The Lost Journal of Private Kenji Yoshida

by James Harden

Jan 12th - Run in with Green Berets.

  Actually I don’t know if they were Green Berets or not. But that’s what they called themselves. Apparently they had been operating in some of the more isolated areas of the Hindu Kush mountain range for over a month. They had been helping the local villagers build better shelters, teaching the men and some of the older boys shooting techniques and basic defensive strategies.

  But there was something about them I didn’t like.

  I don’t know. I didn’t fully trust them. It’s hard to explain. There was something about their body language. And their weak cover story about the men they had locked up in that crappy little mud hut. The men were just lying in there on the dirt floor. No beds, no blankets. The walls and the roof were made of mud and straw. There was no heating. It was the middle of winter for crying out loud. No wonder they were sick. No wonder they weren’t getting any better.

  The Special Forces team claimed their prisoners were connected to the Taliban and Al Qaeda. That was how they justified it.

  I’m not a huge expert on the Geneva Convention or anything but I’m pretty sure those men were being mistreated.

  Anyway, the reason we had been sent out there was because Command had received another distress call from a village about fifteen miles from where we found the sick boy. They’d tried to radio back and confirm but they had lost contact.

  Apparently there was a Special Forces team – Green Berets, who had been operating in the area. We were to take a chopper ride back up into the mountains, rendezvous with them, check out the situation and report back.

  The Blackhawk chopper dropped us about five miles outside of the village and we made our way slowly towards the camp. As always, the mountainous terrain made it difficult to move. There was a cold wind blowing in from the north.

  All of the surrounding mountains were covered in snow. The jagged peaks, gave the impression of crooked, razor sharp teeth.

  At this point, summer was a distant memory. Hundred degree heat waves were a distant memory. It had been a particularly harsh winter so far. On average the temperature was at freezing or a few degrees below. But in reality it felt a lot colder, especially when you took the wind chill factor into consideration.

  We pulled up about a half mile out from the village. I picked out a point a cover and tried to get a look at our rendezvous point. Today I had my M40 sniper rifle with me.

  I looked through the scope.

  The village appeared to be quiet. There was no sign of activity or enemy contact.

  Gordon crouched down next to me. “What can you see?”

  “Not much. Looks pretty quiet. No signs of artillery fire or anything.”

  “All right,” Gordon said. “Let’s get down there. Everyone stay frosty.”

  It was a completely different atmosphere to the other village. No one came running up to us. No one was yelling. It was eerily quiet. The only noise was the ice cold wind blowing down from the snowcapped mountain peaks.

  We walked by a few houses. We could tell there were people inside. They were sneaking a look at us as we walked passed. But as soon as we got too close, they would close their doors or windows.

  We eventually met up with the Special Forces team. They were situated outside one of the larger huts near the middle of the village. They were having a briefing session when we arrived. They looked completely surprised to see us.

  “Didn’t anyone tell you we were coming?” Gordon asked them.

  Their team leader gave a few quick orders to his men and they packed up the maps they were studying. They all stood up, blocking the entrance to the hut. It was like they were guarding it, protecting whatever or whoever was inside.

  I thought I heard one of them flick their safety off.

  I looked over at Drake and Franco. They both tensed up.

  “What’s inside?” Gordon asked.

  “Nothing that concerns you, Corporal.”

  Gordon held his hands up in an attempt to keep everyone relaxed. “Look, Command sent us in here because they received a distress call. Our orders were to meet up with you guys and make sure everything’s all right. We’re not here, to screw around with your operations or anything.”

  “Distress call?”

  “Yeah. There was an incident at one of the villages about fifteen miles east of here. A boy had been poisoned. They wanted to make sure this wasn’t related.”

  “We haven’t heard anything from Command in a couple of weeks.”

  I was starting to feel uneasy. It was a weird situation. We were basically having a stand-off with these guys. And for what? They didn’t even know about the distress call.

  Gordon motioned with his head at the hut the Green Berets seemed to be guarding. “Who you got inside?”

  “You know what our objective is. We’re here to work with these people.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” Gordon said calmly. ”Who’s inside?”

  The team leader paused, like he was weighing up his options. He then told one of his men to open the door. The man seemed to hesitate for a second before opening it. As he did, two other guys stood behind him, weapons at the ready.

  “We’re not entirely sure who they are,” the team leader answered. “But if I had to take a guess I’d say they were Al Qaeda. They came in yesterday, guns blazing.”

  We had a look inside the mud hut. I counted ten men. They were lying on their backs. Their arms were tied down by their side and their legs were tied together.

  “Look, we’ve been delivering intel to Command for months now,” the team leader said. “We’ve been all over this area raiding hide outs and supply routes. Trust us, these guys in there. They’re bad news.”

  I snuck another look past the Special Forces soldiers. The prisoners were lying down, eyes closed. One of them seemed to be moaning in pain. They looked ill. They did not look like hardened guerrillas.

  “Why do they look so sick?” Franco asked. “Have you been mistreating them?”

  “Hell no. They came here on a suicide mission. They had planted IED’s around the outskirts of the village. Probably a couple of nights ago.”

  “IED’s?” Drake said, surprised.

  “Improvised Explosive Devices.”

  “We know what they are,” Gordon replied. “But why here? All the way up in the mountains. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “As far as we can tell, their plan was to come in here and cause as much damage as possible,” he said as he pointed at the men in the hut. “I mean, look at them. They’re sick. They’ve probably got pneumonia. It’s been a hard winter. These guys are malnourished. They’re dying. They wanted to go out as martyrs. Tomorrow we’re gonna set out with one of the local guides. I’m guessing we’ll find their hideout. We were lucky to nip this in the bud.”

  What he said made sense. But I still felt uneasy. The Green Berets were famous for supplying misinformation.

  Eventually we all calmed down. About twenty minutes later some reinforcements moved in on the village to make sure it was truly secure. Well maybe they weren’t reinforcements. They looked more like a forensic investigation unit or something.

  We decided it wasn’t worth the time and energy to hang around. Besides the Special Forces team had seniority and they were here in this area for the long haul. No point in arguing. Command had obviously screwed up with the lines of communication.

  I had one last look at their prisoners before we left. They were older men. Sick and desperate. They were helpless.

  Again, I couldn’t help but think about how they looked nothing like battle-hardened warriors.