That one time

That time when I thought I’d die

When I turned twenty-six I woke up at PB mateen in Sangin Afghanistan. I had been there for a month maybe and had a cot there. Mateen used to be someone’s, or rather a family’s home before we took it over. We had expanded our area of operations at that time and found this ‘home’ as an advantageous place to make our patrol base. Although, at that time, I thought of it as nothing more than a compound.

Like much of the AO it was dangerous there. I would usually catch a patrol or two a day and see what collecting I could do, or always that chance of contact. A few days before the 27th I had returned from an Op in a different area; It might have lasted four days. Some place that hadn’t really been touched by ISAF for awhile. Suppose to be a hotbed for all those things we were looking for, foreign fighters, weapons, bombs. Maybe a company was being helo’d in while I would catch a ride with weapons company. They wanted het support for the op and somehow I was called up for that. I remember we get there and the cordon and knock had started and someone calls for het over the radio. I get dropped off and pointed about 200 yards told to link up with that squad there. Lol, what the fuckkk you want me to run over there in this environment, I ran, found the guys and went through houses with them. Afghanistan was different than Iraq, Iraq I had an interpreter attached to be all the time. But here we had trouble keep interpreters, very dangerous, so many quit. Shitty, essentially they could be doxxed and their families threatened or attacked. — So I had no interpreter, and there wasn’t one nearby. So, many hours of this continued then we made plans for a 2.5 km movement to setup the bivouac site. I met the platoon commander and spoke with him briefly. Another attachment was there, a guy from combat camera. I said to platoon commander ‘ Hey Im Konnor, Sgt *, your Het guy. You have a combat camera attachment who is not with me, but we showed up around the same time. That guy should not be here, he will get someone killed. ‘ The Lt told me later ‘ We had just spent a few hours knockin down doors and you show up and tell me bout the combat camera guy, and made sure to make it clear you didn’t come together, he should not be here. I thought who the fuck is this, and what.” We start heading towards the place we will sleep that night and the reporter is falling out after a few hundred yards. He brought two bags on top of his daypack with him. There’s all these holes on the ground where wells are and the guy almost falls into a couple. By the time we got to our site, other marines were carrying his bags, and he was patrolling with just his rifle.

I had returned to Mateen and a new dog had started sleeping in my cot. I woke up on my twenty-sixth birthday. We were getting ready to go out for patrol after briefing and I mention to my buddy Rocco, hey man todays my birthday ‘ Oh fuck no, Konnor, bad shit always happens on birthdays’ ‘Nah, its cool, let go’ ‘Alright, get some’

It was like time slowing down and the moments within the slow down a different place, in a higher consciousness wrapped within my external world. Bullets impacting dirt sounds like a snap. They started two three four feet around me to the front and back. We were in a ranger file, spaced maybe fifty feet, in front of me was the Corpsman. There was no fear. It was truth, and presence, clarity, and a question. I am pretty sure this question came from somewhere, external. My response was I want to live. It shined throughout my being and awareness shifted outward and went time returned. I returned fire. The shots came from a couple locations across from the field in front of me. I needed to find cover. Moving, the guy in front of me dropped. Alright, in a moment im moving my rifle to my left hand so I can pick up Doc with my right, and I can take him someplace safer. We all know life saving skills, but Its really shitty when anyone gets hit. “you alright, im going to pick you up’ ‘im alright, I just tripped’ I helped him out, we returned some more fire, found cover. This happened close to the cp at the op. We continued to take contact.

We set off for the patrol and the dog follows us out. She was small white with black spots, and named snowflake. The dogs that were with us usually were killed after we left. They would be killed by the fighters there intentionally. Most of the dogs in that place were wild and often abused. They could cause problems to running around during patrols and set off ieds. At one point I nudged her into a shallow stream with the hopes she would go back. I regret that action.

When we got inside the op I went to the berm wall and continued to return fire. After however long the fire fight ended. I felt wrong. I feel to my knees and put my rifle on the ground. I didn’t know what was going on, I just felt wrong.

About half way through the patrol we split, I separate from the terp. We stay in the compound, or ‘home’ we are at, provide security, and rest. These places are mud wall enclosed spaces with mud wall homes inside. There might be a few families in each enclosure, animals, eight nine ten buildings with multiple rooms. Usually propane stove, some electricity. They know the routine, group together for a little bit while we go through the buildings. We talk to the men avoid disturbing the women, as was the custom that the time there. As we wait there an old man starts talking to me and pointing at my forehead then his forehead, I have no idea whats going on. I respond friendly to him with ‘yahs, and yeps’, this goes on for about twenty minutes. The other half of the patrol returned and we were rtb. Thinking about it later I saw the suspicious people out set up as spotters throughout our return.

I was meeting a source a week after this and he told me that he knew were I was when was gone. I think that I had been targeted at some point in time and there was communication of my doings. I used to always wear a blue bandana under my kevlar. So forehead pointing guy was pointing at that right? The bandana.

About an hour after the firefight ended locals wheel barrowed in two dead men. They had died. I didn’t have their photos or names on my lists. I snapped their photos, and sat down to write a report.

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