Now that the wounded had been evacuated, it was time for the rest of the soldiers to leave.
Walton glanced at the ledge and saw that there were only a few team members and Afghan commandos up there.
The terps had already left to carry CK’s body down the mountain. The wounded commando—the one they feared was dead—followed close behind. Walton knew there was no tactical reason to stay on that ledge. For all intents and purposes, Commando Wrath was over. At one point in the firefight, he had requested a “sizable QRF [quick reaction force]” with the “intent of reorganizing and reattacking after [they] evacuated the casualties.” He knew they didn’t have enough Special Forces advisers or terps to get the commandos to do what they needed them to do. In his view, the commandos—the celebrated fighting unit—were “completely ineffective in turning the tide of the situation.”
Walton was angry that they didn’t accomplish their goals—that Haji Ghafour, one of the top terrorists in the world, probably escaped. But Walton was pragmatic. He realized they had to get off the mountain and get out of the valley. Now it was all about saving lives.
“It’s time to go,” he shouted at Howard. “I need you to hold the ground.”
Howard understood; he would keep firing while the others tried to escape.
One by one the remaining commandos and team members began leaving, disappearing over the edge of the cliff while Howard provided cover. Williams started his descent, followed by Rhyner and Walton.
It was treacherous.
Walton was in top physical shape. But he was having a difficult time climbing down. Maybe it was because he had watched his fellow soldiers getting blown apart. Or that CK’s blood and brains were splattered on his uniform. Maybe it was because he came face-to-face with his own mortality. Whatever the reason, the battle had taken a toll. The West Point graduate who prided himself on setting and reaching lofty goals was physically and emotionally drained.
So as he climbed down, he slipped and fell twice, at least twenty feet. At one point, he was holding on to no more than a tree root. He used every last bit of strength to pull himself up. As he sat there, he realized that without that root, he would have fallen to his death. Rhyner had also slipped and tumbled and used the same tree root to save his life.
With all the slipping and sliding, rocks became loose and rolled down the mountain. Walton watched as some of the rocks hit soldiers in the wadi.
And he also noticed that the terps were having trouble carrying CK. They had been slipping, too, and near the bottom, they were forced to drop him the remaining distance. That was hard for Walton to watch. CK was a terp, but he was also brother.
He had to stop thinking about CK. Even though the captain was close to the bottom, the mission was far from over. They were still under fire. And now that they were off the ledge, he knew the insurgents would focus their full attention on the wadi.