehicles would stop at the village’s westernmost house—a two-story adobe structure with a walled-in compound—before proceeding further. When three horsemen with AKs approached the village, six armed men came out and greeted them about 100 meters from the village. India concluded the house was an enemy checkpoint.

Speedy and Bob also spotted an antenna mast protruding from a compound in Serkhankhel, and another walled compound with what appeared to be a guard at the gate and ten to fifteen people milling inside. In an ominous sign, at noon they observed a family below them hurrying out of the valley on foot with their belongings loaded on a camel. Other than a sighting about half an hour earlier of two women in Babulkhel, the family represented the only report of civilians in the valley by any AFO team before H-Hour.

The low clouds prevented Juliet, whose observation post was higher than India’s, from seeing much of anything during the morning. But once the weather lifted, Kris and the other operators in the northeast observed plenty of suspicious activity in Serkhankhel. They saw six men meeting at a mud-walled compound in the village. Two pickup trucks were parked beside the fortlike building, and when a Predator drone flew overhead, the six scattered. Once the Predator had passed, an armed man came out and circled the compound as if on patrol, before going back inside. Later that afternoon Juliet reported seeing more vehicles and armed men in Serkhankhel, as well as six men with rucksacks walking south into Serkhankhel from a position about a kilometer southwest of Juliet’s observation post. Meanwhile, Jason, the Gray Fox operator, intercepted a call indicating the enemy would be holding “a group meeting” the next day.

By afternoon’s end the operators realized Blaber had been right. There was a large enemy force in the valley. How large they didn’t know, but India and Juliet had each observed dozens of fighters moving in and around the Shahikot. Their observations also told them that the enemy occupied the high ground around the valley on the Whale, the Finger, and the eastern ridge. These facts were included in the reports they sent back to Gardez that were immediately forwarded to Bagram. Mako 31’s reports and photographs of the DShK position were particularly telling: the Uzbek machine gunner was no amateur; he took meticulous care of his weapon, wrapping it in plastic to shield it from the elements; he had arranged his 12.7mm rounds around the weapon ergonomically, for easy access; and he had built a small brick platform that he could rest the barrel on, with other bricks beside it that could be added or removed depending on the desired elevation. He also had less professional habits that the AFO operators pointed out: He and his colleagues walked around without their personal weapons, sometimes with their hands in their pockets. It was as if they felt completely secure on their mountain perch.

The AFO reports supported the recent intelligence from Gardez and Khowst that had received such limited attention and distribution in Bagram: The Al Qaida force in the Shahikot was almost certainly larger than the Americans were anticipating, and the enemy was well-armed, well-trained and ready to fight. But again, there was little alarm in Bagram. Officers there had been encouraged by the Mi-17 flight over the valley, which revealed no significant enemy troop concentrations or weapons and helped refine the selection of the landing zones in the low ground. (That Mi-17 flight was itself controversial: AFO, who had no advance notice of it, and Dagger officers disapproved, believing it was bound to tip off the enemy; but Wiercinski and Larsen were grateful for the opportunity to view film of their objective taken so close to D-Day.) Not until late that night did Hagenbeck started to comprehend the significance of AFO’s discoveries (beyond the obvious importance of the DShK position). “I had no reason to doubt the intel until about six to eight hours before we launched,” he said. “I got a call back from a special operator [Blaber] who said they believed there were up to 400 in the valley,” Hagenbeck said. By then there was little time to adjust.

The reports from the AFO teams in the Shahikot were also notable for what they did not include: any mention of civilians, beyond the two women seen by India and the family fleeing the valley with its possessions piled on top of a camel. The operators noticed the difference between the Shahikot villages and those they had observed during the environmental recces, in which women and children had been clearly visible. “This place was nothing but a bunch of men, and they weren’t going about daily life,” said an operator who was watching the valley floor. But the fact that the AFO teams had seen virtually no civilians—something completely at odds with Wiercinski’s expectation of a valley in which 200 enemy mingled with 800 civilians—never reached the Rakkasans, whose plan was geared around the civilians.

Why not? Much like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes story of a “dog that didn’t bark,” the absence of any mention of civilians from the AFO reports was a negative clue no one in Bagram picked up on because they weren’t looking for it. The Mountain and, particularly, Rakkasan officers were intently focused on the air assault and scoured the AFO reports for any information suggesting a threat to the landing zones. “The sit temp [situation template] we got asked to confirm or deny was weapons systems, enemy concentrations,” said a special operator. “No one ever said to us, ‘Hey, are there civilians out there?’” Not having been asked to report on the presence of civilians, the AFO teams made no mention of the fact that they weren’t seeing any. “We’re trained to report what we see, not what we don’t see,” said an operator who was in the Shahikot.

One officer in Bagram who was reading the reports from the valley with growing concern was Jimmy, Blaber’s deputy and AFO’s liaison to Hagenbeck. The DShK on the Finger, the fighting positions on the Whale, the intel reports that said most of the enemy was in the mountains, not in the villages—none of this sounded good. On March 1 Jimmy went back a final time to Colonel Joe Smith, Hagenbeck’s chief of staff. “Sir, do not land those helicopters [there],” Jimmy said. “The current plan is not going to work out for you.” “I know, Jim,” Smith replied. “But it’s too late to do anything about it.’”

AT
12:30 p.m. Wiercinski met with the pilots and staff officers from TF Talon, his helicopter task force. The briefing was held in Bagram’s pitifully small chow tent. Over sixty soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, most of them pilots wearing tan one-piece flight suits. Even though it was midday, the tent was dark and the electric lights made it seem more like a nighttime gathering. This meeting was crucial for Wiercinski. The aviators’ role was central to the operation. The Chinook crews had the vital job of ferrying the Rakkasan infantry into enemy-held territory and the Apache pilots would provide the only heavy firepower under Wiercinski’s direct control. The Rakkasan commander wanted to look them in the eye and tell them he believed in them.

As usual, Wiercinski’s intelligence officer, Eric Haupt, briefed first. He told the crowd, which was swollen with representatives from the other task forces, that as recently as January there had been an estimated 700 to 800 enemy fighters in and around Serkhankhel, but they had mostly departed. All that remained, he said, were 150 to 200 “remnants” of that force. Seventy-two hours had passed since the report from Gardez casting grave doubt on that assertion, and fewer than eighteen hours remained before the first Chinooks were due to land in the Shahikot.

A few minutes later Wiercinski spoke, his comments alternating between efforts to bolster the aviators’ confidence and more cautionary wisdom. He said he had told the infantry commanders they were going into battle with the best crews and the best helicopters in the world. “Not every helicopter and not every crew could do this,” he said. “You’ve got the equipment, you’ve got the people, this is going to be a great mission.” But then he gave his first indication that the AFO reports were worrying him. “I’m mostly concerned with any threat to the aircraft from the east ridgeline,” he said. Turning to the pilots who were to fly the half-dozen Apaches into the valley a couple of minutes ahead of the Chinooks, he told them to “service” any targets they saw on that ridgeline “immediately.” Chief Warrant Officer 2 John Quinlan of Bravo/159 could sense the Rakkasan commander’s tension as the weight of responsibility bore down on him. “Colonel Wiercinski—excellent commander,” Quinlan said. “But even on his face you could see a dire amount of concern.”

Wiercinski let other officers brief, then resumed where he had left off. Again he locked eyes with the dozen pilots charged with flying the hornetlike Apaches into combat the following dawn. Normally his brigade would be able to call on a full battalion of twenty-four Apaches and thunderous barrages from a battalion of howitzers to pummel the enemy into submission. Tomorrow, these twelve men in their six helicopters would be all he had. He needed them to know he was counting on them. “Apaches, protect the force,” Wiercinski said. “Protect them. Give them everything you’ve got.”

To underline the importance of good fire discipline, he cited tales of America’s Wild West in which the cowboy who shot six times quickly never hit anything, but the cool customer who took careful aim before pulling the trigger always hit the target. He also wanted it understood that he would be in control of fires. “It will be on my word that we unleash hell,” he said, a quote from the movie
Gladiator
that showed he yielded nothing to Blaber in his ability to draw on Hollywood for melodramatic inspiration.

Then his speech wandered down a rhetorical path that, to the ears of the 101
^st
troops in the tent, did not sound out of place. But had some AFO and Dagger officers been there, Wiercinski’s words probably would have confirmed their fears that he was letting the potential legacy of Task Force Rakkasan and his place in air assault history overrule his best tactical judgment. “When they wrote the book on air assault, this is what they were talking about,” Wiercinski said. “You will make history. You’ve got to be very proud of yourselves, and very proud of your unit. No other unit in the world could do this…. Go out there and give them hell, guys.”

The soldiers streamed out into the cold afternoon, but Wiercinski had only been warming up. Next on his agenda was an eve-of-battle speech to his entire 1,700-soldier task force. It was quite an occasion. Each battalion lined up in formation on an empty patch of ground in tent city, colors fluttering in the breeze. A public address system was rigged up for Wiercinski and Savusa, his command sergeant major, to address the troops from the hood of a Humvee. Savusa clambered up. “You guys are fixing to go in and do exactly what you get paid for,” he reminded the soldiers, before continuing the historical legacy theme where Wiercinski had left off in the chow tent. “Be proud of yourselves because you’re part of history right now,” the sergeant major said. Alluding to the composite nature of TF Rakkasan, which included LaCamera’s battalion from 10
^th
Mountain standing proudly before him, he drove home a message of unity: “We’re going in all of us together.” Then he added a touch of humor. After the operation, he told them, “You can go back home and tell all the lies you wanna tell. And if I see you in a bar anywhere telling stories, I will back you up.” To cheers he yielded the Humvee to Wiercinski, who delivered his speech in a clear, confident voice that held every soldier’s attention.

“It’s Friday night and every soldier here’s been invited to the party!” the brigade commander said by way of introduction. Then he turned serious. Every American generation had been called on to give something for their country, he told the serried ranks. Their generation was no different. “Every man, every woman has certain defining moments in their life,” he said. “Today is one of those defining moments.” They would be going into battle to avenge the firefighters, police, and other emergency workers who had gone into the burning Twin Towers of the World Trade Center to save others, he added.