A change of plan
13th Nov
Finally the news came through about yesterday’s attack. The IED had been huge, flipping the heavily armoured Humvee into the air. The Anvil Troop Commander, Captain David Boris, and his gunner Sergeant Adrian Hike, had been killed. An interpreter travelling with them had also died, while the driver had been badly burned, but was still alive. There were other details, but I see no need to tell them here. Suffice to say every man who did hear them had to digest them slowly. We had driven to this town amidst the threat of IEDs, and when the mission was over Charlie Company would have to drive back along the same roads that had just seen the death of their comrades. It wasn’t a nice thought.
When the news came through there were also a change of plan. Charlie Company would be pulled off the Chabaran mission, and would drive back to Bermel. We would leave later in the day, after a visit from the 82nd’s Commander. This was a show and tell trip, and there was a lot of anger that it was going ahead. The guys just wanted to get out of Chabaran immediately, and get back to Bermel. The feeling was that they had been pulled away from “home2 to this “dog and pony show” mission, which had been seen as a farce from the very start. Now the implications were much more serious. Many guys felt that by leaving their Area of Operations (AO), they had handed the initiative to the insurgents, who it appeared had seized the opportunity afforded by the reduction in troop numbers. Now Charlie Company wanted to get back to Bermel and do some “housekeeping.”
Of course the plan to leave straight after the commander’s mission didn’t happen, and when we finally left, it was in the wrong direction. I’m not kidding, we set off in completely the wrong direction. It had been decided that we should head to a town called Spina, to meet up with some other elements of the battalion mission. This involved following an unknown road, and then moving into a town to distribute HA.
There was such a delay in leaving Chabaran that there was no doubt we would be struggling to make our destination before the sun set. The convoy was big, not as big as on the way down, but big all the same, with ANA and ETTs as well as US troops. We had travelled for maybe 30 minutes when the lead vehicles called back on the radio to say that the road stopped. Just ended. So much for using roads that haven’t been checked out in advance. Now every vehicle had to turn around, and we moved back to the town we had just left. One hour down, and no distance covered! Great.
The other option was to head over a mountain pass, close to 10,000ft. This would be challenging, to say the least, as we had ANA Ranger pick-ups and a Jingle truck in the convoy, not to mention a huge armoured recovery vehicle. Again the convoy headed out of Charbaran, and this time my altimeter started to climb quickly. That isn’t to say the convoy moved quickly. Oh no, it bloody well crawled along, stopping regularly. We were far back in the procession, so we couldn’t see why we were stopping, but as we moved further up the road it became clear. There were several steep points, and in order for the ANA’s Rangers to make it up these, they needed to get a run at them. Hence the stopping, to ensure the vehicle in front had cleared the incline. Back at out point in the convoy this meant many frustrating stops, often after moving no more than 25 ft.
There was a lot of radio traffic to try and find out what was going on, and eventually 1SG sent a terp up ahead to get an explanation for the delays. I should have mentioned that the MOD CO, Capt Mac, had flown out to take temporary command of Anvil Troop in the light of their Commander’s death. That meant that while there is an Executive Officer (XO) who should stand in, 1SG was really in charge. This may seem strange, but the reality is that a 1SG has years of experience where as an XO is probably a First Lieutenant, and still considred wet behind the ears. So now I was travelling in the defacto Commander’s vehicle. I couldn’t help but think that that meant I was travelling in the number one target vehicle in the convoy. When the terp came back and stood at the door to explain to the 1SG what the hold-up was, I was fucking furious. In that simple act the terp had singled out our truck as a leaders vehicle. Now any spotters in the mountains would have good reason to try and hit our Humvee should there be an ambush.
And believe me, this was perfect ambush territory. We had rock face on either side, very steep and rising hundreds of feet above us. Christ, they could have rolled boulders down on us and been sure to kill some one, never mind small arms, rockets, IEDS, or any other modern weapon. This was a real Thermopylae type pass, and only a few insurgents would have been required to hold up the entire convoy. I was absolutely convince we were going to be attacked here, and looking out the Humvee window I couldn’t see a single outcrop or rock behind which I could take cover should I need to get out of the vehicle.
The other concern was time. We were making almost no headway, but the clock was ticking, and the sun getting lower. It gets dark early in the mountains, and the last thing anyone wanted was to even consider patrol basing in this terrain.
Eventually we made it to the top, and I, and probably everyone else, breathed a huge sigh of relief. It turned out to be a little pre-emptive however, as what goes up, must come down. And what a down slope we now faced. The road, if it could be called that, was a series of hairpin turns, on narrow tracks that fell away hundreds of feet. The slightest wrong move from any of the drivers and there would be a catastrophe. I was on the right hand side of the vehicle, so my window looked out straight into the rock face climbing upwards, whereas the people sitting on the left hand side looked out over the precipice and into very thin air indeed. We made it to the bottom without any disaster, but in all probability the drivers lost a a few years of their lives from the extreme stress.
Once down off the mountain it was a short drive into Spina. The sun was setting as we pulled up in a clearing close to the town. The inhabitants had all come out to see the strange and unexpected procession through their quiet town. All along the route little kids, both boys and girls waved to us. Older boys and men stared, but not in an aggressive way, but simply curious. There were even some young women on the streets or peeking out behind doors. The girls and women wore beautifully vivid dresses, bright reds and yellows, and covered in rhinestones and glittering in the golden sunset light. The men wore huge turbans, the largest I have seen in Afghanistan. I desperately wanted to get out and walk amongst the people and shoot some pictures, but of course this was not an option. This is one of the hardest things about working in this environment; bearing in mind that even a beautiful scene like this has hidden possible dangers.
1SG decided that we couldn’t stay here for the night, as it was too close to the houses. An insurgent with a rocket could get far too close to us using the houses as cover, with the possible added bonus of a PR disaster for the Americans if they returned fire and killed innocent civilians. So, the elders were told that we would camp outside town, and return in the morning to distribute HA and talk with them. Then we all climbed back in to the vehicles, and started looking for a safe place to spend the night. By now the light was gone, and all the soldiers had mounted their night-vision devices on their helmets. These allow them to drive fairly well, although as it is a monocular device their depth perception is compromised. However, we didn’t crash.
By the time we stopped there was the faintest deep red glow just on the horizon, just enough to let me shoot some silhouettes of the soldiers standing around with their night vision on their helmets. Then it was gone, and I turned my attention to sleep. The ground here was extremely rocky, and try as I might I could find a clear spot. Plus, we were on the top of a hill, so a piece of flat ground was also unavailable. I realised that this was not going to be a good night’s sleep. And then, to cap it all, the mortar guys set up their weapon right on the top of the hill. This meant I would be sleeping within 25ft of the tube. I hoped that if they had to shoot during the night that I was awake before they did. Otherwise I might have a heart attack. Everyone else was also trying to sort out sleeping arrangements. It was cold, and because we were on a hill we could expect the wind chill to contribute to our discomfort. The solution was for everyone to sleep in close proximity. I don’t mean hugging each other, but not far off it. 1Sg reminded everyone that this was not a very secure place, and so all non-sleep related kit was to be packed and put in the vehicles, just in case we came under attack during the night and had to make a hasty exit. I seriously thought about sleeping with my boots and trousers on, but in the end I decided that I could get them on pretty fast these days, and so I opted for comfort. What little there was anyway.