On THE FOLLOWING DAY Shirzai’s men killed four more al-Qa’ida members at the roadblocks. None were captured. It was apparent al-Qa’ida preferred martyrdom to surrendering. No surprise there.
Out of concern that the roadblocks and our command post could become targets of car bombs, we collectively agreed that no vehicles would be allowed to pass through Takhteh-Pol going in either direction. The implementation of this decision effectively stopped all traffic traveling between Kandahar and Spin Boldak on Highway 4. The roadblocks became just what their name implied and primitive signs were put out to warn drivers there was no passage, and if they approached they would be fired on.
Shirzai’s wounded cousin remained in critical condition and would die if we did not get him better care. The policy was that we could treat Afghans on site but could not medically evacuate them to U.S. facilities. We requested an exception to policy and crossed our fingers.
That afternoon I received a message on my satellite pager to call CTC/SO. I called the office using secure voice communications, wondering what was up. The answer was not anything I had anticipated. My Headquarters contact told me that Mike Spann, a CIA paramilitary officer operating up north in the Mazar-e-Sharif area was missing and presumed dead, which if true, meant he was the first American killed in Afghanistan. I didn’t know Mike, but the news stung me just the same.
“Everyone at Headquarters is shocked that this has happened,” she said.
Really? I was surprised that anyone at Headquarters, at least if they worked in CTC/SO, could be “shocked” by this tragic news. Upset, yes. Shocked, no. Didn’t they know what was going on here? Didn’t they understand?
“Don’t be shocked again if you get some more bad news before this is all over,” I said, somewhat angered and frustrated by what I perceived to be an inexplicable naiveté at Headquarters. “This is very much an uncontrolled environment out here and anything can happen at any time.”
I really wasn’t exactly sure why this exchange concerning the news of Mike’s death had riled me so. I guess I just thought they should have understood that something like this was going to happen.
Later that same day, I received the long-awaited word that the CIA paramilitary officers were on their way to join Foxtrot, bringing the much-needed communications gear with them. I was told there were five of them inbound, which I believed was too large a group. We were living in tight conditions and were not in the best tactical situation. To our west, many thousands of enemy forces were still in Kandahar and to our east thousands more were in Spin Boldak. Moreover, the real work for us would not start until we got into the city of Kandahar and began to hunt for al-Qa’ida members and any exploitable intelligence that could be found. Given those factors, I did not believe any more Agency lives than necessary should be put at risk.
The paramilitary team was coming through the U.S. base at Karsi Khanabad, Uzbekistan, so I called up to our flight operations center and told them to only send two of the paramilitary officers to Takhteh-Pol, and that if possible, the other three should remain in Karsi Khanabad until Foxtrot reached Kandahar, and they could join us then. The person on the other end of the line gave me a “roger,” and I thought it was a done deal.
Around midnight the following night as the paramilitary team was flying in on a helicopter, I found out that all five PM officers were onboard. I was not happy with this news.
Shortly before the helicopter’s arrival, Gary and I walked out to the landing zone just outside the village. Gary expertly marked the landing zone by attaching a small infrared light to a long piece of parachute cord, and when the helo came in range he began to swing the light over his head in a circle that grew larger and larger as he slowly fed out more of the cord. The pilots with their IR goggles spotted the light and brought the blacked-out helo down, creating a total brown-out on the ground. I had goggles on to protect my eyes from the blowing sand, but I did not have any night vision goggles. Gary did, however, and he grabbed me by the shoulder and we ran together toward the helo. It was a huge exercise in trust for me because I could not see anything, and I knew there were powerful rotors cutting through the darkness that we were running directly toward. Earlier in my career I had participated in team building exercises where you fell backwards into the arms of your colleagues trusting them to catch you. That exercise amounted to child’s play compared to this. Gary delivered me safely to the bird, and I climbed up the tail ramp. Inside the cabin there was some faint light so I was able to see. I grabbed the closest man I saw.
“Who is the senior officer,” I shouted into his ear because of the noise.
“I am,” he shouted back.
“I only want two guys who know the commo system the best to stay. The other three will have to go back.”
It was a hard decision for me to send anyone back. I, of all people, understood how badly those men wanted to be there. Additionally, flying around in a helicopter in Afghanistan was risky in and of itself, and after just arriving and taking that risk, I’m sending them right back up in the air. They were going to hate me.
John, the senior officer, simply said, “OK,” and he relayed the word to the other team members. I saw the dismayed looks on their faces. Yep, they hated me.
John designated another PM officer named Pat to come with him. As the Helo sat on the ground with its engines running, the team quickly repacked the hard shell Pelican equipment boxes, being careful to make sure all the comms gear was transferred to the boxes that would remain in Takhteh-Pol. After a couple of minutes we offloaded the helicopter, and it immediately lifted off. Within an hour Foxtrot had full communications and our first written report was sent advising Headquarters of the arrival of John and Pat. Having the proper communications gear was a huge upgrade to Foxtrot team. It meant that for the first time we would be able to send and receive written CIA reporting.
Over the next few days I learned how fortunate Foxtrot was to have the two new officers on the team. John had spent an entire career in Delta Force before coming to the Agency. He was an imposing figure with a taciturn personality that conveyed the message that he did not put up with any bullshit. Even though there had been nothing from Headquarters on the subject, given John’s exceptional military background and paramilitary experience, I assumed he was supposed to take my place as Foxtrot team leader. When he said nothing about it, I asked him if this was the case. “No”, he replied, “you’re it.”
John’s partner, Pat, was an Air Force veteran. Smaller in stature than John, he was soft-spoken and generally low key, but there was an underlying toughness about him that reminded me of a Clint Eastwood character from a western. As I would learn, Pat did have some volatility in his personality if the wrong button was pushed, and he was not afraid to call a spade a spade.
With the commo gear and the two of them on board, I felt like Foxtrot was now a full-up team.
* * *
Approval for the medical evacuation of Shirzai’s wounded cousin did come through. He was flown to Germany and then eventually to the U.S., where after a year of medical treatment he recovered and then returned to Afghanistan.