21
A Diamond in Afghanistan
By
Sean McCartney
Copyright 2009 by Sean McCartney
All Rights Reserved
In 2003 a four man Navy SEAL commando group came under heavy fire in the Kunar province of Afghanistan by members of the Taliban.
Three of the four SEAL’s lost their lives.
The remaining survivor was eventually found and returned to his unit through acts of unseen heroism from Americans and Afghanis.
But according to the U.S. Navy, Commanders in Afghanistan, and the U.S. Government, nothing you are about to read ever happened.
* * * *
“Say again Red Wing. Say again,” the dispatcher yelled into his headset.
The satellite radio transmission broke up and only a few words got through. “Under heavy attack…Taliban are everywhere…fighting…”
“Roger, Red Wing, I copy.” The dispatcher turned to Commander Mitchell for guidance.
“Where are they?” he asked staring at a map grid.
“Quadrant four, sir. Near the Kunar province.”
Suddenly the radio transmission broke through.
“Again, request immediate extraction…under heavy fire…repeat under…”
The transmission line went dead.
The dispatcher looked at Commander Mitchell.
“Send out the Chinook immediately,” Mitchell said. “I’ll inform the general.”
* * * *
The MH-47 Chinook took off within minutes carrying sixteen Special Forces soldiers.
As they approached the battlefield the pilot only saw two Navy SEALS fighting in the wooded area of the forest. He gave the “go” sign and eight of the Green Berets readied for the jump into the fire fight.
Just inside one of the many caves, hidden from view, a Taliban soldier aimed his SA-16 Gimlet, a Russian made surface-to-air weapon and fired.
Before the pilot could move, the missile struck true and the helicopter exploded in the air to the delight of the other Taliban soldiers.
One of the two remaining SEALS began to move out of his emplacement when a grenade exploded near him, sending him to the ground dead.
More Taliban fighters overran the area looking for the last American soldier but found nothing.
* * * *
Commander Mitchell explained the failure of Operation Red Wing as General Ramos listened intently. The loss of life always angered the general but his expression during the briefing never changed.
“Sir, I recommend we send in a force of three hundred to comb the area and look for Patrick,” Mitchell said.
The general pondered the idea as he looked at status reports and troop displacements for the war in Afghanistan. The intelligence paper just handed to him caused Ramos the most concern.
“Intelligence just told me the Taliban plans to mount a major offensive in the next 24-48 hours,” General Ramos said.
“24-48 hours?” Mitchell said stunned.
“Yes, so the idea of ordering some three hundred troops right now,” the general thought for a moment, “I don’t think is the best one.”
“He’s out there all alone,” Mitchell stressed. “We need something else then, sir. He’s probably wounded. He won’t survive the next forty-eight hours without help.”
General Ramos looked down at his reports and saw the number of troops available. Silently he cursed the administration for giving him so few soldiers. Then an idea struck him and a sly smile crept across his worn face.
“I’ve got an idea,” Ramos said and picked up the phone. “I need to see Captain Brooks.”
“What’s the plan?” Mitchell asked.
“We don’t need soldiers for this mission,” the general said. Captain Brooks entered the room.
“Sir,” Brooks said standing at attention.
“At ease captain,” Ramos began. “I need you to find a man named Jack Reed and bring him here in the next twelve hours.”
“Yes sir. May I ask the best place to begin looking?”
“Off the coast of Jamaica,” Ramos said. “He’ll be on a boat fishing.”
“Yes sir,” Brooks said saluted and left.
“Sir,” Mitchell began trying to choose his words carefully, “all due respect, Reed is a treasure hunter.”
“Yes I know that,” Ramos said.
“So we are going to use a treasure hunter in a war zone?”
“Do you know Jack Reed? A war zone is the least of his worries.”
“He’s not going after treasure sir.”
“No,” Ramos said, “Reed’s going after an American Navy SEAL and he’s the one person I know that can bring him back.”
* * * *
Aarif Qalzai walked his herd of goats closely along the field near the forest. He was a shepherd like his father and his father before him. After years of war and bloodshed he relished quiet days with his goats.
Aarif saw the sun going behind the clouds and felt the need to get home. As he called for his animals some slipped away into the wooded area on the outskirts of the forest.
Shaking his head at the stupidity of his goats he entered the woods to retrieve the lost ones from the herd. Using his staff he poked and prodded two of the animals and they quickly rejoined the group.
The Shepherd laughed at the noises they made and turned to leave the forest and stopped.
An American soldier lay before him with a torn uniform and blood smeared across his face and body.
The Shepherd knelt close to the American and could hear him breathing. Aarif looked around hoping to see other soldiers but saw nothing.
The Shepherd pulled the wounded soldier out of the leaves and brush, straightened him up and flung him over his shoulder, balancing himself with his staff.
Fear gripped him as he felt his perfect day ending badly. Aarif moved the herd toward the Sabri-Minah village continuously looking over his shoulder.
* * * *
The transport helicopter touched down on the rocky ground and Diamond Jack Reed, treasure hunter, rubbed his eyes and could not believe only fourteen hours ago he was fishing off the coast of Jamaica. Now he found himself in a world he left behind years ago. Jack followed two military policemen into a large tent.
“Jack,” General Ramos said with a smile.
“General,” Reed replied.
“How was the trip?”
“Fine if you don’t mind leaving the Caribbean for this God forsaken place.”
“Welcome to the end of the earth.”
“Thanks general, but it does make me wonder what I am doing here?”
“Sit,” the general motioned to a chair. “What I am going to tell you is top secret but I need someone of your expertise.”
“You lost a top secret treasure?”
“Something like that.”
Jack looked intrigued. “Go on.”
“Two nights ago one of our SEAL teams was doing recon work for us to help eliminate a high value target when they came under attack. Three of the four were killed but there is still one out there.”
“Yeah, and?”
“I want you to find him.”
Jack shook his head, “No way.”
“Jack, you told me that if I ever needed a favor to ask. Well I am asking.”
“It’s not what I do. Besides if the team was looking for a high valued target, I know who they were looking for and the Taliban will fight till the death to protect him. Don’t you have some special commando ninja units you use for stuff like this?”
“We sent in a Chinook helicopter and the bastards shot the thing down.”
Jack sighed, “How many men?”
“Sixteen.”
Jack shook his head in disbelief.
“With Iraq going all to Hell we’ve just got intelligence reports saying the Taliban is planning a major offensive and I need every man available. The White House has only given me the bare minimum and I want this guy back, Jack.”
“And you thought of me?”
“You have a habit of finding things in places where no one else can.”
Jack pondered this for a minute. “It’s going to take time to get my team in place.”
The general cut him off. “No,” he said, “can’t do that. This is top secret Jack. No one from the outside can know about this mission. Now or ever.”
“Then who can I use?”
“Jack, you’ve been through this area before.”
“That was in the late eighties general. Things are a lot different now.”
“We have two Afghani guides, Sadaq Jan and Wakil Hassan you can use and also Captain Brooks.”
Captain Brooks stepped forward into the tent. Tall with broad shoulders and a square jaw he reminded Jack of a younger version of himself.
“What’s the name of the SEAL?”
“Patrick,” the general said.
“Patrick what?”
“For security reasons I can only tell you his first name.”
Jack shook his head. “Where is he?”
“In the Pashtun area.”
Jack looked at a map on the wall. He scanned the strange looking country of Afghanistan. Once his eyes locked in on the Kunar province he turned away.
“You know he’s probably already dead.”
Ramos stared at Reed commanding an answer.
“All right, I’ll do it. How much time do I have?”
“Thirty-six hours.”
“Good, at least I won’t be rushed,” Jack said.
* * * *
In the village of Sabari-Minah Aarif Qalzai called a council meeting. He waited for everyone to sit before he began.
“The American needs our protection from the Taliban,” the shepherd said.
“The Taliban will kill us if we don’t hand over the American,” a council member interjected.
Arguments erupted in the small adobe. Fear of the Taliban outweighed the promise from the United States to help this struggling country.
The village chief raised his hand and everyone got quiet.
“It is our honor as Pashtun people that we do not refuse sanctuary to a stranger.”
A young boy entered the home and stood patiently.
“Yes,” the chief said.
“A message from the Taliban,” the boy said. “Hand over the infidel or suffer his eventual fate.”
Members of the village council looked to the chief who did not waver in his resolve. “The American is our guest,” he said, “and we won’t give him up as long as there is a man or woman left alive in our village. That is our reply.”
The young boy left with the message.
“For your family’s safety,” the chief said to the Aarif, “we move the American to the stable for the night. Tomorrow we send a message to the American base that we have one of their men.”
“They have probably already sent people to look for him,” a council member said.
The chief nodded, “Good, I hope it is someone as honorable as we are.”
* * * *
Rain pounded Jack and his other riders making their progress slow. “Captain Brooks,” Jack said, “any chance of this improving?”
“Not sure sir.”
“Where are you from, Brooks?”
“Lawrence, Kansas sir.”
“Jayhawks?”
“Yes sir.”
The two Afghani guides led the way through rain drenched muddy trails as their horses sinking with every step.
“Sir,” Brooks said, “if you don’t mind me asking what did the general mean when he said ‘you owe him’.”
Jack laughed. “He helped me out in Africa once.”
“Africa sir?”
“You heard of the Battle of Mogadishu?”
“Yes sir.”
“Let’s just say I got a little too close to the fighting and the general got me out of some serious trouble.”
The rain started to come down faster making the travel slower as precious time ticked away.
“Sir do you believe Patrick is still alive?”
“If he’s with the Pashtun people he is,” Jack said matter-of-factly.
“Why is it important that he’s with the Pashtun people?”
“Because they are bound by honor to give sanctuary to strangers.”
“That’s good?” Brooks asked confused.
“Yeah,” Jack said, “because the Taliban aren’t.”
* * * *
“They must give us the American infidel. He is on our land trying to kill our people,” Baitullah Mehsud, the Taliban leader said. “He is Satan himself.”
“It is the Pashtun custom,” another said.
“Then we will attack them,” the leader said. “How dare they defy the warriors of Allah.”
“You need to know it is their custom to seek revenge on those who attack them.”
“Then let them seek it,” Mehsud said. “They will see we are right and are the true followers of Allah.”
* * * *
Aarif wrapped his lamb meat shish kabob in flatbread before he started his journey. Aarif knew the dangers of this trip but felt with his knowledge of the countryside he could get past the drug traffickers, gangs and especially the Taliban.
He walked out of his adobe and checked on the American in the barn. As he stared at the wounded man sleeping peacefully he said a silent prayer to keep his family safe, as well as the soldier. He closed the door gently and left.
* * * *
Issa Noori, director of the school in the village of Sabri-Minah, ran it under constant threat of attack. The twenty students, however, knew about the threats but dismissed them. They wanted to learn in hopes of creating a better life for themselves.
The students and teachers gathered at around 11:20 to dismiss from school. They laughed and joked with one another. None of them felt a thing when a missile sailed through the front door and exploded in the middle of the room turning the school to rubble.
* * * *
Several miles away the shepherd heard the explosion. He knew it came from his village. Aarif fought the urge to rush home as he remembered the honor of his people and their code. Tears welled in his eyes but Aarif continued on with a heavy heart.
As the trip grew long the shepherd tired.
He found a deserted cave and sat down to rest. Before his eyes closed four Taliban fighters came out and surprised him.
“Who are you? Why are you out here?”
“I am Aarif Qalzai. I live in the Pashtun region.”
They grabbed the shepherd and one of the fighters approached him and locked his AK-47. He planted the end of the gun on the shepherd’s temple.
“You keep the infidel?” he spat.
The shepherd did not say anything but his eyes gave him away.
“Then you will die.”
The shepherd closed his eyes.
Gunfire erupted.
The shepherd flinched and waited for death but felt no pain as he heard men scream and then silence. When he opened his eyes Aarif saw the four Taliban men dead. The shepherd sprang to his feet and ran toward the cave opening and stopped.
Aarif backed himself against a boulder as two Americans sat atop horses flanked by two Afghani guides.
“Hello,” Jack said in his best Afghani, “my name is Jack Reed. I understand you have something that belongs to us.” He smiled.
Aarif nodded slowly but never took his eyes off Reed.
“Don’t worry we aren’t going to hurt you or anything. We’d just like the American back. Can you take me to him?”
Aarif nodded again. Jack extended a hand and pulled the shepherd onto his horse. The shepherd pointed the way and the group headed back to the village.
* * * *
Inside the Pashtun village mothers cried as they removed bodies of children from the smoldering school. The village chief looked on stoically.
His eyes wandered to the stable where he kept the American safe. Why could he not do this for his own people? He hated the Taliban. Their strict rules did not apply to the modern age, he knew. He could easily turn the American over but that would not make his village any safer. The Taliban only understood force and bending to their demands would only create more trouble in the future.
He remembered an Afghani proverb passed on to him from his father. Patience is bitter, but it bears sweet fruit. His honor put him above the Taliban. He closed his eyes and thanked God for not being like his oppressors. He would not turn the American over to the Taliban. He would not give up his honor to those people no matter the cost. Even as his villagers grieved the loss of life he knew they would agree.
* * * *
The riders saw the smoke as they approached the village. Upon entering, the shepherd jumped from the horse and ran to his adobe, relieved to see his family alive.
Aarif motioned for Jack to go toward the barn. Dismounting his horse Jack felt the excitement usually reserved for treasure hunting.
Jack pushed open the door. He saw the heavily bandaged SEAL sleeping on a bail of hay.
Jack touched the SEAL’s good shoulder, “Patrick. Patrick,” he said.
The SEAL opened his eyes and squinted.
“My name is Jack Reed and it’s time to go home.”
A loud commotion caused them both to turn toward the door. Aarif came in waving his arms. “They are coming! They are coming!” he shouted.
“Who?”
“Taliban,” Aarif said. “They want revenge for the four fighters that were killed. They blow up school!”
Brooks ran to the door and peered out. “Can’t tell how many sir,” Brooks said.
“But…” Jack could not finish the sentence as an explosion shattered the front of the stable and sent Jack, Brooks and the shepherd to the floor. Shaking off the debris Jack stumbled to his feet.
“We gotta get you out of here,” Jack said to Patrick as he looked for a way out. “You,” he motioned to Brooks, “get him out the back and keep out of sight.”
“Yes sir,” Brooks said and helped Patrick to his feet. The two walked out an opening at the back of the barn.
Two more explosions shook the ground as the roof of the barn collapsed. Jack looked around dazed and stunned at the fierce attack.
“We want the American,” the Taliban leader Baitullah Mehsud said.
Jack walked to the remaining part of the door and pushed it open. He glared at the leader who did likewise.
The Taliban leader held the chief of the village and a young boy at gunpoint.
“Nazrullah,” Aarif yelled and started out of the barn.
“Who is the kid?” Jack asked.
“My son,” the shepherd said.
“Stop,” Mehsud yelled wrapping his hand around the boy’s neck. “Give us the American and we let the others go.”
Jack noticed faces poking out of the small adobe windows. He sensed something was up.
“You’ll let them go now,” Jack said.
“I do not listen to infidels you fool.”
“Sometimes you should,” Jack said.
The doors of the adobes and other houses opened and out came the Pashtun villagers carrying guns pointed at the Taliban leader and his men.
The chief confidently walked away from Mehsud and stood next to Jack.
“You protect those that destroy us,” the Taliban leader said.
“No,” Jack said, “you started this. We did not. You blew up that school and according to Pashtunwali code they will seek revenge on those who hurt them. No matter who it is.”
“Then we will die honorably,” Mehsud said.
Jack shook his head. “No, not now.”
“There has been enough killing,” the Pashtun chief said. “We want peace.”
“As long as the infidels live on our land there will be no peace,” Mehsud said.
“Well, there will be today,” Jack said.
The shepherd’s son broke free from Mehsud’s hand and ran to Aarif who hugged him tightly.
“It’s time for you to go,” Jack said.
“We will meet again,” the Taliban leader said.
“I’m sure we will,” Jack said, “I am sure we will.”
Baitullah Mehsud and his men started to leave. The Pashtun tribe never lowered their weapons.
“One more thing,” Jack said. “Can you leave the guns?”
“I would rather die.”
Jack shrugged and said, “Whatever.” The Afghani guides rode out of the barn and fixed their guns on the Taliban leader. Captain Brooks emerged from the back of the barn his pistol armed and ready.
After a long pause the Taliban fighters and their leader put down their guns and walked out of the village.
“We’ll be back,” Mehsud said, black eyes blazing at Jack who smiled in return.
* * * *
When dawn broke Jack, Patrick, Captain Brooks and the two Afghani guides saddled up and prepared for their ride back to the U.S. base. The entire village turned out to say goodbye.
“Thank you for saving my life,” Patrick said to Aarif.
Aarif smiled.
“Will you be all right?” Jack asked the shepherd.
Aarif shook his head. “I fear retaliation for what has happened. The Taliban does not easily forget.”
“I understand,” Jack said, “and I will try and return with supplies.”
The shepherd nodded. He’d heard this from other Americans years ago. No one returned.
The chief called out for a prayer and everyone bowed their heads.
As they made their way out of the village Patrick looked at Jack and asked, “So how does this end?”
“After every darkness, there is light,” Jack said.
“What’s that mean?” Brooks asked.
“It’s always darkest before the dawn. But I was here twenty years ago and not much is different. So Patrick to answer honestly, for them,” he nodded toward the village, “I really don’t know.”
* * * *
Baitullah Mehsud met with tribal leaders in a cave on the outskirts of the Kunar Mountains.
“Is it possible to attack the American base?” a tribal leader asked.
“It can be,” Mehsud said. “The Americans are getting arrogant. Our time to strike will be soon. We have a surprise for them that they will not forget.”
“What surprise?”
“You will soon see,” the Taliban leader said with an evil smirk, “you will soon see.”