Howard’s radio didn’t work. Unknown to him, he had hit the radio on a rock and broke the connection between it and the battery pack. So he wasn’t sure what was happening on top of the mountain. But from the gunfire he was hearing, it didn’t sound good.
In the wadi, Howard had been looking up at the ledge where his team was pinned down. And that’s when he spotted Ford on the ledge signaling him to come up. Rounds were impacting in the dirt and rocks near him. Enemy fighters were shooting from the cliff above, so Howard figured they would be safe at the base of the cliff because of the angle.
He signaled all of his commandos and they raced to the base of the cliff. On the way, he passed Wallen, who was trying to get a commando to move forward. Howard, safely at the cliff, looked back and saw Wallen still struggling with the man. He had the Afghan soldier by the shirt and was trying to lift him up to get him to move forward. But the Afghan was just not moving.
All around them, bullets were smacking the rocks. Howard was yelling to Wallen at the top of his lungs, “RYAN! RYAN! Get over here. Now!”
It was one of those decisions that had to be made in a split second. Did Howard want to run out and grab Wallen, and risk getting shot? No. That wouldn’t help anybody, especially if they both went down.
“RYAN! You are being shot at!”
Wallen finally turned to look at Howard, then at the rounds impacting around him.
“OH!” he said.
Getting up, he sprinted to the cliff face. The commando, seeing him run, jumped up and headed toward Howard and the others.
With everybody together, they started up the cliff toward Ford’s ledge.
About halfway up the mountain, Howard could see Ford and Williams picking their way down the path. As they approached, Howard was shocked. Ford, the inspirational leader of the team, looked like shit. Howard could see the muscle and tissue from his arm hanging out of his shirt. He was caked with blood and dirt.
“I’ve lost my arm. CK is dead. John lost his leg. Dillon has been hit,” Ford said as the groups met on the path.
Stopping onto a ledge, Howard examined the arm and began inspecting the tourniquet.
“Okay, calm down,” he said, pulling Ford’s injured arm closer so that he could bandage it.
Ford jerked it away.
“I need to get down,” he said, trying to move forward. Ford was convinced that he was going to bleed out and didn’t want Howard and the others to have to carry him down.
But Howard refused to let him go.
“Hey,” he screamed. “You need a field dressing on that!”
Cutting open the shirt, Howard discovered a stream of blood oozing from the arm. Grabbing the tourniquet, he began to tighten it down. Digging in his kit, he fished out some Kerlix gauze and an ACE bandage. Covering the wound with the gauze, Howard tried to wrap the entire wound in the bandage to keep everything in place.
But Ford was clearly annoyed. Between pushing Howard’s hands away and trying to stand up, the bandage was barely secured as they climbed the rest of the way down to the wadi.
Howard could tell Ford was fighting a losing battle against the pain.
“What do you need me to do?” he asked.
“I need morphine,” Ford said.
Howard took out his syrette and handed it to his team sergeant. It would be the first of about five as Ford asked everyone he encountered for morphine. Since his radio was broken, Howard got on Ford’s and called Walton.
“Hey, Kyle, what do you need?”
Howard could tell that his team sergeant was hurt badly and out of it. That’s because Ford wasn’t yelling at him and telling him that he was doing stuff all wrong. Instead he was just standing there, letting Howard talk on his radio.
“I need you to shoot that building with the Carl Gustav,” Walton said.
“What building?”
Peering up to the top of the mountain, he could see several mud-walled houses still standing.
“Okay, do you see the power lines?” Walton asked.
“Yeah.”
“Right on the other side of the power lines, do you see that building?” Walton said.
Scanning the ridge, Howard thought he knew which building Walton wanted destroyed.
“Stay with Scott,” Howard told Wallen as he rounded up his commandos.
“I’m good, man,” Wallen said, preparing to go with Howard. “You said I was fine.”
While not as badly hurt as Ford, Wallen was still injured, and Howard didn’t want to keep putting him in harm’s way.
“I know I said you’re fine,” he said. “But I really need you to stay here because I was lying to you.”
I’m a weapons sergeant, not a medic, he thought. Don’t listen to me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. I’m just making shit up to keep you calm.