Kill Bin Laden: a Delta Force Commander's account of the hunt for the world's most wanted man (28 page)

As we approached Press Pool Ridge, we found Ali’s gutsy young nephew waiting in the middle of the road. He walked over to the general’s window and handed him a small shiny video camera taken from one of the photographers. The general was having trouble trying to figure the thing out, so I offered to help.

I flipped open the side screen and rewound the saved footage. As the tape began to play I turned the volume to max so all could listen.

A horrific scene unfolded, gruesome and personally saddening for Ali. The camera zoomed in on a few of Ali’s men who had been killed or captured and executed somewhere in the mountains. All were dead and half naked.

The screen went blue for a moment before showing a couple of older men placing two large brown burlap bags on the ground. The camera zoomed in closer as their hands unrolled the outer edges of the bag to expose the contents. Body parts!

Ali sat motionless as the screen blued out again. He bowed his head, and softly said, “We have had no word of these brothers for days. I thought they had changed loyalties.” The mystery was solved.

George of the CIA secured the tape for intelligence reasons and handed the camera back to Ali, who leaned out his window and gave it back to his nephew. Warn that Western reporter, he said, but take no action. Should he be caught a second time with this sort of material, the general would be less understanding.

* Retired Lieutenant General Dell Dailey’s exploits as the JSOC commander are well recounted in numerous books by various authors. In
Jawbreaker
, Gary Berntsen shares his personal interaction with Dailey during the opening days of Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan. In Sean Naylor’s
Not a Good Day to Die
, and in
Cobra II
, by Michael Gordon and Bernard Trainor, the friction between Delta and Dailey is shared in detail.

When the hour of crisis comes, remember that forty selected men can shake the world.

   
—YASOTAY, COLONEL, GENGHIS KHAN’S ARMY

While we were at the front, Sergeant Major Ironhead and Bryan searched the area for a suitable location to hide some forty more Delta operators and ten vehicles. Just north of the schoolhouse, they found a small U-shaped compound with a mud floor that provided enough space for an adequate sleeping area, equipment storage, and vehicle parking.

We bargained to have the muhj who were already living there vacate, but a dozen or so either never got the word or simply chose to bunk with us. We made a couple of attempts to clear them out, but they basically ignored us and went about their business. After a while, we let them be because their presence provided some indigenous cover from roving Big Eye journalist lenses that were positioned over on the next ridgeline.

Even though Ironhead and Bryan negotiated to have the rooms cleaned of all the garbage and human waste, the place was still filthy when our boys moved in. It did not matter much, since we didn’t plan to spend too much time inside anyway.

Ironhead and Bryan also managed to designate two areas for helicopters to land, big enough to handle a large supply helicopter and to evacuate any wounded. Landing Zone Condor was just south of the
schoolhouse, and the second LZ, Sparrow, was two thousand meters to the east.

We had left our staging base with a fairly solid plan, a course of action that would gain the necessary approvals from the various levels of brass. It was not binding, of course, and once we were able to get a good look at the playing field and the enemy formations, we could easily audible off of it. Now that the game had begun, I didn’t expect much pushback from our commander, or from any level above him, for that matter. Things had to remain flexible.

Indeed, the guys back at Bagram, Colonel Ashley and the rest of the staff, were working hard to collect and analyze every piece of intelligence they could get their hands on. Everything from sensitive CIA cables to fixedwing reconnaissance photos that identified “hot spot” signatures—telltale locations of inhabited caves with warming fires—from 30,000 feet, to signals intelligence (SIGINT) that might help find bin Laden’s location. They were what-ifing themselves to death to ensure our success on the battlefield. The Delta Intelligence and Fire Support officers, Brian and Will, worked up a targeting plan to buttress our coming push into the mountains.

Inside our spartan headquarters, we also were dissecting and analyzing what we had learned after the few looks we had gotten at al Qaeda’s front lines. We wanted to modify and refine our original battle plan so that it would best fit the reality on the ground.

Bryan worked on the initial reconnaissance plan, while Shag, our Pashto-speaking signals interceptor, was already set up in the room next door, picking up sporadic al Qaeda radio calls, friendly muhj radio traffic, and the transmissions from the international media over on Press Pool Ridge. Shag’s talents, and those of his signals teammates who would arrive shortly, gave us a discreet secret weapon that let us keep tabs on everybody in the game.

Bryan recommended that we marry up our reconnaissance guys with the two observation posts set up by the 5th Group Green Berets. Half of Cobra 25 was already in position, roughly a mile from al Qaeda’s front lines over on the eastern flank. The other team inserted that day was to relieve the joint CIA and JSOC team that had been in position since December 5. Augmenting those OPs would give us some eyes forward to help develop our attack plan. And once the attack began, we would have
our own folks in overwatch positions, men who understood our task, purpose, and intent as we maneuvered on the battlefield. They would be invaluable.

Then we met with General Ali to go over progress, tactics, and battle plans in between sipping on hot tea, grabbing handfuls of nuts, and trying to remain comfortable sitting Indian style on the hard floor. I jotted down the key points in my small green notebook. What I could not get down on paper, I tried to commit to memory and would add it after a meeting.

Ali was adamant about picking the small groups of muhj fighters that would best augment our recon guys and assaulters. We had to be careful who we picked, for Ali claimed that while he had several thousand loyal fighters, not all were controlled by family members, and thus not deemed loyal. Others were under the command of friends, who might or might not be faithful when the going got tough, and still others were handled by longtime rivals and even enemies. Ali was very specific about the latter group, and insisted that we not marry up with those units.

The general offered up some fantastic descriptions in our discussions, no doubt to ensure that he remained the CIA’s chosen son and also to create an atmosphere and feeling that bin Laden could not be taken without his personal leadership, as well as his fighters.

Ali described a Balkanized organization among the jihadists, who were grouped by nationality and ethnic lines and separated tactically by mountain passes, valley floors, and ridgelines. Any man who makes a conscious decision to have more enemies than friends, as bin Laden certainly had, does not survive long without surrounding himself with people he can trust, and placing them wisely.

As we sketched a sort of enemy pecking order, the lower and outer defense ring comprised Afghans, Algerians, Jordanians, Chechens, and Pakistanis. Bin Laden’s more trusted fighters, the Saudis, Yemenis, and Egyptians, occupied higher terrain and protected the queen bee. Hell, rumor even had it that Chinese advisors were on bin Laden’s team. The technique is similar in some ways to how the U.S. Army operates, just not as personal and much less politically sensitive.

One of the most telling bits of information Ali shared was about al Qaeda’s indirect fire and armored capability, mainly mortar tubes and tanks. Firmly entrenched in the towering defensive position, bin Laden’s people
held superb observation posts. The well-camouflaged spots on the northern ridges offered long-range visibility of any activity in the foothills and valleys and were a tactician’s dream come true for any battle.

Those observation posts served as the eyes for the hidden mortar sections—which we estimated at two or three Soviet-made 82mm tubes—that were laid in on the reverse slope, out of sight of any opposing ground force. When the bombers overhead didn’t force the crews to retreat into nearby caves for safety, the positions doubled as even more early warning posts to guard against unwanted visitors.

For over a week, Ali’s mujahideen had made their approaches over well-known dirt roads, and the telltale clouds of dust telegraphed their every move. Since night fighting was not yet in Ali’s repertoire, al Qaeda could stop those daylight probes with mortar fire alone.

Ali said that of the twenty-seven men who had been lost since the fighting began, all but thirteen of them died by mortar fire. He claimed the enemy mortars were extremely accurate because they were “computerized.” For us, it was obvious that one of the first major steps had to be to stop those costly daylight attacks and remove the enemy mortars from the equation.

We were skeptical when Ali praised his fighters for locating three former Soviet tanks that were now used by bin Laden’s people. His men had come upon a series of caves just past the foothills and heard the rumbling of metal tank treads rolling over uneven rock beds. We knew how difficult it was just to walk over that terrain and considered that it was probably too difficult to maneuver with heavy armor. Ali insisted that several of the caves carved out during the Soviet jihad could easily hold several tanks. We just didn’t buy it. We were unaware that just a few days earlier, the combined CIA and JSOC team had photographed several armored vehicles from a distance before eliminating them with powerful smart bombs called JDAMs, joint direct attack munitions.

Within seventy-two hours of doubting Ali’s claim about the tanks, those same tanks moved from fiction to fact. Our own snipers spotted them even deeper and higher in the mountains. Hard to believe, but it was true. The tanks must have been part mountain goat.

The result of all the discussions, picture taking, and planning led to a pretty elementary conclusion. The Tora Bora Mountains were to our front,
and bin Laden was reportedly garrisoned up there with as many as three thousand loyal fighters. The solution was to launch a full attack.
I love the way these men think
.

Some great mind once said that there are two kinds of original thinkers. There are those who, upon viewing disorder, try to create order. And the second group does just the reverse. It is made up of those who, on encountering order, try to create disorder. That’s us. Delta operators thrive on chaos like no other group of humans alive. It’s intoxicating. It’s intense. And it is extraordinarily addictive.

The fundamental Delta principle has long been “Surprise, Speed, and Violence of Action.” It applies to commando tactics. If during an assault you lose one element, the implied response is to increase it in the next. For example, if we lost surprise during a stealthy approach to a target before reaching the breach point, we would increase the pace from a deliberate move to a stepped-up jog or sprint. At the breach, if it became obvious to the team leader that whatever or whoever waited on the opposite side of the door or window was alert and expecting visitors, we escalated to an even more violent explosive entry.

Regardless of how Delta enters the crisis point, the expression “slow is smooth, smooth is fast” still applies when conducting close-quarter combat, or CQB. Watching Delta operators conduct “free flow” CQB on targets with unknown floor plans is one of the most awesome sights of controlled chaos one can imagine. The sequence is anything but choreographed, but the operators effortlessly sweep through a structure like red ants going through familiar, twisting corridors. Delta’s method and skill in CQB is unmatched by any other force in existence.

We absorbed an enormous amount of information by studying the muhj style of warfare during the first couple of days.

Afghans are afternoon fighters by nature, and their methods are straight out of Barbarian Tactics 101. Sometime after midday prayers, they would muster with AK-47 rifles, PKM machine guns and RPGs as far forward in the foothills as they safely could. After clustering around, seemingly as if nobody knew who was in charge on that particular day, they would plough straight uphill, firing wildly. It was a good show that apparently was played out to convince the watching reporters that General Ali’s forces were on the offensive. But it was also grossly ineffective.