The Outpost An Untold Story Of American Valor Part 20

The elders elected one hundred members to serve on the new shura, which was meticulously designed to proportionally represent all of the villages and tribes and clans in Kamdesh District. Thus was born the "Hundred-Man Shura." Rahman was chosen as its head, and an executive committee was appointed to a.s.sist him. Anayatullah handed out a list of development projects to the hundreds of a.s.sembled Nuristanis. "It's your responsibility to secure your own villages," he reminded them.

The mega-shura continued for a second day and then into a third. While most of the elders returned to their villages after the second day, seventy or so remained behind to try to hammer out a comprehensive security plan, detailing each village's responsibilities and the consequences for violating a pending mega-shura agreement.

Kolenda was delighted. He asked Rahman and Gul Mohammed Khan if the elders might persuade insurgent leaders such as Mohammed Jan-the HIG commander for Kamdesh District-to tell their fighters to lay down their arms. Rahman looked at Kolenda and smiled.

"No, that is not how things work here," he said. "Right now the militant leaders are too powerful. They have control of the young men. Our plan is to go from village to village and talk with the people about the future. We will convince the elders and the parents of the fighters, and convince the fighters as well. Once we have enough of them on our side, then we will have the power to persuade the leaders to join us."

From November through the following January, representatives from the Hundred-Man Shura toured Kamdesh District, going from village to village, discussing the way forward, explaining why the Americans were in the area, and talking about how they would all work together. "Jihad is over," the elders said on their journeys. "Stop fighting." To further combat the skepticism of a highly insular people who intensely distrusted outsiders, the Hundred-Man Shura asked the Americans and the Afghan government to draft written agreements regarding peace and cooperation. The shura wanted Karzai and the United States, first, to commit to coordinating with its members on all issues affecting their villages and the district at large, and second, to acknowledge the governance role of the shura itself. (Part of the elders' motivation for both demands, it must be said, was the desire to get more directly involved in the development projects, in order to wield power and disburse money.) Called the Commitment of Mutual Support, the agreement with the United States stipulated that in exchange for the villagers' a.s.suming greater responsibility for the development contracts and taking the lead in expelling insurgents, U.S. troops would refrain from entering mosques or homes uninvited, unless there was an imminent threat. If a home had to be searched, Bulldog Troop was to confer with local elders and the ANA, and then ANA officers alone would conduct the actual search. If the Americans received intelligence on an insurgent weapons cache, they and the ANA would work with the elders to track it down and seize it. Only if the elders refused to help would the ANA and the Americans be free to take matters into their own hands.

The reaction among some officers and soldiers in the squadron was shock: We're fighting a f.u.c.king war, these guys are killing us, and we're supposed to politely ask permission before searching for bad guys? they wondered. But even before this, Chris Kolenda had been diligent about demanding that his officers and NCOs educate all of their troops on the many nuances of counterinsurgency, and after a while, most troops understood why it wasn't always smart to just start kicking down doors, unless the goal was to p.i.s.s off more people and create more insurgents. As a general rule, the men of Bulldog Troop already knew not to enter a village without first coordinating with its elders, because culturally, it was inappropriate just to show up. American and ANA troops were supposed to wait at the edge of the village while the women withdrew into their homes, and to go in only after the elders told them they could. But such cultural sensitivities hadn't always been a priority. Now they would be, unless there was an "imminent threat."

Roller didn't think that was so much to give up. He was more than willing to trade his infrequent patrols through villages sans permission for the locals' pledge to keep the bad guys out themselves. And most of those he served with understood that this war wasn't like the one in Saving Private Ryan Saving Private Ryan or or Band of Brothers: Band of Brothers: there would be no surrender by a uniformed enemy army. Second- and third-order effects could metastasize. there would be no surrender by a uniformed enemy army. Second- and third-order effects could metastasize.

Working with the elders, Kolenda and Hutto carved out another exception to the agreement: U.S. troops also had an open invitation to enter a village to inspect a project that the United States was paying for. If the village's shura equivocated on this, or failed to welcome the Americans into the village, the United States would cut off the money or even cancel the project until the elders came into line. Moreover, if insurgents vandalized or destroyed a project, American funding would be stopped until the village elders identified those responsible and worked with Afghan security forces to hold them accountable. If the Nuristanis truly wanted to take ownership of their own affairs, their role couldn't be confined to just managing the cash and handing out the contracts; they would have to do the hard work of self-policing as well.

The district shura also agreed to use its size to enforce a sort of nonviolent resistance against members who broke their word. If any village proved uncooperative and refused to abide by the agreement, the Hundred-Man Shura would drop in en ma.s.se and squat there. The village would then have to feed the picketing elders-a very expensive proposition-until the situation was resolved to their satisfaction.

Bulldog Troop signed off on the Commitment of Mutual Support, and Hutto began enforcing it-often with some choice language when he thought a village was slacking or violating the terms.

Hutto and Ingbretsen, the ANA trainer, felt they'd made some headway with elders throughout the district and were eager to expand their range. Hutto requested a shura in Mandigal, and the elders selected a date in November. This exchange was soon followed by radio chatter from insurgents in the area, suggesting that they wouldn't allow the Americans to enter the village-and in any case certainly wouldn't let them leave it alive. As the date neared, Hutto sent his men out on patrols to secure the road leading to Mandigal, and then he devised a plan to fend off an attack: he asked members of the Hundred-Man Shura to swing by Combat Outpost Keating, pick up Ingbretsen and him, and join them at the Mandigal shura. They agreed.

Accompanied by former district administrator Gul Mohammed Khan, Kamdesh Village shura head Abdul Rahman, Afghan National Police commander Jalil, and ANA commander Lieutenant Noorullah, the Americans walked breezily into the village. Seats had been set out in a big open s.p.a.ce just south of the village mosque, and Hutto and Ingbretsen sat with the elders on a platform in front of a stone wall by the road. The meeting was led by Abdul Hanan, a respected Mandigal elder. Hanan served as a sort of master of ceremonies for the shura, calling upon each man in turn to give his presentation.

Hutto made his usual pitch about the benefits to be had from their all working together: peace, development, prosperity. "I'm not asking you to turn in insurgents," he said. "But I want you to ask the bad guys what future they envision for Kamdesh District."

Lieutenant Noorullah came next, informing the elders that a planned project to build a road north to Barg-e-Matal could be subcontracted so that each village along the way would be responsible for its own section, if it wanted. But, he explained, until the fighting ended, Nuristan would not be able to receive the economic-development funding it desired. And that meant that the elders of Mandigal would need to talk to local insurgents and get them to turn in their weapons and cease hostilities.

Noorullah had connections in the village-his wife was from there-and he had been working them before this meeting. (His own family sold gems in the Kabul area, and his wife's was involved in the same trade, but on the mining side.) Drawing upon his sources, he had a.s.sembled a list of names of insurgents from Mandigal. And right then and there, he called those men out and told them to stand up-right in front of their fathers.

Ingbretsen's interpreter was feeding translations into his earpiece. Ingbretsen and Hutto looked at each other. What was this?

And then the first insurgent stood. He was just a few feet in front of them.

Nervously, Hutto and Ingbretsen whispered to each other, "What are we going to do now?" Since they first entered the village, they'd been hearing enemy chatter on the radio, some of it coming from inside Mandigal. Apart from their interpreters and a couple of Army medics, including Rob Fortner, who were off to one side tending to ailing children, the two Americans were essentially alone, facing a crowd of hundreds of Nuristanis, many of whom were carrying AKs. Sure, there were Afghan police and ANA troops there, as well as the elders who had accompanied them to the shura, but who knew what would happen if bullets started flying?

Hutto looked out into the crowd: some two dozen men were now standing, identifying themselves as enemy fighters. Hutto and Ingbretsen, talking under their breath, quickly came up with a contingency plan. Straight ahead of them was a big wooden arch decorated with intricate patterns. That would be considered twelve o'clock, the two men decided. If the bad guys started shooting, Ingbretsen, on the left, would return fire and clear from ten to twelve o'clock, and Hutto would do the same from twelve to two o'clock. Then they'd turn, drop the fifteen feet down the wall to the gravel road, and run out of town.

The enemy fighters, however, didn't make any moves. Noorullah told the insurgents that they must stop their attacks. "I know who you are," he said. "You need to join the government of the Republic of Afghanistan. Next time I see you, if you are fighting the government or the Americans, I will kill you."

The insurgents took their seats. It was as strong a message as Hutto and Ingbretsen could have hoped for.

Every officer in the 173rd Airborne was on record as supporting the new counterinsurgency strategy set forth by the PetraeusMattis group, but each one had his own take on it, and some thought Kolenda was taking the notion too far. Kolenda felt as if he were being constantly second-guessed by his boss, Colonel Chip Preysler, and by the brigade staff at Forward Operating Base Fenty at Jalalabad. The pushback never came in the form of a denial of development funds; it was more a matter of constant badgering and even condescension: What are you doing? Why aren't you planning another kinetic39 operation? What's with all of the backslapping and handholding? Despite the fact that 1-91 Cav had obliterated hundreds of insurgents throughout the summer and fall, one brigade staff officer still quipped that Kolenda's men weren't killing enough people. operation? What's with all of the backslapping and handholding? Despite the fact that 1-91 Cav had obliterated hundreds of insurgents throughout the summer and fall, one brigade staff officer still quipped that Kolenda's men weren't killing enough people.

This frustrated Kolenda no end. It was true that violence was down in his area of operations, but that wasn't because his men had gone soft. As Kolenda saw it, none of what he was doing had anything to do with being warmhearted. In his opinion, counterinsurgency was a pretty d.a.m.ned cold-blooded strategy, all about being out there with specific goals-establishing stability and defeating the insurgency-and intelligently using the full range of available leverage, from cash, clean water, and education for local children to bullets, when appropriate, to get the desired results. There was an element of manipulation involved. Sure, he wanted the Afghans to have better lives-how could anyone not, after seeing that kind of impoverishment? But there was also something transactional about American promises of clean water, construction jobs, and a brighter future for Afghan kids. This wasn't charity; the bottom line was, these offers were made to save American lives and help destroy anyone who hoped to hurt ISAF troops. Kolenda could never understand why some folks viewed the carrots as being somehow inferior to the sticks.

Preysler, for his part, didn't see himself as pushing back against Kolenda's efforts. As the man in charge of the four provinces in this area of operations, with eleven commands at the lieutenant colonel level under him, each with its own challenges and demands, he had a different perspective on matters. His men in the Korangal Valley were getting attacked up to five times a day, every day.40 Maybe the shuras and promises had helped, but how much? Even if violence was down in 1-91 Cav's zone, all over the rest of its area of operations, the 173rd Airborne was still filling body bags. Maybe the shuras and promises had helped, but how much? Even if violence was down in 1-91 Cav's zone, all over the rest of its area of operations, the 173rd Airborne was still filling body bags.

This was Preysler's fourth time in combat: he'd been in Afghanistan at the beginning of the war and then again during Operation Anaconda, as well as in Iraq at the beginning of that war. As a battalion commander, Preysler had been featured in Sean Naylor's Not a Good Day to Die, Not a Good Day to Die, the book that Ben Keating gave to his father before he headed overseas. By contrast, this was Kolenda's first time deployed into battle. the book that Ben Keating gave to his father before he headed overseas. By contrast, this was Kolenda's first time deployed into battle.

Preysler believed that the deaths of Jacob Lowell, Tom Bostick, and Ryan Fritsche, combined with the challenges of the terrain, had-understandably-led Kolenda to conclude that conventional tactics wouldn't work in Nuristan, and prompted him to put a great deal of energy into other, nonkinetic courses of action. And while he knew Kolenda might not think he was on board, Preysler felt that in fact, he was-it was just that he was constantly pushing for further a.n.a.lysis.

Kolenda didn't talk with his subordinates about what he viewed as Preysler's skeptical, sometimes even unsupportive att.i.tude, but his troopers readily picked up on that att.i.tude from the brigade leaders during their occasional visits to the area. As Kolenda saw it, many of his fellow officers did not understand the situation in Kamdesh, and many seemed to think of counterinsurgency as a simple matter of attrition warfare, with fig leaves of self-governance and development-as if counterinsurgency were just a big show being put on by Kolenda and others, a way of distracting the locals while the "real" Americans tackled the real job of killing bad guys.

At the end of December 2007, Second Lieutenant Hank Hughes, a former Army brat who'd gone to Boston University on an ROTC scholarship, met up with Hutto at Forward Operating Base Naray. The two hitched a ride on a chopper to Camp Keating. "You'd better be ready," Hutto warned him in his odd, speedy Southern tw.a.n.g.

Hughes was flying in to replace Dave Roller as leader of 1st Platoon-Roller was being promoted to Bulldog Troop's XO, Hutto's second in command-and the green lieutenant had never before been deployed into a war zone. Hughes looked out the window of the Black Hawk and gulped. He'd been briefed on the terrain, but actually seeing it was another matter.

Holy s.h.i.t, he thought.

The bird descended onto the landing zone, at the bottom of the fishbowl, and Hughes's dreadful astonishment continued. This is really not what a base is supposed to be, he said to himself. This is not what they trained me for. He wondered if the guns on the base could even shoot high enough to reach insurgents at the upper elevations.

Dave Roller greeted Hughes out at the landing zone, noting with approval the Army Ranger tab on the new arrival's left sleeve. The two men were a lot alike in their temperament, confidence, politics (both leaned somewhat left), and stubbornness-which meant, of course, that they didn't particularly get along, at first. Roller was anxious about how the men of his former platoon would fare under the newcomer; perhaps he was even a little jealous of Hughes, who was now their leader, running around on missions with them while Roller himself had to keep inventory. For his part, Hughes found the officers at Combat Outpost Keating a tough crowd: they had come together in battle, in blood, over the loss of their captain and fellow soldiers, and now here he was, this new guy, flying in after Christmas for the remaining seven months of their rotation. Hutto and Marc.u.m, relative newcomers themselves, were reasonably friendly toward him. But Roller-man, he was a very different story.

They clashed about everything. Their more consequential conflicts had to do with tactical decisions. Once, Roller saw Hughes preparing to set up an observation post near Naray and-in Roller's opinion-carrying too much gear with him. With memories of the fateful mission to Saret Koleh still fresh in his mind, he explained to his replacement that redundant equipment would increase his risk of being pinned down. Roller himself, after all, had had been pinned down before. He advised Hughes that water was more important than extra radios-he could always send a runner or even give hand signals if he ended up needing those. Hughes flat-out told Roller he was wrong, then said he was going to do things his own way. An epic argument commenced. The disagreement was resolved only by the (unrelated) cancellation of the mission. been pinned down before. He advised Hughes that water was more important than extra radios-he could always send a runner or even give hand signals if he ended up needing those. Hughes flat-out told Roller he was wrong, then said he was going to do things his own way. An epic argument commenced. The disagreement was resolved only by the (unrelated) cancellation of the mission.

They fought just as hard about more trivial issues, too. One day, in the gym, the two lieutenants got into a heated argument about the rapper Lil Wayne, who at that point in his career seemed to some to be coasting a bit, maintaining his fan base largely through guest appearances in others' songs and raps and through popular mix tapes. Was Lil Wayne a great rapper? That was open to debate, evidently. Roller a.s.serted that his meteoric record sales meant that the question had been asked and answered. Hughes disagreed: quant.i.ty did not indicate quality, he insisted. Referring to Aristotle's Poetics, Poetics, which declared tragic poems superior to epic poems, he dove into the notion of empirical quality. Well, reb.u.t.ted Roller, getting angrier, Lil Wayne's art had obviously touched a lot of people, so there was clearly something that attracted them to him. How should art be defined? After twenty minutes, the volume increasing with each advance of the minute hand-and Kenny Johnson watching it all, bemused and bewildered-a furious Roller stormed out of the gym, his workout only half done, his heart rate nevertheless well above the fat-burning level. which declared tragic poems superior to epic poems, he dove into the notion of empirical quality. Well, reb.u.t.ted Roller, getting angrier, Lil Wayne's art had obviously touched a lot of people, so there was clearly something that attracted them to him. How should art be defined? After twenty minutes, the volume increasing with each advance of the minute hand-and Kenny Johnson watching it all, bemused and bewildered-a furious Roller stormed out of the gym, his workout only half done, his heart rate nevertheless well above the fat-burning level.

Later, Hughes talked with Newsom about it: "Why is Dave such a d.i.c.k to me?" he asked.

Newsom smiled. Hughes had come to Camp Keating full of p.i.s.s and vinegar, and Roller's immediate reaction had been to hate the new guy, especially because he missed going on missions with his platoon. But even more than that, it was the fact that they were so similar. "Imagine if you were here and then another one of you showed up," Newsom said. "Wouldn't you you hate you?" hate you?"

The first real test of the Commitment of Mutual Support between the Hundred-Man Shura and Bulldog Troop came when bullets were fired at Observation Post Warheit.

They were just sporadic rounds coming from somewhere south of Camp Keating-Urmul or, a little farther south, Agro, it wasn't clear which. Either way, they needed to stop. Hutto called for the relevant representatives from the Hundred-Man Shura, Said Amin from Urmul and Hjia Jamo from Agro. He escorted them to the large tent that had been set up for shuras at Camp Keating and invited them to sit down on the carpets. Hutto didn't consider these two to be bad guys, but he didn't treat them as well as he did, say, his buddy Abdul Rahman. They had yet to prove themselves to him. Maybe this would be their chance.

"Where are these rounds coming from?" Hutto asked them through an interpreter. "Who's responsible?"

Amin, from Urmul, said the shots were coming from Agro. Jamo, from Agro, said the insurgents had been firing from Urmul and then running into his settlement.

"Okay," Hutto said. "Until we settle this, you won't get any humanitarian a.s.sistance, and funding for your projects will be cut off. You need to figure out who did it, and you need to make it stop."

About a week later, Jamo returned to Combat Outpost Keating and asked to meet with Hutto. "We know who the person is who fired on your camp," he told the American. "But he's not from our village-he's from outside Agro and came in. What do we do?"

"Even if outsiders come in from outside your area, you're responsible," Hutto said. "If you can't control him, tell the ANA or the Afghan National Police."

Not long after that, rounds were fired at Observation Post Warheit from Kamdesh Village. This time, a member of the Hundred-Man Shura knew the ident.i.ty of the guilty party-but the thing was, the insurgent was the nephew of a different different member of the Hundred-Man Shura, who was also a contractor. Not only would this second shura member not do anything to stop the shooting, but he wouldn't give the insurgent's precise location to Hutto so that the Americans could take action against him. member of the Hundred-Man Shura, who was also a contractor. Not only would this second shura member not do anything to stop the shooting, but he wouldn't give the insurgent's precise location to Hutto so that the Americans could take action against him.

Hutto convened several meetings with the leaders of the Kamdesh Village shura-Mawlawi Abdul Rahman and Gul Mohammed Khan-but no information was forthcoming. "You're going to be responsible for our stopping all projects in Kamdesh Village," Hutto told them.

Luckily for the villagers of Kamdesh, the insurgent was arrested near Gawardesh, and the problem went away. The ultimate test of the Commitment of Mutual Support had been avoided-for now. But it all left a bad taste in Hutto's mouth. The Hundred-Man Shura had not yet proven itself.

Winter came to Combat Outpost Keating. Major General David Rodriguez, the commander of Combined Joint Task Force 82, a subordinate division of ISAF, announced that Observation Post Warheit would be renamed Observation Post Fritsche.

Marc.u.m and 2nd Platoon were a.s.signed to the observation post when a three-day snowstorm hit the mountain in January. At first it was fun-s...o...b..ll fights, giant snowmen, snow caves-but the weather quickly lost its appeal once the troops realized they were slowly, steadily being buried in up to seven feet of snow.

The local insurgency had been more or less quelled, which Kolenda considered a direct result and reflection of the success of the Hundred-Man Shura. In January, representatives of the shura left for Kabul to meet with President Karzai and tell him that the people of Kamdesh now supported his government. With the enemy seemingly hibernating for the winter, the troops-when not on guard duty, patrolling, or on missions to visit local villages-spent their time sleeping, watching movies, reading, and trying not to get on one another's nerves.

While most of the region was quiet, some anti-American groups remained active, including the one led by the Gawardesh insurgent/gangster Haji Usman, whom 3-71 Cav had been targeting from Hill 2610 in June 2006 when his militia attacked, killing Patrick Lybert and Jared Monti. Usman and his gang would regularly bypa.s.s the legal border crossing into Pakistan, near Barikot, instead using a mountain pa.s.s and the Gawardesh Bridge to shuttle lumber and gems east and weapons and insurgents west, into Kunar and Nuristan Provinces. Usman regarded the bridge as the "Gate to Nuristan" and deemed it worth fighting in order for to keep his supply lines open. Camp Lybert had been built almost exclusively to guard this mountain pa.s.s and border crossing point.

On January 25, 2008, a team of Green Berets led by Captain Robert Cusick was accompanying an Afghan Border Police and Afghan National Army security patrol near the bridge. Before the patrol pa.s.sed Checkpoint Delta, a lookout spotted ten armed men crossing the Gawardesh Bridge and then entering a large house nearby. Cusick and the Afghans crossed the bridge themselves to get in position. A platoon from 1-91 Cav Headquarters Troop, now commanded by Captain John Williams, set up nearby. When some two dozen insurgents left the compound and began heading east, toward the Pakistan border, Williams and Cusick and their men opened up on the group. A-10 Warthogs fired their 30-millimeter cannons and sent bombs raining down from above. The insurgent force was cut to pieces in an instant.

Cusick and the ANA platoon were moving forward to gather intelligence from the dead fighters when up to sixty other insurgents who'd been hiding on the hillside began firing at them. Williams and his troops returned fire, and the Warthogs resumed their bombing and 30-millimeter runs. Cusick was shot through his left lung; the bullet just missed his collarbone. At first he could still give orders, but soon he drifted into shock. Staff Sergeant Robby Miller took command, firing his SAW, throwing grenades, and telling his fellow Special Forces to "Bound back!" as he walked directly toward the enemy fire, giving his brothers in arms a chance to retreat and get Cusick to a medevac.

It was the last time they saw Robby Miller alive. When a quick reaction force arrived on scene an hour later-to a.s.sist in extracting Cusick's team and the Afghans and to recover Miller's body-the fight was over.

Despite the tragedy for the Special Forces, the battle produced evidence that the Americans were making progress in the region. Intelligence came in to 1-91 Cav indicating that during the fight, Usman's forces had asked the district HIG commander, Mohammed Jan, to lend them some a.s.sistance in combating the Americans. Jan refused; ultimately, he would sign an agreement with the Hundred-Man Shura pledging to stop fighting. Subsequent reports indicated that Haji Usman was no longer welcome in Gawardesh or Bazgal, then later hinted that he was reaching out to Taliban elements in Pakistan. He was going to have to find support from a different group.

A somewhat similar scenario played out with an insurgent leader named Shabbaz, from Lower Kamdesh, who had orchestrated the August attacks on Camp Keating, stolen money from contractors, and destroyed their work, burning buildings, shooting up micro-hydroelectric plants, and blowing up bridges. At times, it was unclear whether Shabbaz was really with HIG or whether he was just an opportunistic local criminal. Hutto instructed the elders to pa.s.s along a message to the troublemaker: "What is it you want to accomplish for the people of Nuristan?" But by the fall, it had become clear that any attempt at outreach would be futile, and the shura seemed incapable of getting rid of him on its own.

That changed after the elders returned from their meeting in Kabul with President Karzai, during which they had presented him with a letter stating that the jihad was over and they were on the side of the government, peace, and stability. Karzai had in turn agreed to support the shura with funding and community police. By late February, the newly empowered elders had kicked Shabbaz and other insurgent leaders out of Kamdesh.41 Shabbaz found refuge in the mountains, where he would, however, be far more vulnerable and less easily able to stage attacks on the Americans. Shabbaz found refuge in the mountains, where he would, however, be far more vulnerable and less easily able to stage attacks on the Americans.

Special Forces are a rare breed of soldiers. The Army has no troops better trained, and none deadlier, than its Green Berets. They are usually deployed in small, tight-knit groups of a dozen or fewer men. Their strong bonds-which can date back years-often make for exceptional battlefield collaboration and solidarity. They also make the death of a team member an extremely emotional experience for his comrades. All combat losses are tragedies, but for these men, the tragedies are almost always profoundly familial.

Extreme discipline is required of and by Special Forces troops, perhaps even more than is the case for other soldiers. The combination of power, lethality, and, in some ways, a lack of accountability-Special Forces generally don't report to the regular chain of command in the location where they're based-can create a volatile dynamic. It's the captain's job to keep testosterone in check and to mitigate any tension between his Special Forces and other, conventional troops. The men under Robert Cusick's command had no captain to do those things for them during the last two months of their deployment.

In March, the Green Berets at Forward Operating Base Naray concocted a plan that they called Operation Commando Vengeance. They soon thought better of their blunt nomenclature and changed its name to Operation Commando Justice. The mission's purpose was to capture or kill Haji Usman, HIG district commander Mohammed Jan, and HIG leader Mullah Sadiq. The Special Forces were going to set up blocking positions and then conduct a "deep clear," searching all the homes in Bazgal, Pitigal, and the surrounding area.

Kolenda understood the anger-the impulse toward "commando vengeance"-that the Green Berets felt. Their captain had been wounded, and a brother in arms killed trying to protect him. Their acting on that rage, however, was another matter entirely. HIG fighters were now joining the good guys. Mullah Sadiq was a target for reconciliation, not a.s.sa.s.sination; his former student Mawlawi Abdul Rahman, the Kamdesh shura and Hundred-Man Shura leader, was fully on board. And Mohammed Jan had refused to help Haji Usman in the fight in which Miller was killed.

Kolenda was convinced that Operation Commando Justice was all about retribution and blood l.u.s.t. It seemed to be motivated not by a desire to go after real targets, but rather by an angry desire-a hunger, almost-to wreak havoc in two of the largest villages in Kamdesh District just because some of the insurgents involved in the January 21 firefight might might have come from there. Indeed, the Special Forces didn't appear to have any actionable intelligence indicating that any of the men on their "kill/capture" list were actually have come from there. Indeed, the Special Forces didn't appear to have any actionable intelligence indicating that any of the men on their "kill/capture" list were actually in in Bazgal or Pitigal. Bazgal or Pitigal.

Not surprisingly, the Special Forces troops saw things differently. Commando Justice wasn't rooted in revenge, they insisted. In this particular area of operations, the Special Forces team believed, the United States needed a more kinetic approach. And while Commando Justice would be a higher-risk operation than some, it wasn't as if, one of the Green Berets would later say, they were just going to go in and start dropping bombs, bulldozing houses, and killing people-unless, of course, they found a clear threat. Cusick was monitoring everything from his recovery room back at Fort Bragg, and he was completely supportive of the mission.

Many of the Green Berets thought Kolenda and his men were comparatively soft and insufficiently willing to fight. Moreover, more than half of the dozen members of the Green Beret team had been stationed in the area during a previous rotation, and they felt they knew more about it than anyone from 1-91 Cav. Some resented the fact that Kolenda had never sat down with them to pick their brains or solicit their opinions about operations outside the base.

Kolenda believed this operation would be worse than pointless: it could undo months' worth of work with the Hundred-Man Shura and outreach to local elders. He suggested that the Special Forces instead go after two specific targets: a reported insurgent command-and-control facility between Pitigal and Bazgal and a supply point in the Pitigal Valley. If Haji Usman was still in Kamdesh District, he would likely be in one of those spots. Well, the Special Forces said, we don't answer to you. We're just telling you that we're doing this. Kolenda didn't quite understand what Special Forces did, they decided; he seemed to think all they were about was kicking down doors and killing people. We do plenty of "hearts and minds" work, too, the Green Berets thought.

This is a temper tantrum, Kolenda said to himself. He'd worked seamlessly with a previous Special Forces unit, but there were different dynamics in play with this group. Without Cusick there, these Special Forces troops seemed to Kolenda to be out of control. He called Preysler.

"This is going to be a disaster," he told the colonel. Recalling their darkest days of routine, large-scale fighting in Kamdesh District in July 2007, around the time when Tom Bostick and Ryan Fritsche were killed, Kolenda asked Preysler, "Do you remember how it was last summer? It will be like that times ten." It would undo everything they had accomplished so far, he added.

Other officers from the 173rd Airborne Brigade shared Kolenda's concerns-about the lack of actionable intelligence, the lack of indicators suggesting the presence of an insurgent leader, the lack of sources on the ground to confirm or deny such a presence-and they reached out to the Special Forces as well. They all got the same answer: "We are informing you about what we are doing, not asking for your permission."

At Forward Operating Base Naray, a few days before Operation Commando Justice was scheduled to commence, the Hundred-Man Shura arrived for a meeting with an entourage of at least 130 men in tow, some of them questionable characters with known ties to local insurgent groups. The Green Berets on the base were stunned to see these sketchy locals being allowed to cross the wire unhara.s.sed. In protest, one Green Beret later tacked up a sign on a barracks walls reading "We don't negotiate with terrorists."

Kolenda had also invited both Preysler and Governor Tamim Nuristani to the shura. A variety of issues were discussed. Kolenda was pushing for the establishment of an Afghan Border Police base at the Gawardesh Bridge, while the elders were insisting it wasn't the right time-they were close to reaching an agreement with HIG commander Mohammed Jan, and they wanted that wrapped up before they complicated matters by sending the border police into his general area.

Preysler took it all in. During breaks, Governor Nuristani and the ANA commander spoke with various elders. At lunch, the elders joined Hutto, the ANA troops, and the Afghan policemen for a feast of-what else?-goat, rice, and flatbread.

"This is what I'm talking about," Kolenda explained to Preysler. "This is all going to be destroyed. If the Special Forces go forward with their plan, this is all going to be undermined. They'll all go back to the dark side."

Preysler agreed that Kolenda and Bulldog Troop had made significant headway, and that Operation Commando Justice would kick the hornet's nest. But he himself had no authority to cancel the mission, so he picked up the phone and called Bagram, asking for Brigadier General Joseph Votel, deputy commanding general for operations for Combined Joint Task Force 82 and Regional Command East. Preysler briefed Votel about Operation Commando Justice and relayed Kolenda's concerns. "We can't do this mission," the colonel told the general.

Votel likewise had no power to call off a Special Forces operation, but he did control the helicopters that the Green Berets would need to carry it out. Word soon came to Kolenda that the birds had been sent on another mission, forcing Operation Commando Justice to be scrubbed.

A few weeks later, the entire Special Forces team was relocated from Forward Operating Base Naray to Jalalabad. There were no tearful farewells.

Hutto, Roller, and Newsom had taken steps to make Command Outpost Keating less dangerous, including moving the mortar pit from the center of the camp-where it was both too exposed and too easy to suppress-to the southwest corner. In its new spot, the pit hugged a wall, reducing the number of angles from which it could be targeted and requiring enemy fighters to get much closer if they wanted to attack it. But making even this sort of improvement was like adding an airbag to a Ford Pinto-the outpost itself was still located in an extraordinarily dangerous place.

By now, Roller and Newsom had both spent some weeks up at Observation Post Fritsche, which seemed immeasurably less vulnerable than Camp Keating, whether the men were on patrol or in their bunks. Hutto talked with Kolenda about moving all of the U.S. troops at Keating to the observation post. The outpost wouldn't be totally abandoned, he said: the ANA could keep a company there with the Afghan National Police, and maybe it could become a district center, a place for the government, the police, and even some merchants to set up shop.

After several conversations along these lines, Kolenda asked Hutto and his lieutenants to study the matter and present him with some options. As was the wont of every modern Army officer, Roller resolved to turn his and Newsom's thoughts into a PowerPoint presentation-in this case one that showed, in a hundred slides, how the U.S. troops could move up the mountain. The lieutenants' reasoning was solid: Observation Post Fritsche was closer to the district's population center as well as to the residents who were most supportive of the U.S. efforts. It was inherently safer. And they weren't using the roads much anymore anyway.

Kolenda listened to Roller's presentation. Weighing against a move was the fact that it would limit access to surrounding hamlets such as Mandigal and Agasi. And it wouldn't be easy: it would likely take at least two weeks to relocate everything from Camp Keating up to OP Fritsche using in-demand a.s.sets such as helicopters. That last part would be especially difficult-probably even impossible-because the United States didn't have enough birds in country for the task; they were all in Iraq. Moreover, such an effort would in itself attract enemy attention. During any move, the Americans would be vulnerable.

The lieutenant colonel was also skeptical that the Army could base 120 American troops up at Observation Post Fritsche. Any more than a single U.S. platoon, one ANA platoon, plus headquarters and fire support-sixty troops, maximum-would create significant problems, he believed. One lucky RPG or rocket detonating around too many people in a small area could have catastrophic consequences. Kolenda was looking for ways to reduce the troop presence in Kamdesh and to build up a different outpost in northern Kunar, so he didn't dismiss altogether the notion notion of relocation, but he knew that the true test of 1-91 Cav's counterinsurgency progress would come in March and April, when the fighting season resumed; any changes would be contingent upon the Americans' further success on the ground. Kolenda and Hutto both understood that moving an outpost such as Keating would be best done in winter, when the whole operation would be far less vulnerable to a large-scale attack. So it was a no-go; Kolenda would not push to move the camp. of relocation, but he knew that the true test of 1-91 Cav's counterinsurgency progress would come in March and April, when the fighting season resumed; any changes would be contingent upon the Americans' further success on the ground. Kolenda and Hutto both understood that moving an outpost such as Keating would be best done in winter, when the whole operation would be far less vulnerable to a large-scale attack. So it was a no-go; Kolenda would not push to move the camp.

If he had had advocated for such a move, he would have had to push against two powerful forces deeply entrenched in military thinking and sentiment: perpetual motion and honor. advocated for such a move, he would have had to push against two powerful forces deeply entrenched in military thinking and sentiment: perpetual motion and honor.

The Army, like most modern bureaucracies, is hesitant to undo something once it's been done. It's just not how the machinery operates. An outpost has been built, money has been spent, energy has been exerted-why make all that effort for naught? The machinery is built to keep moving forward, not to be dismantled.

Moreover, by this point, many men had fought and died for this terrain. Abandoning the outpost or Kamdesh District would, to some troops, feel like a betrayal. Elsewhere, some in the military had been questioning the wisdom of naming nonpermanent U.S. bases after fallen heroes. Strategic decisions, many officers argued, should not be influenced by mourning. And yet by now, in the region, bases had already been named for Joe Fenty, Jared Monti, Patrick Lybert, Ben Keating, and Ryan Fritsche. Just a few miles away from Forward Operating Base Fenty in Jalalabad, a joint ISAFANA base bore Buddy Hughie's surname. At Bagram, there was the Heathe Craig Joint Theater Hospital. And soon plans would come to fruition similarly to honor the memory of both Jacob Lowell and Tom Bostick. This practice took the military's reluctance to undo and weighted it down with honor, grief, and sacrifice.

When he began meeting with Abdul Rahman and other Kamdesh elders the previous fall, Kolenda had been intrigued by the way they identified themselves as "good HIG" and insurgents as "bad HIG." At a shura held in mid-May 2008 at Combat Outpost Keating, Kolenda and Hutto set up two white boards, one for Kolenda to write on in English and the other for an interpreter to write on in Pashto for the crowd. They drew three columns-one each for the people of Kamdesh, the Afghan government/U.S. forces, and "bad HIG"-and began discussing the groups' various areas of agreement and disagreement. There was general agreement on almost every item, except that "bad HIG" wanted the United States out of Afghanistan immediately.

By now, in the spring of 2008, it was clear that there were few, if any, bad HIG left. Jan had stopped fighting, and those from the lower ranks had been kicked out of their villages. When the elders, gathered together once again, were speaking about the progress that had been made, Abdul Rahman noted that the three powers in Kamdesh had changed: they were now the elders, the Afghan government/international coalition, and the Taliban.

The Taliban, thought Kolenda. That's interesting. While the United States and the Afghan government would often use the term "Taliban" as shorthand for any insurgent force, this was the first time he had heard the elders do the same. They knew the difference between "bad HIG" and the Taliban, and Rahman wouldn't have used the word unless the actual Taliban now had a presence in the Landay-Sin Valley.

Kolenda and the interpreter then drew a fourth column, for the Taliban. The elders suggested that the Taliban wanted to promote war and violence, prohibit education and development, and seize power for themselves.

Newsom, Captain America himself, was pleased enough about the success of the Hundred-Man Shura, but he was also a big believer in getting his 3rd Platoon out patrolling the ridgelines. Between December 2007 and July 2008, on his initiative, the number of patrols grew. The ANA would go out during the day so villagers would see Afghan soldiers a.s.suming responsibility for security, but then, once darkness fell, the U.S. troops would head for the mountain in six-man teams, policing with their night-vision goggles, keeping an eye out for any possible threat. The Americans weren't fools.

Roller had ordered up T-shirts emblazoned with Newsom's sardonic take on their difficult mission of helping the good guys and killing the bad guys in this land of gray. "Bravo Troop-Engaging Hearts and Minds," the front of the shirts read. "Two in the chest, one in the head," proclaimed the back.

Captain America wouldn't send his troops out on patrol unless he was willing to go out himself, so some days he went as many as three times. Everyone was spent, and his men cursed him for it.

Occasionally there would be run-ins, but it seemed clear that the insurgents were off their game. Trust led to cooperation; information came in; lives were spared. Counterinsurgency was working. Indeed, Preysler had become such an enthusiastic supporter of his lieutenant colonel's efforts along those lines in Kamdesh that Kolenda often found himself having to manage his boss's expectations. At one point, Colonel Preysler went so far as to suggest that other units could take some lessons from 1-91 Cav-advice that did not go down so well with at least one of the other battalion commanders. At Forward Operating Base Fenty, in Nangarhar Province, Preysler even came up with a "grand vision" that he detailed in "Nangarhar Inc.," a sixty-two-page plan calling for $3.2 billion to be pumped into the region to pay for roughly seven years' worth of infrastructure development projects-though the colonel would be the first to admit that he had no idea where that $3.2 billion might come from.

With his leadership now more encouraging of his efforts, and violence nearly nonexistent in his area, Kolenda figured that things were about as good as they could get. The situation remained fragile, he knew. There wasn't any question that some of those being brought into the confidence of the Hundred-Man Shura were allied or a.s.sociated with "bad HIG." But Kolenda, ever the optimist, believed this was part of a deliberate effort, by Abdul Rahman and other key shura leaders, to "turn" some of these more nefarious characters and thereby gain greater credibility with the enemy, with the ultimate goal being a laying down of arms. Others in Bulldog Troop were more skeptical, thinking the Hundred-Man Shura members were hedging their bets by supporting both sides.

In May, a number of shura leaders came to Camp Keating to meet with Hutto, Kolenda, and Governor Nuristani. The elders were irate about what they viewed as the empty promises made by President Karzai. He had told them the government would provide funding for the Hundred-Man Shura and local police, but so far, he'd given them nothing. Bulldog Troop covered their food and transportation costs for specific meetings, but the elders also needed money for other trips and internal meetings.

Kolenda doubted that the Afghan president would ever deliver, despite the billions of dollars the United States had supplied to his government. His administration was born vulnerable and then atrophied in its crib. As even Karzai himself had admitted in 2007, "the Taliban are not strong. It is not them that cause the trouble. It is our weakness that is causing trouble."42 Kolenda wasn't willing to let all his hard work, all this promise, vanish because of Karzai's incompetence and corruption.

So he didn't let it happen. He pledged to the elders that 1-91 Cav would provide them with funding until the Afghan government ponied up. The leadership of the 173rd Airborne had earlier approved Kolenda's request for a "governance fund" to pay expenses incurred by shura members in connection with their official activities, but he'd been waiting to tell the elders about it until he felt they'd proven themselves to him. The signed doc.u.ments from Mohammed Jan, the decreasing levels of violence, the absence of illegal checkpoints on the road, the significant decline in the price of local goods due to improved security, and the shura's frequent interaction with people in the villages, with 1-91 Cav, and with Afghan forces-all of these things told Kolenda that the Hundred-Man Shura was showing itself to be a viable partner.

A view of Combat Outpost Keating from the northwestern mountain. (Photo courtesy of Dave Roller) (Photo courtesy of Dave Roller)