Security

Shootouts, Pot Fields and Spy Drones: Danger Room in Afghanistan (Bumped)

KANDAHAR, Afghanistan — The final day was, in some ways, the worst. During nearly four weeks on assignment in Afghanistan and the surrounding region, I didn’t see a single person get seriously hurt or killed. That changed on a last mission, with an Air Force rescue team. A British soldier had his hand and his […]

KANDAHAR, Afghanistan — The final day was, in some ways, the worst. During nearly four weeks on assignment in Afghanistan and the surrounding region, I didn't see a single person get seriously hurt or killed. That changed on a last mission, with an Air Force rescue team. A British soldier had his hand and his foot blown off, just outside of the air field here. The rescue squad quickly scooped him out of the minefield, saving his life. But that soldier will never recover from Afghanistan.

This gallery chronicles my trip in pictures, from the shootouts to the spy drones to the 12-foot-tall marijuana fields. (Look for much, much more in an upcoming issue of Wired magazine.)

Photo: Noah Shachtman/Wired.com

My trip began at an "undisclosed location in Southwest Asia" – an air field that you can find in about two seconds on Google. Based there is a fleet of rusting planes so old-school, they predate John F. Kennedy’s term in the White House. Without them, the high-tech, wired-to-the-hilt American air war in Afghanistan would grind to a halt.

How do these ancient planes stay in the air? Thank the 400-person maintenance team, which not only tightens bolts and replaces blown tires. They are constantly making new ailerons and gears from scratch for the plane.

Also based at this undisclosed place are a heap of cargo planes. Every quarter, the team based there flies more than 13,000 sorties, moving 50,000 cargo pallets and 340,000 people — the equivalent of the population of Tampa, Florida.

Photos: Staff Sgt. Robert Barney

After nearly a week's worth of plane and helicopter rides, I made it to the city of Garmsir, in Afghanistan's Helmand province, in time for the elections. It's just as beautiful as I imagined it would be.

The Garmsir city center was safe, despite a long history of violence there. But much beyond the district limits, things grew dangerous — as I'd soon learn. Here's a 7-ton truck, ripped open by an improvised bomb.

Photos: Noah Shachtman/Wired.com

This pair was part of a huge coterie of soldiers, police and election observers assigned to make sure voting went well at one particular Garmsir polling location: a bombed-out school. They didn't have much to do — less than 20 people had voted when I visited.

Things were busier in downtown Garmsir, where several hundred people voted. Allegations of widespread fraud in the elections have torn a rift between the Kabul government and its supporters in Washington. But in Garmsir, at least, the results appeared to be fairly clean.

Afghanistan's election posters don't look much like ours.

Photo: Noah Shachtman/Wired.com

After the voting, I took a convoy south to the farming community of Mianposhteh. There, the Marines of Echo Company had exchanged fire with the local Taliban for 39 out of 50 days. After a brief lull during the elections, the fighting resumed again.

Photo: Noah Shachtman/Wired.com

Taliban militants have planted improvised explosives everywhere in Mianposhteh. I learned that on my third day on patrol with Echo Company there. We walked past four such weapons on a single, short mission. And to make matters worse, the way in which the explosives are set rendered much of the American bomb-disposal gear useless.

Unlike Iraq, there aren’t many paved roads for bomb-handling robots and heavily armored vehicles to roll down. That forces the local bomb squad to deal with the weapons by hand.

Photo: Noah Shachtman/Wired.com

Late that night, a Marine sniper team set out to ambush a Taliban gathering in the compound known as Moba Khan. By the time the fight was over, at least two men were dead. Another took a bullet to the chest but escaped unharmed. And still another had his gun shot out of his hands. Four more survived what should have been a lethal bomb blast.

Sgt. Nick Worth leans on his shotgun. Earlier that morning, he had used the weapon to shoot an insurgent at point-blank range.

I met up with the sniper team not long after the snipers narrowly escaped that bomb blast. I took this self-portrait during what we thought was the end of the fight. A few minutes later, the gunfire began again.

Photos: Noah Shachtman/Wired.com

Echo Company had become hardened fighters, after two months of nonstop action in Mianposhteh. But their "soft power" skills — their ability to win hearts and minds — weren't nearly as developed. Who had the time, with all the shooting going on?

The kid sitting down in this picture had a foot that was turning green. In response, the medic gave him some Tylenol — and told him to go see the local doctor. If only there were one nearby.

Helmand province is one of the most famous poppy-growing regions on the planet. But once the poppies are harvested, farmers turn to corn, to melons — and to marijuana, which can grow as tall as 12 feet high.

Photo: Noah Shachtman/Wired.com

By any rational measure, Echo Company should've been miserable — sleeping on floors, breathing Mianposhteh's dust-clogged air, enduring 120-degree heat and constant attacks from the Taliban. Yet these Marines' morale was shockingly high. They didn't join the corps to live comfortably, or in safety.

Among the few distractions from the fighting were laptops and hard drives, loaded with action flicks, hip-hop videos and episodes from Chappelle's Show.

Photo: Noah Shachtman/Wired.com

While the Marines of Echo Company ate rations and peed into tubes, troops and contractors on the sprawling Kandahar Air Field enjoyed a very different kind of war: Pizza Hut deliveries, salsa-dancing nights, spinning classes, a French patisserie and nightly hockey tournaments.

Kandahar Air Field also boasts a number of MWR (morale, welfare and recreation) centers. The latest X-Box, Wii and Playstation titles are all there, allowing Kandahar-based troops to fight off pixelized enemies, while their comrades in the field handle the flesh-and-blood adversaries.

Photo: Noah Shachtman/Wired.com

Pilots at Kandahar sit in front of screens, too — to remotely take off and land more than a dozen Predator and Reaper drones.

Traditional pilots fill the cockpits of the A-10s. The planes have been a mainstay of irregular warfare for decades. But the "Warthogs" have taken on additional importance in Afghanistan. U.S. generals have issued tight guidelines on the use of bombs dropped from the sky. The A-10s and their 30mm guns aren't nearly as restricted.

Not far from the A-10s is the Air Force's small fleet of Black Hawk helicopters, modified for rescue missions. The big prong in front allows the chopper to be refueled in midflight.

Photo: Noah Shachtman/Wired.com

The Air Force pararescue jumpers, or PJs, stationed at Kandahar also carry with them all kinds of special equipment. That includes multiband rescue radios, GPS trackers, lollipops with the powerful painkiller fentanyl — and, of course, advanced night-vision goggles.

But my favorite PJ gadgets were the infrared strobes, flares and chem-lights to mark their positions in the dark. It's the same gear that the CIA allegedly uses to guide drone strikes across the border in Pakistan.

Photo: Noah Shachtman/Wired.com

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