4 Man Recce

4 Man Patrol

"SOFT COMPROMISE"

 If you ask anyone in the Recon-Sniper community they will tell you the radio is the most important weapon on the battle field, especially when your greatly outnumbered. The art of reconnaissance is to infiltrate, remain unseen, observe and report pattern of life or enemy disposition so that higher command can have a better picture of the battle space to plan for future operations.

 

I was a 20 year old infantry soldier that had proven myself at Fort Irwin in the deserts of California and training grounds of Canada. Although not qualified in Reconnaissance or Snipers “yet” our weapons detachment had proven we were capable of Company Level Recce/Sniper over watch in training, today we would put that training to work in Panjwai District of Afghanistan. The Taliban had been using blind spots to move at night and we proposed to command we use a 4 man Recce element which required some serious skill to catch them at ground level. A Trojan Horse type of operation. It was approved and I was placed with two qualified Recce Patrolman/Snipers of our company to carry out a 4 man Patrol and Observation post on a 36 hour Night Operation.

 

In short our call sign would join a Platoon from our company on a dusk infill and break off into our own separate operation while they conducted a night time presence patrol to our east. During Orders I remember looking across the table at my peers and seeing a strange look on their faces, was it Jealousy? Sadness? Almost like they were envious but also thought we were crazy and taking a big risk going out on our own as a 4 man team. At the time I was so mission focused I didn't let this sink in but looking back I could tell they were worried for us. Where we were headed was a very dangerous area, not only sewn with IED's but crawling with insurgents. This platoon had just been in a previous battle in a similar location where they were the superior force and were cut off and needed heavy air cover to be bailed out. Air cover that I had a hand in calling from an F18. We were heading out with less then a third of their fighting force. The numbers did not add up.

 

Battle procedure was conducted as a solid unit and rehearsals of actions on contact carried out. We then separated for our own personal prep. Going over all our gear ensuring we had contingencies for everything. I was going to be the radio operator for this patrol so I had a big weight on my shoulders both metaphorically and physically. I double checked and triple checked all my gear. Starting with weapons:

• My Colt Canada C8 fixed with a EO Tech and M203 Grenade launcher and IR laser.

• My Browning high-power 9mm had one mag fully loaded and another in a pistol pouch on my chest rig.

• Then onto my Chest rig or Webbing. It was a condor recon-sniper rig my parents had got me as a Christmas present before deployment.

• All 6 magazines had 28 rounds and the 4 other mags in my backpack also stacked at 28 rounds, first two rounds being tracers. Two frag grenades in a double frag pouch and one red smoke. I had a bandoleer of M203 bombs I would wrap around myself that held 8 x M203 High Explosive Grenades.

• One fixed blade fighting knife/bayonet and a folding Boker Pocket knife.

• I also had a small survival tin I would hope to never need but had just as a contingency.

• 3 liters of water and some Gatorade and Protein bars would be fuel for this operation stored in a dump pouch.

• Then came Medical I was TCCC (Tactical Combat Casualty Care) for this patrol in case any injuries. We did not have a team medic so I was it until a Medical Evacuation came. Everyone else had their own Individual first aid kit which I would identify where each person carried theirs and use it first before I dug into my own kit.

• Night Equipment. Personal Night vision, Thermal optics and IR lasers were checked in a dark room for serviceability and fresh batteries loaded.

• All batteries including the radio batteries were refreshed with back ups placed in my patrol bag. Frequencies were committed to memory and I briefed the entire patrol on the two major ones we would need and how to input them. This was information they all knew but we had to go over every minor detail to ensure anyone on the team could pick up the others position in a pinch. “Codes” were loaded into the radios, we had two radios my 522 and a back up 152 which was for emergencies. Everything was updated from our Company Signals Rep and I had him double check my Harris Radio to ensure I had not missed anything.

• My map had been whiped cleaned and shrunk down to only the area we were operating in as to not show any other information in case of the worst case scenario, capture which was not a option. They'd rather slaughter us. They knew what small teams meant. It meant important or lethal.

• Last step was sanitize your uniform, no name tags, dog tags, letters, pictures, orders information, we wouldn't be too far away from friendly forces, just a few kilometers at most but anything that could identify you on a recce mission was strictly forbidden for security sake. A few kilometers is not just a few kilometers in Afghanistan it is a different world and the terrain can be absolutely crushing.

• The only thing I had on my person was a Timex Watch a Blacked Out Iron-man that I had previously time checked with everyone during orders so we were all in sync. 

 

The other members of the patrol carried out their individual checks on personal kit and support weapons a C9 light machine gun and the sniper rifle 338 Timber Wolf we would be using on this operation.

 

Onto the operation. The sun was going down and we swung by the Tactical operations command post to drop off our 4 man patrol manifest and fist bump our buddies a routine that we would never break for fear of bad luck. After a quick radio check we stepped off into the night. We shook out on the landing zone and began to slowly move out through the barb wire perimeter. Our call sign took up the middle of the formation inside the platoon for the first two kilometers. As we progressed through the darkness our Night vision down, the silent approach made me feel very deadly, we owned the night and had the might of the Coalition air force on standby if needed to destroy anything in our path that the 30 of us couldn't handle in a gunfight. As we slowly march forward I radio checked and ask for a status of air power on station. Luckily for us the US forces had a Special forces operation to our west and they had rotary wing Apaches, Kiowas and some fixed wing assets near by in case things got harry.

 

At night time you are at closer spacing between soldiers to avoid broken patrols. This can be dangerous for IED Strikes, traps or even random grenade tosses into our patrol for obvious reasons. I could see the cat eyes/luminescent IR tap markers on the back of my fire team partners bag glowing bright as a guide to avoid stepping off the path. Having a section of a platoon ahead of us and one behind us gave me a sense of security.

 

We enter the eight foot tall marijuana stocks like an enchanted Forest from the 70's. I was in disbelief of the lack of visibility compared to the open desert we had just left. I kept thinking to myself there's some sleepy Taliban in this Kush we are going to stumble upon, or a frag grenade in a soup can hooked to a trip wire is waiting to send me back to Canada if I don't keep my wits about me. After about 30 minutes we exit the "Kush" fields and back out into the endless grape rows of Panjwai. We were approaching a break off point. Which was at the corner in the grape field. After that last wall we would be out In the open crossing a vast span of desert towards our final destination. We slowed the march and grouped together temporarily to ensure we left as a whole call sign.

 

I gave the hang loose sign to the other members of the platoon and I could see a smile in return in the great lume from the full moon.

 

We were on our own infiltrating into enemy territory as a 4 man team. I felt as if I was on a ship with the platoon and cast out on a life raft to drift at the mercy of the ocean. This temporary feeling of solitude was suppressed by the incredible silence and faith in our skills. As we patrolled I thought to myself this must have been what Green Berets and SOG Operators moving through the jungles of Vietnam would have felt. A four man team is a very small element and to be on your own like this was rare and I was making sure to completely soak it all in.

 

We patrolled another kilometer and a half to our ORV or original rendezvous. I was third in the order of march now and we were using only hand signals to identify RV's on route. Once in the ORV we did our normal listening halt everyone hunkers down as low as possible and preferably as comfortable as possible to ensure no movement from discomfort. The aim of this is to wait 10 minutes and listen to ensure you have not been followed. Once the ten minutes was up I called in ORV reached and setting up Observation Post to command. They responded loud and clear. We took turns providing security as the snipers set up their night optics. I reached into our tail gunners bag and pulled out the thermal optics. The things were a beauty piece of kit but the initial start up let out a quiet hum in a busy room but in the dead of night it was like a old diesel firing up. I laid on top of them to suppress the sound. Once they were spooled up I handed them to the snipers and strapped my radio back on in case of compromise.

 

The O.P routine continued for a few hours with a radio check every hour to ensure communications were still good to go. We observed unusual movement, so I pulled a poncho over my head and laid prone checking my watch thankful for my Blacked out Timex Iron-man's Back Light Luminescence and reported back to higher we had people awake at strange hours but from what we could see it looked like a small meeting with no weapons visible at the time.

 

This is where the shit started to hit the fan. As soon as 12 hit the radio went dead. I could only contribute the deafening silence on the radio to a failed “Code” switch somewhere considering the batteries were fresh and the frequencies were all correct. Knowing my equipment well enough I already knew the other back up radio that had the same “Codes” was now also a useless paper weight. We had lost Communications procedure in place just in case the TOCC Tactical Operations Command Center didn't hear from us for two radio checks they would know something was wrong. We had missed our first window. They wouldn't worry or send back up for another hour plus until we failed the second radio check. This means during the next hour if we were to get hit we were completely on our own until they heard the gunfire in the distance. There would be no call for airstrikes, no hell fire missiles, no artillery back up, and worse...no medical evacuation.

 

The feeling of absolute solitude came rushing back as my eyes turned to sand dollars and I crawled towards the patrol commander to tell him the unfortunate news. We all trusted each-other and knew this was no time to point fingers. We kicked into our contingency flawlessly. Slowly packing up. I would have rather been compromised from a farmer, or got into a gunfight then be without a radio. It truly was the worst case scenario. I couldn't fight the the feeling I missed something in my preparation. I quickly killed that thought and remained focused. We all rose to a knee and began a listening halt it was just before 1 AM.

 

I scanned the walls around us for signs of life. There should be none. Until my laser crossed what appeared to be fingers draped over the top of the wall roughly 30 feet away. As if someone was climbing over from the other side. I saw the top of a head appear, immediately my laser met the forehead of a creature. Was I sleep deprived? No. What could it be. It had to be human. My night vision was dialed for the distance and I could barely make it out except the possum like glow of its eyes. It then slinked back into the darkness. I alerted the patrol we may have a soft compromise. There was no way whatever it was had seen us but they were around us and I did not want to take any chances. I informed our lead navigator to change his course and to avoid that area. Shortly after we began movement towards friendly lines. Another thought crossed my mind blue on blue or the other platoon not hearing from us in a couple hours. We had no way to warn them we were coming. There was a potential for friendly fire if we surprised anyone. I voiced my worries as a whisper over our personal communications which prompted our commander to change course and head on back with strobes on to our forward operating base alone instead of linking back up to avoid friendly fire.

 

 

As we crossed the windswept moonlit landscape I felt very exposed we spaced out farther apart to appear bigger and give us a fighting chance in case we were compromised or engaged. The path we were on took use right around the perimeter of a old Russian Anti Tank Mine field. Just to add a little more stress to the situation. As I scanned my arcs I heard something very eerie. A series of claps or what appeared to sound like clapping. Synchronized in the distance. Shortly after I heard a dog bark from a nearby village where the gaggle of men were. Well if this was early warning by the Taliban it meant we woke the neighborhood up and what I saw back there could have very well been a soft compromise. Soon neighboring villages dogs were barking. If there were any bad dudes around they'd be waking up shortly. We had broke into a faster pace, boarder line a shuffle. We had a kilometer to go and I could see the glow of the camp in the distance. I remembered this is why we trained to run with weight, we were fit and capable of the distance. Our silhouettes moved across the open desert floor like ghosts with green eyes. Our weapons at the low ready.

 

My mind drifted to the book I read as a teenager, Bravo Two Zero about the compromised SAS patrol having to run hundreds of kilometers out of Iraq Into Syria. This was by no means the same but I felt my childhood dream of operating on the front-lines of a foreign conflict had come true and I was simultaneously rapidly scanning my arcs for other friendly forces and potential enemy fighting positions. Just as we approached the back gate our tail gunner fell into some old barbed wire. He was hung up and I had to call out to our navigator to hold up. I jogged back and cut his pants free. Looking like he was ravaged by a wild animal we continued the last hundred meters. Once we were within the range of our Patrol bases support weapons I knew we were good to go if anyone engaged us. We made light recognition with the gate and a verbal upon entry. Always a tense moment when you haven't been able to call in your approach.

 

 

We got back to the TOCC and did a patrol report. I dropped my gear and instead of resting and writing down my information from the patrol, I woke the company signaler and told him to trouble shoot the radio immediately. Our lives were unnecessarily put at risk and I didn't want to be the one blamed. He was tired and upset I woke him up but understood the severity of the situation. We were lucky. He glanced up at me and said there was a code change but the radio only held one set of code and it didn't take the second when it was loaded. Thus rendering the radio malfunctioning and not my fault.

Moral of the story you can be extremely well prepared and things can still go wrong. Ever since then I have respected communications more than ever. This would never happen again.

 

As Always, Stay Sketchy

 

-Derek