When the Killer Man Comes by Paul Martinez

Author:Paul Martinez
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

5

SAVING THE CAVALRY

We had operated out of Kandahar for several months now and were pretty settled—meaning we knew the area, knew the enemy, and had learned enough through trial and error that we felt, to use a sports analogy, that we were in midseason form. We knew that the enemy we were facing in southeastern Afghanistan was dangerous and ruthless, but we were beginning to get the upper hand. And now that it was spring and fighting season was in full swing, we knew the enemy would come at us, and we’d be able to take out more of them.

That didn’t mean we were taking a victory lap—far from it—but we felt we would be able to go on missions to kill more Taliban while losing fewer Rangers. That was based on the experience we’d gained, and especially what we’d learned about the tactics, techniques, and procedures the enemy used in this area. I’d felt this way before on previous rotations to Afghanistan, and it usually meant just one thing—we were going to get tasked to move to a completely new area and start all over again.

It was a normal day at KAF. We were training, doing PT (physical training), and cleaning our weapons when our platoon sergeant came to us with a WARNO (warning order). This was the usual way we got the word about what might happen next. It was an informal kind of communication that was used all the time, and all we were told was that we would be moving—and soon. Some of the usual hotspots were mentioned: JBAD, Khost Province, Ghazni Province, and a few others. Obviously we wanted to know more, but our platoon sergeant just left it at “somewhere up north.”

That wasn’t very satisfying, to say the least, but we knew the drill. We all began to pack up, taking our full fighting kit and weapons and trying to decide what to leave behind. Some of that was our personal stuff, but some was gear that could be air-dropped to us in a contingency. And then we waited.

We didn’t have to wait long. The next night, we got the official word: We were moving from KAF to Mazar-i-Sharif, in Northern Afghanistan. That meant only one thing: there would be a fight there, and getting into a fight is exactly what Miss America and I, as well as my fellow Rangers, came to Afghanistan to do. I could feel the adrenaline rush already. I’d heard stories about how hot the fighting got around MES (Mazar-i-Sharif), and I was ready.

Now things rocked on fast-forward. As night fell at KAF, we did our final MWE (accounting of men, weapons and equipment) and prepped for our flight to MES. It wouldn’t be helos for this trip; MES was almost 900 klicks from KAF. The only way to get us there was in the venerable C-130 Hercules, the four-engine military transport that has been around since the 1950s.

As we loaded aboard our two C-130s, we were all anticipation.

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