No Lack of Courage (21 page)

The terrain once again assisted the insurgents. The tall-marijuana fields and vineyards, interspersed with mud walls and sun baked mud huts that had the consistency of fortified strongholds, obscured visibility and allowed the Taliban concealed and protected manoeuvre space. Armed with the initiative and forgiving terrain, the Taliban kept up a constant pressure, hitting particularly hard on 14 October 2006, in an example of their increasing sophistication.

The day started like so many others. Lieutenant-Colonel Lavoie rolled down the sandy strip that revealed the beginnings of the new road with his four vehicle convoy to coordinate with his sub-units and verify defences and progress being made. He quickly came across C/S 33A. Their LAV III, which was located half way between the 7 and 9 Platoons positions, had backed over an IED and the vehicle had become
a mobility kill. Luckily, no one was injured. Unfortunately, the TF had just lost another precious vehicle that would be hard to replace.

The IED had been placed in the middle of the unfinished road, about 400 metres from 7 Platoon's defensive position, which was co-located with a small ANA detachment. Everyone was mystified as to how that had transpired. How had the “ghosts of Panjwayi” planted it without being seen? But an IED strike was not an uncommon occurrence and efforts soon turned to recovering the vehicle back to Patrol Base Wilson.

As the morning wore on, members of 7 Platoon continued with their surveillance duty in the growing heat. Those not on duty within the LAV III or sentry positions sheltered themselves under a tarp behind the protection of a low wall that was situated between two buildings that had been partially destroyed during Operation Medusa. On the opposite side of the wall ran a canal in which an ANA detachment had taken residence. The ANA manned several OPs that were constructed to control the old road and the terrain to the west.

The members of the platoon had been in the field in this threat environment for 23 days straight. They slept, ate, and tried to relax in the filth that surrounded them. They slept on Therm-a-Rest mattresses on the ground with their body armour at their side. Water was in short supply, and facilities were lacking—washing clothes was unheard of and even personal hygiene was limited. The incessant dust covered everything and made maintenance of weapons and vehicles a constant concern. Conditions were primitive to say the least.

At approximately 1100 hours, a radio message arrived stating that a group of three Taliban had been seen to the west of 7 Platoon's position. Warrant Officer Ray McFarlane, the Platoon warrant/second-in-command (2IC), and Sergeant Donovan Crawford quickly coordinated with the ANA detachment. After patiently trying to convey the message to the ANA leader, who understood some English, and with a large degree of innovative sign language, the message was passed and the ANA mobilized. With members of 7 Platoon close by, with their 60mm mortar ready to engage in the fight, the ANA sent a small patrol out several hundred metres from the position to investigate the sighting.

A short time later excited voices could be heard close by, followed by the “whoosshh” and explosion of an RPG 7 rocket and the crack of some small-arms fire. Within minutes the ANA soldiers returned with great big smiles gesturing with a wave of the hand and a simple “Taliban gone.” McFarlane was unable to ascertain whether the Taliban had been killed or simply scattered. Each question elicited the same grunts and nodding of heads from the ANA patrol. Nonetheless, the threat seemed to have dissipated for the moment.

Meanwhile, several kilometres down the road to the south, 9 Platoon (C/S 33) manned their position. It was given the designation “Strong Point Centre,” aptly named since it was the middle position within the Battle Group's defensive network that followed the path of the new road from PBW on Highway 1 to the imposing Ma'SÅ«m Ghar mountain feature where “A” Company, which had been seconded from the 2 PPCLI, was constructing the new FOB Zettelmeyer, named after the engineer vehicle that was struck on 3 September. Strong Point Centre was a formidable position based around an imposing mud structure built on a small outcropping that dominated the road and the surrounding area.

The platoon used the natural lay of the land to anchor their defence. Two LAV IIIs flanked the position and covered the western approach and the road. To their front lay a 100 metre swath of sand and beyond that marijuana fields, vineyards, and an array of mud compounds and grape-drying huts. Visibility was limited. Sheltered behind the large mud building that was the centre point of the defensive position and protected by a natural wall to its other side, another LAV III aimed its deadly 25mm cannon to the north, covering the road approach. Finally, dug into the raised island that was Strong Point Centre were two machine-gun pits. One faced south to control the road while the other faced east to cover the close terrain, mainly vineyards, which bordered right up to the defensive position. The platoon had augmented the natural fortress with a series of sandbagged walls.

Much like 7 Platoon, the soldiers of 9 Platoon rotated between sentry duty in the LAVs or in the machine gun posts and catching up on sleep or a meal. Manpower was especially tight since the section in the IED strike in the morning were back at PBW getting medically checked out for any injuries sustained during the blast. The incidents of the morning seemed to harbour no sinister omen and were largely forgotten. After all, those types of events were virtually everyday occurrences.

Sketch by Chris Johnson.

Back at 7 Platoon, at approximately 1430 hours, the gunner in the turret of the LAV covering south along the road and the vast fields to the east summoned Warrant Officer McFarlane. Out in the vineyards, approximately 200–300 metres away, six men, ostensibly “farmers,” as they carried no weapons, calmly walked south through the fields in single file towards a large grape-drying hut located approximately 400 metres from 7 Platoon's position. Rules of Engagement (ROEs) forbid firing on unarmed civilians regardless of how suspicious they appeared. The Taliban were
aware of that and utilized their ability to blend in with the normal farmers to their advantage. Identifying friend from foe is one of the greatest challenges in that environment. The TF soldiers observed fighting-age males in the fields on many occasions, but whether they were legitimate farmers or Taliban posing as such was difficult to ascertain. With cached weapons throughout the area, the enemy could transform from one to the other and back again very quickly. Determining who was the enemy, as well as being able to physically dominate the ground and sweep it for weapons, was almost impossible due to the shortage of personnel.

Lacking the manpower to send a patrol to investigate, McFarlane attempted to convince the ANA to follow-up; however, the ANA claimed they too lacked the troops to wander out into the fields to scrutinize the suspicious party. Quite simply, without direct Canadian participation they would not venture out. McFarlane was forced to try and keep surveillance on the individuals as long as possible since he was unable to take any other action. Not surprisingly, the “farmers” quickly melted away into the maze of walls, buildings, and vegetation.

At approximately 1450 hours, some visitors (i.e., members of the PRT and some local Afghan officials) started to congregate at the front of Strong Point Centre. They were awaiting the CO's convoy for a ride back to PBW. Lieutenant Ray Corby, the 9 Platoon commander, had taken over the platoon three weeks prior when the casualties incurred in the early days of Operation Medusa triggered a reshuffling of personnel. While waiting for the vehicles to arrive, Corby made an effort to speak to the visiting district chief but was brushed off. Corby then turned his attention to the Civil Military Cooperation (CIMIC) detachment commander, Chief Warrant Officer Fred Gratton. However, he was interrupted three times in a span of less than 10 minutes by the district chief, who persistently asked when his ride would be arriving. During that same period the district chief received two phone calls on his cellphone and placed another call himself. He seemed desperately eager to leave.

The CO arrived at Strong Point Centre at approximately 1455 hours and dismounted to briefly discuss details of the earlier IED incident with Lieutenant Corby while the visiting personnel at the location loaded onto the vehicles that made up the CO's tactical HQ (or 9er Tac). Just
as the vehicles were in the midst of loading, a threat warning came over the air, “a Canadian position was in imminent threat of attack.” The grid given was uncomfortably close to their current position. The soldiers had learned to dread the threat warnings—they were usually accurate. Inside Strong Point Centre the warning was verbally relayed to Corby. As he formulated his next course of action, the initiative was wrested away from him. Less than a minute passed from the time he was given the notice to all hell breaking loose.

The initial barrage of enemy fire caught the soldiers of “C” Coy by surprise. The attack commenced with multiple RPGs being fired at the position. A minimum of three RPGs were fired in close succession, targeting C/S 33B, which was manning the southwest perimeter of the position, an empty trench on the western flank of the strongpoint, and the OP on the southeast of the defensive position that contained a C-6 GPMG. A high volume of small-arms fire also hit the position; some rounds impacted short and kicked up the dust on the new road while others cracked over the heads of the “C” Coy troops.

Lieutenant Corby was in the midst of discussing the platoon's course of action with Sergeant Jamie Walsh. As the RPG rockets and small-arms fire rained in, reaction was immediate. Corby and Walsh dove for cover behind a small berm located behind C/S 33C, which was the LAV in the centre of the position. From that vantage point, looking towards the southwest, they could see smoke coming from the treeline and marijuana fields, as well as rounds splashing across the sand of the new road towards them. Visibility was quickly obscured as the dust was kicked up by the fire. Nevertheless, it seemed the concentration of the enemy attack was coming from the west. The insurgents had the bright sun at their backs to mask their movement and blind the defenders.

The Canadians on sentry duty responded with alacrity. The 25mm cannons on the LAVs, aided by their thermal sights, which could see through the dust, thundered in reply, supported by light-machine guns and GPMGs, while the others quickly manned their fighting positions. When the storm struck, Private Jesse Larochelle was in the south-most machine-gun pit. The enemy attack washed over him like a rogue wave. His position erupted in explosions, as bullets and shrapnel hissed through the air
around him. Larochelle thought he was hallucinating as he saw seemingly mini-explosions go off above his outpost. At the time he didn't realize that the enemy was using RPG munitions that emitted mini cluster rounds from its 75mm warhead, which exploded, spraying deadly shrapnel much like an air-burst round. Despite the weight of fire, Larochelle continued to fire at his invisible antagonists who were cloaked by the treeline.

Close by, the CO's tactical HQ had just started to roll when a RPG rocket swished to the rear and exploded in a ball of flame approximately 80 metres behind the convoy, where mere minutes prior the CO, platoon commander, and others had been standing. The three LAVs and the RG-31 Nyala armoured vehicle, which made up the tactical HQ, quickly swung around and immediately began to engage the enemy, adding an enormous amount of fire into the fields and buildings to the west where the enemy assault was originating.

Unfortunately, the retaliation was a bit too late. As the “pum-pum-pum” of the 25mm cannons echoed across the battlefield, the first SITREP cut through the noise and hit everyone as if they had been struck through the heart with a spike—“two VSA [vital signs absent], three wounded.” Stark reality once again set in. As Operation Medusa had shown, the Taliban are little match for the Western forces in either equipment or firepower. They rely on surprise, either through IEDs, mines, or ambushes. And they depend on achieving success in the first 30 seconds of the engagement before they become engulfed in return fire. Once again they got lucky.

The crew and section of C/S 33B were resting when the attack commenced. Private Jesse Kezar was in the driver's hatch and Corporal Jeremy Penney was in the gunner's seat when the initial barrage of fire hit. Penney attempted to fire the 25mm gun but the cannon jammed. Corporal Darryl Jones was in the process of moving into the turret from the rear of the LAV when the RPG round struck around the vehicle's laser warning tower. The resulting explosion showered the area with shrapnel. Lethal shards of metal and blast washed down through the rear-air-sentry hatch and over the back deck, killing one soldier who had been seated on the left bench and wounding another who was seated on the right bench. The same round also killed the section commander and wounded two others who were at the back of the LAV.

At exactly the same time, 1500 hours, 7 Platoon was also hit. PKM machine-gun fire and RPGs engulfed the surprised troops. Bullets stitched their way along the wall that soldiers had rested against earlier, kicking up dirt and forcing all to find cover. The fire emanated from the grape-drying hut where the six “farmers” were seen heading earlier. The platoon replied in rapid succession bringing all of its firepower, as well as that of the neighbouring ANA, to bear. During the contact as many as 20–30 enemy were sighted in that area alone. Notwithstanding the enemy's strength, the situation was brought under control.