THE BATTLE FOR BARI KOWT

KONAR PROVINCE, AFGHANISTAN

There are few places in Afghanistan that wouldn't qualify as "remote." Flying over the country gives one an education in the meaning of the word. But the village of Bari Kowt is remote even for Afghanistan. Thirty-five miles northeast of Asadabad, in Konar Province, this arid mountain tribal settlement in the Gowardesh Valley is bisected by a narrow, fast-running, tributary of the Mastuj River that flows out of Pakistan, only a half mile away. The steep hillsides above the watercourse are lined with small, rock-walled terraces and garden plots, hand-farmed as they have been for hundreds of years. The strategic value of Bari Kowt to the Taliban lies in its isolation and proximity to the border, making it an ideal layover site on the insurgent "rat line" for moving men and material to and from safe-havens in the lawless tribal areas of Pakistan.

By the winter of 2007–2008, 3rd Special Forces Group, teamed with Afghan Army and Border Police units, had established a string of small outposts along the border in a classic Special Forces mission: Foreign Internal Defense. The Americans built trust and confidence by training, living with, and fighting beside their host nation counterparts along the rugged Af-Pak frontier.

Before dawn on 25 January 2008, Special Forces ODA 3312, teamed with a unit of Afghan National Army troops launched a vehicle-mounted patrol into the Gowardesh Valley to locate and clear Taliban strongholds, havens, and weapons caches along the border. It was well below freezing when the combined American-Afghan task force departed Forward Operating Base Naray.

The ODA's Weapons Sergeant, Staff Sgt Robert J. Miller, was on his second combat deployment to Afghanistan and the only American in the unit fluent in Pashtu—the local Afghan dialect. Born in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and raised in the suburbs of Chicago, Miller was a champion gymnast and spent a year in college before he enlisted in the Army in 2003 because, as he put it, "I want to serve my country."

Staff Sgt Robert J. Miller

Rob Miller excelled right from the start. Though 70 percent of those who apply for Special Forces wash out before completing training, he passed the rigorous Special Forces Assessment and Selection course right out of basic training and Airborne school. He went on to more than two years of intense specialized training in weapons, tactics, languages, and other essential skills, mastering them all before pinning on the coveted Special Forces tab. It was a proud day in 2005 when he reported for duty as a newly minted sergeant in Company A, 3rd Battalion, 3rd Special Forces Group.

A year later he deployed for the first time to Afghanistan. In that seven-month tour, Sergeant Miller distinguished himself in combat and was awarded two Army Commendation Medals for courage under fire.

During the following seven months back at Fort Bragg, the detachment applied "lessons learned," honed their proficiency, and prepared for a return to the fight. Before they deployed back to Afghanistan, Rob was promoted to Staff Sergeant—and made a Team Leader in the ODA.

ODA 3312 at their FOB before the fatal mission to Bari Kowt. Staff Sgt Robert Miller is center front.

In Afghanistan there are no "routine" missions. The objective for the operation that began before first light on 25 January 2008, was inherently dangerous. The objective area was known to be an insurgent stronghold, so the ODA and their Afghan National Army and Border Police counterparts mounted their convoy at FOB Naray heavily armed and ready for anything.

The first sign of trouble came in the form of large boulders blocking the narrow, snow-covered approach to the objective—a sure sign of insurgent activity. Twice the ODA commander ordered up their demolitions men—Special Forces engineers—to set charges and clear the obstacles. The small task force continued their trek into the mountains, doubly wary having announced their presence.

As the patrol neared the village of Bari Kowt, an unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) identified what appeared to be fifteen to twenty enemy fighters in prepared positions overlooking the snow-covered track. In the lead vehicle Staff Sgt Miller immediately engaged the insurgents with a turret-mounted Mark 19 40mm Automatic Grenade Launcher. While peppering the dug-in enemy with high-explosive rounds, Miller radioed the coordinates of friendly and enemy positions to the ODA's Joint Tactical Air Controller (JTAC), USAF Staff Sergeant Robert Gutierrez.

Gutierrez, a bright, tough, and well-liked Californian trained for two years to become a Special Operations Combat Air Controller. He wasted no time summoning close air support from a pair of USAF F-15E "Strike Eagles" and a flight of A-10 "Warthogs" loitering overhead.

While Gutierrez ran the airstrikes, Miller dismounted his vehicle, grabbed his personal weapon while positioning the Afghan soldiers and directing their fire—all in their native tongue. It worked. The combined effect of the air-dropped ordnance, strafing runs, and accurate fire from the patrol silenced the enemy so the ODA commander ordered Staff Sgt Miller to take two Special Forces teams and fifteen ANA soldiers to conduct a quick post-strike assessment. Miller quickly briefed the Afghan platoon commander in Pashtu and the small American-Afghan unit headed out on foot.

He led the little patrol across a damaged bridge over the Gowardesh gorge and up into the narrow valley from where the enemy fire originated. But when they moved into the target area and encountered a choke point where the terrain forced them into a small, tactical wedge, Staff Sergeant Miller took "point"—the lead man in the formation.

Staff Sgt Robert Gutierrez

Staff Sgt Robert Gutierrez with his ground-air radio

That's when a single insurgent jumped from behind a boulder fifteen feet in front of them, firing his AK-47 and shouting "Allah akbar!" Miller killed him with a single burst of fire from his M-249 Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW).

Suddenly the slopes above them erupted with fire from more than one hundred insurgents, blasting away at the American and Afghan soldiers from prepared fighting positions with automatic weapons, machine guns, and rocket propelled grenades (RPGs). The withering fire tore into the ANA troops, forcing them to cover wherever they could find it. On his radio Miller called out for help—and the ODA commander rushed to support his lead element now completely vulnerable and pinned down in the kill zone of a near ambush.

Realizing his small force was in immediate danger of being overwhelmed before they could be reinforced or retreat, Staff Sergeant Miller decided there was only one course of action that could save the vastly outnumbered Americans and their Afghan allies: a one man counterattack.

Gripping the SAW by the pistol grip, the stock tucked beneath his arm, Miller jumped up and charged up the slope through the snow at the stunned enemy fighters. His accurate fire cut a swath through the assailants and for several minutes it appeared as though his fierce assault into the insurgent positions might well break the right flank of the ambush. Stopping only long enough to reload, the barrel of his SAW glowing red, Miller killed at least a half-dozen of the Taliban and flushed scores of others, allowing his comrades to find cover and organize a quick reaction force.

He commenced his final charge up the hill by tossing two hand grenades into an enemy fighting hole and with short, well-aimed bursts of fire, killed four more of their foes.

Then, running low on ammo and crouched in the midst of his shocked assailants, he used his radio to direct the fire of his comrades as they prepared to envelop the enemy on the high ground. As Miller made his way back toward the patrol, an insurgent leapt from concealment and shot him. The bullet struck him in the chest, just above the plate in his body armor. Though severely wounded, the Staff Sergeant spun and felled his attacker with a three round burst from the SAW.

Staff Sgt Robert Miller with an M-249 Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW).

Staff Sgt Robert Miller with an M-110 sniper rifle.

While Rob Miller was making his final foray against the Taliban fighters, his ODA commander was also wounded by enemy fire. Realizing his commander was in an exposed position, the former gymnast made yet another heroic decision. Unable to run uphill any longer because of loss of blood, he found a narrow crevice in the earth and set out to kill as many of the insurgents as possible and draw fire from his beleaguered friends below.

For the next twenty-five minutes Staff Sergeant Rob Miller singlehandedly held off Taliban fighters who fired at him with heavy machineguns, automatic weapons, and RPGs while he directed fire at them from his comrades over the radio. Finally, after he expended the last of his SAW ammunition and threw his remaining hand grenades, his radio went silent as two of his team mates rushed forward to help him.

They tried to pull him back to the main body of the patrol but the insurgent fire was too intense. It took two more hours—and multiple airstrikes directed by Staff Sergeant Gutierrez—before they could punch enough troops far enough into the valley to recover Rob Miller's body. There was no doubt they would do so. "Leave no man behind" isn't just a slogan. It's a commitment.

For his fearless actions that day, to include calling in more than twenty air strikes and helping to evacuate the wounded—there were seventeen of them, total—Air Force Staff Sergeant Robert Gutierrez was awarded the Bronze Star with "V" device for valor.

On 6 October 2010, while our Fox News War Stories team was back in Afghanistan, the president presented Staff Sergeant Robert J. Miller's parents with his posthumous Medal of Honor. He is credited with saving the lives of seven of his team mates and fifteen Afghan Army soldiers while killing at least sixteen Taliban insurgents and wounding more than thirty.

As ODA 3312 and their Afghan National Army allies pulled out of the Gowardesh valley that terrible winter day, intercepts of Taliban "radio chatter" revealed they lost over half of their fighters killed or wounded. Their commanders in Pakistan admonished the survivors not to interfere with the withdrawal. One of them went so far as to order: "Don't attack them! If you do, you will die!" It was a fitting tribute to American valor above and beyond the call of duty.

A-10 Thunderbolt, nicknamed "Warthogs"

An A-10 pulls up after destroying a ground target with its 30mm Gatling gun.

A memorial ceremony was given for Robert J. Miller at Bagram Air Force base after he was killed in battle at Bari Kowt, Afghanistan.

MEDAL OF HONOR: (POSTHUMOUS)

TO SSG ROBERT J. MILLER

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty:

Staff Sergeant Robert J. Miller distinguished himself by extraordinary acts of heroism while serving as the Weapons Sergeant in Special Forces Operational Detachment Alpha 3312, Special Operations Task Force-33, Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force-Afghanistan during combat operations against an armed enemy in Konar Province, Afghanistan on January 25, 2008. While conducting a combat reconnaissance patrol through the Gowardesh Valley, Staff Sergeant Miller and his small element of U.S. and Afghan National Army soldiers engaged a force of fifteen to twenty insurgents occupying prepared fighting positions. Staff Sergeant Miller initiated the assault by engaging the enemy positions with his vehicle's turret-mounted Mark-19 40 millimeter automatic grenade launcher while simultaneously providing detailed descriptions of the enemy positions to his command, enabling effective, accurate close air support.

Following the engagement, Staff Sergeant Miller led a small squad forward to conduct a battle damage assessment. As the group neared the small, steep, narrow valley that the enemy had inhabited, a large, well-coordinated insurgent force initiated a near ambush, assaulting from elevated positions with ample cover. Exposed and with little available cover, the patrol was totally vulnerable to enemy rocket propelled grenades and automatic weapon fire. As point man, Staff Sergeant Miller was at the front of the patrol, cut off from supporting elements, and less than 20 meters from enemy forces. Nonetheless, with total disregard for his own safety, he called for his men to quickly move back to covered positions as he charged the enemy over exposed ground and under overwhelming enemy fire in order to provide protective fire for his team.

While maneuvering to engage the enemy, Staff Sergeant Miller was shot in his upper torso. Ignoring the wound, he continued to push the fight, moving to draw fire from over one hundred enemy fighters upon himself. He then again charged forward through an open area in order to allow his teammates to safely reach cover. After killing at least 10 insurgents, wounding dozens more, and repeatedly exposing himself to withering enemy fire while moving from position to position, Staff Sergeant Miller was mortally wounded by enemy fire. His extraordinary valor ultimately saved the lives of seven members of his own team and fifteen Afghanistan National Army soldiers. Staff Sergeant Miller's heroism and selflessness above and beyond the call of duty, and at the cost of his own life, are in keeping with the highest traditions of military service and reflect great credit upon himself and the United States Army.

FIGHTING THE HIG

SHOK VALLEY, AFGHANISTAN

The Taliban aren’t the only enemies we face in Afghanistan. Another insurgent group is called Hezb-e-Islami Gulbuddin (HIG). Founded in 1977 by Hektamyar Gulbuddin, a warlord living in the mountainous border region of Afghanistan and Pakistan. During the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan, his organization received hundreds of millions of dollars in military aid from Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, and even the United States, despite their hard-line anti-western ideology. Though this militant Muslim group shares its ideology with al-Qaeda and others, it often fought with other factions and was pushed aside when the Taliban came to power in 1994.

When the U.S.-supported Northern Alliance pushed the Taliban out of Kabul in 2001, and NATO troops joined in the coalition, HIG leaders set aside their differences with the Taliban and found new purpose in opposing the coalition. HIG strongholds are still found in remote villages in the area along the Pakistan border. One of them is the Shok Valley.

The Shok Valley has always been dangerous for outsiders—so much so the Soviets never dared venture into it. The deep, narrow mountain cleft has no road leading into it, making the fortress-like village at the valley’s head a perfect hideout for the HIG, situated at nearly ten thousand feet above sea level.

Afghan Commandos, however, don’t share the Russian’s fear.

Trained by teams of U.S. Special Operators, the Afghan Commandos have earned a reputation as tough, capable soldiers who won’t back down in battle. In early April 2008, the Afghan Commandos and the men of Special Forces ODA 3336, who trained them decided to take the fight to the HIG in the Shok Valley, knowing coalition forces had never been up there. Intel reports indicated the village held several high-value targets, as well as a sizable force of foreign fighters who were believed to be stockpiling ammunition and weapons for future attacks against the Afghan government.

Aerial view of Shok Valley

In the early morning hours of 6 April, two twin-rotor Chinook helicopters carrying ODA 3336 commanded by Captain Kyle M. Walton thundered away from Jalalabad and dropped into the Shok Valley, following its contours at low level. In addition to the Green Berets and Afghans, a few others were along for this mission. Twenty-two-year-old Staff Sergeant Zachary Rhyner was on his first combat deployment as an Air Force Joint Terminal Air Controller, or JTAC. A Wisconsin native, he’d only recently finished the intensive two-year training required to qualify for his job.

Staff Sgt Zachary Rhyner

Staff Sgt John Wayne Walding

Staff Sergeant John Wayne Walding was about as American as a man can get. Born on the fourth of July, his parents named him after the iconic hero of the American western. His early life was full of heroes—men who mentored him in his hometown of Groesbeck, Texas, as well as those he watched on television. As they approached the drop zone, however, it became clear there was already a problem. There wasn’t a square foot of level ground upon which the choppers could land, despite their incredibly skilled pilots. Hovering as close as possible to the valley floor, right over a swollen, fast-moving stream, the one hundred Afghan Commandos and two A-teams of Green Berets were forced to jump nearly ten feet to the ground. Some landed in the river—a very bad thing considering temperatures were hovering around freezing.

Once the choppers were gone and the dust settled, the team was able to get a good view of the village and of the challenging climb they would have to reach it. The cluster of stone houses was perched high above, stacked one atop the other and clinging to the steep hillside marked by dozens of stone terraces, each one hand cut by generations of farmers over hundreds of years.

The people in these villages lived much like their ancestors—scratching a meager existence out of what little crops they could grow or animals they could raise in the harsh mountain environment. They burned the dung of their animals in the winter to stay warm, and the village had no electricity, no running water, and no school. Children born there most likely would never travel much beyond the confines of this valley, and so would likely never see the kinds of things American children take for granted, like television, toilets, or even paved roads.

But they did have too much of one thing—militant Islam. And as the team moved out and began their trek up the mountain, they realized HIG wasn’t their only enemy on this mission. The other was gravity. With hearts pounding as they labored upward in the thin air, the men split into three maneuver elements and wondered what kind of reception they would receive once they arrived.

The answer to that question came sooner than anyone hoped. The climb took longer than expected due to the extreme topography and the climb left them much more exposed than anyone would have liked. They were still several hundred meters from the first of the stone houses when one of the men with Walton’s group, SSG Luis Morales, saw several insurgents taking up fighting positions with RPG grenade launchers. Morales opened fire, killing both men.

Then in the words of one participant in the fight, “all hell broke loose.” Enemy fighters appeared from dug-in positions in almost every direction. The Americans were trapped below, separated on two sides of a narrow wadi, with stone houses on either side. As the firefight erupted, bullets began splattering around the Green Berets like hailstones, raining down from more than a hundred HIG fighters arrayed in an obviously well-planned ambush.

Walton’s interpreter, an Afghan who did his job faithfully for more than six years and weathered hundreds of firefights, was killed instantly. Moments later Staff Sergeant Dillon Behr, Captain Walton’s radio operator, was struck in the leg and went down. He immediately got back up and kept firing.

ODA 3336 opened up with everything they had, intent on pushing up the hill and taking the village. But the three elements were at that point separated by some distance. The command element, including Captain Walton, Behr, the Combat Controller Zachary Rhyner, and Carter, the combat cameraman, took cover in a small cut in the face of the cliff and began trying to suppress the enemy. Then Behr was hit again, this time in the arm. Morales ran to help him and took a bullet in the leg. He continued to work on Behr until he was hit again in the ankle.

Cpt Walton stepped from his position and unloaded on the enemy, drawing fire away from the two wounded men long enough for the combat cameraman, Michael Carter, to drag Behr to safety. Then Carter took the Captain’s place, laying down supressive fire while Walton rescued Morales. One more volley by Carter and SSG Rhyner allowed Walton to retrieve the body of his interpreter and friend.

Closer to the village, the lead assault element led by Staff Sgt David Sanders was pinned down. They could, however, identify the buildings where the enemy took up fighting positions and relay that information back to the control element. The problem then became that when Behr went down, his radio was left in the open. This made it impossible for Walton to communicate effectively. They had to get that radio.

That’s when the young Army combat cameraman, Specialist Carter, volunteered to go get the radio. Walton and Rhyner popped up and gave the insurgents everything they had while Carter sprinted from cover and retrieved the vital communications equipment.

Below them, the Team Sergeant, MSG Scott Ford, was sending 40-mm high-explosive grenades into windows from which insurgents were firing and directing his Afghan counterparts to do the same with their RPGs.

The effect of a five-hundred-pound GBU-38 Joint Direct Attack Munition (JDAM) on a building.

SSG Rhyner was able to make contact with a pair of F-15s on station above them. At Walton’s command, he immediately began to call them in, specifying to the pilots that their bombs would be impacting “danger close.” If the ordnance fell even the slightest bit off target, friendly personnel were sure to be killed or injured. In fact, the enemy was so close even if the bombs landed precisely where they were sent, there was no guarantee SSG Sander’s element—closest to the enemy—wasn’t going to get hurt. But they had little choice. Walton called Sanders to let him know this and received the terse reply, “Send it anyway.”

Rhyner gave the order to drop. A moment later the mountain shook as a load of bombs threw a pall of debris and black smoke in the air, covering the battlefield. Walton called Sanders to see if he was still alive. He could hear gunfire in the background as the Staff Sergeant shouted “Hit ’em again!”

A-10 Thunderbolt on a gun run

Rhyner complied, calling for air support again and again over the next six and a half hours—directing more than seventy danger-close air attacks, which may well be some sort of record. AH-64 Apache helicopters came hammering up the narrow valley at low level to decimate dozens of enemy fighters on rooftops in the village. A-10 Thunderbolts screamed in for the kill, tearing apart buildings with their powerful nose-mounted Gatling guns, and the jets overhead took turns dropping load after load of ordnance, which detonated with heart-stopping concussions only a few meters from friendly forces. All this firepower may have saved the struggling force from being overrun, but no matter how many enemy they killed, the supply of HIG fighters—and their ammunition—seemed limitless. From the way the insurgents kept pouring fire down at them, they must have been stockpiling ammunition since sometime just after the invasion of Alexander the Great.

Walton’s men and their Afghan brethren were still fighting, methodically killing any enemy fighter crazy enough to show himself, but the insurgents punched firing ports through the stone walls of many of the houses and were nearly impossible to kill without a direct hit from a five-hundred-pound bomb. And the volume of fire only let up for a few seconds whenever a bomb came whooshing in. Captain Walton’s biggest fear became the weather. If it moved in and the air support couldn’t fly, his team would very likely run out of ammunition by nightfall, and they would never survive the night.

Another Combat Controller, Air Force Staff Sergeant Robert Gutierrez had already seen his share of combat, including a harrowing firefight only three months earlier for which he earned the Silver Star. On this mission Gutierrez was with a part of the force separated across the wadi from the command element. He could see enemy scrambling all over the mountains around them and worked with Rhyner to call in hellfires and attack helicopters to keep them at bay. Twice during the battle Gutierrez was hit in the helmet by AK-47 rounds yet continued to fight. By this time the firefight had been going non-stop for hours.

Aerial view of Shok Valley

Rhyner called in another air strike and the fighter jet overhead dropped a two-thousand-pound bomb. It hit right on top of a house crawling with enemy fighters and the jaw-dropping explosion brought the entire operation to a halt as everyone gaped at the sight. SSG Seth Howard, a sniper, used the lull to reposition himself to get a much better view of the remaining enemy trying to kill them. But the respite didn’t last long and the enemy reinforced their losses and renewed their attack. From his new vantage point, Howard began lining the enemy up in his sights and knocking them down, one by one.

ODA 3336 recons the Shok Valley

Nearby Master Sergeant Scott Ford was fighting alongside John Walding as they struggled to reach the command element to help evacuate the wounded. They finally made it and were laying down suppressive fire, hammering away side-by-side when Walding took a round just below his right knee, nearly severing his leg. Ford redoubled his rate of fire, watching his comrade out of the corner of his eye as the tough Staff Sergeant put a tourniquet on his own leg, the lower half of which was hanging by a few tendons. He tightened the tourniquet down until the bleeding stopped, then folded the severed member up into his crotch and tied it in place using his boot laces. Ford had never seen anyone so hard core.

Then Walding, grimacing in pain, pulled out a pre-loaded syringe of morphine and tried to self-administer the painkiller. But he had it backwards, and the needle shot into his thumb. He let slip an expletive, then started laughing.

Video capture of Shok Valley

“You gonna be okay, John?” Ford asked.

“Well, my thumb feels pretty great.”

Despite the dire circumstances, they all laughed at that one. But then Ford took a round in the chest. His interceptor body armor saved his life, but he was blown off his feet as if he’d been kicked by a giant invisible mule. Winded, but angry, he jumped up and resumed firing. It wasn’t funny anymore. It was obvious a sniper had them in his sights. As Ford continued firing, he searched in vain for the man who shot him and his partner.

But the sniper found him first. Another round hit him in the arm, almost amputating it right there on the battlefield. He went down again and Walding crawled over and began to administer first aid.

Walton received word over the radio that aircraft spotted another group of two hundred insurgent fighters coming to reinforce the enemy. It was time to get out of there.

Their biggest problem was it would be impossible for them to descend to the valley floor the same way they went up without being shot to pieces. They would have to find another way for those highest on the mountain to get down. Captain Walton ordered Staff Sergeant Sanders and Specialist Carter to find an alternate route down the mountain.

There were no good options. But after some scouting, the two reported they’d found a way down that offered relatively decent cover. That was the good news. The bad news was the route included several drops that from the top looked almost suicidal. Walton was ready to give anything a try, however, so as Rhyner continued to call down retribution from the sky, the least badly wounded began the arduous process of evacuating those hurt the worst.

It took a long time and there were several spots where they had to literally lower each other down using a length of nylon strap. In other spots they had to just slide over the edge of a wall and drop twenty feet to the terrace below. This maneuver would have been a challenge, even without wounded. But at this point half the team had sustained injuries. John Walding was seen calmly making his way down the mountain, carrying his leg. Captain Walton and SPC Carter risked their necks to gather up the weapons left lying around by the wounded, tossing them down the cliff to keep them from the enemy.

As the team slowly worked their way down, one man stayed behind to cover their withdrawal—the sniper, Seth Howard. At one point, when insurgents were threatening to overrun the command element, he ran into the open and engaged the enemy, driving them back. Soon he was down to only one magazine of ammunition. But he stayed and kept methodically picking off targets, making the HIG fighters think twice about pursuing the team as it withdrew back down the valley. Once everyone got away, Seth left his position and made his own way down all alone.

SPC Michael D. Carter put the “combat” in Combat Camera.

A Black Hawk medevac helicopter tried to land in the narrow valley to pick up wounded, but received a hail of enemy gunfire, damaging its rotor blades. It hovered just long enough for its flight medic to jump out, then pulled out. A second Black Hawk came in to land and it too took fire. But it maintained a hover over the roiling river and the Green Berets picked up the worst of their wounded and waded out into the ice-cold stream and put them aboard. As they did, the pilot was grazed by a bullet, but managed to hold the helicopter steady so the wounded could get aboard.

By the time everyone made it out, two of their Afghan allies were dead and over half the ODA was wounded, four critically. They fought for nearly seven hours, killing upwards of one hundred fifty of the enemy who ambushed them. Many of those kills were thanks to the skillful handling of air support assets by Zachary Rhyner. He called in nearly five thousand rounds of cannon fire, a dozen five-hundred-pound bombs, nine hellfire missiles, a two-thousand-pounder, and one hundred sixty-two rockets, all while fending off the enemy with his own rifle and dodging near-constant machine gun and sniper fire. For his actions, the young Airman received the Air Force Cross.

In all, ten men of ODA 3336 received Silver Stars for valor that day.

And John Wayne Walding—complete with a new prosthetic leg plans to return to combat duty and continue to take the fight to the enemy alongside his buddies in the 3rd Special Forces Group. And if he ever comes across any HIG fighters again . . .

. . . well, they might wish they had killed him when they had the chance.

ODA 3336 receive their Silver Stars.

STAFF SGT DILLION BEHR, ROCK ISLAND, IL

Sergeant Behr’s suppressive fire allowed wounded U.S. and Afghan soldiers to be evacuated to covered positions. Throughout the duration of the six-and-a-half-hour battle, Sergeant Behr continued to fight and kill the enemy, until he was physically incapable of holding his weapon.

SPC MICHAEL DAVID CARTER, SMITHVILLE, TX

Specialist Carter left his covered position and charged fifteen feet into insurgent fire providing suppressive fire and recovering a critically wounded detachment member. Recovering the critically wounded soldier, Specialist Carter immediately began rendering life saving aid and continued to suppress insurgent positions threatening to overrun their element. Specialist Carter once again exposed himself as he ran across open ground under intense Insurgent fire to recover a Satellite Communications Radio. Upon returning to the ODA Commander’s position, he assisted him in operating the radio, while continually providing suppressive fire on numerous insurgent positions. His actions allowed the ODA Commander to re-establish communication with higher headquarters, and aided in directing Close Air Support strikes (CAS) onto insurgent positions attempting to maneuver on their location.

Lt Gen John F. Mullholland awards the Silver Star Medal to Master Sgt Scott Ford of 3rd Battalion, 3rd Special Forces Group (Airborne) for his valor in Afghanistan.

MASTER SGT SCOTT FORD, ATHENS, OH

As Sergeant Ford organized a Commando element to assist in moving casualties, he was shot in the chest plate by sniper fire.

He immediately regained his feet and continued to suppress the enemy until his upper left arm was nearly shot off by a second sniper round.

With a tourniquet on his arm to stop arterial bleeding, Sergeant Ford was able to conduct a courageous climb down the mountain, with the assistance of another teammate, under intense machine gun and sniper fire.

Sergeant Ford never stopped leading his men and continued to organize forces to assist his comrades until he was physically incapable of fighting and had to be evacuated.

STAFF SGT SETH E. HOWARD, KEENE, NH

As insurgent fighters moved to within forty feet of the C2 location, Sergeant Howard, with complete disregard for his personal safety, moved into the open and engaged advancing insurgent fighters. Sergeant Howard’s composure and courage were remarkable as he provided counter sniper fire, killing between ten and twenty insurgents, including at least four trained insurgent snipers. While his teammates made a daring descent down a sheer cliff, under fire Sergeant Howard continued to provide suppressive fire. He refused to withdraw from his position, although he had less than a magazine left of ammunition, until all of his ODA and Commandos were off the mountain.

STAFF SGT LUIS MORALES, FREDERICKSBURG, VA

As he maneuvered his element into position and began placing a heavy volume of suppressive fire against the elevated insurgent positions, one detachment member in his assault force was critically wounded along with several Afghan Commandos. With total disregard for his own personal safety, Sergeant Morales heroically ran back out into the line of fire to render aid using his body to shield his teammate until he, himself was wounded. Ignoring the severity of his wound, and losing a tremendous amount of blood, he quickly administered self aid and then returned to providing life saving aid to his more severely wounded teammate until he became critically wounded by a second gunshot. After being pulled back to cover, Sergeant Morales assisted in treating three other critically wounded casualties, reassuring both junior soldiers and Commandos. At one point during the six-and-a-half-hour battle, his position was nearly overrun by insurgent fighters, but Sergeant Morales held his ground killing multiple insurgents. During evacuation down a sixty-foot cliff, he again put forth a momentous effort by refusing assistance allowing other detachment members to move more seriously wounded casualties.

STAFF SGT DAVID J. SANDERS, HUNTSVILLE, AL

While organizing casualties for extrication off the mountain, his Team Sergeant was wounded by insurgent fire during movement on the primary route. Sergeant Sanders immediately reconnoitered for and located an alternate but more arduous route down the mountain. Sergeant Sanders ascended and descended the mountain three times in order to move non-ambulatory casualties to the Casualty Collection Point (CCP). During danger CAS strikes he shielded the casualties with his body from falling debris. Once all casualties were consolidated at the CCP Sergeant Sanders reconnoitered and established a Helicopter Landing Zone for extraction.

STAFF SGT RONALD J. SHURER, PULLMAN, WA

Sergeant Shurer courageously exposed himself by running fifteen meters through heavy insurgent fire to render aid to his seriously wounded Team Sergeant. Despite being hit in the helmet and wounded in the arm by Iinsurgent sniper fire, he immediately pulled his Team Sergeant to a covered position, and rendered aid as Insurgent rounds impacted inches from their location. Without hesitation, he moved back through heavy insurgent fire to treat another teammate that suffered a traumatic amputation of his right leg from insurgent sniper fire. Sergeant Shurer rendered life-saving aid to four critically wounded casualties for more than five and a half hours. As the lone medic at the besieged location, and almost overrun by and fighting against nearly two hundred insurgent fighters, Sergeant Shurer’s bravery and poise under fire saved the lives of all wounded casualties under his care. He evacuated three critically wounded, non-ambulatory, teammates down a near vertical sixty-foot cliff, despite being under heavy insurgent fire and falling debris from numerous danger-close air strikes. Sergeant Shurer ingeniously used a six foot length of nylon webbing to lower casualties, and physically shielded them from falling debris to ensure their safety.

Ten soldiers from the 3rd Special Forces Group (Airborne) are honored at a ceremony in Fort Bragg, North Carolina. They received the Silver Star for their actions in combat during their deployment to Afghanistan. From left are Capt Kyle Walton, Master Sgt Scott Ford, Staff Sgt Dillion Behr, Staff Sgt Seth Howard, Sgt 1st Class Luis Morales, Lt Gen John F. Mullholland, Staff Sgt David Sanders, Staff Sgt John Walding, Staff Sgt Ronald Shurer, Staff Sgt Matthew Williams, Spc Michael D. Carter, Col Gus Benton II, and Command Sgt Maj Terry L. Peters.

STAFF SGT JOHN W. WALDING, GROESBECK, TX

Staff Sergeant John W. Walding, United States (U.S.) Army, heroically distinguished himself by exceptionally valorous conduct in the face of the enemy of the U.S., while serving as the Communications Sergeant for Operational Detachment Alpha (ODA) 3336, Special Operations Task Force—33, Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force—Afghanistan, in support of Operation Enduring Freedom.

On 6 April 2008, Sergeant Walding heroically distinguished himself during a combined raid against a high-value target in Shok Valley, Nuristan Province, Afghanistan.

With disregard for his own safety, Sergeant Walding fought his way through intense sniper, machine gun, and RPG fire to reinforce his ODA and Afghan Commandos pinned down by effective insurgent fire.

Sergeant Walding led an assault element from the ODA and Commandos uphill for over an hour to reach the beleaguered force pinned against a near vertical sixty-foot cliff.

Undeterred, knowing they had multiple urgent casualties and in danger of being overrun, Sergeant Walding led a courageous attack five hundred meters up treacherous terrain, braving danger close air strikes to reinforce the most forward position.

After moving forward under insurgent fire for more than an hour and killing multiple insurgents, he finally reached the besieged element and began to organize Commandos to evacuate casualties.

His heroic actions and leadership under the worst of circumstances motivated his Commandos and his team mates to fight on as they faced nearly two hundred well trained insurgents, during the six-and-a-half-hour gun battle.

As Sergeant Walding suppressed iInsurgent positions, in order to protect his fallen comrades, he was shot in the lower right leg by sniper fire, effectively amputating his leg below the knee. Despite receiving a life threatening amputation of his leg, Sergeant Walding continued to suppress insurgent positions in order to defend his comrades.

His heroic actions and determination in the face of extreme pain inspired the entire assault force.

His actions are in keeping with the finest traditions of military heroism and reflect distinct credit upon himself, Special Operations Task Force—33, Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force—Afghanistan, Special Operations Command Central and the United States Army.

Capt Kyle Walton, right, and Master Sgt Scott Ford, left, talk to an interpreter in Eastern Afghanistan.

CAPT KYLE M. WALTON, CARMEL, IN

While pulling casualties to cover, the tip of his rifle barrel was shot off. Knowing his weapon was no longer accurate beyond a short distance, Captain Walton courageously continued to identify targets for other soldiers to engage despite being impacted by two rounds to his helmet. As the situation deteriorated and the casualties mounted, Captain Walton came to the realization that his entire element was in danger of being completely overrun by insurgent forces. Captain Walton relayed this information to his headquarters and requested the placement of danger close attack helicopter and fixed wing close air support on all known and suspected insurgent positions. He authorized the use of two-thousand-pound bombs to be dropped almost directly on top of his position in order to prevent insurgent forces from overrunning the American and Afghan elements. His audacious decision allowed just enough freedom of maneuver to evacuate all casualties down a sixty-foot cliff in preparation for medical evacuation.

STAFF SGT MATTHEW O. WILLIAMS, CASPER, WY

While under insurgent sniper and machine gun fire, Sergeant Williams descended with his Team Sergeant off a sixty-foot near vertical cliff to the Casualty Collection Point (CCP) and continued providing him first aid. Sergeant Williams observed, shot, and killed two insurgent fighters attempting to maneuver on the CCP. Sergeant Williams then braved a hail of small arms fire and climbed back up to the cliff in order evacuate other injured soldiers, and repair his ODA Commander’s radio. After returning to the CCP with three wounded U.S. soldiers, Insurgent fighters began maneuvering to overrun the CCP for the second time. Sergeant Williams and the Afghan Commandos launched a counterattack and gallantly fought for several hours against at least two hundred insurgents. With disregard for his personal safety, he exposed himself to insurgent fire from multiple directions and carried casualties to the Medical Evacuation helicopter, then continued to suppress numerous Insurgent positions and direct Commando fire.

AIR FORCE CROSS:
STAFF SGT ZACHARY J. RHYNER AIR FORCE

For service as set forth in the following:

CITATION:

The President of the United States of America, authorized by Title 10, Section 8742, United States Code, takes pleasure in presenting the Air Force Cross to Senior Airman Zachary J. Rhyner, United States Air Force, for extraordinary heroism in military operations against an armed enemy of the United States while serving with the 21st Special Tactics Squadron, at Nuristan Province, Afghanistan on 6 April 2008. On that date, while assigned as Special Tactics Combat Controller, Airman Rhyner executed a day rotary-wing infiltration with his Special Forces team to capture high-value insurgents in a village on the surrounding mountains. While climbing near vertical terrain to reach their objective, the team was attacked in a well-coordinated and deadly ambush. Devastating sniper, machine gun, and rocket-propelled grenade fire poured down on the team from elevated and protected positions on all sides, immediately pinning down the assault force. Without regard for his life, Airman Rhyner placed himself between the most immediate threats and provided suppressive fire with his M-4 rifle against enemy fire while fellow teammates were extracted from the line of fire. Airman Rhyner bravely withstood the hail of enemy fire to control eight United States Air Force fighters and four United States Army attack helicopters. Despite a gunshot wound to the left leg and being trapped on a 60-foot cliff under constant enemy fire, Airman Rhyner controlled more than fifty attack runs and repeatedly repelled the enemy with repeated danger close air strikes, several within one hundred meters of his position. Twice, his actions prevented his element from being overrun during the intense six-and-a-half-hour battle. Through his extraordinary heroism, superb airmanship, and aggressiveness in the face of the enemy, Airman Rhyner reflected the highest credit upon himself and the United States Air Force.

Secretary of the Air Force Michael B. Donley presents Staff Sgt Zachary Rhyner the Air Force Cross.

CITATION TO ACCOMPANY THE AWARD OF THE BRONZE STAR MEDAL (WITH VALOR) TO SSG ROBERT GUTIERREZ JR.

Despite being struck twice by 7.62-mm bullets in the helmet, Sergeant Gutierrez maintained his calm demeanor and continued to prosecute targets. As the fight continued, the insurgents shifted their efforts toward arriving helicopters and engaged them with heavy fire. Sergeant Gutierrez coordinated with the ground force commander to delay friendly force extraction until the enemy positions could be suppressed. Enabled by his systematic control of air power during the fight, all seventeen friendly casualties were safely evacuated and forty enemy fighters were killed.

SSG Robert Gutierrez receiving the Bronze Star and the Purple Heart for action in 2008.

THE “AWAKENING”

SOMEWHERE IN IRAQ

The pundits were finally pointing to progress in Iraq. The “Awakening” started in al Anbar province as a coalition between tribal sheiks, was bolstered by the added commitment of U.S. troops known as “the surge.” By mid-2008, it was beginning to look like the coalition might actually win the war if the Iraqi and American people could be convinced to stay the course.

As the “Awakening” took hold, Special Operations forces were as busy as ever, moving around the country at a frenetic pace, following intelligence leads and hunting down remaining elements of al-Qaeda wherever they could be found.

That is how Specialist Joe Gibson, a Ranger with 2nd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment, found himself packed in with a platoon of his comrades on Black Hawk helicopters streaking through the Iraqi night toward the likely hiding place of a band of al-Qaeda holdouts.

Gibson was no stranger to missions like these. In three combat tours of Iraq, he’d participated in dozens of similar missions. It was the kind of thing he’d joined the army to do—go where the action was and do bad things to bad people.

The Black Hawks flared hard and set down in a farmer’s field near their objective. The Rangers piled out and fell into the prone position around the Night Stalker Black Hawks, their weapons loaded and ready to fire.

Seconds later they realized the enemy was similarly prepared. No sooner had the dust from the helos departure begun to settle than AK-47 and RPK machine gun rounds began to crack and zip through the tall grass. The rangers deployed in the tall grass and returned fire, making full use of their sophisticated night vision giving them the edge on the nearly moonless night.

Joe Gibson was returning fire as best he could when he heard a scream that made his blood run cold. It was Jared (pseudonym), a good friend in his platoon. “Joe! I’m hit, man! Help me!” he cried.

Joe thrashed his way through the chest deep grass to reach his wounded comrade. When he reached Jared, there was blood everywhere. Gibson had a medical kit, so he dropped to his knees beside his buddy and started tearing the pouch open, looking for the special hemostatic bandages that would stop the bleeding quickly. Bullets still snapped by him, cutting down stalks of grass, but Joe was totally focused on helping his friend. “I’m here, bro. Hang on. We’ll get you fixed up.”

A moment later the platoon medic arrived, and the Black Hawks were summoned to take out Jared and another injured man. Due to the ongoing firefight, however, the choppers would have to land several hundred meters away. The wounded Rangers would need to be carried to the extraction zone. Joe volunteered to help.

Rangers train in urban environment.

They put Jared on a skedko litter. Joe and the medic each took one end and began the arduous trek to the pickup zone. Even with the copious amounts of adrenaline flowing through his veins, Joe soon realized carrying the litter was going to be harder than he expected. The night was pitch black and the uneven ground was crisscrossed with deep drainage ditches. Before they’d gone half the distance to the PZ, the young specialist Gibson was more tired than he’d ever been.

In Ranger School, they’d gone for weeks with only a few hours sleep each night and about half as much food as they normally required. They’d patrolled through freezing swamps, up and down steep mountains in southern Appalachia—but nothing was as difficult as this. Concern for his fallen brother simultaneously sapped his strength and spurred him to move faster.

Once they got Jared on the medevac Bird, Gibson felt much better. He knew the hospital back at base offered an incredibly high standard of care and if they could get Jared there quickly, he’d be okay.

Now it was time to go back and find the enemy fighters who shot Jared—if Joe had anything to say about it, those men were going to pay.

He hustled to rejoin his squad. By the time he reached them, the al-Qaeda who had been shooting at them were either dead or melted away into the darkness. The only sound invading the moonless night was the swishing of Gibson’s boots as he waded through the tall grass. He picked his feet up as he walked along, placing them carefully to not fall into a ditch or trip over an unseen obstacle. Then he stepped on something soft—like mud, only his foot didn’t sink in. At first he thought nothing of it. Iraq hadn’t seen regular trash pickup for years, so there was garbage everywhere.

But if it was trash he stepped on, why were there alarm bells going off in his head? If there was anything Gibson learned in three tours in Iraq, it was to listen to those bells.

He turned back to investigate. Before he’d retraced two steps, however, a man materialized out of the ground. That’s when Gibson realized there was a ditch there, and the trash he stepped on was actually a man.

The realization came in an instant. But in that instant, the Iraqi raised a rifle and pointed it at him. Gibson was staring down the barrel of an AK-47.

Instinct took over. Gibson swatted the barrel of the AK to the side just as the enemy fighter pulled the trigger. Flame exploded from the barrel—right next to Gibson’s face. The muscular Ranger was too close to bring his own weapon to bear, so he simply tackled the guy. The two of them went down in a heap, both men clutching desperately at the rifle. The man screamed like a wounded animal, which Gibson countered by calling for reinforcements. He wrestled the man’s rifle away, but the man wouldn’t give up that easily. He grabbed Gibson’s helmet and pulled so hard it ripped the kevlar right off, nearly taking his head with it. The man then grabbed at Gibson’s own M4 assault rifle, but since it was attached to his body armor by a sling, there was no way his assailant was going to be able to shoot him with it, so Joe concentrated on hammering the guy in the face with both fists.

Rangers receive a large amount of instruction in the principles of hand-to-hand combat. It is gruelling, painful, and dangerous even in a training environment, but at the moment, Joe Gibson was glad for every minute of it. Positional control, he’d learned, was paramount in winning such a battle—and he put this into practice by rolling on top of his attacker and bearing down on him, fists still pounding the man’s temples. Then, he felt the fighter reaching for something on his waist. At first Gibson assumed the man was going for a knife, but then the man shouted one word in English that made the young Ranger’s hopes for surviving the mission diminish rapidly.

“Bomb!”

Joe Gibson was sitting on top of a suicide bomber. The man was attempting to activate his explosives-packed vest.

Gibson reached down and snatched the man’s hand away from his belt. He tried to roll himself onto the man’s other arm to keep him from reaching the activator with his other hand and killing them both. But this allowed the man to bring his knees up and use them to push Gibson’s body armor up into his chin. Lithe and amazingly strong, the man kept increasing the pressure until Gibson thought he might pass out. If that happened, it was all over but the fireworks. Gibson knew he was running out of time.

But one of these dirt bags shot Jared and hurt him bad. Jared had a pregnant wife at home. Come to think of it, Gibson had a wife, too. A fire ignited in his gut. One of them, the Ranger or the terrorist wasn’t going home tonight. And Joe Gibson decided that man wasn’t going to be him.

With every remaining ounce of strength, Gibson bore down on his opponent and sent his fist crashing into the man’s temple. The powerful blow stunned the man and he momentarily went limp. Gibson pushed off of his attacker and swung his M4 around. He pushed the barrel into the terrorist’s gut and pulled the trigger. The M4 coughed twice more and the contest was over.

Jared and Joe were both going home to see their wives.

Five months later, to the day, Joe and Jared walked onto the stage in an auditorium on the Army base at Fort Lewis, Washington. Their wives were both there to watch and cheer as Jared received a purple heart for the wounds he suffered that dark night in Iraq. After that, Specialist Joe Gibbs stood at attention, looking slightly uncomfortable as Admiral Eric Olson, the commander of Special Operations Command, pinned a Silver Star to his chest.

He would gladly have lived without the medal. But the action was just what he joined up for. Not long after that, Gibson reenlisted for another tour with the 3rd Platoon, A Company, 2nd Battalion of the 75th Ranger Regiment.

Specialist Joe Gibson

Rangers practice combatives

MARSOC FIREFIGHT

HERAT PROVINCE, AFGHANISTAN

By mid-2008 Coalition intelligence gathering capabilities were improving across Afghanistan. Everything from signals intelligence to human intelligence to unmanned aerial observation platforms blanketed the country, which made it very difficult for Taliban kingpins to move around the country without being spotted.

Spotting big game is only half the battle, though. When a Taliban kingpin is found, someone has to go in and get him. And that job is never easy. Many warlords travel with large security details who will all gladly fight to the death protecting their bosses.

Normally, that’s just fine with the warriors of the Marine Special Operations Command, known as MARSOC.

The first MARSOC units were created with veterans of the Marine Force Reconnaissance companies. In 2005 MARSOC became a part of U.S. Special Operations Command. Though new, the organization flourished, taking the same training as and working closely alongside special operators from other services. By 2008, MARSOC teams were colocated with a Special Forces A-teams, training and mentoring Afghan commandos.

In late June 2008, intelligence indicated a Taliban warlord had taken up residence and was stockpiling weapons in a remote canyon north of Herat in western Afghanistan, not far from the Iranian border. Two teams of MARSOC operators were tasked with acting on the crucial, time-sensitive intelligence. They were ordered to capture or kill the Taliban leader before he moved elsewhere.

The MARSOC Marines formed up with a platoon of twenty-four Afghan National Army Commandos on a mission to apprehend the high-value Taliban target. They moved out well before dark in up-armored Ground Mobility Vehicles (GMVs) armed with .50 caliber machine guns and high-tech MK-47 grenade launchers; a machine gun that fires 40-mm grenades instead of bullets. They hoped to arrive on their objective before first light.

The twelve-hour drive across the desert to their target was slow and grueling, as none of the roads in that region are paved, and they avoided most of them anyway, since improvised explosive devices made what roads were passable too dangerous to use. Once they reached the mountains, the danger increased exponentially, as the team was forced to follow existing dirt paths winding through deep, sandy wadis strewn with boulders and hard-to-see washouts.

Prepping equipment

As they carefully picked their way in the darkness toward the objective, attack helicopters tracked their progress, providing cover from the air. Several kilometers from the objective, they stopped to make sure everything was ready for the final push.

Captain Dan Strelkauskas, the thirty-two-year-old team leader for the mission, had already briefed his men on the complex operation before leaving their Forward Operating Base. Now he carefully checked each of his men to ensure they were ready for action. The cave complex Intel identified as a likely weapons cache was situated in a deep, narrow wadi with only the most rudimentary dirt track leading into it. There was no other way in or out. Once they entered the wadi, even turning the GMVs around was going to be difficult.

They wound their way cautiously up the sandy ravine. Rounding a corner, the team was confronted with two abandoned vehicles in the road—a beat-up white SUV parked to one side and an old red pickup parked directly across from it. One side of the road was a sheer cliff face and the other side was a thirty-foot drop. There was no way around the vehicles. Obviously, someone didn’t want people driving any further up the valley. Beyond the vehicles, a cave entrance was visible in the side of the mountain. That was their objective, the likely hideout of the Taliban leader.

The team stopped momentarily and considered whether they should push the pickup out of the road with their powerful GMVs. But the enemy had to know that, too, and the Marines suspected the insurgents may have rigged the abandoned vehicles with explosives. So two of the MARSOC operators, SSgt Eddie Heredia and SSgt Eric Guendner dismounted and cautiously approached the vehicles to see if they were wired.

Heredia was a stocky twenty-eight-year-old gun-team leader, the son of Mexican immigrants, joined the Marines because he wanted to give back to the country that gave his family the opportunity to rise from poverty. Captain Strelkauskas and Staff Sergeant John Mosser, the unit’s acting “Gunny”—he was selected but not yet promoted to Gunnery Sergeant—got out with a few others and pulled security while Heredia and Guendner moved up to the vehicles and peered inside and underneath. As they did, several single shots rang out from somewhere overhead. Everyone ducked, but as they scanned the steep and craggy mountainside, nobody could tell from where the firing originated. Quiet returned to the canyon and everyone wondered if their presence might have scared off any insurgents in the area. The presence of attack helicopters often did that.

The vehicles were clean. Captain Strelkaukas received word from the pilots orbiting overhead that they were low on fuel and would have to return to base soon. Their sophisticated thermal optics showed no sign of life in the area. So Strelkaukas bade them farewell and sent them on their way. As the Marines and commandos pressed forward, the sun had yet to rise, but its light was already chasing the shadows into the deepest recesses of the canyon. The men no longer needed their night-vision goggles.

That’s when the firestorm began.

Guendner and Heredia were walking back from the disabled vehicles blocking the road. They had almost reached Captain Strelkauskas, Gunny Mosser, and the others in the three lead vehicles when the chatter of machine guns echoed through the canyon from a half-dozen heavily dug-in and well-camouflaged enemy positions somewhere high up the mountainside. Rounds smacked into the ground, coming in from above, ahead, and behind. Within seconds Heredia was hit in the leg, his buddies inside the vehicles watching in horror as he went down in a hail of gunfire. Rounds tore up their vehicles, snapping off antennas and starring the bulletproof-glass windshields. Immediately the turret gunners returned fire, peppering the mountain with grenades and .50 caliber tracer rounds. SSgt Guendner was returning fire when he, too, was hit and went down with a bullet in the leg.

Taliban fighters hiding out in rocky areas

The biggest problem was that the enemy positions were so well camouflaged the Marines couldn’t see where the fire was coming from. There was no room to turn around and get out of the kill zone and the disabled vehicles kept them from going forward. The only way to escape the fusillade of fire was for every vehicle in the convoy to back up the road—under fire. One false move, however, would send a vehicle crashing over the thirty-foot cliff next to the road. Gunny Mosser saw this and diregarding the bullets falling like rain, he broke cover and exposed himself to wave directions at the rest of the convoy to get them to back out of the ambush. His leadership got the convoy moving in the right direction, and several vehicles escaped the worst of the fire. Miraculously Mosser was not hit in the process.

Sgt Carlos Bolaños was driving the second GMV with his partner, Sgt Sam Shoenheit, manning the grenade launcher in the turret. Seeing his two wounded mates still on the ground in the kill zone, Sgt Bolaños jumped out and began laying down suppressive fire with his M240G machine gun while Shoenheit ran through an entire belt of 40-mm grenades, peppering the mountainside. Meanwhile, SSgt Heredia was trying to put a tourniquet on his own leg as bullets slammed into the ground all around him. He needed help.

Bolaños jumped back in the GMV and shouted, “Hold on!” He punched the accelerator and the heavy vehicle shot forward toward their fallen comrade. Standing in the turret, Shoenheit loaded a new belt in his MK-47 and was holding the trigger down, hammering the hillside in front of them with high-explosive shells. Just then, a sniper round smashed into the lip of his helmet, causing his night-vision goggles to practically explode. The bullet ricocheted off the NVG rail and entered his skull. Shoenheit crumpled back into the vehicle, unconscious.

Bolaños dove over the seat to pull his partner out of the line of fire. He was tearing open bandages and trying to stem the flow of blood from Shoenheit’s head wound when a Navy medical corpsman ran up to take over the grenade launcher. But before he could mount the vehicle and man the gun, he, too, was hit and fell between the two GMVs. Bolaños jumped out and pulled their injured Doc back to the vehicle behind his own, bandaging his wounds once he got the man inside. Then he ran back to help Shoenheit.

MARSOC Marine

Back in the kill zone, Captain Strelkauskas and his small team took the only cover they could find behind their shot-up GMV. They were completely pinned down. As Strelkauskas returned fire, bullets ricocheted off the GMV’s hood, peppering his hands and arms with fragments. When Chief Petty Officer Anthony Shattuck, the senior Corpsman assigned to the mission, was hit, Gunny Mosser stripped off the man’s gear and tried to render first aid. Though the bullet hit Shattuck in the torso, he was still conscious and actually diagnosed his own wounds. When he began having trouble breathing, he knew one of his lungs was hit and was filling up with fluid. As Mosser looked on, Shattuck produced a long needle and plunged it between his own ribs to relieve the pressure.

Enemy machine gunners and riflemen zeroed in on their position and even the slightest attempts at movement were met with a hail of deadly accurate gunfire. Knowing the rest of his team would be desperately trying to reach them, Mosser got on his radio and ordered that no one else was to enter the kill zone. “Nobody else comes in. If anybody else comes in, you’re going to die. We are pinned and pinned bad.”

As he sent the command, Captain Strelkauskas stuck his head up momentarily and could see Heredia about sixty feet away, still fumbling with a tourniquet on his leg. He started to yell at the stocky Latino, but then Heredia was hit again and dropped like a marionette whose strings had just been cut. That was all Strelkauskas could stand. He jumped up and sprinted to Heredia’s side, ignoring the bullets snapping by only inches from his body.

The Captain grabbed his wounded Marine and dragged him back to the relative safety of their GMV. As he did, Gunny John Mosser ran out and did the same for the other wounded Marine, Ssgt Guendner. Mosser gave first aid to Guendner while Strelkauskas worked to save Heredia, who was gushing bright-red blood from a hole in his chest, just above his body armor. Despite the Captain’s best efforts, Heredia died moments later.

At the rear of the column, another medical Corpsman, Chief Petty Officer Jeremy Torrisi was standing in the bed of a GMV, listening to the chatter on the radio. When he heard all the other medical personnel forward of his position were hit, he stuck his head into the vehicle and yelled at the driver. “Let’s go! Get me up there!”

The driver pulled out of the back of the convoy and squeezed past the other vehicles, whose gunners were also probing the mountainside with their heavy weapons, trying to slow the volume of enemy fire. They were still having trouble identifying the well-hidden Taliban positions. Torrisi joined them, firing an M240G machine gun as they swerved around the rest of the vehicles in the convoy. But they were still seventy-five yards short of the three lead vehicles taking all the fire when the road became too narrow to pass, stopping their forward progress. Enemy machine gun fire raked the ground between Torrisi and those he was trying to reach. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of his family back at home. Then he thought of his friends, wounded and trapped in the kill zone. He picked up his weapon and yelled, “I’m going in.”

The gunner in the turret looked back at him and shouted, “Good luck.” Torrisi took a deep breath and jumped down out of the back of his vehicle, sprinting across the “beaten zone” where enemy fire was kicking up geysers of dirt. Taliban fighters saw him right away and he could hear incoming rounds snapping by his head as he ran.

He slid in behind the third GMV like a baseball player dodging a throw at home plate. He looked in the open back door and saw a man hit in the arm and shoulder. He’d already been bandaged up and looked like he would survive for a while, so Torrisi pushed off and ran for all he was worth to the second vehicle in the convoy, the one which had been driven by Sgt Bolaños. He found Bolaños cradling Shoenheit, who had a bullet embedded in his skull. Torrisi’s eyes went wide when he saw brain matter squeezing out the entry wound. He shouted over the din of battle to Bolaños, “We’ve gotta get him out of here quick.” Schoenheit was conscious, but disoriented and unable to speak. Bolaños jumped into the driver’s seat and began backing the vehicle out of the kill zone very slowly while Torrisi put pressure on Schoenheit’s wound and tried to reassure him everything was going to be okay.

The enemy was shooting down from such an elevated position that rounds kept coming in through the open gun turret and bouncing around inside the vehicle. Angry now, Torrisi picked up a rifle with an M-203 grenade launcher attached and started sending 40-mm high-explosive grenades up through the hatch back at the enemy. The unorthodox procedure worked and the rain of explosives projectiles landing on the Taliban positions above had the desired effect. The rounds coming in through the hatch stopped.

MARSOC Marine checks out a cave in Afghanistan

When the truck had backed up as far as it could, others came to help with Shoenheit. Torrisi grabbed his aid bag and again sprinted through the kill zone up to the lead vehicle, where he found Captain Strelkauskas, Gunny Mosser, the medic, Anthony Shattuck, SSgt Guendner, and several others, including the body of his friend, Ssgt Heredia. But there wasn’t time to grieve.

Though Shattuck was in very bad shape, he was still working on his own wounds. Torrisi took over and immediately patched up the sucking chest wound so his mate could breathe. He also reinserted the needle into his chest cavity to relieve the fluid buildup on that lung.

“Hey!” someone shouted. “I wouldn’t stand there if I were you!” Torrisi looked up to see another friend, Army Special Forces medic, Sergeant First Class John Crouse. Crouse, busy putting pressure on a bloody bandage on his own leg, yelled, “Hey, I was standing right where you are when they shot me!” But Torrisi didn’t have a lot of options for where to stand—there were seven men huddled behind that GMV and he had to keep working on Shattuck. He’d already jabbed that huge needle between the wounded Corpsman’s ribs half a dozen more times to keep him breathing.

Just seconds later Torrisi suddenly realized he should have heeded Crouse’s warning, The Taliban bullet felt like he’d been jabbed in the buttocks with a hot poker. But he couldn’t let go of Shattuck at that moment to tend to his own wounds.

“Here, I got you covered,” shouted one of the Marines, giving Torrisi a chance to shift his body around so another Marine could bandage his backside while he continued to keep pressure on Shattuck’s sucking chest wound. Though it was painful, Torrisi figured a bullet in the butt wasn’t going to kill him right away. He also knew if they didn’t get Shattuck to a hospital quickly, he wasn’t going to make it.

Mosser took in the news, then nodded and picked up his handheld GPS unit. “Be right back.” He sprinted from cover back into the open where his Global Positioning System could get an unobstructed view of the sky. He stood there, stock-still allowing the little device to lock on to the satellites, while he ignored the enemy fire zipping through the air around him. Once the GPS had a good fix on their position, he ran back to cover. He then called the coordinates in on his radio and ordered an air strike run on the mountainside. When the aircraft checked in overhead, he shouted to the others, “This is gonna be danger close. Keep your heads down.”

The bombs shook the mountainside, sending geysers of flame and debris into the air, while Torrisi draped his body over Shattuck, doing his best to shield his friend from debris and shrapnel. As he painfully stood up, he realized the enemy guns had gone silent. He stopped to listen and for the first time in over two hours, nobody was shooting at them.

Gunny Mosser was listening to the chatter over the radio. “Medevac helicopters are inbound. Let’s get these guys out of here.” Torrisi nodded. Ignoring the pain in his backside, he grabbed Shattuck by the legs. Another Marine got him under the arms, and two others picked up SSgt Guendner in similar fashion. Half expecting the enemy to open up on them again, they hustled the two wounded men out of the kill zone, carrying them all the way to the rear of the convoy where a Black Hawk medevac helicopter found a place to set down.

They wanted Torrisi to get on the helicopter with the rest of the wounded, but since he was the only one of the medical personnel still walking, he refused. Instead, he hobbled back up the road treating other walking wounded—Afghan commandos and American alike.

When they finally got everyone out of the kill zone, Captain Strelkauskas called for more air strikes with two-thousand-pound bombs on the hillside. An after-action battle damage assessment counted forty dead Taliban fighters. Schoenheit had a bullet surgically removed from his brain and was flown back to the states, where he faces years of therapy. Jeremy Torrisi was offered a flight home as well, along with some time off to recover from his gunshot wound. But he refused and stayed in theater another four months.

For his actions during the engagement, John Mosser was awarded the Navy Cross, while Captain Stelkauskas and Doc Torrisi were both presented with the Silver Star. Sergeants Shoenheit and Bolaños each received Bronze Stars with “V” device for valor.

When asked about their awards, they all say the same thing: They didn’t do what they did, for an award. They did it for each other.

Sgts Sam Shoenheit and Carlos Bolaños

NAVY CROSS:
STAFF SERGEANT JOHN S. MOSSER, UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS

The President of the United States of America takes pleasure in presenting the Navy Cross to Staff Sergeant John S. Mosser, United States Marine Corps, for extraordinary heroism in connection with combat operations against the enemy while serving as Team Sergeant, Marine Special Operations Company H, Second Marine Special Operations Battalion, U.S. Marine Corps Forces, Special Operations Command, in support of Operation Enduring Freedom on 26 June 2008. While maneuvering through restrictive terrain to prosecute a time-sensitive high-value target, dismounted patrol members were engaged with heavy volumes of high-angle automatic and sniper fire. Within seconds, two Marines lay wounded in the kill zone unable to seek cover. With disregard for his own safety, Staff Sergeant Mosser maintained keen situational awareness and calm under fire as he rushed to the aid of the nearest Marines. He single-handedly dragged the wounded Marine over thirty-five feet to a covered position and administered first aid. With the entire patrol desperately pinned down, one Marine killed, and five more severely wounded, Staff Sergeant Mosser devised a plan to break contact and extract his team. While adjusting close air support, he personally shielded and moved the wounded Marine through the kill zone a second time to safety. He then ordered the extraction of the remaining twenty-two members trapped in the ambush. As he instructed the team to move, Staff Sergeant Mosser exposed himself repeatedly to enemy fire and engaged the enemy until all members were safe. By his courageous actions, bold initiative, and total devotion to duty, Staff Sergeant Mosser reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and of the United States Naval Service.

Maj Danny Strelkauskas, commanding officer of Force Company, 1st Reconnaissance Battalion, 1st Marine Division, I Marine Expeditionary Force, pins the Navy Cross on Gunnery Sgt John S. Mosser.

SILVER STAR:
CAPTAIN DANIEL A. STRELKAUSKAS, UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS

The President of the United States of America takes pleasure in presenting the Silver Star to Captain Daniel A. Strelkauskas, United States Marine Corps, for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action against the enemy as Mission Commander, Marine Special Operations Company H, Second Marine Special Operations Battalion, U.S. Marine Corps Forces, Special Operations Command, in support of Operation Enduring Freedom, on 26 June 2008.

While conducting a time-sensitive mission, the dismounted patrol Captain Strelkauskas was leading came under heavy machine gun and sniper fire from entrenched positions. He began immediate actions to move his team to cover as the patrol began taking casualties. With complete disregard for his own life, and under heavy fire from more than a dozen positions, Captain Strelkauskas ran deeper into the kill zone to drag a wounded Marine across open terrain to a covered position.

With multiple fragmentation wounds to his hands and rounds ricocheting near his position, and with the enemy machine guns delivering devastating fire and preventing the movement of casualties, he ordered a critical Close Air Support deployment of two-thousand-pound bombs well within danger close parameters. This provided enough suppression of the enemy force to allow the relocation of the wounded to a consolidation point where five friendly Wounded-in-Action and one friendly Killed-in-Action were evacuated.

Upon completion of the evacuation, Captain Strelkauskas coordinated follow on air strikes resulting in an estimated forty enemy killed in action, including several mid-level Taliban leaders. Through his tremendous courage and extraordinary battlefield leadership, he guided his team out of a complex and well-orchestrated ambush executed by an entrenched enemy.

By his bold initiative, undaunted courage, and complete dedication to duty, Captain Strelkauskas reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and of the United States Naval Service.

Maj Daniel Strelkauskas, right, shakes the hand of Maj Gen Richard Mills after Mills presented him with the Silver Star for his heroic actions in Afghanistan.

SILVER STAR:
HOSPITAL CORPSMAN FIRST CLASS JEREMY K. TORRISI UNITED STATES NAVY

For service as set forth in the following Citation: The President of the United States of America takes pleasure in presenting the Silver Star to Hospital Corpsman First Class Jeremy K. Torrisi, United States Navy, for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action against the enemy as Team Corpsman, Marine Special Operations Company H, Second Marine Special Operations Battalion, U.S. Marine Corps Forces, Special Operations Command, in support of Operation Enduring Freedom on 26 June 2008. Petty Officer Torrisi courageously exposed himself to accurate fire numerous times when his company was pinned down in a mountainous draw by withering fire from a concealed enemy position. After several Marines and other medical providers were hit by enemy fire, he ran into the kill zone with total disregard for his own safety to provide desperately needed aid. After stabilizing one Marine and dragging him to cover, he ran back through a hail of bullets to the side of a fellow Corpsman and began to administer life-saving medical care. Petty Officer Torrisi was subsequently shot in the leg but continued treating casualties for several hours while refusing medical treatment for his own injuries. Under intense fire, while simultaneously directing the evacuation of the wounded Marines and Sailors, he laid down suppressive fire until every team member had evacuated the kill zone. His actions ultimately saved the lives of four of his teammates, and his courage and quick thinking prevented further loss of life. By his relentless resolve, courageous fighting spirit, and unwavering dedication to duty, Petty Officer Torrisi reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.

Maj Gen Paul E. Lefebvre, the commander of U.S. Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command presents Chief Petty Officer Jeremy K. Torrisi, a hospital corpsman with 2nd Marine Special Operations Battalion, with the Silver Star Medal.

"Shura"-a town meeting with local tribal leaders

THE BATTLE FOR AZIZ ABAD

HERAT, AFGHANISTAN

Sometimes the heroes lose, even when they win.

In the war in Afghanistan, the Taliban have consistently bested the Coalition in one very important area: the media battle space. In August 2008 our FOX News combat coverage team was eyewitness to such an event. Though the battle was a spectacular tactical victory, it became a strategic loss because the Taliban did a better job at getting out their side of the story.

A Taliban sentry fired the first shots shortly after 2:30 a.m. as Afghan Commandos and U.S. Special Operations Command troops breached the outer gates of the walled compound at Aziz Abad. Though the Marine Special Operations Team employed a daring deception to achieve surprise, they were engaged by gunfire from AK-47s and machine guns almost immediately after entering the compound.

The target was a Taliban commander named Mullah Siddiq. United States Special Forces and Marine Special Operators had been tracking him for months. Credible information received after a “Shura”—a town meeting with local tribal leaders—revealed the timing and location of a Taliban meeting. The intelligence was confirmed painstakingly and U.S. Special Operations Command officers sat down with their Afghan Commando counterparts to carefully plan a “capture-kill mission” with the goal of taking several key Taliban leaders into custody. Cameraman, Chris Jackson and I accompanied the raid force.

Gunnery Sergeant Joseph Parent, the #2 MARSOC operator on the mission was wounded shortly after they burst into the compound. A Taliban fighter on a rooftop opened up directly above the breach element, hitting the Gunnery Sergeant in the leg. The bullet entered his Achilles tendon and exited the bottom of his foot.

Taliban fighters on the rooftops, concealed from the team on the ground, were clearly visible on the thermal scope aboard a USAF MC-130 Combat Talon aircraft orbiting overhead. The overhead imagery was transmitted via satellite radio to the Joint Tactical Air Controllers with the assault and support elements and they quickly called in a burst from its 20-mm cannons.

The heavily-armed AC-130 Hercules is crewed by capable special-operations airmen.

At that point the second half of the assault element—members of the 7th Special Forces Group and additional Afghan Commandos arrived on the scene. As they attempted to enter the Taliban compound, they too were engaged by insurgent fighters. Once again the JTAC called in fire from above. For the next 2 1/2 hours, the 207th Afghan Commandos and their U.S. Army and Marine counterparts were in a running gunfight with heavily armed Taliban fighters inside the walled compound. When enemy combatants on rooftops and in narrow alleyways could not be dislodged by fire from U.S. and Afghan troops on the ground, they were hit by supporting fire from manned and unmanned aircraft overhead.

Getting ready for a night op

By dawn 22 August, the compound was finally secured. Several dozen noncombatants—women, children, and old men—were segregated and guarded by an Afghan commando security element. Throughout the engagement, Jackson and I watched as noncombatants were humanely treated, provided with medical attention, and quietly questioned about what they knew.

To those of us who were there, it appeared that the commandos and their American advisers achieved a stunning success. Gunnery Sergeant Parent was the only friendly casualty, a senior Taliban leader and twenty-five of his fighters were dead. One of the houses turned out to contain much more than anticipated—large stockpiles of arms and ammunition, a major cache of IED-making material including explosives and detonators. Because the quantity of contraband was too large to carry off, a representative sample of the material was loaded aboard commando trucks and an engineer placed a small explosive charge on top of the remainder. When the charge detonated it set off a large secondary explosion that literally brought the house down.

The search element also found communications equipment, terrorist training paraphernalia, thousands of dollars in cash, and the biggest shocker—care packages mailed from the United States and meant for the Special Operators from friends and family members at home. Apparently the Taliban had an agent inside the base who was stealing boxes of cookies before they could be delivered to the intended recipients.

After the compound was secure, we accompanied the ODA team sergeant through the entire objective. We counted about twenty-five bodies, all armed, and apparently all military-age males. The commandos also discovered two wounded females—apparently a mother and her child. They were gently treated by a Special Operations medic and quickly evacuated to a hospital as the commandos withdrew from the objective. As our cameras recorded, the mission was a success due to careful planning and measured application of firepower. It appeared to be a major victory.

Unfortunately the good news quickly turned bad.

While we were en route back to the base from which the raid was launched, the U.S. ground force commander received a report over the radio that pro-Taliban agitators were already asserting that “the Americans killed thirty civilians.” The claims and alleged number of civilian casualties quickly escalated.

Shortly after we arrived back at the Special Operations base, an official in Kabul called the governor of Aziz Abad and assured him the families of any civilian casualties would receive reparations in the amount of $1,000 U.S. per person. Then things really got out of hand. Around noon 22 August, Iranian television reported, “A U.S. air strike south of Herat in western Afghanistan has killed more than fifty innocent civilians, including women and children.” This report was soon picked up by news agencies in the U.S., Europe, and the Middle East. The United Nations command in Kabul offered to transport Afghan and foreign reporters to the Special Operations base so they could see the confiscated weapons and other evidence for themselves. It didn’t help.

That evening, as we filed our full story with videotape of the raid and an interview with a U.S. Special Forces officer, unnamed “sources” at the Ministry of the Interior in Kabul were telling reporters seventy-six civilians were killed. Little or no attention was paid to the Taliban arms and equipment seized as evidence, the material destroyed at the objective or to the care provided to the wounded woman and child. It was clear families were coming out of the woodwork to claim their $1,000 in reparation money.

By the morning of 23 August, little more than twenty-four hours after the operation, the international press wires and mainstream news outlets were carrying photos of damaged buildings and an Afghan human rights organization was charging that eighty-eight civilians—among them twenty women and fifty children—were killed by U.S. forces. Later in the day, President Hamid Karzai first called for an investigation, then denounced the operation. Though fewer than fifteen new graves were evident in nearby cemeteries—and no local civilians sought medical treatment for wounds, the number of noncombatant casualties allegedly inflicted in the raid continued to rise.

Hamid Karzai

On 24 August, with several investigations under way but not yet complete, the Afghan Commando battalion commander was “suspended.” That evening, in a report on FOX News, I noted that neither cameraman Chris Jackson nor I saw any noncombatants killed and that “the Taliban and their supporters are running a very effective propaganda campaign to discredit coalition efforts. Exaggerated claims of damage often result in demands for more money in compensation.”

The next day the United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan concluded that ninety civilians were killed during the raid at Aziz Abad. Then, as we were departing for Herat, we were informed the government in Kabul was offering $200,000 to settle the claims and was planning new restrictions on Special Operations Commando missions. In fact, the Special Operations units with which we had been embedded, were ordered to “stand down” and did not perform another mission for more than forty-five days afterward.

The mission accomplished one thing spectacularly well—highlighting the need for the Coalition to do a better job in the media battle space—something that, unfortunately, still has plenty of room for improvement. But for those who participated in the mission, there is no doubt—the raid at Aziz Abad was yet another instance of brave men doing a dangerous and thankless job in the shadows of the Hindu Kush to rid the world of the kind of men who would fly airplanes into buildings full of real, not imaginary, innocent people.

In another sad development that highlights the level of corruption within the Afghan government, the informer who passed the information about the whereabouts of the Taliban safe house was reportedly arrested and sentenced to death by an Afghan court several months later. Proving once again that many times the most dangerous enemies our troops face may not be in the Taliban, but those who reside in the halls of power.

Prisoners of the Taliban liberated by U.S. Special Operations forces