CHAPTER 13

AMASS

The career is tough on marriages. I’m on my third. At least I’ve got another kick at it.

MOTHER

On September 1, 2006 we took another urgent call from Governor Khalid. The Afghan National Directorate of Security, the nation’s secret service, had just confirmed multiple reports that the Taliban in Panjwayi were admitting fatigue. We were as ready to launch Phase 2 of the operation as we’d ever be.

Our front-line force was Omer Lavoie’s Task Force 3-06, comprising two companies from the first battalion of the Royal Canadian Regiment—with Majors Matthew Sprague and Geoff Abthorpe commanding Charles Company and Bravo Company respectively. Omer also had Mike Wright with A Company of Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry, fresh from their August 19 all-night firefight with the Taliban on M’sūm Ghar. The battalion’s regimental sergeant major was Chief Warrant Officer Bobby Girouard, a New Brunswick native with twenty-nine years’ active military service in Germany, Kosovo and Bosnia, and a long list of previous NATO postings. Sniper teams had joined each of Omer’s three companies to provide precision fires as they approached each strong point. And our in-theatre Canadian special forces were now operating in our combined joint special operations task force under Colonel Dave Barr.

Artillery would be the responsibility of Major Greg Ivey’s E Battery of the 2nd Regiment Royal Canadian Horse Artillery. Their firepower came from four M777 howitzers, each of which packed enough punch to put a hole in a grape-drying hut—and we’d need to do a lot of that. In addition, the Dutch had loaned us two Panzerhaubitze 2000s. These German-built, 155mm self-propelled howitzers had incredibly high rates of fire; in burst mode each one could easily spit out one round every three seconds. We brigaded these north of Highway 1 in direct support of Omer’s task force, giving Greg as many as six howitzers to use to torment enemy positions and support our forward operating bases.

Mark Gasparotto’s 2 Combat Engineer Regiment, specifically 23 Field Squadron, would clear the countless IEDs put in the way of our advance. Each road into any of our chosen objectives would be a minefield of its own. Mark had scrounged a couple of armoured bulldozers from contractors at Kandahar Airfield (I’m not sure how enthusiastic they were about that), and with them he would create whole new roads as needed through un-mined areas. His teams, which included navy divers from the Fleet Diving Unit (Atlantic) in Halifax, would also remove or detonate everything in our way on existing routes. To do this they used route-clearance packages—units of three or four ingeniously designed vehicles. The first vehicle in these units was a weird-looking thing with a blast-proof, road-width bar stuffed with electronics that could detect IEDs. When that happened, it stopped, put down a little flag and backed off. A second vehicle then moved in with an elongated arm to excavate around the device. The third and sometimes fourth vehicle carried the engineering team itself, and in each case they decided how to dispose of the mine or IED.

We had two route-clearance packages in RC South. They were what we refer to as low-density assets, army jargon for things we don’t have many of and that everybody wants. I had seen them first in RC East when visiting the highly sophisticated and very large counter-IED task force run by the Americans. I was immediately impressed with their combination of counter-IED exploitation and counter-IED analytics, and I knew we had to create the same capability in theatre. The Canadian army has some of the best sappers in the world, but the gear they had then was so limited in comparison it was as though we’d been asking them to clear each road by putting their fingers in their ears and stamping their feet in the dirt. I sent two people from RC South to the U.S. task force and said, “You learn everything about how they do this, and while you’re learning, I’ll get the gear.” We then wrote to Ottawa saying: This is what we’re going to do and this is what we’re going to need. Send it. Then, with Mark Gasparotto’s team at the helm, we pioneered, tested and refined a whole new Canadian system of route clearance. That’s the system still used throughout the Canadian army today.

The M777 howitzer was the integral indirect gun we used to support our ground operations. This 155mm howitzer was state of the art. When we conducted our recce in August of 2005, we determined that indirect fire was essential to support ground troops. No soldier was to go outside the wire without support from an unseen artillery piece. During the recce, we determined that the 105mm howitzers Canada had planned on using would have been limited in range and ground effects. My dear friend General Andrew Leslie told me that we could acquire the U.S.-built M777 howitzer. This was a new gun and the best available. Its range and portability made it the only real option. My brigade sergeant major, Chief Warrant Officer Mike MacDonald, a master gunner, validated all our requirements, and his support of this gun further reinforced our desire to get it. The M777 ended up being extensively used and appreciated by the troops on the ground. The gunners loved it, and we moved our howitzers throughout the battlefield on the ground and by air. These guns were one of the most important combat enablers we had. No one moved without an M777 supporting them.Credit 28

General Bismillah Khan Mohammadi, the defence minister, had made sure we had all the national soldiers he could give us on behalf of the citizens of Afghanistan. After all, this was their country and their fight; we were only here to support them. We already had the 205th Corps of the Afghan National Army (ANA) fighting with us. Formed in 2004 and stationed in Kandahar, the 205th had been right beside us in all our operations across the south. They were organized as a kandak, the typical battalion of the ANA made up of some 600 troops. The 205th were independent from us, reporting up the Afghan chain of command, but they paired their troops with ours and followed our tempo. I acted as a mentor to their commander, Major General Rahmatullah Raufi, a solid soldier always ready to plan collaboratively. For Medusa, the 205th would be augmented by Afghan soldiers from other parts of the country who were serving with the 201st, 203rd and 209th Corps of the ANA. This highly visible commitment had a deep psychological impact on the population of the country, who could see that the Afghan army was now in the fight. It also gave a big morale boost to the Afghan army itself, which as of September had 26,900 soldiers, up 25 per cent from the year before.

In the south, Major Andrew Lussier would lead his recce squadron of a hundred soldiers, conducting intelligence, surveillance, target acquisition and reconnaissance (ISTAR). Most of his troops were Royal Canadian Dragoons, a senior cavalry regiment originally formed in 1883 to defend Canada against Fenian raiders from the United States. ISTAR teams drove around in LAV-25 vehicles fitted out with 7-metre masts housing radar and cameras. From south of the river, they could look right into Panjwayi and give us early warning of developments. They would be Omer’s eyes and ears.

We had other nations involved too, although national caveats required that their involvement be severely limited. About fifty soldiers of the Netherlands’ Mechanized Infantry Brigade came down from Uruzgan Province. They would conduct route protection along Highway 1, which was essential. As they drove up and down that main road, they would scare off the Taliban, thereby proving to local nationals that the insurgents had been exaggerating their power, and reassuring them that we were in charge. While the Dutch couldn’t engage the enemy, their lesser role was critical to our campaign.

A reconnaissance squadron of Danes in armoured vehicles came in from the UK task force in Helmand. Their rule of engagement was simple: don’t. That was disappointing. All they could do was position themselves as observers on the western flank and feed us any intel they bumped into. But Brigadier Ed Butler, commander of the UK contingent who had sent them, dug deep for us on another front. Ed and I hadn’t seen eye to eye for a while, especially given the events surrounding the attack on Sangin in mid-July. But there is a code: when another soldier is down, you do not question, but rather move in to support. The UK director of special forces provided us with additional UK operators to head south and block Taliban ingress through Spin Boldak and the Red Desert. This was a huge advantage to us. As long as the Taliban couldn’t get fresh troops or more ammunition, their staying power would be finite. Ed also freed up a number of Brits who could replace our own in security roles at Kandahar Airfield and FOB Martello. We also had Macedonian extras who could man the gates and get more Canadians to the front. All those fighting Canadians could then go to work for Omer.

So all in all, on that September morning, we had some 1,950 women and men ready to risk their lives in the service of humanity. We were proud of every one and grateful to have them poised for the strike, but we did not yet have enough to win. I knew that. Ben Freakley knew that. David Richards knew that. And back home, Mike Gauthier and Rick Hillier sure as hell knew that, because I had been screaming that truth to them for over a month. At least David had been honest with me. In a candid chat earlier I had asked him what further NATO support I could expect. His reply was: “Moral.” I got what he meant.

I first met Don Bolduc during my recce in theatre in 2005. He was on one of his countless tours commanding the 1st Battalion, Special Forces Group. We received a briefing from his team about the situation and I was impressed with their passion and knowledge. We were welcomed like any U.S. team would be, and he went through in detail what we would be facing. That information was important in order for us to gain a better understanding of what we were about to undertake. And Don’s inclusive approach made it easy to generate a good working relationship with him. We next met when he rotated back into the south. I enjoyed working with Don and we established a good friendship. When Medusa kicked off we were under NATO of course, and it was our friendship that allowed us to figure out how we could work together to deal with the Taliban threat. We had frank conversations, and despite no formal command and control relationship we were two soldiers who were looking to find a solution to a problem. Don was typical of the OEF relationships we had fostered—and these were invaluable in obtaining critical support during Medusa. Don, a warrior who led by example, was critical in taking Sperwan Ghar and Siah Choy. Working with him was easy, because he understood the sense of urgency and acted decisively. His ad hoc TF 31—comprising three special forces ODAS, two 105mm howitzers and a company from the 2-87 (who we’d fought alongside earlier in the tour), along with many courageous members of the Afghan National Army—allowed us to defeat the Taliban on their own turf. I can still see Don’s big smile and his overwhelming enthusiasm to get into the fight. Don’s unit did such a magnificent job that we wrote them up for the Commander-in-Chief Unit Commendation, which they received years later. I could not have been happier for these fine warriors.Credit 29

Knowing I’d get nothing from NATO, I turned to U.S. Lieutenant Colonel Don Bolduc. Don was the commander of 1st Battalion, 3rd Special Forces Group, based like us at Kandahar Airfield. Reporting through Ben Freakley’s 10th Mountain Division, Don’s mission was to use his Green Beret special operations forces to conduct unconventional warfare in southern Afghanistan. Specifically, their job was to search for the enemy, find, fix and finish him, and attack him both kinetically and non-kinetically through the use of direct and indirect approaches. Just what I needed.

When I had arrived in Kandahar to do my reconnaissance in 2005, Don was already there. He rotated out for a time but was back in place when I took over RC South. His battalion excelled at their work, which included the kinds of construction and development projects we were doing. His special forces teams were experienced soldiers with backgrounds in engineering, civics and medicine. Much like ours, their mission might have them undertaking combat operations one day and providing humanitarian assistance, constructing roadways or working with local leaders to improve governance the next. He used to smile and say, “We’re the Peace Corps with a bite.”

When I was presented with the problem of force ratios in Operation Medusa, I went to Don and had a conversation as one professional to another. We had no formal relationship but we knew each other. I explained my situation and asked if he could help. He said, “Absolutely.” With Ben Freakley’s blessing he was able to provide me with a number of operational detachments of Green Berets who could take over an area of responsibility to the south, thus freeing Omer’s battalion to push into Pashmul proper. Their specific role would be to act as a quick-reaction force, stopping Taliban ingress into Pashmul from south of the river around Sperwan and north of the river around Siah Choy. American special forces typically operate in small, elite groups, but in this instance Don Bolduc would have them all working together as a traditional force. But even then he would be too light on the ground. That problem was solved by Ben Freakley in the form of a seasoned U.S. infantry company. Known as the Catamounts (mountain cats) the 2nd Battalion, 87th Infantry Regiment had an ambitious mission: to deploy by air, sea or land, anywhere in the world, and to fight and win upon arrival. That’s all they did and they did it with relish. As Ben Freakley put it, “Chris Stoner’s 2nd Battalion, 87th Infantry Company had fought in Paktika, Kandahar, Helmand, Uruzgan and elsewhere. And those guys fought! There wasn’t a week that went by in fifteen months that they weren’t in a fight.” They also knew the Canadians well, having fought with us in Sangin in July. They joined Don Bolduc’s Green Berets and brought two 105mm howitzers with them for good measure. Together they became Task Force 31, and they would soon prove their reputation for quick reaction and ferocious combat ability. That gave us 250 more hard-fighting soldiers.

Supporting them all, we had air power. On the ground we had six British Harriers—vertical take-off fighters that could go from idle to wheels-up in under twelve minutes, and then be on top of any target in RC South in under two. And because we routinely had a dozen or so active TICs underway, we had fighters and bombers in the air every minute of the day and night. Most of these belonged to the United States Air Force, commanded in our region by Major General William Holland of Air Combat Command out of the USAF air base in Al Udeid, Qatar. The Americans had begun operating secretly out of Al Udeid in 2001, but by 2006 it was well known to all as a hub for logistics, command, and as a base for overseas U.S. air operations in places such as Iraq and Afghanistan. They controlled the allocation of Harriers, A-10s, F-16s—and, during Medusa, pushed in F-18s and marine Harriers to support us. It was astounding what we had at our disposal. F-16 Fighting Falcons (called Vipers by their pilots and crews because they look more like snakes than birds) could move around at Mach 1.2, climb to 50,000 feet in under a minute, and arrive on target to fire Vulcan six-barrel rotary cannons, Hydra rockets, Maverick and Harm missiles and AGM-158 air-to-surface missiles—or drop any kind of bomb needed to do the job. We had B-1 Lancer bombers (known as the Bone, from B-one) circling above with payloads of 56,000 kilos of ordnance each. The slow-moving B-52 Stratofortress bombers were also on station, with cannons, mines, missiles and bombs in a variety of configurations at the ready. Marine Harriers could be called on for additional support when vertical landing was necessary. In addition to air we had Task Force Knighthawk, a predominantly American aviation force comprising Chinooks, Blackhawks and Apache helicopters. Apaches, with their superior nose-mounted target acquisition and night vision equipment, also brought chain guns and Hellfire missiles into action while being able to hover, land and take off anywhere and under almost any condition, and our air cell could call on any of these at any time. Their pilots were smart, careful, energetic and dedicated pros who moved their platforms from one TIC to another with all the calm of Uber drivers. Perhaps more.

Aviation played a critical role in Regional Command South. Without helicopters, we could not have conducted medevac effectively or managed resupply and troop movement. Not having the use of attack helicopters to support our troops would have put us at a disadvantage. The U.S. under Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) had a full aviation task force of approximately fifty helicopters, including Chinooks, Apaches and Blackhawks. They were amazing to work with and always there to support our operations. When needed, we could also obtain additional assets from Ben Freakley’s 10th Mountain Division. After the handover to NATO/ISAF, this arrangement became much more difficult to manage. Under OEF, I had direct tasking authority with the aviation task force. Under NATO, however, individual nations maintained command and tasking authority for aviation. In effect, the aviation support for RC South was reduced. The first tussle we had while transitioning to NATO came from our dogged insistence that we maintain a medevac capability. Under OEF, RC South had three dedicated medevac helicopters. These were deployed as necessary to ensure that wounded soldiers could be taken to a hospital in sixty minutes or less. NATO did not have any medevac capability. It was the Americans who left that in place for RC South after July 31. Without this intervention, we would have had to curtail our operations significantly.Credit 30

At last we had everything we needed. All in all we were now 2,200 men and women on a mission. We were ready to fight.