Our FINAL PREPARATIONS FOR the trip to Pakistan included getting our shots updated and drawing body armor from CTC/SO. Between the body armor, sleeping bags, rucksacks, and clothing, to include cold weather gear, we had a lot of “stuff.” To transport it, I purchased a black waterproofed North Face wheeled duffle bag and managed to get most of the gear inside. The remaining items I packed into a large REI rucksack.
The last couple of days before leaving were a blur as Jimmy and I made our final preparations for deployment. During that time, however, a few events stood out. One occurred when I was catching an elevator to the 6th floor at Headquarters. When the doors opened, there stood George Tenet alone in the elevator, his trademark cigar sticking out of his coat pocket. I liked Tenet as a director. I believed he was the best director that I had served under, beginning with Bill Casey who was the director when I joined CIA. I had only met Tenet a couple times, most recently during a COS conference a year earlier. I doubted he would remember me so I extended my hand and introduced myself. Shaking my hand and smiling, he asked where I was assigned. I told him CTC/SO and that I was headed out to Pakistan, hopefully en route to Afghanistan. As the elevator stopped at the 6th floor and I started to get off, a serious look crossed his face. Just before the doors closed he said, “Be careful out there. Don’t take any chances that you don’t have to.”
Another memorable event during that time was what was probably the most serious conversation I have ever had with my wife. We were still living at the Oakwood apartments while we waited for our household goods to arrive from overseas. One evening after work, we were strolling through an old cemetery behind the apartments reading the gravestones, some with dates from the 1700’s carved into them. I decided to tell her that I would be leaving very soon and I wanted her to understand why I had to do this. As I debated on how to bring it up, I realized that perhaps a cemetery was not the best venue for the conversation, and so I waited until we were walking down the sidewalk alongside a quiet residential street.
“It looks like I’ll be leaving in a few days and I think this time it’s for real. But I won’t be going to Afghanistan, at least not right away.”
She did not appear surprised. I had been trying to deploy for weeks, but I knew the word that I was finally leaving would hit her hard.
“Where are you going?”
“Pakistan.”
“Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”
“No. I suspect at least a few months.”
There was a pause in the conversation as we continued to walk.
“I want you to know that I didn’t volunteer for this because I’m trying to get a promotion or that I’m trying to be a hero. I’m doing this because I have to. This is what I’m meant to do. I’ve known that from the moment of the 9/11 attacks.”
I had already come to terms with the possibility that I might not come back alive, although I didn’t tell her this. I had participated in some potentially deadly activities in my life, but the risks in those instances were relatively low, well calculated, and well understood. This time, though, there were simply too many unknowns to be able to evaluate what all the risks would be. It was really the first time I felt at a deep level that what I would be doing could cost me my life, and cost my family a husband and father. It would be a terrible price to pay. But each time I had considered the risks, I also remembered the thousands of Americans who had been murdered at the hands of al-Qa’ida. I also thought of the victims’ families and friends who had to endure the unimaginable pain of their loss. And was there any reason to believe it wouldn’t happen again? I certainly did not seek or want to die, but I knew if there was any cause that was worth dying for, this was it. I also knew that there were plenty of Americans who would have done anything to trade places with me, and I recognized what an honor and privilege I had been given to serve my country at this critical moment in history.
My wife did not really know or understand the full scope of what my work would entail, but she certainly knew some risk was involved. Still, after 23 years of marriage, she also knew me better than anyone.
“I know you have to do this,” she said, “And I understand why you’re doing it. Just be safe and come back home to me as soon as you can.”
“I will. I promise you I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
That conversation was my way of making peace with her. If I were killed she would know that at that moment in time, there was nothing more important to me and that I had believed in what I was doing with all my heart. I have no doubt, particularly in those early days with the horror of 9/11 still present in everyone’s mind, that every member of the small group of Americans, both CIA and military, who found their way to Afghanistan went there with the exact same belief and feelings that I had.