Part 15 (2/2)
Alex Newsom would have been happy to leave the men of departing 3-71 Cav alone, but he and his 3rd Platoon had been posted to Combat Outpost Kamu and needed some guidance on the terrain and the people. The thing was, the 3-71 troops had been at Kamu for only a few weeks themselves and thus didn't have much to offer. What they did know, they shared, but by now they were running on fumes. Indeed, Newsom had never seen American soldiers more burnt out, emotionally and physically, than the guys from 3-71 Cav at Camp Kamu. They'd lost friends and leaders, including Ben Keating, Jared Monti, and Joe Fenty; they'd had their tour extended to almost sixteen months; they were dead-eyed and pale.
After the men of 3rd Platoon were dropped off by chopper on May 18, their seats were occupied by members of 3-71 Cav on their way out. Newsom had with him his platoon sergeant, Sergeant First Cla.s.s Rodney O'Dell, Staff Sergeant John Faulkenberry, and a couple of dozen others. It was ridiculous: they hadn't even been issued maps for their new area of operations. The day before, Newsom had frantically dashed around the office buildings at Bagram Air Base, eventually prevailing upon a private to hand over his own rather shabby map indicating the location of Combat Outpost Kamu. Such was the level of preparedness they had going in.
The residents of Kamdesh Valley were still growing accustomed to the idea of having an American presence in their midst. Many locals seemed confused by the new cast of characters, and a number approached Newsom to ask for money that they felt was owed them-for fields ruined by chopper landings, for rental fees for King Zahir's former hunting lodge (now used as part of Combat Outpost Kamu), and on and on. Newsom had no funds to hand over, so he had to do some talking-”Give me some time, and we'll figure this out,” he pleaded-but that got him only so far. Soon some of the locals began making veiled threats: if they didn't get paid, bad things would happen. One elder lifted the veil and said straight up to Newsom, ”You are going to be ambushed very soon.”
Combat Outpost Keating was spartan when Tom Bostick took command in May 2007. The bunkers were bare-bones. There was a junkyard on the grounds, and at the southern edge of the outpost were a burn pit for refuse and a tent that served as the maintenance bay. Nearby, troops urinated in ”p.i.s.s-tubes” and defecated in latrines built over fifty-five-gallon drums cut in half, whose contents would each day be burned using JP-8, the military's kerosene-based fuel. The ignited latrines smelled horrid, fouling the air. Walking in through the front gate, the new arrivals would see, off in the distance to their right, in the southwestern corner of the camp, a small wooden structure; that was the gym. Turning left, or east, as they entered the grounds, they'd pa.s.s a bunker on their left, with the mortar pit on their right. The aid station and sleep quarters for 1st Platoon had been constructed adjacent to the former Afghan Department of Forestry building. To their right sat the bunks for 2nd and 3rd Platoons, alongside a site designated for a future morale, welfare, and recreation center, with s.p.a.ce for storage on the upper floor and sleeping quarters for transient personnel on the lower.
A view of Combat Outpost Keating from the east, May 2007. (Photo courtesy of Bulldog Troop) (Photo courtesy of Bulldog Troop)
Continuing east, next came a newly constructed command post and sleep quarters for Headquarters Platoon, followed by the old Afghan National Police station, and then finally, at the far eastern edge of the outpost, right by the road, some huts for the Afghan National Army company.
Inevitably, new troops would tilt their heads back and take in the peaks looming over them. The southern mountain rose almost right from the border-or ”wire”-of Combat Outpost Keating. Somewhere up there were Observation Post Warheit and Kamdesh Village, though neither was visible from the outpost. Those on the base could see, to the west on that southern mountain, the ”Switchbacks,” as the path running back and forth up the steep slopes was known, from whose track insurgents would sometimes fire.
On the other side of the Landay-Sin River from the camp stood two mountains, one to the northwest, closer to Urmul, and one more directly to the north. The enemy lurked in specific spots there as well, ones so frequently used that the troops of 3-71 Cav had come up with nicknames for them, which they pa.s.sed on to their successors with 1-91 Cav: the Putting Green was a patch of gra.s.s on the mountain to the northwest, and the Northface was straight north. A Marine serving with 1-91 Cav, training ANA troops at the camp, dubbed an area southwest of the outpost the Diving Board. Bostick ordered that construction continue on two additional ”hard-stand” buildings, made of concrete and rock and able to withstand a blast. He also directed that a mosque be built on the base.
In early June, Captain Bostick drove the six miles from Camp Keating to Combat Outpost Kamu to check the place out. Newsom had briefed him on 3rd Platoon's activities there: patrols that were generally uneventful, a few shura meetings held with elders in Mirdesh and Kamu. The chief elder in Kamu was a retired Afghan Army colonel named Jamil Khan, a man in his late sixties with a huge white cloud of a beard and a significantly disabled arm, who could nonetheless outpace any of the nineteen- or twenty-year-old U.S. troops when they hiked up and down the mountain trails with him. Newsom liked Khan, who eschewed the typical ”You're an American, give me money” school of Afghan leaders.h.i.+p. He seemed to have a real sense of military pride and patriotism. He also had a checkered past, according to many: as a colonel in the Afghan Communist Army, Khan had fought against and been defeated by members of the local Kom community, who viewed him as a turncoat. There were various stories floating around about what had happened to his arm: some said he'd been wounded in combat, others that he'd been caught in bed with another man's wife. The one thing the Americans were fairly sure of, in June 2007, was that Jamil Khan was just about the only friend they had in the area.
When he met with his new commander, Newsom had a makes.h.i.+ft cast around his right hand, which he had fractured but not told anyone about. He was supposed to inform Bostick about such things, it was true, but in this instance there was good reason for his reticence: he'd broken his hand on the head of Habibullah, an ANA soldier, with whom he'd gotten into a scuffle one evening when the Afghan was stoned out of his mind and became confrontational. Now, however, Newsom had even worse news to impart: he had heard from the Kamu elders that the school the Americans had built for the kids of Kamu and Mirdesh was a nonstarter, since the parents from each village refused to allow their children to be in cla.s.s with the children from the other village. The residents of Kamu and Mirdesh had each wanted their own school, and they all felt the Americans hadn't delivered. Moreover, in spite of the poverty of the region, the United States hadn't hired locals to build the new facility. In what might have been the only example of coordinated activity between the two villages in decades, insurgents from Kamu and Mirdesh had been taking turns vandalizing and attacking the building. And this was far from the only evidence of local displeasure with Americans in general. The officers of 3-71 Cav had done their best to make sure their replacements knew what promises they'd made, but the Nuristanis invented many additional ones. These allegedly broken promises fueled a mounting sense of insult and inspired additional threats of revenge.
So Newsom's broken hand was nothing, really-the other breaks were bigger.
The Americans had many names for the insurgents. Officers called them ACMs, short for ”anticoalition militias,” but that was just the latest acronym circulating on memos from the Pentagon, soon to be replaced by ”AAFs,” for ”anti-Afghan forces.” Some officers blandly spoke of them as just ”the enemy” or ”fighters.” Another word sometimes used was dushman, dushman, a noun of Persian origin meaning, again, ”enemy.” ”Bad guys” was often the shorthand translation; there was almost a comic quality to that term, implying a return to a simpler, childlike, black-and-white view of a world that didn't bear much resemblance to the Americans' new home in Nuristan. The Cavalry officers instructed their troops to avoid using religious nicknames, forbidding them from calling the enemy a noun of Persian origin meaning, again, ”enemy.” ”Bad guys” was often the shorthand translation; there was almost a comic quality to that term, implying a return to a simpler, childlike, black-and-white view of a world that didn't bear much resemblance to the Americans' new home in Nuristan. The Cavalry officers instructed their troops to avoid using religious nicknames, forbidding them from calling the enemy hajis, hajis, which in Islam is a term of reverence for those who have made the pilgrimage to Mecca. Also prohibited were which in Islam is a term of reverence for those who have made the pilgrimage to Mecca. Also prohibited were muj, muj, short for short for mujahideen, mujahideen, and and jihadi, jihadi, from the same root. In Afghanistan, those words were used to refer to the revered mujahideen who had fought the Soviets (and who at the time had been funded by the United States). Calling the insurgents mujahideen would also imply that they had some religious justification for their attacks. It cannot be said that no one ever used these names, or worse, but such language was officially not permitted. from the same root. In Afghanistan, those words were used to refer to the revered mujahideen who had fought the Soviets (and who at the time had been funded by the United States). Calling the insurgents mujahideen would also imply that they had some religious justification for their attacks. It cannot be said that no one ever used these names, or worse, but such language was officially not permitted.
Many soldiers just called them f.u.c.kers.
Bostick had intended to return to Combat Outpost Keating after his visit, taking Newsom's platoon back with him and leaving the platoon from Legion Company (to which the late Jacob Lowell had belonged) at Kamu in its place, but a flurry of new intelligence reports suggesting that the enemy was planning to overrun Combat Outpost Kamu put an end to that plan. The captain needed to stay.
On June 6, the lone local worker at the Kamu outpost failed to show up for work. Bostick radioed Kolenda in Naray, and they discussed the need to prepare for an attack; they planned to send out two platoons. Bostick then briefed his men and listened as Newsom and his platoon sergeant, Rodney O'Dell, both eager to get in the fight, spent half an hour bickering like brothers about which one of them would lead 3rd Platoon into the mountains. Ultimately, O'Dell won out. Newsom would help command from the base with half of the platoon, which would be at the ready as a reserve force.
O'Dell and his half platoon left for the mountain, with orders both to watch over the area and to find a mountain path from Combat Outpost Kamu to Camp Keating so they and the rest of 3rd Platoon could avoid the dangerous road if need be. The platoon from Legion Company moved to take the lower ground. Newsom and Bostick sat on the rooftop of the hunting lodge with their interpreter and other officers, monitoring enemy traffic on the radio. The insurgents were speaking in Nuristani and Pashto and a third language that none of them could discern. For a time, the chatter was fairly vague. Then, in an instant, it got specific.
”We see them in position,” an insurgent announced.
Newsom radioed O'Dell and pa.s.sed on the translation.
”When the Americans get here, we will attack them, and they will fall off this cliff,” another insurgent said.
Bostick ordered Sergeant Mark Speight, in charge of the mortars at Combat Outpost Kamu, to have his men fire their 120-millimeter mortars into the hills, targeting the suspected general area where the enemy fighters might be, partly in hopes of learning more about their position: the incoming fire would cause the insurgents to talk, Bostick reasoned, and possibly to reveal some information about their location. (They didn't seem to realize that the Americans could listen in to their radio transmissions.) The mortarmen fired, and Legion Platoon, on the low ground, a.s.sessed where the ordnance had landed. O'Dell and his troops, on the high ground, fired with their M4 carbine rifles in the general direction of where the mortars had landed. Enemy gunfire erupted as a large element of forty or so fighters began conducting a complex maneuver that brought the whole force down the hill toward O'Dell's patrol, with smaller groups providing cover for one another. O'Dell and his troops took cover, returning fire with their M4 carbines. One enemy shot found its mark, hitting a rifleman, Sergeant Wayne Baird; the bullet entered Baird's forearm, traveled through his arm, and blew out his tricep as it exited his body.
O'Dell radioed in the WIA-the soldier ”wounded in action.” The bullet had hit an artery, and Baird was bleeding out; he would need a medevac. Other of O'Dell's troops stabilized the injured sergeant, trying to calm him down and prepare him for the move down the hill. In a valley-a disorienting, vulnerable, echoing s.p.a.ce,-it can be hard to tell where enemy fire is coming from, but it seemed clear that the enemy was firing upon the patrol from the hillsides to the south and southwest of the base. ”We need to reinforce the platoon element up in the hills,” Bostick told Newsom.
The enemy fire abated a bit after mortars began raining upon the area where the Americans now knew the insurgents were, allowing some of Baird's fellow troops to help him back toward Combat Outpost Kamu. Newsom and his half of 3rd Platoon grabbed medical supplies and started running up the hill to meet them. Newsom wasn't planning to go far; Bostick and the others back at the hunting lodge would be able to see his and his men's general position.
Up on the hill, Newsom spotted two insurgents some distance away, hiding behind rocks and getting into sniper positions. Just at that moment, two A-10 Warthogs arrived at the outpost.
”I got aircraft here,” Bostick radioed up to Newsom. ”I'm gonna give 'em to you. Whaddaya got?”
”I got targets,” Newsom told Bostick, then provided the relevant coordinates. The A-10s fired and hit their marks. Nothing was left of the insurgents who had been there but a second before.
Bostick also called in an emergency resupply, since 3rd Platoon was getting dangerously low on ammo. Within thirty minutes, a Black Hawk and two Apaches had flown in from Naray. As the Black Hawk pa.s.sed by him, Newsom saw a ma.s.s of muzzle flashes from the northern northern side of the mountain. This was a shock. He and Bostick knew the enemy was to the south, but they'd had no idea a whole mess of insurgents were on the northern side as well. s.h.i.+t, Newsom thought. Because their guns weren't powerful enough in and of themselves to bring down a bird, the insurgents were trying a tactic that Newsom had read about but never before seen, called volley fire: by ama.s.sing the fire of many small arms, the shooters hoped to replicate the effect of a larger weapon. It was another clear sign of discipline and training, if not of the presence of other, more sophisticated enemy fighters. side of the mountain. This was a shock. He and Bostick knew the enemy was to the south, but they'd had no idea a whole mess of insurgents were on the northern side as well. s.h.i.+t, Newsom thought. Because their guns weren't powerful enough in and of themselves to bring down a bird, the insurgents were trying a tactic that Newsom had read about but never before seen, called volley fire: by ama.s.sing the fire of many small arms, the shooters hoped to replicate the effect of a larger weapon. It was another clear sign of discipline and training, if not of the presence of other, more sophisticated enemy fighters.
The Black Hawk landed under fire. The ordnance-mainly a critical supply of 120-millimeter mortars-was quickly offloaded, and the helicopter flew away. But the insurgents didn't stop there; now they started firing at Combat Outpost Kamu, where Bostick was still trying to figure out exactly what was going on.
”Break, break, Bulldog-Six,” Newsom said, interrupting the radio chatter, ”we see them. What are your recs?”
”I'm going to give you the hundred-and-five-millimeter, and you call it in,” Bostick replied.
The 105-millimeter was a long-range howitzer located at Combat Outpost Lybert, approximately ten miles to the east of Kamu. Newsom, O'Dell, and forward observer Specialist Brett Johnson started working up coordinates to call in, using a hundred-thousand-meter grid square for the area. When they were ready, they radioed the six-digit grid coordinates, but the first rounds ended up being wildly inaccurate, landing about eight hundred yards too far to the left. Newsom called Bostick and relayed the bad news. The men at Combat Outpost Lybert fired again; these rounds. .h.i.t eight hundred yards too far to the right.
”What the f.u.c.k is going on?” Newsom snapped.
Bostick wanted to know the same, and he started hounding Newsom over the radio.
”What the h.e.l.l are you calling in?” he asked.
”I know what the h.e.l.l I'm doing,” Newsom said. ”This is not me me.”
With the 105-millimeter not functioning properly-it would later be discovered that there was a technical problem with the weapon-the return of the A-10 Warthog jets was a welcome sight. It was getting dark now, and the Warthogs fired white-phosphorous marking rounds at enemy positions.
The chatter picked up on the insurgents' radio frequency; Newsom listened with his interpreter.
”You okay?” one insurgent asked another, presumably one of the targets.
”Yes, I'm all right, they're shooting below me,” came the answer.
The A-10 circled around. Newsom told the pilot, ”Try fifty yards higher.”
The Warthog fired.
A minute later, the enemy chatter started again: ”You all right?”
”Yes, but they're getting closer.”
Newsom told the pilot to aim fifty yards higher again.
Fire.
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