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The weather in November was nice. At 8:00 A.M. it was a pleasant 61° outside of the cave. Farwan and his men were gathered in a semi-circle at the cave’s main entrance, using the dirt as a sketchpad to draw up the next attack. Farwan’s wife, Noor, was inside making them breakfast. As the TTP planned a mission that would occur in the southern tip of Pakistan, Noor would assemble backpacks full of rations they would require.
“Here is the main building.” Farwan used a stick pointing to a rectangle he had drawn. He made an X on one side of the rectangle and informed his militia, “The main door is here but there is also a back door here.” He added another X representing the back door to the diagram.
Farwan looked up at his men to confirm they were paying close attention. His number one, Asfand, was not. Instead, he was looking up into the sky. Farwan had a great deal of trust in Asfand because he heard things that others could not. Whether it was the sound of boots trudging down a dirt trail, or jets flying in from afar, the man had a sixth sense which often proved useful information to Farwan.
“What is it?” Farwan asked.
Asfand shook his head slowly, indicating he hadn’t figured it out. He then held up his hand to the group, requesting quiet for a moment. From somewhere in the distance, beyond the first tall hill, a single gunshot could be heard. This time, all the men, not just Asfand heard it.
Farwan suggested, “That is probably my son, Naveed. He’s out hunting this morning.”
Asfand shook his head again cocking it to one side, as if his head was a sensitive antenna, which he was utilizing to better fine tune the sound.
A moment later, there was another gunshot. This time Asfand appeared annoyed, as if the gunshot was disturbing his sensitive listening apparatus. He gazed up into the clear blue sky, shielding his eyes with his hand to block out the morning sun.
When he finally looked back at the men, his entire countenance had changed. Asfand was terrified. His very worst fears had been realized.
“Quick, we need to get inside!” insisted Asfand with a sense of urgency.
Even if the terrorists had made it into the cave, it wouldn’t have saved their lives. The largest bomb ever developed, the Massive Ordnance Penetrator or MOP, nosed into the top of their cave complex. The 30,000-pound earth-penetrating weapon had a warhead of 5,300 pounds. This bunker buster was capable of blasting through 200 feet of reinforced concrete. It vaporized everything within a square mile. To ensure there were no survivors, the B-2 bomber dropped another MOP. The explosion ripped into the mountain a thousand yards to the north. A rumble could be felt up to 100 miles away.
Two miles to the west, Naveed heard the explosion and quickly ducked down behind some boulders. A tenth of a second later, the shock wave passed over him. From above him a landslide of rocks broke loose from the hillside and started rolling toward him.
Having survived dozens of armed conflicts and having avoided bullets that had missed him by mere inches, Naveed thought it ironic that this would be the way he died. Frantically scratching at the ground, Naveed dug at the loose soil next to the boulder. Seconds before the slide enveloped him, Naveed dove sideways into the trench, covering his face with his hands.
When the cascade of dirt, rocks, and brush had finally finished tumbling down the mountainside, nothing was spared. Years of game trails that had been co-opted by Farwan and his men to move around the hills had been erased. And one of the hunters who knew the terrain like the back of his hand vanished beneath the slide.