When he reached the wadi, Walton consolidated his team and rushed to the goat shed. The captain’s goal was to “reestablish communications and control.” He wanted to know how the other ODAs were doing, and how close the medevac birds were to the valley. More importantly, he wanted to check on Ford’s condition. He was worried because the last time he saw Ford, his arm was ripped apart. Outside of Shurer briefly helping Ford tighten his tourniquet, no medic had checked on his wound. Walton was afraid that his condition had deteriorated. Shurer was busy tending to the wounded at the casualty collection point at the base of the mountain. So Walton knew he would have to use his medic skills to treat Ford.
When he entered the shed, Wallen was still in charge. Despite being wounded, he had kept control of the commandos around him and held the house. Walton was impressed. He knew Wallen had been injured early in the battle. Yet he stepped up and kept things under control.
Walton glanced at Ford, who was propped up against the wall.
“Kyle, you got to help me, man,” Ford said. “The pain. I need morphine.”
Kneeling down, Walton checked the tourniquet and Ford’s vital signs. He was stable, but had lost a lot of blood. He had already had three hits of morphine, and Walton was about to give him another, but stopped. He was afraid that another shot would decrease his respiratory drive. But Ford was still in pain.
Looking around, he noticed commandos on the other side of the stable.
“Get the fuck out there,” he furiously shouted, kicking them out the door. “Quit pussying out. Get back in the fight. This is where the casualties go. Not where you go.”
Walton turned his attention back to Ford, who looked tired. Ford was the backbone of the unit. He’d helped shape it. If they performed well under fire, he deserved much of the credit. He worked their asses off. Walton wanted Ford to stay in the shed—he didn’t want him moving around. That would only make things worse.
“You’re going to be okay,” Walton said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. The medevac birds will be here in two minutes and we’re going to get everyone out of here.”
Walton walked outside the building and found Mateen, the commando company commander.
“We’re going to bound back,” Walton told him. “Your next priority is getting accountability of your men.”
And he warned him: If Mateen didn’t have everybody accounted for, the commandos would go back up the mountain.
Walton hurried to the radio and reestablished communication with the other ODAs. He discovered that Mason’s unit was still holding its ground and fighting off the insurgents from its blocking position to the northwest of the casualty collection point. Wurzbach was also holding his ground to the southwest, and his unit was fighting a battle of its own against snipers and HIG fighters armed with AK-47s and RPGs on the western side of the objective area.
Up on the mountain, Walton had been so focused on finding a way off that he didn’t know the full extent of the enemy attack in the valley. Now he did, and he realized that this was a well-coordinated attack—and not just a defensive reaction to the American soldiers’ presence in the valley. The insurgents were too well prepared.