Not a Good Day to Die (51 page)

What LaCamera’s force achieved March 2 was not what they had set out to accomplish. When the Chinooks carried them away from the Shahikot, there were no blocking positions in the southeastern corner of the valley. But those blocking positions, so important in the Anaconda plan, had been made almost irrelevant by the enemy’s disposition and determination to fight a fixed battle. There’s an old Army saying, “Don’t fight the plan, fight the enemy.” The eighty-six soldiers Paul LaCamera took into LZs 13 and 13A had fought the enemy damn well before withdrawing without losing a single man. Kraft took issue with descriptions of the battle as “an eighteen-hour miracle.” He told his troops, “It wasn’t a miracle, guys, it was you.” Peterson was equally proud of the soldiers’ performance, but he was under no illusions that things might have turned out a lot worse. “We were blessed,” he said. “We were fucking blessed.”

THE
night also brought a respite for the nine men of the Rakkasan TAC stuck on the Finger. (Mako 31 had long since taken their leave of the TAC to reoccupy their original observation post. “I’ve killed enough for today,” one of the SEALs told Savusa before walking off.) Under cover of darkness the junior officers Corkran had brought with him as a security team left the position to scout out a new LZ for the Chinook being sent to extract them. They found what looked like a good spot about 500 meters to the west and returned to collect the rest of the TAC. This time Savusa walked point as the short column descended to the valley floor. But when they reached the spot picked out by the security team they realized it was too rocky. They walked over 1,000 meters to a more suitable location. Once there Gibler got on the radio to direct the inbound Chinook to their location. He did this based on the direction the noise of the Chinook’s engine seemed to be coming from, because the helicopter pilots couldn’t see the green chem light being held aloft by one of Corkran’s captains. It was about 3:30 a.m. when the Chinook finally landed, “that was an awesome sight,” Murray said. “It had been a long day.” Even before the helicopter took off, enemy fighters were swarming over the position on the Finger that the TAC had just vacated. As he had on the flight into the valley, Savusa said a prayer as the helicopter carried him back to Bagram. This time he prayed for the soldiers who remained in the valley. Murray’s thoughts reflected those of Peterson sitting on another Chinook. The Air Force officer knew they had ridden their good fortune hard and put it away wet. “We were,” he said not long afterward, “the luckiest sons of bitches.”

WHEN
darkness fell all Rakkasan units along the eastern ridge except for those with LaCamera began one of the most difficult movements in Anaconda. The plan was for all elements to link up west of Betty and then move north to LZ 15, which lay on some fairly flat ground about 750 meters west of the eastern ridge and 2,000 meters east of the north end of the Whale. But things started badly and only got worse. Preysler pulled his men off their blocking positions. Baltazar’s 2
^nd
Platoon moved down to the link up point to await the others. The next closest unit, C Company’s 1
^st
Platoon, joined up with them. The temperature plummeted, freezing clothes that were drenched with sweat from the movement down the slope. A soldier became hypothermic and stopped breathing. The medics resuscitated him with CPR and put him in a sleeping bag, but to Nielsen it was a warning sign. “Hey sir, I don’t think we’re going to be able to move as a team tonight,” the sergeant major told Preysler. “We’ve got some guys going down.” The two leaders agreed to secure the site they were at and move on at first light.

Helberg’s scouts linked up with Luman’s platoon and established a perimeter in a wadi about 1,000 meters west of Diane and settled in for the night, waiting for Crombie’s force. The temperature was 17 degrees Fahrenheit. Luman created a rest plan so everyone got a couple of hours sleep while others stood watch.

After lightening their load by dumping all but the most essential equipment and supplies from their rucksacks, Crombie’s men embarked on a torturous march west and then north, aiming for the infrared strobe light marking the link-up point. Every painful climb uphill preceded a slipping, sliding descent down a snow-covered north-facing slope. The ground was so jagged and rock-strewn that there seemed to be nowhere flat enough to place a foot. Winded, Crombie pushed himself forward, driven on by adrenaline and a sense of responsibility. Aware that they were “moving through Indian country at night,” he applied “a lot of asshole leadership” (his words) to get troops to pull security when the column paused to rest. But eventually he had to acknowledge his men were smoked. He halted the march 300 meters from the link up point and, like Luman, established a rest plan so half his men stood guard while half slept. Overhead an AC-130 circled protectively.

While the colonels and generals in Bagram tore up plan after plan and the Rakkasan infantry marched this way and that along the eastern ridge, Pete Blaber’s thirteen NCOs hidden in the mountains kept on killing. Some of the air strikes they called in were spectacular, all were ruthless; none more so than the bombing of a mud compound that appeared to be a field hospital, or at least a casualty collection point, for wounded Al Qaida fighters. Speedy and Bob had patiently watched and waited, biding their time as they observed more and more enemy casualties being brought to the little fortress 200 meters northeast of Zerki Kale. Once the sun had set and the target appeared ripe, with between ten and twenty personnel inside, India added it to a list of four other targets they wanted struck. At about 10:15 p.m. a B-52 with the call sign Mummy 21 high overhead released a stick of JDAMs from its belly that flew unerringly to their targets, hitting each in quick succession with a series of explosions that rumbled down the valley with a sound like nearby thunder. “He hit all five of those targets dead-on,” said an NCO who watched the strike. Three bombs hit the casualty collection point alone, completely destroying it. “This was a devastating hit,” stated another account. “No survivors were seen.”

The reality was now dawning at the TF Blue TOC in Bagram, the TF 11 operations center in Masirah, and the JSOC headquarters in North Carolina that Blaber had been right about the Shahikot and that there was a real battle going on there. In the Blue TOC, where TF 11 commander Trebon was monitoring the operation, having flown to Bagram from Masirah shortly before D-Day, there was a flurry of planning activity underway to try to capitalize on AFO’s success. Trebon’s phone was ringing off the hook with calls of congratulation on what Blaber’s—and by tenuous extension, Trebon’s—teams had achieved. Even Central Command chief Tommy Franks called to compliment Trebon on the success of India, Juliet, and Mako 31. Trebon forwarded several of these calls to Blaber. Then, after discussing the situation with Joe Kernan, the TF Blue commander, Trebon placed a call to Gardez himself. But Trebon’s call in the afternoon had a sting in the tail. “Pete, wonderful job,” he told Blaber. “Look, we can’t ask you guys to continue this, you’re not set for that. What I want to do is turn this over to TF Blue, let them command it; and let them continue prosecuting the fight.” Blaber and his AFO organization should be out looking for “the next battlefield,” rather than continuing to fight on this one, he said. “I want to send some [Blue] guys down and I want you to get these guys in there as quick as possible.” Blaber asked whether this meant TF Blue was going to conduct direct action missions, their supposed forte. No, Trebon replied, their initial missions would be recon missions just like the three teams already in the valley had been conducting.

To the AFO personnel in Gardez and in the valley, Trebon’s move to have TF Blue take over the operation was ill-considered and appeared to be motivated by professional jealousy. After pooh-poohing Blaber’s contention that there was a large enemy force in the Shahikot, the other TF 11 elements had been left on the outside looking in when events had proven him correct and his thirteen men were the only JSOC forces on the battlefield. The TF 11 elements in Bagram and Masirah seemed to have no appreciation for the thousands of man-hours the AFO teams had invested in understanding the Shahikot. To those who hadn’t spent time in Gardez, the formula for success in the Shahikot seemed simple: put some operators in the high ground and have them call in air strikes on the enemy. They had been listening to India, Juliet, and Mako 31 doing that all day. Now the SEALs wanted in on the action, and Trebon was only too happy to help.

Realizing that even with logic on his side he had no hope of winning this argument, Blaber tried to compromise with Trebon in an attempt to ensure that the TF Blue teams weren’t sent in blind. He recommended that the Blue teams follow the same routine as the three teams already in the valley; i.e., that before infiltrating, they spent some time at Gardez studying the history and geography of the Shahikot, talking to the CIA, Special Forces and Afghan militiamen who had been working in the area, and reviewing all the relevant intelligence. Blaber said he had always considered himself as working for Kernan, the TF Blue commander. He went on to suggest that TF Blue send an officer down to Gardez to work underneath him and help integrate the new SEAL teams into the operation, with Blaber reporting to Kernan, the TF Blue commander. Trebon’s response was noncommittal. Trebon told Blaber that Kernan would be calling him soon with further guidance.

Next to call was Kernan. Blaber again made his pitch to stay on in Gardez working directly for Kernan, but with any SEAL teams sent into the Shahikot reporting to Blaber as the AFO commander. Kernan said that instead he would send an officer down to Gardez sometime in the next couple of days to take over command and control of the operation, and asked that Blaber help ease the new guy into the job. No problem, said Blaber, adding that in his opinion Tony Thomas, the Task Force Red commander, or the Blue operations officer would make excellent choices. Kernan said he’d discuss it with his subordinates in Bagram and get back to Blaber with a decision. He also asked Blaber for his recommendation on when the official turnover of command and control to TF Blue should be. Blaber suggested the moment the first TF Blue team lifted off from Gardez en route to the Shahikot. But the conversation ended without a firm decision on when the handover should be.

Then TF Blue’s operations officer in Bagram got on the radio. He wanted to use a helicopter resupply flight to send one of his SEAL teams into the valley to relieve India. The teams’ need for resupply
was
becoming critical. All three were low on food, water, and batteries, and Mako 31’s SEALs were also low on ammo after all the shooting they’d done at the DShK position and protecting Wiercinski’s command post. Juliet’s resupply would be flown in to LZ 15 in the north of the valley after the Rakkasans had secured it. For India and Mako 31, who were due to link up after dark, AFO had planned a “speedball” method of delivery—stuffing a duffle bag full of the needed supplies and kicking it out of a helicopter as it flew close to their positions. This was a far different proposition from landing a team in the valley, which would break Blaber’s strict “no helicopter infiltrations” rule.

“You can’t send a team in on a resupply helicopter that hasn’t been through Gardez,” Blaber told the Blue operations officer. “They’re coming from Bagram, they have no idea what’s going on on the battlefield.” “Well, that’s the guidance we got,” the Blue operations officer replied. “We briefed it to General Trebon and he approved it.” “That is not going to work,” Blaber protested. Speedy, monitoring the conversation from his perch in the Shahikot, came up on the net and backed Blaber to the hilt. “It’s unsafe, it’s unsound, it makes no sense,” he said. Trebon called Blaber back. “That team’s got to go in,” he said, trying to make it sound as if pulling the three AFO teams out in the middle of the fight was somehow doing them a favor. “We’ve got to relieve you guys, you’re getting smoked,” the general said. Blaber again tried to reason with Trebon, but to no avail. Sending fresh Task Force Blue teams in without first giving them time to prepare for the Shahikot environment would amount to “setting guys up for failure,” the AFO commander said. He had no idea how prophetic his words would be, and of the price that would be paid in blood for that failure.

15.

AT midnight on March 2 a Chinook descended out of the night sky to land on a gentle slope at the snow line in the north end of the Shahikot Valley. Forty-three men rushed out to establish a perimeter around the aircraft. As soon as the last soldier had run down the tail ramp, the twin-engined helicopter flew away, leaving utter silence in its wake. Lying behind their rucks in the treeless, moon-washed landscape, the men felt under a spotlight. Their senses were on high alert, straining to capture the first sign of an enemy attack. At any moment, surely, the silence would be broken by the staccato crackle of automatic gunfire, the report of a D-30 howitzer or the hollow
whoomph
of a mortar round leaving the tube. But there was nothing but silence.

Captain Kevin Butler, commander of 2-187 Infantry’s A Company, was suspicious.
Where is the enemy? Is he setting a trap?
The enemy in the Shahikot was now fully alert to the possibility of American helicopters landing in their midst. Butler had therefore expected to fly into a hot LZ, and warned his men to mentally prepare themselves accordingly. Two other Chinooks bearing the rest of his company had also landed safely just to the east and the eighty-six troops they carried were making their way to him. The thirty-year-old Pattenburg, New Jersey, native was impatient for their arrival. He knew his luck, if that’s what it was, wouldn’t last. The company needed to find cover.

A bright orange flash illuminated the northern end of the valley for a split second. Moments later the boom of an explosion reached the ears of Butler and his men. The soldiers turned their heads southwest to see a cloud of smoke rising from the dark, hulking mass of the Whale. A few minutes later they heard the dull
Crump! Crump! Crump!
of an AC-130’s 105mm gun hammering the Al Qaida guerrillas harassing LaCamera’s men in the Halfpipe. Another AC-130 droned overhead, but the only other noise was the regular beeping of the SINCGARS radios and the harsh whispers of young officers and sergeants giving orders.