Shortly after New Year’s Day 2002, my fellow SEALs and I learned we would be going on a mission to the province of Khost in Afghanistan, a few hundred kilometres northeast of Kandahar and nestled in the mountains right up against the Afghanistan-Pakistan border. This was the home of the infamous Zhawar Kili cave complex, the location where Osama bin Laden is said to have officially declared war on America in 1998. My platoon had shipped out soon after 9/11, first to Kuwait, then Oman, before finally arriving in Afghanistan in mid-December.
Zhawar Kili was an elaborate complex of caves and tunnels built into the mountainside and one of the prime regions where Al Qaeda and Taliban leadership was believed to have fled after we bombed their hideouts at Tora Bora, some 80km to the north.
Hard information on Zhawar Kili was sketchy at best. We knew there was a base camp consisting of three large tunnels, with an unknown number of rooms, caverns, and sub-tunnels. We also knew there was an extensive system of caves and tunnels built into the mountain ridge above the base camp. The place was a frigging warren – an entire terrorist town drilled into the face of a mountain, with room for some 500 people.
It was also a fortress, and damn near invincible. It had been hit by US air strikes shortly after hostilities commenced on October 7, 2001, but to little effect. In order to really nail this place, we needed people on the ground exploring the caves on foot and coming back with the specific coordinates that would allow precision strikes.
This was not originally our mission. The Zhawar Kili site was too large and complicated for our platoon of 16. We were going to need some reinforcements, so our numbers were appropriately goosed with the addition of a ground unit of about 20 Marines. We had our two-man Air Force Combat Control Team, Brad and Eric; and our two Explosive Ordnance Disposal guys, Brad (a different Brad) and Steve. We were also assigned two guys from the FBI to provide forensic expertise and DNA sample collection from enemy grave sites, one guy from the Counterterrorist Intelligence Center (CTIC), and a chemical-weapons expert from the Army’s Chemical Reconnaissance Detachment (CRD), for his expertise in combing through whatever we would find out there.
It was a three-hour insert by helicopter from Bagram Air Base to the Zhawar Kili complex. We were let off in the mountains pre-dawn, about 4am. Then we set off, patrolling our way in the direction of the caves. A few kilometres in, I looked over at our breacher, Shawn, who was carrying a hooligan (a big metal breaching tool) on his back, along with a heap of explosives. Brad and Steve, the Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) techs, had their explosive equipment, too. Choate, our assistant officer in charge, carried photographic and video equipment to document whatever we would find. These guys had to be miserable. We still had far to go, and we were gaining altitude.
About an hour in, we took a water break. I sat down on the ground next to Shawn. “How you doin’, brother?” I felt bad for him. “Dude,” he said, “right about now I would welcome stepping on a land mine.” Soon we were back on our feet, but by the time we got within proximity of the site, everyone was completely worn out, even Cassidy, our team leader. I saw Cassidy and Smith huddling up for a couple of minutes. Then Cassidy came over to us. “All right, everybody,” he said, “we’re going to ditch our armour and stash it. We’ll cache it right here and pick it up again on our way out.” Everyone started shucking their plates. Cassidy looked over at me. “Hey, Webb. Aren’t you going to stash your plates?” I shook my head. “Nope. I didn’t wear any.” Cassidy looked at me for a moment, then grinned. “You son of a bitch.” I wasn’t trying to be a smart-ass: this was critical strategic thinking. You look at the kind of enemy we were up against: here was a dude running around with nothing but a wool blanket, a wool hat, an AK-47, and maybe a little water and bullets. Not only did this guy know the terrain like the back of his hand, but he was also fast on his feet, running through the hills like a mountain goat. We needed to modify our equipment load if we wanted any hope of matching pace with the guys we were hunting.
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