D-Day Plus Four.
When that much adrenaline is released in your body, it is a God-send at the time. The only downside to it, is that when it leaves, you feel as if though you have been awake for 6 days straight. Funny how that works I thought, as the earliest rise of dawn peeked up behind the mountainside. Most of the other Marines had managed to get at least an hour or two of sleep in where they could. If I had known what we were about to embark upon, I would have done the same. I was too deep in thought to give into my body's request. Prior to this mission, everyone had this pre-concieved notion about combat and what it was actually going to be like. You hear the stories, you read the books, and you watch the movies. Extensive training is conducted, but until you are right in the middle of it, there is no real preparation for it, emotional or otherwise. It is something that is thrown at you suddenly and all you have is each other to count on if you want to make it out alive. This must have been the "Esprit De Corps" that my recruiter had talked about as he towered above me in his dress blues so many years ago. Ive always been fascinated with the military as far back as I could remember, but it was then that I knew I wanted to be a United States Marine. In the Fleet Marine Force, recruiters are perpetually known as "the ones that suckered them into joining" and for good reason; my recruiters told me their fair share of lies in order to get me to sign up. But Esprit De Corps....I truly believe of all the armed forces in the world, you will find no stronger commaraderie than that amongst Marines. Like before-mentioned, you have done everything together, and offer not a moments hesitation to lay down your life for theirs.
Now, the question on my mind was our next move. The events throughout the night no doubt would have an indelible impact on where we would go next. A company of Marines vs. an unknown number of Taliban, with estimates in upwards of 300. They were pissed and probably looking to settle a score. The Marine Corps always utilizes a "big brother" policy whenever it fights. We always have to have the numerical advantage. Not because we are inferior when it comes to fighting, but because we want to make sure that everyone comes home and this is the best way to ensure it. So it was no great surprise when command passed that we were now heading back south; slowly, we were going to make our way back home. Attatched to us, were another company-sized group of ANA (Afghanistan National Army) and they were going to be the scouting element, punching ahead of Fox Company. The purpose for this was two-fold; they would provide point to find a way back to the grid coordinate where we would be extracted, all the while serving as our eyes, on the lookout for any ambushes. One could say that they were our canaries, acting as bait for any trouble that may lie ahead and they were. To me, it sounded kind of messed up at first until I took things in perspective. We are in their country, assisting them in their war. Its a terrible thing when an American soldier dies on foreign soil. Simple as that.
Physically, mentally, and emotionally drained, I put on my pack and thought of what I was about to do. Yes, we were heading back. It felt like we had been on the move non-stop, but I told myself at least the majority of it was downhill from here. As we stepped, I made up my mind that mentally, I had to stay strong. Not only for myself, but also for my Marines, they were now following suit. One thing working in my favor, was the fact that we were headed back. It has a tremendous effect of the will when you can see the light at the end of the tunnel. So I was good for the remainder of the morning. We were covering alot of ground and making good time. No further enemy contact, things were going smoothly. I figured we would keep going strong until nightfall, set up a patrol base, get some rest and repeat. Shortly after noon, we took a small halt to catch our breathe and drink water. We did so usually once an hour. True strength, Im convinced, lies not in how long you can keep pushing yourself to the limit. In this heat, that can be dangerous. What mattered was how much you could recover in moments like these. We were learning to take as little as 5 minutes and trick our bodies into thinking as if it had just finished resting for 2 hours. You push on, one hour at a time, maximizing the breaks for all that theyre worth. That was true strength.
We were taking a different route back than the one we took on the way up here.
Most noticeably, we were staying high up in the mountains, practically breathing in the clouds. I assumed that this was an easier route back. It hadnt previously occurred to me that we were being chased and had to throw predictability out the window. The terrain was starting to get pretty rough, if not dangerous at certain points. At one point in particular, we had to slide down a steep slope and pray that you caught yourself at the bottom, otherwise off the cliff we go.
It was here that I heard that familiar whizzing sound close by once more, followed by a hail of counter M-16 fire. Someone was shooting at us, and thats never in any case a good situation. Especially this one. Fox Company was spread out across a mountain top and was now appearantly pinned down. The only thing for us to do was take as good of cover as could be found and wait for the people that get paid to think to make a decision. Strange, but I was so exhausted at that point, I actually dozed off for a good ten minutes. I snapped out of it almost instantly when "81's up" was relayed back. 81's up. That old familiar call for mortars, I was starting to tire from it. I hesitated to present myself as a moving target for any sniper that might have been lying out there, but when duty calls, you have to answer it. So with my pack still on my back, I threw the bipods on my shoulders and ran. I ran as fast as I could with the imagery of myself in that smelly fuck's crosshairs as
my driving force. The lieutenant was alot farther up than I had originally thought. As I was thinking this, thats when it happened. A slight misjudgement in my footing on the uneven terrain and I knew it, I was going down. My immediate reflex was to get those bipods off of my shoulders, otherwise I was about to be seriously injured. I was running so fast that momentum was not on my side and as I made one good thrust over my head, they cleared, but my right hand was not as lucky.
(photo taken 2 days later.)
The end result; rock, hand, bipods. My worst fear was that my finger was broken. My trigger finger at that. There was instant swelling, alot of blood, and no movement whatsoever. Worry about that later, Chad, youve still got a gun to set up. Picking up the cursed bipods as best I could, I continued on until I reached our position, out of breath and in pain. I wondered the reasoning for waiting over three hours to drop 4 HE rounds. During this time, I found our Navy Corpsman and had him look at my finger. I dont know what hurt worse, when I fell, or when he poured iodine over the open wound. Being that we were in an immediate combat environment, he couldnt determine whether or not it was broken, so the best he could offer was a bandage and a splint. No big deal.
It killed me to think of all the time wasted during that whole ordeal. It was well into the evening by the time we started to move again. Another few hours and it would be dark out. Pretentious assumption on my part had me thinking that we were going to stop moving after the sunset and wait until daylight. Turned out I was dead wrong. Evidently, the reason for waiting 3 hours earlier was, while on the satcomm, new intel came down suggesting that the Taliban was currently in an all-out witch hunt for the Americans. Us. The hornets nest had been successfully rattled. Evidently we had killed and injured some pretty important people and invoked a small jihad in the Chawkay Valley. This was Taliban country, and there were now 300+ people looking for us with re-inforcements just a short distance away over the Pakistani border. As darkness engulfed the valley and we continued on, one thing became clear. Tonight, we couldnt stop. Tonight, we were the hunted.
....to be continued.
When that much adrenaline is released in your body, it is a God-send at the time. The only downside to it, is that when it leaves, you feel as if though you have been awake for 6 days straight. Funny how that works I thought, as the earliest rise of dawn peeked up behind the mountainside. Most of the other Marines had managed to get at least an hour or two of sleep in where they could. If I had known what we were about to embark upon, I would have done the same. I was too deep in thought to give into my body's request. Prior to this mission, everyone had this pre-concieved notion about combat and what it was actually going to be like. You hear the stories, you read the books, and you watch the movies. Extensive training is conducted, but until you are right in the middle of it, there is no real preparation for it, emotional or otherwise. It is something that is thrown at you suddenly and all you have is each other to count on if you want to make it out alive. This must have been the "Esprit De Corps" that my recruiter had talked about as he towered above me in his dress blues so many years ago. Ive always been fascinated with the military as far back as I could remember, but it was then that I knew I wanted to be a United States Marine. In the Fleet Marine Force, recruiters are perpetually known as "the ones that suckered them into joining" and for good reason; my recruiters told me their fair share of lies in order to get me to sign up. But Esprit De Corps....I truly believe of all the armed forces in the world, you will find no stronger commaraderie than that amongst Marines. Like before-mentioned, you have done everything together, and offer not a moments hesitation to lay down your life for theirs.
Now, the question on my mind was our next move. The events throughout the night no doubt would have an indelible impact on where we would go next. A company of Marines vs. an unknown number of Taliban, with estimates in upwards of 300. They were pissed and probably looking to settle a score. The Marine Corps always utilizes a "big brother" policy whenever it fights. We always have to have the numerical advantage. Not because we are inferior when it comes to fighting, but because we want to make sure that everyone comes home and this is the best way to ensure it. So it was no great surprise when command passed that we were now heading back south; slowly, we were going to make our way back home. Attatched to us, were another company-sized group of ANA (Afghanistan National Army) and they were going to be the scouting element, punching ahead of Fox Company. The purpose for this was two-fold; they would provide point to find a way back to the grid coordinate where we would be extracted, all the while serving as our eyes, on the lookout for any ambushes. One could say that they were our canaries, acting as bait for any trouble that may lie ahead and they were. To me, it sounded kind of messed up at first until I took things in perspective. We are in their country, assisting them in their war. Its a terrible thing when an American soldier dies on foreign soil. Simple as that.
Physically, mentally, and emotionally drained, I put on my pack and thought of what I was about to do. Yes, we were heading back. It felt like we had been on the move non-stop, but I told myself at least the majority of it was downhill from here. As we stepped, I made up my mind that mentally, I had to stay strong. Not only for myself, but also for my Marines, they were now following suit. One thing working in my favor, was the fact that we were headed back. It has a tremendous effect of the will when you can see the light at the end of the tunnel. So I was good for the remainder of the morning. We were covering alot of ground and making good time. No further enemy contact, things were going smoothly. I figured we would keep going strong until nightfall, set up a patrol base, get some rest and repeat. Shortly after noon, we took a small halt to catch our breathe and drink water. We did so usually once an hour. True strength, Im convinced, lies not in how long you can keep pushing yourself to the limit. In this heat, that can be dangerous. What mattered was how much you could recover in moments like these. We were learning to take as little as 5 minutes and trick our bodies into thinking as if it had just finished resting for 2 hours. You push on, one hour at a time, maximizing the breaks for all that theyre worth. That was true strength.
We were taking a different route back than the one we took on the way up here.
Most noticeably, we were staying high up in the mountains, practically breathing in the clouds. I assumed that this was an easier route back. It hadnt previously occurred to me that we were being chased and had to throw predictability out the window. The terrain was starting to get pretty rough, if not dangerous at certain points. At one point in particular, we had to slide down a steep slope and pray that you caught yourself at the bottom, otherwise off the cliff we go.
It was here that I heard that familiar whizzing sound close by once more, followed by a hail of counter M-16 fire. Someone was shooting at us, and thats never in any case a good situation. Especially this one. Fox Company was spread out across a mountain top and was now appearantly pinned down. The only thing for us to do was take as good of cover as could be found and wait for the people that get paid to think to make a decision. Strange, but I was so exhausted at that point, I actually dozed off for a good ten minutes. I snapped out of it almost instantly when "81's up" was relayed back. 81's up. That old familiar call for mortars, I was starting to tire from it. I hesitated to present myself as a moving target for any sniper that might have been lying out there, but when duty calls, you have to answer it. So with my pack still on my back, I threw the bipods on my shoulders and ran. I ran as fast as I could with the imagery of myself in that smelly fuck's crosshairs as
my driving force. The lieutenant was alot farther up than I had originally thought. As I was thinking this, thats when it happened. A slight misjudgement in my footing on the uneven terrain and I knew it, I was going down. My immediate reflex was to get those bipods off of my shoulders, otherwise I was about to be seriously injured. I was running so fast that momentum was not on my side and as I made one good thrust over my head, they cleared, but my right hand was not as lucky.
(photo taken 2 days later.)
The end result; rock, hand, bipods. My worst fear was that my finger was broken. My trigger finger at that. There was instant swelling, alot of blood, and no movement whatsoever. Worry about that later, Chad, youve still got a gun to set up. Picking up the cursed bipods as best I could, I continued on until I reached our position, out of breath and in pain. I wondered the reasoning for waiting over three hours to drop 4 HE rounds. During this time, I found our Navy Corpsman and had him look at my finger. I dont know what hurt worse, when I fell, or when he poured iodine over the open wound. Being that we were in an immediate combat environment, he couldnt determine whether or not it was broken, so the best he could offer was a bandage and a splint. No big deal.
It killed me to think of all the time wasted during that whole ordeal. It was well into the evening by the time we started to move again. Another few hours and it would be dark out. Pretentious assumption on my part had me thinking that we were going to stop moving after the sunset and wait until daylight. Turned out I was dead wrong. Evidently, the reason for waiting 3 hours earlier was, while on the satcomm, new intel came down suggesting that the Taliban was currently in an all-out witch hunt for the Americans. Us. The hornets nest had been successfully rattled. Evidently we had killed and injured some pretty important people and invoked a small jihad in the Chawkay Valley. This was Taliban country, and there were now 300+ people looking for us with re-inforcements just a short distance away over the Pakistani border. As darkness engulfed the valley and we continued on, one thing became clear. Tonight, we couldnt stop. Tonight, we were the hunted.
....to be continued.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
thank you.
great pictures and story.
take care