Memorial Day May Be Different For Others
On May 2, 2011, the raid to take Osama Bin Laden was conducted. We’ve all heard the story and/or seen the documentaries. What happened later that month, on May 30th, not many people have heard of or remember and is what I remember the most about that month. It was Memorial Day and every Memorial Day since then a buddy of mine and I message each other wishing a “Happy Herat Day”.
Chill Day For A Cookout
That day was a “down day” for us. Being Memorial Day, we had a cookout planned for US personnel on our compound along with a grinder of a CrossFit workout most of us on compound would take part in. The events of how this thing played out is from my perspective and I’ll keep the names of people and nature of our mission there to myself. One of my “tribe”, my best buddies was on this particular trip with me. By this time, I had been contracting for Uncle Sugar for 6 years. For the most part, all my trips were pretty chill. We’d had a few chaotic situations and butt puckering occurrences but nothing we weren’t paid the big bucks to navigate. Our team (Mobile Guys) consisted of highly trained and richly seasoned vets of Special Operations from our 4 branches of military. Some dudes were really salty.
This was probably my 4th trip to Herat, Afghanistan and I had gained an intimate knowledge of the town. For the most part, Herat was known to be a pretty chill rotation for us and our community. Some guys liked that but some guys got bored. Herat had a deep Iranian influence, being it was a short distance from the Iranian border. We lived in town on our compound which had multiple buildings. We had our sleeping quarters, admin area, motor pool area, gym, meeting rooms, etc. That place was like a second home to me. Our chef, “Cookie”, became like family. He wasn’t amazing but he had earned his keep working for the Americans and was a great liaison for logistical issues in town. He was a real asset to us. The US staff consisted of a small contingent of company employees, a few who were there to train our local guards and our security team. Our security team consisted of a few guys who protected the compound, and managed the local guards, and our “Mobile” team. The mobile team’s function was to facilitate movement of US personnel directly involved with the US mission in the town. There’s a movie out there that details more in-depth the job function of the mobile guys. I was a mobile guy.
Call Of Duty Just Got Real
I don’t exactly remember the time of day when the fireworks kicked off. It seems that it was in the morning. We had one team that was out on a move. The rest of us were back at the house doing our own thing, monitoring the radio in the event the guys in town needed help. Things were pretty chill. I had a pair of shorts on and a t-shirt, wearing my “Jap Flaps” (flip-flops). My buddy and I were knee deep into a Call of Duty match when we heard that familiar “BOOOOM!”. The house rocked back and forth like an earthquake and we knew we just got hit. It sounded like the front gate’s heavy steel doors just blew open. We immediately engaged in expletives and dropped our controllers. Game time. We grabbed our kits and rifles along with all the others on compound. We had rehearsals of what to do in this event. My buddy and I ran up the stairs to the rooftop with our TL (Team Leader) while the rest of the guys moved out to their pre-designated locations around the compound. Crouching and moving to our rooftop walls, we were able to see and take relief knowing it was not our compound that had just been hit. However, the Italian PRT across the street was in a bad way. The black smoke and fire bellowed from their front gate. A VBIED (car bomb) had just detonated and opened their compound like a book. We watched as the Taliban insurgents rushed their compound, catching the Italians off guard and taking a serious beating.
We were in our positions providing intel up our own chain-of-command. Within minutes the Taliban had taken a position in a multi-story building looking down into the Italian compound. They started spraying lead and zipping rockets down into the compound, one explosion after another, and the black smoke started getting thick. Meanwhile, my buddy and I were crouched down behind a short, maybe 3-foot, wall. We were asking our TL and guys were asking on the radio if we could engage since we had a clear line of sight to the target building. We were told to standby. If we engage, we would be, essentially, giving up our position in town. Then, out of nowhere, one of the local Afghan guards opened up with his PKM belt-fed machine gun. He got a quick tongue lashing, but the gig was up. Our TL came over the radio and announced, “Weapons Free”. That’s like saying “Santa’s coming to town!” for a 5-year-old. My buddy was on my left; I was on his right. We began to engage targets at approximately 325meters. “I need more firepower”, I thought to myself as we began to deafen each other with our HK416 shorty rifles. Those rifles at that distance was a stretch. Doable? Yes, but it pushed it when accuracy was important. I yelled to my buddy that I was going down to the team room to grab ear pro and more firepower. We broke off from our position and ran down to our team room. I saw the MK48 7.62×51 belt fed machine gun and grabbed that sucker with a few hundred rounds. My buddy grabbed the scoped Remington 700 bolt-gun we had. We ran back up to the roof and took up positions on the wall. As he began to get his range dialed in for the Bolt Gun, I opened the feed tray cover and slapped in the first round of a hundred round belt. My optic was now on and party time began. It’s hard to avoid loss of peripheral vision when so dialed in as in a gun fight. I knew where my buddy was and I could hear him but I was focused on my task, lay suppressive fire and engage bad guys. I remember seeing a guy pop up in the window with an RPG and I pressed off a nice long burst. He went down. It was like Whack-a-Mole. Whether I was shooting them, or my buddy or someone else, I wasn’t sure. I just knew these guys disappeared when they presented themselves in the windows. I began to hammer away at the structure around the windows. The intent was to deteriorate their cover and open that side of the building up. It was working, as I watched a couple window frames begin to fall out from the battered and bullet-riddled brick surrounding them.
While my buddy and I were engaged from our position, the other half of our team was engaging the enemy from the other rooftop. After ten minutes or so we began to see F16s screaming overhead. Our TL grabbed a VS-17 panel and American flag to lay on our rooftop to avoid fratricide. Getting smoked by our own fast movers would’ve been a bad day. Our compound was in contact with other Special Operations units in the area. They were giving us updates as to who would be rolling on this to help the ground forces. We were also notified of the Afghan Special Forces (I mean, I guess they were Afghans), who were on helos heading to the target building. We were still engaged and the Taliban had picked up on our position and had begun to return fire. We could hear the snaps and whizzes of bullets zip by us, hitting the plaster wall behind us. Shoot, Move, and Communicate. Time to shift. We lifted from our position and shifted to the building closer to the target building to back fill our guys there. Shortly after getting set on that rooftop the helos rolled in. As they approached their hover over the target building our TL called a ceasefire. We watched as the SOF guys fast roped onto the target building and moved down to the top floor and began to clear it. To this day I always wondered what it looked like in there. If we had caused as much carnage as I feel we did.
Aftermath And Following Days
As things began to mellow out and as we watched the black smoke continue to waft through the air, we began to tell our own tales and have some laughs. Our heartbeats began to resume their normal rate and we were ready to chill. I ran down to grab my camera so I could capture the moment. I’m glad I did. Later that evening, our big boss who ran operations in our country flew out to see us. He had us gather in one of our larger team rooms to listen to our stories and tell us how well we did. He then said, “Who’s Hoodlm?”. I piped up and raised my hand. He said, “I’ve got an award for you but I don’t think you’ll be able to take it home. I heard you really gave it to them with the machine gun”. I kinda chuckled and stuck out my hand as he placed 5 rounds of belted 7.62×51 ammo in my hand. We all laughed.
The next day we had a team of tech nerds come out to our compound. Their job was to locate the bad guys who had orchestrated the attack. A couple of the Mobile Guys were tasked to help by driving the vehicle they brought with them, since we had intimate knowledge of the city. The bad guys were found and dealt with appropriately by Afghan forces.
Here’s what I found on AI about this event.
“On May 30, 2011, a coordinated attack involving a Vehicle-Borne Improvised Explosive Device (VBIED) and armed insurgents targeted the Italian-led Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT) compound in Herat City, western Afghanistan.
The attack commenced when a suicide bomber detonated an explosives-packed vehicle (though some initial reports also mentioned a suicide vest) at the entrance gate of the PRT. This initial blast created a breach, allowing other militants to enter the compound and engage in a firefight with security forces. Some reports from the time also indicated a second, nearly simultaneous explosion occurred at a busy intersection elsewhere in Herat city.
Afghan security forces, notably the 9th Commando Kandak, responded to the assault on the PRT. They engaged the attackers, eventually securing the compound and neutralizing the remaining insurgents who had reportedly taken up positions within a multi-story building. NATO forces also provided support during the incident, including the deployment of helicopters.
The attack resulted in casualties. Several Afghan civilians and at least one member of the Afghan security forces were killed. A number of Italian soldiers were wounded, with varying figures reported in the immediate aftermath (ranging from five to around fifteen). Many Afghan civilians were also injured in the attack.
The Taliban promptly claimed responsibility for the assault on the Italian PRT. This attack was part of a broader pattern of insurgent activity, including a declared “spring offensive,” targeting both Afghan and international forces. Herat had been considered a relatively more stable area in Afghanistan and was slated for transition to Afghan security control later that year.”
Fast forward to when my wife and I went to Italy for vacation. While we were near some government compound, I saw a few Italian soldiers standing there. I went up to them and started some small talk. I asked one of them if they had ever heard of the attack on the PRT compound in Herat. He was surprised when I asked and said, “YES! I was there!”. A rush of emotions came over me, it hit me in a weird way. An immediate connection. I gathered my wits and asked him, “Do you remember the gunfire coming from the compound across the street to the northwest?” and he said most definitely. He said, “They saved our lives”, because it gave them space to move and regroup. That’s when I really began to get that frog throat. I told him I was there and that was our team. We gave each other a bro-five and a quick hug. Kinda funny how things come full circle.
All that to say, my Memorial Day is a bit different from others. Whether you’re paying your respects to family, friends, bros, or whoever, it’s necessary to pause. Take that pause, and take a knee. Bow your head and remember. Never forget.
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