Victory Point (29 page)

But just as Shah had “adopted” the SEALs’ equipment, the Marines would adapt their operational tactics and gear roster to determine if Shah and his men had American forces in the sights of any of those M4s, grenade launchers, or even the sniper rifle as well as their own weaponry. “You need the ICOMs. That is how they communicate,” a confidant known as “Cousin-O” informed Rob Scott during the planning of
Whalers
. “If the terps can listen to the conversations of Shah and his men, you’ll know exactly what is about to happen.” Cousin-O, who’d been imprisoned by the Soviets in western Afghanistan in the eighties, then escaped after killing two of his prison guards to flee to the United States by way of Iran and Germany, ultimately worked for the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California, before directly aiding American forces inside Afghanistan. But the standard military-gear acquisition process could take months, leaving the Marines without a potentially critical piece of gear. “Don’t worry. Just get me the money and I’ll get someone to go into Peshawar and buy the ICOMs for you there. I’ll have them for you in just a few days,” Cousin-O confidently reassured Rob. In his typical fashion, Rob got Cousin-O the cash, reminding himself that it was his job to keep the battalion progressing forward in its mission, however unorthodox the means.

9

D
eep into the night of 7 August, with brilliant starlight hanging in the sky above the Hindu Kush, Echo Company’s First Platoon slipped into the Shuryek, and Second and Third platoons entered the Korangal. Twelve hours later, the operation was declared a victory—without a shot fired, or a single sighting of Shah or any of his men. “CJTF-76 decided that we’ve met the end state of the op,” Rob Scott incredulously reported to Tom Wood. “Over before it even began.” With the operative words of
Whalers’
objective being “disruption of ACM activity,” senior CJTF-76 staff, to whom Wood had briefed the mission just days earlier, decided that the mere presence of coalition forces in such numbers in the Korangal and Shuryek had constituted sufficient “disruption.”

“Sounds to me like they’re nervous. Gun-shy after
Red Wings,
” Wood opined about CJTF-76’s stance. “We came. We didn’t really see anything. They figured we conquered—just because we went in there. Now we’re out.”

Rob Scott, wedged squarely between keeping ⅔’s mission objectives on track and the in-country higher command’s restrictions, once again set about developing a work-around solution. After consulting with Wood and Donnellan, he had ⅔’s operational fix: as CJTF-76 continuously monitored ⅔’s progress, Task Force Devil would control the battalion’s movements by phase line, meaning that individual units—Fox Company in the Chowkay, Golf in the Narang, etc.—could only move to a predetermined latitude within a given time span, with approval required to continue beyond each line. The operation also had a concrete time limit as a result of the upcoming elections:
Whalers
needed to be completed by the nineteenth of August. While the parameters restricted the fluidity of the op in what would certainly prove to be an evolving battle, at least the grunts of ⅔ would have their second crack at
Whalers
.

CJTF-76 command, however, worried about another dramatic helicopter shoot-down, held strong reservations about the op. The only air assets, other than close air support and high-flying C-130s for cargo drops, they’d grant the battalion were Air Ambulance medevac birds, absolutely crucial for the long-distance movements ⅔’s Marines would be undertaking. CJTF-76 mandated, however, that if medevac missions were to be flown, then the battalion would follow every textbook procedure to the last written letter. ⅔ Command knew that if so much as a single enemy round came anywhere near an American aviation asset in the post-Chinook-shootdown operational atmosphere, then air assets, other than close air support, would be almost impossible to procure in the Kunar for any subsequent operations.
Whalers
would prove decisive not only in the battalion’s fight to break the enemy’s back before the elections, but in allowing ⅔ to continue to conduct operations for the remainder of their deployment.

Nearing midnight on 11 August, Second and Third platoons of Echo Company with attached Afghan National Army soldiers swarmed into the Korangal as First Platoon, under Kinser, pushed into the Shuryek with their contingent of ANA. Donnellan, Tom Wood, and Scott Westerfield—the “Jump CP” (a term referencing a forward command post consisting of the battalion commander and some, but not all, of his staff, and in Donnellan’s case during
Whalers,
two squads of Marines)—accompanied by fifteen Afghan troops, some in senior leadership roles, headed toward the base of Sawtalo Sar’s north ridge. Matt Tracy stood ready at A-Bad to coordinate indirect fire assets with the array of individual units participating in the op, and of course, Rob Scott held the fort at the JAF COC. Keeping the battalion sustained with food, water, ammunition, and other supplies, Captain Jeremy Whitlock, the battalion’s logistics officer, would keep hours as long as Rob’s as
Whalers
, a truly “distributed op,” marched forward.

At roughly noon on the twelfth, twelve hours after Echo’s troops entered Sawtalo Sar’s northern valleys, Golf Company’s contingent stormed into the Narang, including First Platoon, under Kyle Corcoran, and Second Platoon, under Lieutenant Clif Kennedy, and a platoon of ANA. Grissom, ever conscious of the importance of his Marines’ role in plugging Shah’s final outlet, pored over intel, maps, and after-actions throughout the day. Sleep-deprived but never fatigued, Grissom churned the variables of the tactical calculus lying before him as the Marines of Fox Company rested and prepared to enter the Chowkay. Having studied Chizmadia’s after-action, the captain knew that the locals had been receptive to the Marines during their probing mission—but he also knew that one foray into a remote valley couldn’t come close to determining the true character of the populace, or the threat level they posed. Grissom couldn’t discount even the slightest risk, as just a small handful of well-placed fighters with PK machine guns and RPGs could ruin the day.

Grissom, wanting to move as fast as possible toward Objective- 4—the village of Qalaygal near the juncture of the upper Chowkay and Korangal—chose as Fox’s route the relatively navigable valley floor rather than the more “tactical” (more positions behind which to take cover and move covertly) ridges above the Chowkay. Logistically, however, the captain knew that the valley’s steep topography wouldn’t stand as the only factor limiting Fox’s rate of ascent into the Chowkay. In addition to Fox-3, his force consisted of a section of 81 mm mortars (four mortar tubes with three Marines per tube to operate the weapons); Fox Company’s First Platoon was to act as a security element for this vital mortar section, a company of forty-five Afghan National Army soldiers, and to aid in the portaging of gear for the Marines, Afghan soldiers, and interpreters in the absence of helicopters for troop insert and resupply, Fox Company enlisted the aid of thirty-six donkeys. Thirty-six very fickle, very stubborn donkeys. This was the other factor Grissom had to consider.

Referencing Chizmadia’s report and photographs as he traced his index finger along his map’s densely packed contour lines from the Chowkay’s opening at the Kunar River into the valley’s heights, Grissom reaffirmed a decision he’d made earlier: he would have the 81 mm mortar section, commanded by Lieutenant Ben Middendorf, along with Fox-1, the Afghan soldiers, and the cargo-laden donkeys, move in trace of Fox-3, providing crucial indirect fire coverage with the 81s, if needed—a plan devised in part by Middendorf. Grissom, ever impressed by Konnie and Crisp’s motivational and leadership synergy, would travel with Fox-3, pushing as fast as possible toward their objective, ahead of the more heavily laden Fox-1 and mortar team. Since their route into the Chowkay would take them just outside of the effective range of Doghouse’s 105s at Asadabad (even with RAP rounds), Grissom planned to have Fox-3 stay within the “umbrella” of Middendorf’s 81s once deep into the valley—of course maintaining radio contact with the mortar team at all times. Also traveling with Fox-3, Casmer “Pigeon” Ratkowiak, the onetime battalion air officer, had sought a closer perspective of the fight and attached to Fox for
Whalers
as a forward air controller. Known by his radio call sign “Venom-11” to pilots working in the area, Pigeon would prove a crucial member of the contingent. With Pigeon—and his ability to guide Army AH-64 Apaches, Air Force A-10 Warthogs, and other available platforms onto any of Shah’s men should they engage the Marines—and Middendorf’s 81mm mortar team, Grissom would essentially be leading a small, ad hoc MAGTF-LIKE element, on foot, into the unknown Chowkay. And with the addition of the forty-five Afghan soldiers, Fox Company was also embarking on a unique counterinsurgency training mission, giving the Afghans a firsthand look into classic U.S. Marine Corps combined arms tactics. Completing the forward component of Fox’s push into the Chowkay, which totaled forty-nine, were two Navy Corpsmen, two combat engineers, two attached scout/snipers, and two interpreters, “Jimmy” and “The Rock”—each armed with AK-47s and brand-new ICOM scanners courtesy of Rob Scott and Cousin-O.

The night before their departure, on the eleventh, after arriving at Jalalabad Airfield from their forward operating base at Mehtar Lam by convoy, Konnie and Grissom discussed the upcoming op, a Marlboro dangling from the mouth of each during the conversation. “In a way, sir, I want there to be continuous contact with the enemy. That’ll keep all of us on our toes—no one will ever get complacent,” Konnie said. “Them constantly trying to kill us in the end will keep us from getting killed.”

“Be careful what you wish for, there, Lieutenant,” the stocky captain began with a laugh. “Don’t get me wrong. I see what you mean. Just watch what you wish for.” The two hadn’t spent much time together before that evening’s cigarette break. To that point, Konnie had regarded Grissom primarily as the boss who rode his ass for running the Fox-3 Marines too hard; Grissom saw Konnie not so much as overly enthused or zealous, but just ultradriven, albeit in a very controlled manner, someone who might need to be reined in from time to time.

In the big picture, Grissom just wanted to ensure that the young lieutenant and the acerbic Crisp operated aggressively, yet in a balanced way, to ensure combat-readiness. He wanted to storm onto Objective-4 as quickly as possible, but knew that he’d be walking a delicate line. “Based on Westerfield’s work—he’s really gotten into the mind of this Shah guy, he knows the rat lines, the hideouts, the tactics, pretty much everything relevant—we know that when Shah sees Marines in the Korangal and Shuryek, and then in the Narang, he’ll head down the Chowkay. And once he sees us, he’ll make a run back into the Korangal. It’s unlikely that he’ll engage us, not when he can hightail it back to more familiar ground in the Korangal,” Grissom explained to Konnie. “I just hope that he doesn’t get a jump on us moving into the Chowkay and escape. That’s why I want to really move—move fast. I’m really gonna tap you and Crisp to keep things together up there.” Grissom again pondered the balance of speed versus efficacy for Fox-3. The heat, even in the middle of the night, would remain in the nineties, the terrain would present backbreaking obstacles, and a host of other variables—⅔’s higher command, supplies, weather, not to mention Shah and his army—would undoubtedly present confounding hurdles as well. The only solution, in the minds of both Grissom and Konnie, was to embrace the struggle ahead, to love the challenge of leadership under adversity. And having familiarized themselves with the land, the conditions, and most importantly, Shah and his army through Westerfield’s briefs and
Red Wings’
after-action reports, Grissom and Konnie knew that adversity could reach extreme levels.

At 7:00 P.M. on the twelfth, as the last of the sun’s glowing orange rays split into the sky above the peaks to the west of Jalalabad and the temperature clung to low triple digits, the Fox Marines gathered for a brief on their upcoming mission. With platoons of Echo and Golf already deeply entrenched in the valleys surrounding Sawtalo Sar, Kelly Grissom disclosed part of the
what,
but not specifically the
where
or the
how long
of the upcoming op. “We’re going to start walking—up. And we’re gonna keep walking—up, and walking, and walking—up, until someone tells us to stop. Don’t ask where we’re walking up to. Don’t ask how long we’ll be walking. We just keep walking.”

“Hey, Lieutenant.” Crisp turned to Konnie as Grissom wrapped up
Whalers’
very general overview. “How come you neva’ give no pep speeches?”

“Because, Crisp”—the lieutenant turned to the staff sergeant—“speeches are about as cool as a boner in sweatpants.” Crisp erupted into laughter. “You want a pep talk? How ’bout this: don’t puss out.” The two of them geared up for the convoy about to take them up the Kunar Valley to the opening of the Chowkay.

Fox-3’s
Whalers
journey began at 10:45 P.M. on the twelfth of August as the convoy of hulking, three-axle 7-Ton troop transports rumbled off the Asadabad-Jalalabad road at the village of Chowkay, on the shores of the Kunar River. “I hear we’re goin’ where Osama bin Laden himself used to run training camps,” Crisp overheard one of the platoon’s grunts remark as they dismounted and prepared to stage for their penetration into the secretive valley. “We’re goin’ after the guys who took down the SEALs.”

“Osama bin
my ass,
” the staff sergeant interjected. “You best be preservin’ all yo’ energy for yo’ feet—not fo’ runnin’ yo’ mouth,” Crisp boomed.

By eleven, Fox Company’s lead element, consisting of Fox-3 and attachments, Grissom, Pigeon, and Jimmy and the Rock, had loaded into a convoy of Whiskey Company’s highback and hardback Humvees at the V-cleft opening of the Chowkay to begin their insertion into the valley. Running blacked out along the narrow roadway notched into the sheer eastern wall of the chasm, the Marines let their eyes adjust to the pallid greenish light shed onto the landscape by the half-moon hanging in the sky above them. Forty-five minutes after Fox-3 pressed through the rocky gates of the Chowkay, Fox-1 and the Afghan National Army contingent arrived at the mouth of the valley and linked up with Middendorf and his Marines of the 81s section. As Fox-1 staged to move into the valley, Whiskey’s Humvees continued to push Grissom and Fox-3 farther north; as soon as the road narrowed to a point where the vehicles could move no farther, the grunts would jump out and continue on foot.
Whalers’
success hinged on Fox-3 penetrating deep into the Chowkay at just the right time, to deny Shah’s force an escape route, necessitating constant movement deep into the heart of the treacherous mountain landscape.