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October 2008
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The title for these five articles came from Cpt. Lonsdale. I lived with him and SSG Blake, both ETTs from the Washington National Guard for nine days. Over a three day period we were attacked three times. Each time at night, each time the attack got longer and was more intense. It is said that you never know how you will react in combat, but that training and focus become your foundations. These two men demonstrated courage and focus that allowed all three of us to find moments of laughter even in these moments of intensity. I'll look forward to seeing them again.
We had endured three nights of attack. The previous night was by far the most intense... close to an hour of rockets, machine gun and small arms fire, and arial anti-personnel RPGs. In the quiet of the morning, Cpt. Lonsdale and I walked the perimeter to asses the damage. "There it is, the place where the rocket hit the wall." He and I both remembered the first rocket to hit the FOB the night before, spraying sparks and fire into the common area. We had both feared casualties, thankfully no one had been hurt. As we continued to walk around, we talked of the coming night. An emergency resupply convoy had been dispatched, yet he remained very concerned. The road to the FOB was dangerous, and the stress on the vehicles hard. The convoy was scheduled to arrive in the evening but we both new that if it was met with any problems that the schedule would be all but lost. Low on ammo, with defenses in need of improvement, we talked of our coming day and what had to be done.
The mortar-man had not yet tended to the empty casings and boxes that lay strewn about. He was an Afghan National Army soldier, trained by a Mongolian team of indirect fire specialists. His technics were simple by the standards of the US Army mortar methods, but nonetheless effective. He was one of the heros from the night before. With rounds whizzing in and around his position, lacking body armor but proudly wearing his Afghan National Army green beret, he functioned as an entire mortar team, prepping his rounds, aiming and adjusting his mortar tube, and returning critically needed fire on the many enemy positions that were engaging us from the surrounding mountains. And whether by luck, or his faith in "en-shaw-la" (by God's hand), he landed one his rounds directly onto an enemy cache. The resulting explosion illuminated the dark of the night. "Scott, come over here and take a look at this." I had just finished taking pictures of the mortar station. As I reached for my camera, Cpt. Lonsdale's tone changed dramatically. "Get that out of hear now! You're going to get someone killed!" Before I could grab a photo of the scene, two Afghan National Army soldiers were moving quickly outside of the walls of the FOB. They had found an unexploded RPG round whose fuse was bent. They had been admiring it, passing it around amongst themselves, taking pride in the enemies failure and misfortune. The danger of the situation was distant to them, after all, no one had been hurt. Cpt. Lonsdale was beside himself, "There are things like this that they just don't seem to grasp." His words were reinforced by the ANA Sergeant who came up to him to assure him that the round was "no good." As the soldiers rose from bed, it was like viewing a scene from a collage dorm the morning after a night of heavy drinking. That slow bewilderment, as each got his bearing and made there way to the outdoor kitchen for a piece of flat bread and hot chai. As the soldiers gathered together for their morning meal, the stories began to be told and shared. Even with the difference of language and culture, somethings remain the same. Cpt. Lonsdale added, "Listen to them. They're making the sounds of the rocket and gunfire. Soldiers love their war stories." As the morning progressed, a battle focus quickly set in. The ANA soldiers set about shoring up internal defenses. SSG Blake checked all of the main weapons systems, taking soldiers aside to individually work with them on fire control, rapid reloading, and target acquisition. Cpt. Lonsdale set about organizing the communications room, and setting up a two bed medical station. I put my camera down to drive stakes, pull concertino wire and string barbed wire in loose snags, called "tangle-foot." The fear was that after three consecutive nights of attacks, each night getting progressively more intense, that this night would be the more intense yet. We hoped for the convoy, but prepared for the worst. As the focus began to return to FOB defenses, the chatter amongst the ANA suddenly became panicked and intensely animated. SSG Blake quickly called for the interpreter. As the conversations were translated the situation became urgent. The convoy of soldiers and the Executive Officer, now thirty minutes in route, had come under attack by a group of Taliban. Our FOB was the closest; they were in need of help. A group of ANA soldiers quickly assembled, as SSG Blake helped them mount the machine gun onto the gun mount. The ANA Platoon Sgt. shook SSG Blake's hand, and in Afghan tradition, gave him a hug and then placed his right hand to his heart. This was the warriors farewell. With his AK-47 wedged in the pocket of the drivers door, and the back of the pick-up loaded with his men, the Platoon Sgt. drove out of the gate to give assistance to his commander. For the first time I held back tears.
It was a couple of hours before they returned. All returned safe. They had arrived on the scene to find their commander and his troops engaged. Rapidly dismounting, they engaged the small group of anti-government forces who quickly fled into the hills. For the ANA it was a victory, and though small, a much needed boost in confidence as we continued to prepare for the night. By 1800 hours news arrived that the US convoy was having trouble. One of the large trucks had suffered three flat tires. Cpt. Lonsdale instructed us to grab a quick dinner and then prepare for the evening. His face was grim. His fears seemed to be coming true. All of the stations had been checked and rechecked. SSG Blake was to man the heavy weapons system mounted on the Humvee. Cpt. Lonsdale would be managing the battle, positioning himself as he had done the night before in an over-watch position above the FOB. And besides photography, I volunteered to run the medical aid station in the event that we took casualties; my rules of embed prevented me from doing much more. Sitting in the communications room prior to taking our positions, the concern for what we thought might come, took hold. With few words, the three of us looked as each other and acknowledged the friendship we had forged over the past eight days. Strapping on our body armor and our helmets, we took our place on the stage of war. As the evening began to turn to dust, the resolution of a coming battle was lifted as the US convoy was spotted on the horizon. There are few times that a dust cloud of vehicles looked so good. The ANA began to chatter with excitement; Cpt. Lonsdale looked at me and said,"This is where you get to see the worst side of me. I have no time to waste once they get inside our perimeter." I smiled and added,"It's all part of the story."
The US convoy was made up of both US Army National Guard ETTs and Afghan National Army soldiers. They arrived with a focus for battle. Cpt. Lonsdale and SSG Blake began directing the unloading of weapons, ammo, food and supplies. Within the hour everyone had taken their position. Dust turned to darkness, and the enemy never showed. We are certain that the show of force had disrupted their plans, leaving them to call off the attack that from all indicators was immanent. As for Cpt. Lonsdale, for the first time in days I saw him smile. The next morning I left.
Archived blogs: RSS feed: Click here Copyright, Scott Kesterson- 2006 |
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