Cpt. Hancock Afghanistan Diary #20

Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
RIPTOA
Location: Kandahar Airfield (KAF), Afghanistan
Relative Time Zone: +11.5 Hrs 30 SEP2011

Disclaimer: This story is inspired by some actual events. In all cases incidents, characters and timelines have been changed for dramatic purposes. Many events and interpersonal exchanges are fictitious. Characters may be composites, or entirely fictitious. No classified information was used in the creation of the story, it is unclassified.

Exclusive to the California Political News and Views, 10/18/11

Active duty combat deployments are traditionally for a period of one year, not counting training or mobilization time. This represents a significant departure from previous conflicts such as WWII where soldiers had to fight until victory was achieved or they became too wounded to continue. As entire divisions leave Afghanistan at the end of their tour and are replaced with new units, the social and security landscape may change drastically—almost overnight.

Troop turnover on such short intervals has both positive and negative consequences. On the positive side it is good for morale, and helps maintain families. A constant influx of fresh soldiers keeps energy high and new ideas flowing. On the down side a great deal of local knowledge is lost, and many important relationships with locals are broken, each time a unit departs. Some leaders have stated that NATO has not fought for ten years in Afghanistan, but rather has fought for a year ten times in a row in Afghanistan highlighting the lack of continuity in the conflict.

The 10th MTN Division had served their time in Afghanistan, and made many positive contributions under their skilled leader Major General (MG) James Terry. MG Terry is experienced, skilled, and articulate. He has a razor sharp intellect which he downplays by acting as a simple man from the South. He also has an unusually keen understanding of the non-lethal aspects of modern warfare and successfully incorporates information enablers within his larger campaign plan.

As the Replacement in Place Transfer of Authority (RIPTOA) formal handover from the 10th MTN Division to the 82nd Airborne Division approached, the PSYOP compound was abuzz with General’s aides seeking to task PSYOP assets. Senior leadership wanted PSYOP to provide everything from signage to programs to gifts for the VIP attendees.

Such requests place PSYOP Companies which are light in rank, inorganic, subordinate elements in a difficult position. The mission of PSYOP is to influence foreign target audiences and they are appropriated tax payer dollars for specifically that purpose and no other. In addition, PSYOP is prohibited by Executive Order from attempting to influence American citizens.

PSYOP Product Development Detachments frequently find themselves in a difficult position when they are tasked by high ranking military leaders to use their assets to print certificates and programs to be given to American soldiers. If they exercise their fiduciary responsibility and attempt to protect taxpayer dollars by saying no to such requests they quickly find themselves ostracized by the supported unit who has quite a number of means at their disposal to make life particularly difficult for the PSYOP soldiers. On the other hand if PSYOP entertains such requests, they leave themselves open to accusations of waste fraud and abuse upon audit, and risk marginalizing their role in the conflict to that of a “Combat Kinkos”.

The PSYOP Commander (CDR) has to pick and choose his battles carefully over time. Ultimately the 307th PSYOP Company was forced to print the program for the ceremony and a few posters, but they were able to reduce the amount, and not provide gifts. A small victory for the taxpayer back home, but a victory no less, in a place where good news is few and far between.

***************************************************
It was a balmy day in the village of Galay as the 10th MTN Division Human Terrain Analysis Team (HTAT) supported by the PSYOP Female Engagement Team (FET) pulled up in their armored High Mobility Multi-Wheeled Vehicles (HMMWVs). Wolf Hound Company, which provided security for all of their missions quickly dismounted and fanned out to reconnoiter and establish overwatch positions. Unlike normal infantry companies which place security first and public relations second, Wolf Hound had received special training in how to maintain a lower force protection posture which did not alienate the local population. Such measures create the right conditions for the civilian experts in the Human Terrain Team and PSYOP to build and leverage positive long term relationships.

Galay was considered a neutral village by Coalition standards meaning it neither supported nor opposed NATO and the Afghan National Security Forces (ANSF). The people of Galay were subsistence farmers, and could trace their lineage back to the same place for over a thousand years. They did not concern themselves with the politics of the moment. This attitude had brought them safely through all the other wars in Afghanistan, and it would see them through this one as well. Dr. Crawford, the field lead for the Human Terrain Element greeted the locals in Pashtu. With great skill he worked his way through the town, identified the various key communicators, and ultimately landed an audience with the village elder.

The PSYOP Female engagement team was lead by Sergeant (SGT) Chisolm. She was a skilled combat veteran in her late twenties who was specifically trained as a dedicated female engagement asset at the outset of the deployment. As a result, her knowledge and understanding of the 51% of the populace comprised of women was unmatched. She was able to talk her way into closed households, learn of local concerns, and lay the foundation for friendships which could influence the peace process in Galay.

Dr. Crawford drank tea with the village elder, talked about their families, and their hopes for the future. When the time was right Dr. Crawford gently inquired about insurgent activity. The village elder gave the standard response that there were no bad people in their town and that the insurgents left them alone. When Dr. Crawford asked if the village had any needs, the elder was evasive once more, stating simply “We need nothing from the foreigners, we only wish to be left in peace”.

While Dr. Crawford continued to make small talk with the elder, SGT Chisolm attempted to speak to the elder’s seven wives. SGT Chisolm was exceptionally talented at getting people to chat with her, and thus she was somewhat taken aback when the elder’s wives would only exchange basic courtesies. Continued efforts at building rapport failed. While most soldiers would have given up at that point, SGT Chisolm hesitated. She noticed that the females were gesturing in an uncharacteristic manner that made her suspicious. She also observed that they were holding a copy of the Quran in a culturally inappropriate fashion.

SGT Chisolm brought these details, which could have easily been missed by a less experienced soldier, to the attention of the patrol leader. The patrol leader, after some discussion with his men, had his female soldiers segregate the wives and conduct a search. Moments later they discovered hidden within the Holy Quran a Taliban cell phone, and pictures detailing an upcoming attack…

***************************************************
Haidar stared across the smoky room, to where Saleem had just entered. Saleem entered the room cautiously hand under his silk vest. He saw no strangers, and noted that Haidar had sent the women away as instructed. “Good” he thought to himself. Striding across the room, he took the chair opposite Haidar and lit a cigarette.

Haidar pulled a pomegranate from his pocket and offered it to Saleem who accepted it graciously. Haidar was a poor man, but he was Pastun, and would offer his guest the best of what he had. “So what news have you” began Haidar.

Saleem exhaled a long waft of smoke over Haidar’s head. He had been up for forty-eight hours straight sneaking across the border, but such was a small price to pay for the work of Allah. “Quetta is restless. They are worried about the new infidel program.”

Haidar instinctively recoiled at the smell of alcohol on Saleem’s breath, then checked himself hoping the slight would not be noticed. He thought to himself that it was ironic that the Mullahs in Pakistan claimed that the Afghans were not true Muslims given the depredations of the faithful in that country. “The Reintegration Program… Really?”

“Yes” came Saleem’s reply between puffs. “Some of the foot soldiers are worried about helicopters in the night… They are looking for a way out.”

“We would kill them if they deserted the cause.”

“Yes of course-“ Saleem paused a moment choosing his words carefully. “They are young… youth sometimes makes foolish mistakes. Mistakes that you of course will prevent my brother.”

Haider nodded politely. “I will not tolerate the faithless. But trust me this reintegration program is no threat. It is only talk.”

“Indeed” Saleem replied “But even talk of water to the thirsty can move a man.”

Sensing Saleem had little latitude in his orders, Haidar cut to the chase. “So what are we to do”

“Great things my brother, Great things.” Came the reply. Saleem allowed the weight of his words to sink in before continuing. “We must be bold and decisive. We must show the world that only the weak negotiate, and we are not weak.”

“I see the truth in this” came Haider’s measured response. “How can I help?”

“Quetta has decided to send a clear message. We will kill the head of the Afghan High Peace Council.” Saleem rubbed out his cigarette as if to emphasize the point.

Haider raised his water cup to his mouth and took a sip. “Rabani? The former President of Afghanistan?”

“Precisely” came Saleem’s reply.

“That will be difficult. He rarely leaves Kabul and has much security”

“Yes” smiled Saleem “He is a hard target, but our friends in the Pakistan government will help us. They want to send a message to the Americans you see.”

Haider nodded. The Americans had recently threatened to cut foreign aid to Pakistan. By harming their interests in Kabul they would remind the American government that they can still hurt them if they are not appeased. “Ok I assume you have a plan… how are we going to do this?”

Saleem’s eyes began to glow as he unveiled his conspiracy “You will contact the High Peace Counsel and tell them you represent a senior Taliban Leader who is interested in Reintegrating. Tell them that the Senior Taliban leader will only meet with Rabani himself, anyone lower would be disrespectful.”

Haider looked up and to the right as if seeing possibilities. “But who will I say is reintegrating? It must be someone important… It must be believable.”

Saleem smiled. “You will tell them that I am interested in Reintegrating.”

***************************************************
“X-Ray Main This is Wolfhound 6” barked the patrol leader into the radio “How copy over?”

“Wolfhound 6 this is X-Ray Main we read you Lima Charlie”

The Patrol leader turned to his assistant. “We are back in contact, tell the men to prepare to stand down to weapon status yellow”

“Roger Sir” came the assistant patrol leader’s practiced response.

“X-ray Main, Wolfhound 6 prepare to receive convoy update over”

“Wolfhound 6, X-ray Main send it”

“X-Ray Main I have 52 PAX (personnel) and 12 Vics (vehicles). Status GREEN-GREEN-GREEN”

As SGT Chisolm saw the outlines of the Kandahar Airfield Entry Control Point (ECP) come into view she began barking orders to her all female team. “CPL Walters maintain your follow distance and prepare to conduct post mission Preventative Maintenance Checks and Services. I think we may have lost a piece of the undercarriage on that last bump”

*Laughter*

“Roger SGT”, came CPL Walters reply “I’ll try not to upset your delicate stomach with my driving.”

SGT Chisolm banged the undercarriage of the turret. Strapped behind the barrel of the .50 calibur machine gun was SPC Cunningham. She was deceptively petite and exceptionally tough. Male soldiers only crossed her once and they regretted it. “What ya need boss?”

“Swivel to three o-clock. We are approaching the base and do not want to flag the tower guards with your boom stick.”

“Aye Sarge, setting to three o-clock”

The turret made a grinding sound as it dialed into its new position.

“X-Ray Main, Wolfhound 6 We are approaching the ECP request permission to—“

*BOOM* *KABAAAM*

*STATIC*

“X-RAY MAIN, WOLFHOUND 3-1 WE’VE BEEN HIT. I SAY AGAIN WE’VE BEEN HIT! VEHICLE ONE IS FLIPPED ON ITS SIDE AND COMPLETELY DOWN REQUEST IMMEDIATE SUPPORT AND ROLL QRF OVER”

Suddenly the convoy’s internal comms were flooded. “IED” “IED” “IED” “CHECK FOR SECONDARIES! PREPARE FOR SMALL ARMS ATTACK.

SGT Chisolm was momentarily stunned. The vehicle in front of her had just exploded—a few more feet and it would have been their vehicle. “Cunningham look sharp! Prepare to repel attack!” Noticing that her driver was still dazed, SGT Chisolm grabbed her by the shoulder. “Walters wake up! You need to get us out of here! We have to break contact!”

CPL Walters shook off the effects of the blast and stepped on the gas. They pulled up alongside the damaged vehicle to provide cover from any follow-on small arms fire. The convoy’s recovery vehicle pulled up on the opposite side, and began ripping the doors off of the damaged HMMWV to get to its injured occupants. Two minutes later three bloody bodies were pulled from the wreckage and stowed in the recovery vehicle.

The IED attack occurred within eyesight of the Afghan Security Forces which man the Airfield Entry Control Point. Insurgents had dug for many hours directly in front of the Afghan forces and then planted the massive explosive charge. Either the Afghan forces manning the gate were incompetent—or they were complicit in the attack. All three of the American soldiers were rushed to the hospital on KAF. While seriously injured, all three survived.

*************************************************
Lajbar eased his motorbike into second gear as he approached the village. He was part of a Taliban “chiriki” murder squad which terrorized the local population by killing prominent officials or females who worked outside of the household. Unfortunately his partner had been killed on their last mission by an unusually competent security guard. Lajbar was clever and committed to the cause, and he was not about to let that stop him. This morning he had come up with a new plan.

As he passed into the village he greeted the locals warmly in Pastu. They responded in kind. “So Predictable” he thought to himself. He loitered on the bike for 20 minutes before he saw a boy with unusual almond eyes running an errand for his family. He pulled up alongside. “Asalaam alaikum”

“Alaikum salaam” came the boy’s instinctual reply.

“What is your name boy?” Lajbar inquired.

“Badam Sir”

Lajbar nodded his head in understanding. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“I must deliver my father’s greetings to his sick mother in a neighboring village.”

“Aye I see” replied the Taliban “how far is this village?”

“Not far” the boy stated with a smile “I can walk there in a day”

Lajbar managed to muster a sincere smile “Perhaps I can help you with this. I have some time on my hands and would be happy to give you a ride to the village.”

The boy looked up at Lajbar with a hopeful, but uncertain, expression “Thank you Sir, but I really should not bother—“

“Come now” Lajbar continued “It is no bother at all. If I give you a ride you can pay your father’s greetings and return to him in the same day to inform him of his mother’s reply.”

Badam stopped to consider this, clearly at an impasse.

Lajbar scooted back on his motorbike and extended his hand to the boy. “If she is as sick as you say, there is no time to waste. What would your father say if she died before you delivered his message? This would be on his conscious forever. Please, let me help with this.”

Seeing the wisdom in the man’s words Badam agreed and climbed onto the motorbike.

“Welcome Badam, my name is Lajbar”

“Pleased to meet you Lajbar, you have my father’s thanks”

Lajbar smiled. “Think nothing of it. Do you know how to drive this bike?”

“Oh yes Sir. My friends and I race my brother’s bike all the time when he is away”

“Clever Boy” cooed Lajbar as he patted Badam’s face suggestively.

Badam turned red.

“Go ahead and drive, we must complete your errand.”

No sooner had they left the outskirts of the village than Lajbar pulled his pistol from his tunic and pressed it into the boy’s back. “Sorry Badam, but we are going to take a little detour”

Startled, Badam nearly lost control of the bike. “Y-y-yes S-s-sir”

“Do you know the checkpoint by the main highway?” Lajbar crooned

The boy nodded.

“Good. Head there now” Lajbar emphasized the point by pressing the pistol deeper into the small of the boy’s back.

***************************************************
Haidar entered the well appointed office and thought to himself that it was typical of a rich man. Persian carpets lined the floor, and antiques stood on various teak end tables positioned strategically throughout the room. A large hardwood desk with a matching swivel chair dominated the room, and behind it were pictures from Afghanistan’s history framed in gold. The furnishings were the spitting image of the Government of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan’s (GIRoA) corruption. “This is why my people have nothing” Haidar thought to himself.

Behind the desk sat an elderly gentlemen in hand embroidered silk robes. He wore a pair of custom Italian black leather shoes, and had an expensive tribal diadem on his brow. As Haidar approached the desk the gentlemen flashed him a smile revealing expensive gold dental work. As Burhanuddin Rabani, former president of Afghanistan, Tajik Tribal Leader and head of the Afghan High Peace Council appointed by President Hamid Karzai, rose his bodyguard instinctively looked to Haidar’s hands.

Haidar and Rabani clasped hands and began to recite poetry to each other—the customary greeting among Pastun friends. Ten minutes later, both men took their seats.

Rabani spoke first. “This is a joyous day”

“Indeed” Haidar replied.

“Saleem Amsa has been a wayward brother for too long” Rabani continued

“Inshalah”

“He commands many fighters… If I may ask how many will he bring with him?” Rabani inquired.

“As this is his first meeting with you, he will not commit to a specific number, but as you said he commands many mujahedeen.”

Rabani looked thoughtful for a moment. “Inshalah… when will he arrive?”

“I called his assistant when I arrived. I expect he will be here before too long” Haidar concluded.

“Most excellent” Rabani retorted.

Two floors below them Chargul approached the security checkpoint for the government building. He was arrayed in a fine grey man dress that he would never be able to afford on a school teacher’s salary.

The guard studied Chargul for a moment with a blank expression. Chargul seemed to blend in with the many wealthy land owners and minor dignitaries that frequented the headquarters.

“Who are you?” Inquired the guard.

“Saleem Amsa” replied Chargul as he rattled of Saleem’s many titles just as he had rehearsed.

Apparently his performance was satisfactory. With a bored expression the guard followed up “What is your business here?”

“I have an appointment with Burhanuddin Rabani” came Chargul’s reply.

“Very well” continued the guard “Search area is to the left”

Chargul looked as indignant as any wealthy Pastu would at the prospect of being searched, but he eventually acquiesced. Everything was going according to plan. The guards at the search station were thorough and professional. While they wore the uniforms of Afghan National Police, they were almost assuredly better paid, and carefully vetted.

The guards checked Chargul’s pockets, robe, shirt, vest, and even powered up his cell phone to make sure it was what it appeared to be. After five minutes of searching, Chargul was getting impatient. The nearest guard was staring at Chargul’s shoes, as if contemplating whether to make the man remove them. Chargul managed a haughty stare at the young guard who backed down and motioned for “Saleem” to pass.

Chargul found his way to the elevator, greeted the other officials around him, and tapped the button for the third floor.

“Peace is the future of Afghanistan” Rabani continued “All those who embrace peace now will be part of the future”

“Yes peace is Allah’s will” replied Haidar, playing along.

“Muslims should not kill Muslims” rejoined Rabani

“Indeed not, we are brothers.”

Just then there was a knock at the door. Rabani’s bodyguard rose to check who was there. Seeing the well appointed Chargul, he swung the door open. Chargul strode in like he owned the place. He matched the description that Haidar had been given, so Haidar rose and greeted him warmly. “Dr. Rabani may I present to you Saleem Amsa”

Rabani rose and smiled.

Chargul moved directly, and purposely toward him, with his arms outstretched. A wave of panic washed over Haidar. This was happening too fast. “I need to go to the toile-“ but it was too late. As Haidar moved towards the door “Saleem” embraced Burhanuddin Rabani. As he did so he pushed the hidden button on his collar that activated the suicide bomb in his turban. A moment later, everyone in the room was dead and the priceless desk was on fire.

***************************************************
Badam shifted his weight to the left and the bike began to turn in the direction of the Afghan National Police Checkpoint.

A little over an hour later, they approached the checkpoint. “Get into line with the other vehicles” Lajbar began “Make no sudden moves. Do what you are told and you will be fine”

“Yesss Sir” the boy replied.

They moved into the que of vehicles awaiting inspection at the checkpoint. Normally two grown men on a single motorbike would raise suspicion, but Badam was only a boy. The Afghan police would see nothing amiss. Lajbar maintained a lookout to his left and right. He checked his watch. It was almost time.

As the car in front of them was preparing to pass through the checkpoint, a police vehicle pulled up. A moment later the district chief of police stepped out with his bodyguard.

“See that man on the left?” Lajbar intoned.

The boy nodded once more.

“He is an old friend of mine. I want to surprise him. Gun the bike like you are going to run him down and then stop at the last minute. I will greet him then, he will think it is funny”

Reluctantly, Badam did as he was instructed. As he charged towards the senior officer cries of alarm erupted from the other policemen.

Before they could react, Lajbar pointed his pistol at the police chief and fired five rounds, three of which hit their mark. The police chief crumpled to the ground. He was well respected, in part because he made the effort to inspect his officers and insure that they were behaving in a professional manner. Ironic that his very competence would be his undoing. Lajbar made his peace with Allah.

Seeing the boy on the motorbike, several of the officers held their fire. Lajbar rewarded their decency by gunning two of them down. The other officers had no such compunctions however, and sprayed the motorbike and part of the checkpoint with AK-47 rounds. A moment later it was all over. Lajbar and the boy lay dead. A civilian vehicle nearby had been riddled with bullets as well, killing one person and seriously wounding three others.

On a nearby ridge Haji Mohammad smiled. His man had done his duty and given his life for their cause. He tapped his camera to begin finalizing the disk inside. Not only had he captured their successful assassination of the Deputy Chief of Police, he had film showing Afghan National Police officers gunning down a young boy and a family on vacation. It was pure gold. He flipped open his cell phone and hit the code to connect with his contact at the Emirate. He only said one word. “Jackpot”

***************************************************
The PSYOP Officers awoke early the next morning to attend the RIPTOA Ceremony. While it was open for all soldiers to attend, space in the parade area was limited, and in practice only senior leadership attended. Major (MAJ) Pick [alias for his protection] and Captain (CPT) Hancock grumbled, neither of them had been sleeping particularly well lately, and both had worked late the night before. The Chief Warrant Officer was steady state as ever and together they awaited the Commander’s (CDR) arrival.

Fifteen minutes later the Commander arrived, gestured to his officers, and headed into the ceremony. He immediately noted how the signs they had been forced to produce had fallen off of the concrete barriers where they had been haphazardly mounted. He then proceeded to gripe about the program with MAJ Pick who just shook his head.

As they passed into the formal greeting area the CDR made his rounds while the others waited respectfully by the exit. Formalities complete, the CDR gathered up his officers like a mother duck shepherding her ducklings. Due to potential rain, the official ceremony was being held in a giant tent which had been erected on the parade ground specifically for the purpose. As the PSYOP Officers crowded in, most of the seats were already taken, so they stood off respectfully to one side.

Presently the ceremony commenced with the entrance of the color guard. Unlike an American mission, NATO missions bear the colors of the most prominent nations as well as the NATO and local host nation flags. Everyone stood at attention and raised their arms in salute as the National Anthem of the first Nation was played… and then the second… and then the third… and then the fourth… and then the fifth. Several of the officers had to prop up their saluting arm with their off arm before it was complete.

As the Ceremony began in earnest, the Commanding General of the Afghanistan theatre Lieutenant General (LTG) Scaparroti took the stage. LTG Scaparrotti emphasized that significant progress has been made in RC(S) in the last year. Violence was down 10%, the Hajj was celebrated at the Blue Shrine (Hazrat Ali) in Maz-i-Shariff for the first time since 2005. Economic activity was on the rise with Afghan melons and pomegranates being exported to foreign buyers. A significant number of critical appointments were made in the Afghan government and the ANSF had become significantly better trained, capable, and professional.

Major General (MG) Terry, The outgoing Commanding General, took the stage next. He discussed the importance of having the right team in the right place at the right time. He emphasized the time is now for peace, normalcy, and reintegration. He called on all insurgents to stop fighting, come home, and work towards a peaceful Afghanistan. He also made it clear that we are in a war of perceptions, clearly calling out the importance of influence operations and counter-propaganda. He concluded by stating that he would be back.

MG Huggins, the incoming Commanding General of the 82nd Airborne, took the microphone and thanked MJ Terry for all of the efforts that had been made. He indicated that the region was vastly changed from his last trip. MG Huggins did not place the same emphasis on the information environment that MG Terry had alluded to in his speech. He made it clear that the 82nd Airborne is a no-nonsense outfit that will focus on results.

The PSYOP officers stood in silent reverie as the honor guard marched out of the tent marking the conclusion of the ceremony. It was a turning point in their deployment. Instead of being the new folks who were trying to get their bearings, the PSYOP soldiers were now the old hands whose mission was to guide the new Division in how to conduct successful information operations in Regional Command South.

CPT Hancock paused a moment in reflection, then uttered a prayer of thanks for the friends he had made which were now heading home. If things went well, he would be joining them in a few months. If not—well he preferred not to think of that. As the brass band belted out “Pomp & Circumstance” he marched out into the light to continue the mission.