Carter was blown away by the scenery. Jumping off a Chinook hovering ten feet above the ground, he landed hard on the rocks just like the other soldiers. But he bounded up and grabbed his Nikon and began snapping frames. Snowcapped mountains wrapping the valley. A river snaking through the rugged terrain. A layer of ice-slicked rocks covering the landscape. Very cool, he thought. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. He was snapping away like a photographer on a fashion shoot.
This was Carter’s last mission before he headed home and he wanted to document the entire adventure. So on the helicopter ride to the Shok Valley, he pulled out his Sony PD170 to videotape the flight. Men’s faces. Stern. Grim. Hardened. It was a documentary for a mission that had an entirely different feel from the others he had been on. Special Forces. Afghan commandos. Chinooks and Black Hawks flying in under a low, thick white shroud of clouds. This was World War II–esque.
He could tell this was serious before the helicopters deployed to the Shok Valley. Before they boarded, some soldiers were cracking jokes, but underneath he could sense that they were anxious. He really didn’t know any of the Special Forces soldiers. He had met most of them the night before the mission. But several told him that the mission might be called off because of bad weather.
When they were waved on board, the mood changed to deadly serious. It was tense.
When the helicopter arrived in the valley, the pilot couldn’t land because of the terrain. So everyone jumped off the back of the Chinooks. They flowed out and hit the ground and quickly regrouped. That’s when Carter began snapping away.
The Shok Valley was geographically amazing. The wadi was like a narrow, rock-filled road completely surrounded by high mountains. Think of a punch bowl. The team was at the bottom of the bowl in the wadi. Like the sides of the bowl, the mountains curved and rose to the clouds. And those mountains had high cliffs that overlooked the valley floor. But sitting on top of the cliffs were buildings—part of a village—that looked more like a fort. The structures were impressive—built on top of one another like an apartment complex. He glimpsed one that looked like it was four or five stories high.
He kept his camera out. He was still clicking as his team of Walton, Morales, Behr, and Rhymer moved toward the objective. They were looking up at the mountains like tourists visiting the big city for the first time.
One of the first obstacles they faced was the fast-moving river that ran across the wadi. A plank spanned the crossing, but it wasn’t strong enough to support the men and some of the soldiers fell into the river. In a hurry, others walked straight through the water. In some spots it was ankle- to midchest-deep. All made for the camera, Carter thought. He panned the landscape from ground level to compound. A veneer of thin ice covered everything. It was cold, probably in the forties. He wasn’t expecting that. He knew the mountain passes were closed during the winter because of snow. But for some reason, he was expecting it to be warmer. But he knew everyone would warm up once they started their ascent.
The climb was going to be brutal—especially with his all camera equipment. Thank God the guys had stripped his bag and forced him to leave some of his equipment back at the base.
Good move, he thought.