by Oliver North
It soon became apparent they would be overwhelmed if they stayed where they were. So Lieutenant Murphy gave the order. “Fall back!”
There was only one way to go—down. The problem was, they had no idea just how far down it was, not being able to see over the edge of the precipice where they stood. At that moment, however, it was certain death on three sides and probable death below. They opted for probable.
One by one the men crawled out of their covered positions and let the laws of physics do the rest. They slid down the incredibly steep slope on their backs, out of control and praying for a miracle.
Luttrell and Murphy hit the bottom first, like a couple of bags of wet cement. They were still trying to determine if all of their limbs were functioning when a fusillade of bullets, RPGs, and hand grenades sent them diving for the cover of some downed trees. That was when Luttrell noticed Lieutenant Murphy was wounded. But having lost all their medical equipment in the fall and with grenades still showering them with shrapnel, rocks, and dirt, there was nothing they could do but face uphill and fight back.
Both SEALs continued picking off advancing Taliban fighters coming toward them down the mountainside. As the two men fired repeatedly, covering each other, Axelson arrived much the same way they had and joined them in dropping the seemingly endless supply of enemy fighters. Then the limp figure of Danny Dietz came rolling down the mountain and stopped, apparently lifeless in front of their covered position.
Despite his own wounds, Murphy joined Luttrell in braving enemy fire to drag their unconscious teammate back to the downed trees. A moment later, Dan came to, and though he was gravely injured and obviously in great pain, he gritted his teeth and began killing Taliban.
They held as long as they could, but the sheer number of enemy fighters finally forced the SEALs to head downhill once again. As they tried to make their escape, Dietz took an AK round in the back and then another in the neck—either one should have put him out of the fight for good. But in an incredible display of sheer willpower, he continued firing.
The beleaguered special operators fell back once more and continued whittling away at the enemy. But then Dietz was hit twice more—and the last round finally tore the life from the devout family man. Moments later, Matt Axelson was hit in the chest and then both he and Murphy were shot yet again.
Navy SEALs operating in Afghanistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom. From left to right, Sonar Technician (Surface) 2nd Class Matthew G. Axelson, Senior Chief Information Systems Technician Daniel R. Healy of Exeter, Quartermaster 2nd Class James Suh, Hospital Corpsman 2nd Class Marcus Luttrell, Machinist’s Mate 2nd Class Eric S. Patton, and Lt Michael P. Murphy.
CH-47 Chinook Helicopter
As scores of Taliban fighters closed in on them, Lieutenant Michael Murphy got up and by sheer will, crawled out into the only open spot where he might be able to establish communications—directly in the line of enemy fire. In his hand was a phone—their last hope for calling in a rescue force. He sat down in an exposed position and placed a call to headquarters. As he was speaking, he was shot again in the back and dropped the phone. Somehow, with bullets striking all around him, he managed to retrieve it, finished his call for help, and staggered back to the others to continue the fight. Shortly afterwards both Murphy and Axleson succumbed to their many wounds, leaving Marcus Luttrell as the only survivor. He continued fighting until he was blown over a cliff by a rocket-propelled grenade and knocked unconscious.
Lieutenant Murphy’s call for help succeeded. Before he died, a QRF—Quick Reaction Force—was rushing to the scene—eight more SEALs and eight crewmen in a Night Stalker MH-47, hoping against hope they would arrive in time to rescue their teammates.
Unfortunately, the rescue operation quickly went all wrong. As the Chinook descended to a hover, preparing to fast-rope the SEALs to the ground, a Taliban fighter stood and fired an RPG right through the open ramp, instantly transforming the helicopter into a blazing inferno, and the mission into the largest disaster in SEAL history. The chopper crashed to the mountainside and rolled, flaming, several hundred yards down the mountain. There were no survivors.
Marcus Luttrell regained consciousness in a hole, bleeding, and covered with dirt. Now alone, he tucked himself into a crevasse and sat, unmoving as he listened to scores of enemy fighters scouring the mountain, looking for him. As darkness fell, Marcus knew he was on his own in hostile territory. His superiors back at base had only a vague idea of his whereabouts. He still had his weapon and some ammo, but little else. Even his trousers had been torn from his body.
It would have been easy for Luttrell, wounded, alone, and still hunted on that mountain, to stay hidden in hopes that another rescue party would be dispatched to come and find him. If the Taliban discovered him first, he could have gone down fighting, taking as many Taliban as possible with him. That would have been the easy way out. But Marcus Luttrell now had a new mission. He had to make it out of there alive, not for himself, but so the extraordinary heroic deeds of Michael Murphy, Matt Axelson, and Danny Dietz could be told to the world. When his friends went down on that godforsaken mountain, he wanted nothing more than to die alongside them. Now, he understood he’d been spared for a reason—and he resolved to do everything in his power to make it back.
Escape became its own incredible ordeal. He dragged himself along in incredible pain, crawling at times, desperately thirsty. Along the way he cried out to God, begging for help. Instead, he got a bullet in the thigh. Spotted by a Taliban sniper, Marcus felt the round rip through the flesh of his left leg. This sent him crashing down the mountain again, as more enemy chased him with a fusillade of AK fire. He crawled into a concealed position badly wounded, exhausted, and dehydrated—but he was still a SEAL, and prayer was answered when he got the drop on a group of three Taliban—killing them before they did the same to him.
He resumed his search for water, and by the time he found it, he was passing in and out of consciousness.
He was plunging his entire head into the rippling brook, sucking down mouthfuls of the sweetest water he’d ever tasted when he saw them looking at him. Three men. Two of them armed.
If he had been able, he would have shot them where they stood. But he was completely spent. He had nothing left. And that fact, saved his life.
Afghan shepherd
The men were from a tribal village opposed to the Taliban. They gently picked him up and took him to the home of a village elder, who treated his wounds. The villagers protected him day and night, even when the Taliban came and demanded that he be turned over to them. There he remained, weak and in pain for several days, unsure of his fate.
In the meantime, the military was mounting one of the largest combat search and rescue operations ever conducted, in a massive effort to find the missing SEAL team. Eventually, a man from the village where Luttrell was being sheltered, made his way to a nearby Marine base with a handwritten note informing them of his whereabouts. A short time later, a force of U.S. Army Rangers found Luttrell as he was being moved to another village.
Danny Dietz, Matt Axelson, and Marcus Luttrell received the Navy Cross for their heroic actions on 28 June 2005. Their team leader, Lieutenant Michael Murphy, was awarded the Medal of Honor.
Two years later Ahmad Shah, the man Murphy’s team was sent to find, was killed in a shoot-out with a Pakistani Army unit in the Federally Administered Tribal Area near the Af-Pak border.
Matt Axelson, James Suh, Michael Russell, and Michael Murphy, all killed in Operation Redwing
MEDAL OF HONOR:
LIEUTENANT MICHAEL P. MURPHY
For service as set forth in the following citation:
For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty as the leader of a Special Reconnaissance Element with Naval Special Warfare Task Unit Afghanistan on 27 and 28 June 2005. While leading a mission to locat
e a high-level anti-coalition militia leader, Lieutenant Murphy demonstrated extraordinary heroism in the face of grave danger in the vicinity of Asadabad, Konar Province, Afghanistan. On 28 June 2005, operating in an extremely rugged enemy-controlled area, Lieutenant Murphy’s team was discovered by anti-coalition militia sympathizers, who revealed their position to Taliban fighters. As a result, between thirty and forty enemy fighters besieged his four-member team. Demonstrating exceptional resolve, Lieutenant Murphy valiantly led his men in engaging the large enemy force. The ensuring fierce firefight resulted in numerous enemy casualties, as well as the wounding of all four members of the team. Ignoring his own wounds and demonstrating exceptional composure, Lieutenant Murphy continued to lead and encourage his men. When the primary communicator fell mortally wounded, Lieutenant Murphy repeatedly attempted to call for assistance for his beleaguered teammates. Realizing the impossibility of communicating in the extreme terrain, and in the face of almost certain death, he fought his way into open terrain to gain a better position to transmit a call. This deliberate, heroic act deprived him of cover, exposing him to direct enemy fire. Finally achieving contact with his headquarters, Lieutenant Murphy maintained his exposed position while he provided his location and requested immediate support for his team. In his final act of bravery, he continued to engage the enemy until he was mortally wounded, gallantly giving his life for his country and for the cause of freedom. By his selfless leadership, courageous actions, and extraordinary devotion to duty, Lieutenant Murphy reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.
Signed, George W. Bush
A portrait of Lt Michael P. Murphy is unveiled at a ceremony in his honor.
OPERATION KAIKA
KANDAHAR PROVINCE, AFGHANISTAN
In early 2006, the government in Islamabad, Pakistan, enforced an edict to close Afghan refugee camps in their territory. At the time, nearly 2.5 million Afghans, many of them supporters of the deposed Taliban regime, were sequestered in Pakistan.
Taliban leaders like Mullah Omar in Quetta used the measure to launch a resurgent movement in their homeland. Taliban cadre, rearmed and trained by radical Islamists in the Pakistani Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) Directorate, were infiltrated across the border—with the mission of building armed resistance to the democratically elected Karzai government in Kabul. The Taliban’s immediate objective: re-establish their authority and impose Sharia Law in Kandahar and Helmand Provinces—their traditional heartland in southern Afghanistan.
Aerial view of an Afghan village
To counter the Taliban moves, the NATO-led Coalition committed more than eleven thousand U.S., British, Canadian, and Afghan soldiers to Operation Mountain Thrust. With the mission of securing key population centers and going directly after insurgent leaders, it was the largest operation mounted in the war that had simmered in the shadows of the Hindu Kush for five long years.
One portion of Operation Mountain Thrust was a Special Forces mission dubbed Operation Kaika. Kaika means “tick”—the blood-sucking insect in Pashto—the “official” dialect in Afghanistan.
The Kaika operation plan called for ODA 765 of the 7th Special Forces Group to accompany a unit of forth-eight Afghan soldiers on a capture-kill mission in the village of Pashmul, about twelve miles southwest of Kandahar. Human and communications intelligence indicated that a wanted Taliban commander was there.
The seventeen Americans, nine Green Berets, four Special Operations communication specialists, two Embedded Training Team Members, (National Guard NCOs), the Air Force Special Operations Joint Tactical Air Controller (JTAC), and the Army MP, K-9 handler, (and “Billy” an explosives-sniffing dog) all had extensive combat experience. Captain Sheffield Ford, a California native, commanded the mission. He spent nearly ten years as a Special Forces Engineer and served in the 1st Special Forces Group on a Dive Detachment before receiving a commission through Officer Candidate School.
Capt Sheffield Ford
The Detachment Team Sergeant was Master Sergeant Thomas D. Maholic, a seventeen-year SF veteran from Pennsylvania who commenced his career as a Special Forces Medic. He went on to become a Special Forces Diver, Dive Supervisor, and Dive Medical Supervisor. Like many of his mates, Maholic also served on a Special Forces mountain team and had a reputation for exceptional physical fitness.
The team medic was one of the rarest soldiers in the Army—forty-six-year-old Sergeant First Class Brendan O’Connor. The fifth of six children, O’Connor was born at the United States Military Academy at West Point while his father was stationed there. Seven years later, his father, then a Lieutenant Colonel, deployed to the Vietnam War. He was killed in action while leading his battalion during a battle in Bin Duong province.
Sgt First Class Brendan O'Connor
Brendan, determined to follow his father’s footsteps, was commissioned in 1980 and spent the next fourteen years as an Army Reserve Special Forces Officer. Then, in an act that surprised and confounded his peers, he resigned his commission in 1994, enlisted in the regular Army, and qualified as a Special Forces medic. It’s not uncommon for a soldier to start out enlisted and later become an officer, but to go the opposite direction said a lot about what was important to Brendan O’Connor.
A typical Afghan home
The Kaika mission was slated to last up to six days. The team moved into the village in the last hours of the evening on the 22 of June to find most of it abandoned. This wasn’t particularly alarming to the men of ODA 765. They knew villagers often fled to avoid Taliban brutality when the insurgents moved into an area.
The ODA and their Afghan counterparts set up a patrol base in an abandoned compound. It was the typical Afghan home—a mini-fortress where the home, animal pens, out-buildings, and the high, surrounding courtyard wall were all constructed of sun-baked mud bricks. Usually a foot thick or more, walls like these will withstand machine gun fire, rockets, and even missiles fired from an attack helicopter.
Throughout the day the ODA searched the area around the compound, cleaned weapons, and alternated through periods of standing security and rest. All was quiet as dusk fell. But immediately after dark, in the words of Captain Ford, “All hell broke loose.”
Undetected, a large force of Taliban fighters had been hiding on the outskirts of the village, waiting to attack. Even with their Afghan counterparts, engaged in the fight, Ford could tell by the volume of incoming machine gun and rocket fire they were outnumbered, outgunned, and surrounded.
The team took cover and fought back. But the foe was well-disciplined and organized, something that surprised the Green Berets. This was unlike any of their previous engagements. Usually enemy fire was sporadic, from insurgents who fired wildly in a “hit-and-run” contact. Few Taliban units wanted head-to-head confrontations with coalition forces. Rarely did they ever initiate action other than indirect fire attacks with rockets or mortars at night.
This time everything was different. Throughout the night and well into the next day, Taliban fighters steadily advanced on their position, employing the same small-unit tactics the Americans were teaching the Afghan soldiers. These insurgents weren’t just trying to kill a few Americans and then slink away. They clearly intended to wipe out the entire patrol.
Mortar rounds began dropping nearby, marching closer with each teeth-rattling explosion. Neither the Americans nor their Afghan counterparts were accustomed to Taliban fighters who were actually trained on how to use indirect fire weapons effectively.
The men of the ODA spent the entire day at their fighting positions around the perimeter—interspersed among the Afghan soldiers, pouring fire back at the enemy. Through the din of battle, Captain Ford moved from man to man encouraging them, paying special attention to the Afghan soldiers, some of whom were clearly terrified and on the verge of breaking.
At one point the Taliban actually broke into their perimeter, but were pushed back by a deafening volley of fire. The situation l
ooked bleak until several fixed-wing aircraft arrived overhead. Directed by the ODA JTAC, the allied jets broke the Taliban attack with a rain of bombs and rocket fire. By dark, the insurgents had melted back into the hills around the village.
Throughout the night, Captain Ford had the American and Afghan soldiers adjust their defenses to confound a renewed Taliban attack. Shortly before dawn, an Afghan Army listening post alerted the perimeter to an insurgent force moving into position for another assault. An ODA sniper team engaged the Taliban, temporarily disrupting their strike while the JTAC summoned Air Force jets and then attack helicopters to support the defenders. The early morning attack dissipated under the defensive fires.
A U.S. soldier from 1st Infantry Division prepares an RQ-11 Raven miniature unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV).
Convinced the best defense would be a good offense, Ford sent out combat patrols in several directions. He also deployed the team’s small man-portable, RQ-11 Raven unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV). The tiny UAV looks, for all intents and purposes, like a remote controlled model Cessna, but carries color video and night-vision cameras, from which it streams live video to the ODA operator.
