Red Snow. Sean Ryan Stuart
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band of fighters to the outskirts of the Spinghar district. This plateau was protected on three sides by nearly insurmountable peaks and fast- moving rivers. For centuries this region had been a sanctuary for roving bands of outlaws; it now offered perfect protection from the prying eyes of the Soviet military. The headquarters of this band of guerrilla fighters, more commonly known as mujahidin (soldiers of God), was strewn haphazardly across the wide plateau overlooking the Kabul-Jalalabad highway. Small groups of mujahidin were huddled close to their still glowing campfires. It was a feeble attempt on their part to glean the last vestiges of warmth, before the strong rain soaked their tired bodies. They now knew that the Soviets were reduced to occasional air raids with high-flying TU 16s (tactical fighter/bombers) or daytime raids with helicopters. A few years ago, they never would have dared to have open campfires, but now it was quite evident that the Soviets were conserving forces in preparation for their departure. They were all aware that discussions were going on in Geneva, and hoped that this miserable war would be over in a few months.
A few hours earlier the valley floor cooked in a cauldron of heat and dust. Shimmering heat waves dancing in the distance like exotic belly dancers. Everyone had sought shelter from the burning sun. The mujahidin crowded around the few remaining shade trees like cattle on a hot Texas prairie. Now a late fall shower soaked their bodies, and robbed them of their remaining strength.
From this position, like birds of prey, the mujahidin could observe the highway and monitor all Soviet movement along the strategic road.
Their important location was cleverly blended and camouflaged into the rocky hillside. Their small shelters were similar in color to the existing scrub pines and bushes. Their camouflage techniques were vastly superior to the unsuccessful Soviet attempt at concealment.
At times, it seemed as if the Soviets thought they were invincible, neglecting to practice even minimal concealment, and camouflage. The Soviets were arrogant, and at the same time ignorant of their adversary. They were sometimes even more colonialistically inclined than the once glorious and mighty British Empire. They treated all Afghans in a less than compassionate fashion and were surprised to find out that the Afghan freedom fighters had no respect or fear of the Soviet war machine. They knew that they had a just cause and eventually Allah (God) would prevail. There was an air of confidence in this camp. An almost insolent atmosphere permeated the area. Nine years of resistance against the supposedly invincible Soviet army, had hardened these guerrilla fighters into a band of well-trained and extremely cagey freedom fighters. In fact, they had a secure defensive perimeter which would rival that of any modern army in the world. The camp was heavily fortified and included a captured Soviet heavy machine-gun of the ZSU-23-4 (SHILKA, usually mounted on a modified PT-76 Tank chassis, 4X23mm AA guns) type as well as one “Strela 1” launcher (AKA SA9) antiaircraft missile, not as effective as the newly acquired American Stinger missiles, but dangerous nonetheless for any low-flying Soviet aircraft.
They were fortunate indeed to have captured this complete SA9 air-defense system on a previous raid along the Pakistani-Afghan border. Their enemies had been so surprised by this raid that several communist Kabul soldiers had willingly defected, and now proudly manned this air-defense system for the mujahidin. The ZSU-23-4 was normally used as an antiaircraft weapon system, but could be devastating when used against lightly armored vehicles or ground personnel. It provided the mujahidin with a certain feeling of security and confidence. These two weapon systems were highly compatible to each other, and could be extremely devastating against low-flying aircraft.
Chapter 2 The Company Man and Flashback to Another War April 3, 1988
Jeremy Grant, the local CIA operative, had arranged for a shipment of American-made Stinger missiles. Grant was a veteran of the Afghanistan campaign. He had spent nearly three years hiking up and down the entire country. His reputation had grown by leaps and bound among the mujahidin because of his phenomenal strength and stature. His exploits were so remarkable that even the Soviets admired his great courage and had posted a reward of forty thousand rubles for his capture, dead or alive. By mujahidin standards, he was a giant, six-foot-five and 220 pounds of raw muscle and power. However, his nearly three years in-country had caused him to slim down from his usual 240 pounds to his current weight. Weekly bouts with dysentery and meager donkey rations had inevitably reduced his bulk.
Jeremy reflected on his current state of health and his slim new figure. He had unsuccessfully tried every known diet to man, but never lost those extra twenty pounds. He couldn’t help but laugh aloud, as he had the perfect new formula for instant weight loss, a cup of impure Afghan water and a slice of tired and overworked donkey meat. Jeremy laughingly thought of the many commercial possibilities of his new and effective weight-loss plan. As he laughed, before and after photos flashed through his head. Jeremy still resembled a professional football player. His physique hard and sinewy despite nearly twenty years of covert operations. His many years of martial arts training had assisted him in maintaining his trim figure, and also greatly enhanced his reputation with the muhajidin.
Grant had in fact, been an All-American football star at West Point. Had the Vietnam War not interrupted his plans, he very well could have been a pro-football player. However, two tours in Vietnam, one of which as a member of the Phoenix Program (CIA-sponsored infrastructure re-adjustment program for the VC), ended his dream of professional football.
His involvement with the CIA was due in part to the CIA’s interest in expanding its role in Southeast Asia. The need to expand the “Agency’s” (CIA) role in Vietnam had caused a great deal of consternation in Washington. Most politicians in power there were convinced that the military was capable of handling the Vietcong. It was felt that perhaps the CIA should restrict itself to collecting and producing good intelligence products and stay out of paramilitary operations. However, by mid-1967, the CIA had over one thousand agents in Southeast Asia and became actively involved in military operations.
This was Jeremy’s introduction to the real world of intelligence and war. As a Special Forces officer, he was given the opportunity to work closely with the CIA, and was actively involved in this phase. South Vietnamese Special Forces were trained to carry out missions for the CIA. Their objective was to locate and root out the entire Vietcong infrastructure and eliminate its leaders through “extreme prejudice.” Unfortunately, many South Vietnamese officials used this U.S.-led operation to settle personal scores and eliminate personal as well as political rivals. Many Vietcong leaders were killed, however, many innocent civilians were also exterminated by the South Vietnamese forces. Their ultimate goal was quite often unclear, and eventually led to their failure.
Jeremy was actively involved in the training of these “Special South Vietnamese cadres” and participated in several confirmed assassinations. It was during one of these raids that Grant’s pro-football and military careers vanished into thin air. He nearly lost his life when he was captured by the Vietcong during one of these raids. His team had been betrayed by a renegade South Vietnamese (ARVN) officer; his entire five-man team had been ambushed and taken captive. He was kept prisoner for ninety-seven days, under the harshest possible conditions. His fellow captives had been hideously tortured and beheaded. Their genitals were cut off and stuffed in their mouths; their heads were then speared on bamboo stakes and left near American forces as a sign of contempt, and as a reminder of their disregard for human lives.
It was during this ordeal in Vietnam that Grant developed an intense sense of survival that would help him twenty years later in Afghanistan.
Jeremy sat on the ground in front of his small tent and reviewed his current situation. Here he was on a high plateau in the mountains of Afghanistan trying to convince a bunch of fanatical Muslims to accept his help. Ten days of stressful evasion from the Soviets had worn his body down. The situation was both mentally and physically as exhausting as his capture by the Vietcong. His thoughts flashing back to a similar debilitating fatigue he’d endured during his escape from the VC, and of a sadistic little VC major two decades earlier.
His current sheer physical exhaustion and mental fatigue overpowered him and he promptly fell asleep. Although his memories of Vietnam were not pleasant ones,