Purple Hearts & Wounded Spirits

by Moore, Brian;

  There were several missions similar to this one on the border. Some were more dangerous than others; some were no longer than a day while others lasted for several days. One in particular was a major offensive designed to surround the enemy. The Taliban had adapted to our border crossings and had actually moved their bases inside the Afghan border. It appeared that they were planning an offensive of their own with the intent of over running our base. The internet we received stated that the Taliban not only wanted to push us back across the river, but wanted to try and take soldiers prisoners for PR purposes. The SF had attained a copy of the Taliban’s directive on how to torture Americans. I will not get into the details, but it makes “water boarding” look like child’s play. I loved working with the SF and the Mujahedeen ANA because their attitude was that if it is a fight the enemy wants then we will see that they have it.

  Our intelligence revealed that they were gathering forces in a mountain valley not far above FOB Gilligan. Our plan was to fly several platoons of combined forces in Chinook helicopters above their positions. This would give us the high ground and cut off their escape back to Pakistan while our remaining forces would start a ground offensive pushing them toward us. This story is relevant not because of the mission itself but what I learned about myself and the ANA.

  Prior to most of our dangerous missions the average Afghan soldier was not informed about it due to OPSEC. Occasionally, we would discover a Taliban operative working in the ANA. Obviously the last thing we wanted was to attempt a mission only to discover the enemy was waiting for us. This being said when we trucked the ANA soldiers to the landing zone (LZ) my interpreter informed me that none of the ANA had ever flown before. Most of these men were simple tribal herders who had lived without electricity most of their lives. Through my interpreter I explained to them what our mission was and how we were going to enter and exit the Chinook. I told them to keep their eyes on me at all times and we would get through this part of the mission okay. I was impressed that though they were obviously anxious about flying they were excited to go. I later learned that my interpreter added that they were specifically chosen because of their courage and that it would bestow honor upon their families, there was no turning them back.

  We boarded the Chinook without any drama but exiting was entirely different. Due to the sudden turn of bad weather, we could not be dropped at the designated LZ. To make matters worse, the Crew Chief informed us that we would not be able to land and that we would need to “jump off” the back of the Chinook onto the side of a cliff. Before that could sink in we were there and the U.S. troops on board with us were jumping. I told the ANA to watch the others exit and to do the same, following me. It was hard to determine the height we were jumping at but the worst part was the Chinook bouncing up and down while we were trying to exit.

  All members of our party landed safely but when the crew pushed our supplies off the Chinook they missed the cliff and all of our water went crashing down the side of the mountain along with half of our food. We secured the LZ and contacted the air base about our lost supplies. They informed us that they would not return for resupply due to the weather. I half-believed the weather excuse and thought more about the vulnerability of a Chinook hovering so close to the side of a mountain. Chinooks are a very big target when they are hovering and a big prize for the Taliban, something we all have seen too many news reports about.

  We were dropped at what is known as a hot LZ (a landing zone that is either currently under fire or at risk of being), and we needed to move to our designated rally point and establish a defensive position before the enemy realized what was happening. Some of the ANA volunteered to climb down the cliff after our lost supplies; I was advised that to refuse their request to go would dishonor them regardless of the inherent danger. While climbing up over the cliff I had difficulty due to the thin air at that elevation and that I was carrying extra provisions. I always prided myself as an infantryman who could travel light. There is a saying, “Carry what you need but need what you carry.” Yet when packing for this mission I had a strong urge to take an extra pack of water. It seems my guardian angel was looking out for me again—that extra water would make all the difference.

  Regardless of the strain I pushed on, not wanting the ANA to see me struggle. Yet I came upon a cliff that I could not manage with both packs and my weapon. While I attempted the climb an ANA soldier reached down and asked to carry my extra pack, not wanting to look weak I declined. He stuck out his hand again and said “Friend.” My interpreter then explained that he wanted to help me because I was his friend, not because I was weak. I did not know this particular Afghan soldier very well, but I had definitely made an impact upon him somehow. I later learned that he had been watching me, how I pray before mission and read my Holy Book, and he believed that I was a friend of the Afghans. Once again the Lord had placed me in a situation where I was not only dependent upon a Muslim for help, but that by submitting to the Spirit’s leading I had made an impact on some of these Muslim soldiers. I was then conflicted in a different way. I was thrilled that I was glorifying God with my testimony, and yet filled with self-loathing at the thought of the darkness my heart still held.

  Upon reaching our destination, we set up a perimeter along the ridge line near the Pakistan border overlooking the valley below. Two other groups had been dropped onto ridgelines on either side of ours. We now had control of the high ground and all access to the border. Realizing the weather was only getting worse, the captain and I looked for shelter for our extended stay. We found the remains of a shallow cave and used ponchos to cover the entrance and moved our gear inside. The rest of our time up there was filled with torrential downpours every night, making sleep almost impossible and causing the temps to drop even more. Yet I would not have wanted to be anywhere else. Here we were away from the Flag Pole and the ridiculous regulations of the ICTs. Here I believed I was relevant to our mission and the war. Here I would matter!

  Our temporary home during the border missions.

  A small amount of our water was recovered but not enough to sustain the number of personnel that we had, especially with the physical exertion that they had to endure. We assigned a team of ANA that were familiar with the area to scout out sources of water while we pushed on with the mission. It was not long before we were becoming an ineffective unit due to the lack of water. The captain and I discussed sharing what water we had with the ANA and decided it would be the best course of action. I spoke with the ANA NCO and gave him most of the water we had left; he was so grateful that I almost became embarrassed by his carrying on.

  This had a significant impact on this group of ANA. The fact that I shared my water with them elevated me to an entirely new level. Later one of the soldiers asked why I gave them my water and I replied that God would want me to share with my brothers. I stated that we are all brothers in His eyes, created by Him to glorify Him. The ANA soldier replied that Allah is great, SGT Moore is good. I share this again for the impacts we can have with such small gestures of kindness to those who would least expect it.

  A few days later, we were informed that a group of armed Taliban was making a break for the border. With a squad of ANA and SF we ran to cut them off and hopefully engage them. We arrived at the border where the only defining line was a rusty old barbed wire fence that a cow could push over. I was walking toward the fence when all at once a dozen Pakistan soldiers jumped up from the scrub brush with their AKs pointed at me shouting “get down.” I froze in place and pushed my selector switch from safe to semi but did not raise my rifle, nor was I about to lay down for anyone.

  The ANA were in front of me in an instant, including Abraham, shouting back at the Pakistani soldiers with their rifles raised and ready. I realized that this situation was about to go terminal if these soldiers did not cool down. My interpreter explained that the Pakistani soldiers were warning the ANA that they could not come within fifty meters of the border or they would shoot them. The ANA told them th
at they were Afghan soldiers and that they would walk where they pleased while inside their own country.

  The SF and I approached the Pakistani soldiers with our interpreters and asked to speak with their commander while we convinced the ANA to lower their weapons. The ANA hesitated but when I stood in front of them and pointed my rifle down toward the ground they did the same. Once the Pakistani soldiers saw this they lowered their weapons as well. The SF soldier with me stated quietly, “Well done, I thought we were about to be killed in the middle an international incident.”

  I advised the ANA to withdraw most of their men into the scrub line so we would not pose such an aggressive posture. It would also give them some cover if things did go wrong. The Pakistan commander did arrive shortly and asked what we were doing there, I replied that we were looking for Taliban but we did not intend to cross the border into Pakistan. I continued with questions while they offered us chai. The most important question I asked was answered with a lie.

  I pointed to a portion of the fence that had been tied back so passing under it was easy. There was also an obvious trail passing under this fence that continued off in both directions. I asked the Pakistani commander how many Taliban pass through the fence every week, to which he replied, “No Taliban here, no Taliban cross border.” I asked the question again in a different manner but the answer was always the same, “No Taliban cross border.” My interpreter then said to me quietly, “SGT Moore I think he is lying.” I wanted to respond with “You think so!” But I knew he was being serious so I asked for his recommendation as to my next move. He stated, “If you call him a liar in front of his men he will probably shoot you. We can refuse his offer of hospitality (in regards to drinking the Chai offered) which will be insult enough, and then tell him that we will patrol wherever we wish without his permission, and speak like an Afghan man.”

  I understood what my interpreter meant. When an Afghan man speaks he never asks for permission or apologizes for anything, he just gives commands. I spoke like I was ready to jump over that fence and kill every soldier there; the Pakistani commander stated that he would contact his command. I turned and began walking away while he was still speaking to me. Turning your back on a man in that culture was another insult. We quickly moved out of sight and into cover to watch their reaction. The commander spoke with his men who were obviously angry, but made no move to cross the fence. He posted some of his soldiers at the fence and disappeared behind the guard shack. This interaction with the Pakistanis was tense, but it also elevated my standing with the ANA.

  During our interaction with the Pak border patrol the enemy was making its way toward our position but was not looking for a fight because they were going to attempt to flank us and cross the border at another point. Yet with our forces pushing up from the valley and our other groups already in control of the border crossings along that ridge, their escape was doomed and they surrendered without incident. Most of the Taliban were conscripted goat herders who would have preferred to stay at home rather than get involved with this fight. The Taliban had a bad habit of forcibly taking young men from their homes under threat of death to a family member.

  Later that evening I asked my interpreter why he knew that my aggressive approach would work. He stated, “I did not but I knew that if we backed down you would lose face with the ANA which would end your mission here. It would be better to die a man than to live as a coward. Now the ANA here will speak to the others of your courage today. Besides, I hate being lied too.” We laughed at his last statement, but deep inside I wondered, “Who have I become?” And “Who will I be when I return home?”

  That mission ended as they all do. However, returning to Fort Apache meant being flown back in the Chinooks. This meant having to jump onto the ramp of the Chinook while it hovered next to an outcropping of rocks overlooking another cliff. This was yet another adventure that ended as crazy as it started. We spent a few days at Fort Apache prior to returning to our FOB to shower and eat hot food.

  I was approached by an SF member who I knew to be a Christian who stated that he had heard about the border incident. He asked if I was afraid during the exchange of challenges and insults. I honestly confessed that I was not at that moment, because I was angry and hate-filled. I shared more of my story with him, where I had come from and what my original motivation was for being there, and how I had learned that in dangerous situations anger and hatred gave me strength to face most anything.

  His face became stoic and his eyes seemed distant for a moment, then he looked at me and stated that as a Christian he understood. That because of the atrocities that he had seen the enemy commit against civilians, especially women and children, it had become very easy to hate these people and even easier to kill them. He stated that it was a difficult balance to keep as a soldier and a Christian especially when faced with such obvious evil. I asked how he reconciled his actions and feelings with God.

  I confessed to him that I was burdened, not by the fact that I had killed people, but that the more often it happened the easier it became and the less it bothered me. He stated that he believed that God approves of what soldiers have to do against evil men. He ended our discussion with this: “I intentionally seek God’s face, I believe that in His presence my demons are diminished and those that are set against me are defeated, in His presence am I made whole again.” He repeated, “Whole again but not unscarred, not without wounds that are reopened at a passing thought or worse, a nightmare. Actions have consequences, and that is the reality of the fallen world we live in, but praise God for His grace that we are able to pass through it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Night Raids

  THE REMAINDER OF OUR TIME at FOB Gilligan seemed like a constant cycle of night missions, daily patrols, drinking chai with village elders and hanging out with the ANA. Our night missions were well orchestrated ambushes that the ANA and our teams would coordinate based upon intelligence we had received from the local villagers. It was not uncommon for the day workers to pass information about the movements of the Taliban to include the location of IEDs.

  It was obviously unsettling when local village boys would arrive at our base with an unexploded mortar in their hand that they dug up. It was at that moment that we devised a new plan for the collection of bombs by the locals so that they would deposit them in a pit at the edge of our base where we could destroy them at a safe distance. We were amazed at first by the nonchalant attitude they had when handling explosives, yet it made sense when we considered the history of this country. These people have known nothing but war for more than a generation, handling explosives by children was just part of everyday life, and if they were injured or killed then it was “Allah’s will.”

  During our down time I would hang out with the ANA. They especially enjoyed playing cards. The game we played seemed to be a cross between Hearts and Spades. Because of the language barrier I never got a good handle on it, but as long as money was not involved I was good. The funniest game I got pulled into playing was with three other Afghan soldiers all from different ethnic groups who could not speak more than their own language. They would not take no for an answer so I thought I would give it a try. By the end of the game I think I won two hands but lost the game and I still do not know how.

  During the heat of the day we would sit under a tree or on my covered porch and talk about everything from politics, to marriage/families, herding goats and even religion. It was during one of these bull sessions that one Afghan soldier that I was friends with asked why I would leave America to fight in Afghanistan? His question was based on two preconceived thoughts: One, why would anyone actually leave America? And two, if they did leave, why would anyone come to Afghanistan? Through my Terp I shared with them my original reasons for volunteering for my first tour to Iraq and why I volunteered again for Afghanistan. When I talked about my oldest son being in the Twin Towers in New York City I shared how angry I was because I thought he could have been killed. I did not realize
it then but the translation they understood was that my oldest son had been killed by Al Qaeda and therefore I was in Afghanistan to avenge his death and restore my family’s honor.

  Living with the Afghans taught me many things about their culture and about the Muslim faith in general. One of these was that was at the core of their familial relations was the oldest son. He is the “promised son” the one who bears his father’s name and who will inherit the lion’s share of his father’s possessions. Learning the importance of the eldest son also explained why Mohammed and Muslim’s today reject Isaac as Abraham’s promised son. Ishmael was Abraham’s first born son and therefore entitled to his father’s blessing and inheritance (cf. Gen. 16:15-16; 21:2). It is through Ishmael that all of God’s or Allah’s promises would be fulfilled. This is such a foundational issue for them that they cannot get past it, which then leads them to believe that the Jews have lied about this event, making them heretics.

  Knowing the background of the importance of the eldest son will explain why they began to treat me more as a brother than previously. We had already become friends and they were so distraught at the thought of my oldest son being killed that they were determined to find a way to restore my family honor. I was surprised when my interpreter came to me late one night and stated that I must go with him. I was not suspicious of him because I had already trusted him with my life since we had arrived.

  I got dressed and we walked to the back of the FOB to meet A-Top and a handful of ANA. It was not unusual for all of us to go out on night missions or for the ANA to go without us on their own. A-Top would tell us that they were going out without us because they were going to “fight the Afghan way.” That meant that they would be going after an enemy and they were not going to follow any American ROEs.