Read Online Operation Dark Heart by Anthony Shaffer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anthony Shaffer
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arrived, Dave and I were speechless. Dave, in particular, loved kids and, being a liberal in uniform, he in particular took to heart the plight of children in this environment. We just sat across from each other on the front stoop of the Ariana and stared out into space. I could see how the stress was going to add up quickly.
“We need to bring an extra vehicle back to Bagram,” Dave broke the silence. “I’d like you to drive it.”
“What?” I said. I’d had combat driving training back in the States, but this was taking some getting used to.
“I know how you’re feeling,” said Dave, now with some of his sense of humor and smile returning. “This is overwhelming, but I’m telling you it’s not going to get any better by putting it off.”
I figured there was no way out of it, so I focused on the mission. We went out to the parking lot, and Dave handed over the keys.
“Any questions?” asked Dave.
“Nope,” I said. I looked at the dashboard. At least the truck had a cool stereo. This was starting to grow on me. Good music and a chance to drive like a bat out of hell.
“Where do you want me in order of march?” I asked him.
“Stay behind, you’ll be fine.” With that, Dave slapped me on the shoulder and walked to his vehicle.
As we pulled out past the guards and into the dusty sea of white and yellow Taliban taxis, animals, jingle trucks, and military vehicles, my senses were now hyperalert and focused. We cleared the last traffic circle of Kabul and headed north on the new Russian Road toward Bagram. It was late. The shadows had turned the light tans and browns of the dried mountain faces into muted grays and taupes, with growing blankets of purple.
As we hit 90 miles an hour, I punched my first song up. The Psychedelic Furs’s “Love My Way”:
There’s an army
On the dance floor …
I was an experienced intelligence officer, but it was clear that Afghanistan was going to push me to the limits of my endurance—physically and emotionally. Just when I thought I’d reached my max, it would push me some more.
5
“WE WILL KILL THE INFIDELS”
“IS this the Babylon 5 rerun?” I joked as I walked into the video conference tent in the SCIF. Dave Christensen and Tim Loudermilk, Colonel Negro’s operations officer, were watching a grainy video on the plasma screen on the wall. Dave, as always, was scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad.
“Nope,” said Tim. “We’re watching the Taliban.”
At the morning meeting, Maj. Ted Smith, one of my colleagues at DIA who ran the Document Exploitation Detachment, had announced that a video of a Taliban operation was available. It had been captured about three weeks earlier and after it had been translated, it was handed over to us. The videotape was the raw footage that the Taliban intended for recruiting and fund-raising—two critical tasks of any terrorist organization. The Taliban’s targets for recruitment were young students in the Pakistan madrassas, religious schools across the border that had helped to spawn the Taliban movement. They were also using the videos to raise money from their partner, al Qaeda and from rich Arabs who sympathized with their cause. Our intel told us that al Qaeda was getting impatient with their partners-in-crime and wanted to see a little more action for the cash they were sinking into the movement.
“What are they doing now? Are they holding services?” I asked.
“Only for the guys they killed,” Dave answered as he eyeballed the screen.
I settled in to watch, put my feet up on the table, and leaned back on two legs of the chair, taking out my notebook. Watching this clearly amateur video was a bit of a chore, but I had to admit that while it wasn’t Hollywood, they knew what they were doing.
It had been shot with a small Sony camera in documentary style, with the constant movement of the camera and the subject to enhance the feeling of action. One guy had shot the footage and had narrated.
“We need to bring an extra vehicle back to Bagram,” Dave broke the silence. “I’d like you to drive it.”
“What?” I said. I’d had combat driving training back in the States, but this was taking some getting used to.
“I know how you’re feeling,” said Dave, now with some of his sense of humor and smile returning. “This is overwhelming, but I’m telling you it’s not going to get any better by putting it off.”
I figured there was no way out of it, so I focused on the mission. We went out to the parking lot, and Dave handed over the keys.
“Any questions?” asked Dave.
“Nope,” I said. I looked at the dashboard. At least the truck had a cool stereo. This was starting to grow on me. Good music and a chance to drive like a bat out of hell.
“Where do you want me in order of march?” I asked him.
“Stay behind, you’ll be fine.” With that, Dave slapped me on the shoulder and walked to his vehicle.
As we pulled out past the guards and into the dusty sea of white and yellow Taliban taxis, animals, jingle trucks, and military vehicles, my senses were now hyperalert and focused. We cleared the last traffic circle of Kabul and headed north on the new Russian Road toward Bagram. It was late. The shadows had turned the light tans and browns of the dried mountain faces into muted grays and taupes, with growing blankets of purple.
As we hit 90 miles an hour, I punched my first song up. The Psychedelic Furs’s “Love My Way”:
There’s an army
On the dance floor …
I was an experienced intelligence officer, but it was clear that Afghanistan was going to push me to the limits of my endurance—physically and emotionally. Just when I thought I’d reached my max, it would push me some more.
5
“WE WILL KILL THE INFIDELS”
“IS this the Babylon 5 rerun?” I joked as I walked into the video conference tent in the SCIF. Dave Christensen and Tim Loudermilk, Colonel Negro’s operations officer, were watching a grainy video on the plasma screen on the wall. Dave, as always, was scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad.
“Nope,” said Tim. “We’re watching the Taliban.”
At the morning meeting, Maj. Ted Smith, one of my colleagues at DIA who ran the Document Exploitation Detachment, had announced that a video of a Taliban operation was available. It had been captured about three weeks earlier and after it had been translated, it was handed over to us. The videotape was the raw footage that the Taliban intended for recruiting and fund-raising—two critical tasks of any terrorist organization. The Taliban’s targets for recruitment were young students in the Pakistan madrassas, religious schools across the border that had helped to spawn the Taliban movement. They were also using the videos to raise money from their partner, al Qaeda and from rich Arabs who sympathized with their cause. Our intel told us that al Qaeda was getting impatient with their partners-in-crime and wanted to see a little more action for the cash they were sinking into the movement.
“What are they doing now? Are they holding services?” I asked.
“Only for the guys they killed,” Dave answered as he eyeballed the screen.
I settled in to watch, put my feet up on the table, and leaned back on two legs of the chair, taking out my notebook. Watching this clearly amateur video was a bit of a chore, but I had to admit that while it wasn’t Hollywood, they knew what they were doing.
It had been shot with a small Sony camera in documentary style, with the constant movement of the camera and the subject to enhance the feeling of action. One guy had shot the footage and had narrated.
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