by William Yeske
The following is an excerpt from William Yeske’s book: Damn the Valley 1st Platoon, Bravo Company, 2-508 PIR, 82nd Airborne in the Arghandab River Valley Afghanistan–which can be purchased here.
Specialist Brian Errickson was in his bunk trying to get some sleep. It seemed like the duties never ended and now they were pushed into the thick of it in what seemed to be the origin of the conflict for the area. First it was Johnston and then Morton, Thomas, and others getting hit. The patterns were becoming obvious even to the privates that Deh-e Kowchay was not a friendly area to the Americans.
Thank God their platoon sergeant, SFC Frazier, was one of the laid-back pillars of leadership within the company. The guys could relax a little bit while in between the heat of the guard towers and the buildup of yet another makeshift compound that was a “brilliant” idea of leadership. First a radish field, now someone else’s house. What the heck did they pay these people in order to stay there at their house anyway?
He would see the various family members coming and going from the back corner of the compound that they retained even with the Americans there. The people had nowhere else to go for now, so there they stayed.
Errickson was a firefighter by trade and had always enjoyed helping people. It gave him purpose in life. Maybe it was because he didn’t think much of his own life that he always seemed to be OK with putting it on the line for others. It became everyday life for him, and he aspired to be part of the finest firefighting company in the world. The FDNY was his goal and every day he suited up with the New Jersey Fire Department and made a call, he felt like life was worth living.
Then the day had come that a group of psychopaths had decided to crash a plane into a tower full of people within the very heart of the city, driving a stake into the very symbol of everything that was American to the world. The very concept of freedom being challenged by a militant radical group of extremists that reveled in the thought of bringing the world into a constant policed state of sharia law was insanity to him.
He remembers being packed into one of the city buses that the NYPD commandeered that day to bring as many emergency personnel into the city as they possibly could. There had never been a day like this before in the nation that anyone that he knew could remember. “They are about to take down building seven,” came a cry from someone on the bus. As he looked around him, he could see the steely faces resolved to do their jobs in protecting the citizens of this country, but Brian could also see the burden on those men and women as well, because so many of them had come to work that morning without kissing their loved ones or saying goodbye before they left. They knew in their hearts that this could be it. The very present reality was telling them that this very moment held their very existence on this planet in question. Yet there they were…
He closed his eyes and allowed a bit of relief to wash over himself… was that… yelling? BOOM! A brick dropped square onto his face… WHAT THE FUCK!
As he fought his way back up from the blackness, Brian found himself taking
in everything that was swirling around him. How long had he been out? What the hell had just happened. GOD DAMN IT! WHERE IS MY WEAPON AND KIT!
With no idea how long he had been knocked out, fighting dust in his lungs and
trying to come to his senses, Errickson was starting to come to. He found his SAW, body armor, and assault pack, which was always loaded up with ammo for the fight. They had just been hit with something… but what the hell was it? Who was hurt?
Was this going to be a complex attack?
He joined Cruea, Garcia, and Marsh at a spot in the wall that was breached wide open and the perfect target of opportunity to anyone who wanted to flow into the compound and start shooting them up and laying bursts of automatic fire into their bodies. “Holy shit guys! HERE THEY FUCKING COME!” someone said as they saw figures coming down the road at speed.
They lit up the alleyway with a ferocity to counter anything that dared challenge them that day as their brothers lay under the rubble behind them. With no idea of the full extent of the damage behind them, they only knew one thing: kill anything that came advancing on their position at this very moment. No idiot other than a terrorist would be running toward the source of an explosion this big anytime soon.
“OH FUCK, CEASE FIRE, STOP SHOOTING!!! CEASE FUCKING FIRE!!!”
boomed SFC Frazier as he yelled with everything he had to implore his men to stop dealing death towards the figures that had stopped advancing on them. “God damn it! That’s 3rd Platoon, fuck, THAT’S THIRD FUCKING PLATOON!!!”
In a quick exchange, they yelled over to the figures crouching behind cover. Thankfully, no one was hit either. The platoons didn’t blame each other either, but holy crap if some of those guys weren’t almost cut down in a hail of friendly fire during the incident. Everyone immediately put it aside and focused their attention on the scene behind them. Good God…
The entire compound had been flattened and people that were missing were still emerging after being uncovered from the rubble. This was a task Errickson could do. He had dug others out before during his time in the fire department. This was his sole purpose and existence right then and there and this is what he knew how to do and do well.
Training and instincts built in from years on the job kicked in as he started to move into what had been the barracks areas and methodically, but swiftly, began the process of extracting the bodies of his fellow soldiers. All while hoping and praying that they would still be alive.
One after another, the men were removed in various positions throughout the compound. All had been buried alive and some were not doing so well. Specialist Lucas Cullum had been heard screaming underneath the earth, but was silenced as dirt began to fill his mouth and the soil and rocks started to bear down on his body, slowly crushing him and causing his breathing to shallow. In the nick of time, SFC Frazier, Skowlund, and Jacob frantically uncovered him and began the process of triage.
All over the compound, it seemed like the bodies were being unearthed from underneath piles of rock and remnants of material that were original or had been built into the outpost as a fortification improvement. Errickson moved with the shaken but able-bodied guys that were able to uncover the others. When they finally had everyone accounted for, he started looking for what to do next. Someone stationed in an airborne unit excels at understanding there is always something else to do during a moment of crisis, so start looking for that next task and get after it.
Oh my God… he realized in horror as he approached the collapsed portion of the compound towards the back end. The kids… He began to dig with the others. Body after body, they began to come across the little ones, now limp in their arms. Those that they had come to protect had become casualties of war all because they were caught in the middle of the fight.
The people within the valley just wanted to live. Here we stood, defending them from the constant state of fear that was imposed on them from those that preyed on the weak within the towns and villages of the area. The realization came that although his brothers in arms would live to fight another day, they would now live with the reality that they could not always provide safety for the civilians they were there to protect.
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William (Will) Yeske is a combat veteran who served 11 years in the U.S. Army. He is a serial entrepreneur who brings significant expertise in marketing, IT, and project management. He currently runs and operates a marketing company, No Limits Marketing Group (NLMG), founded to help small businesses survive the COVID-19 pandemic. It uses a combination of modern marketing techniques coupled with a non-lethal targeting framework learned in the military to provide clients with winning strategies. Will was also a founding board member of a Veteran non-profit, Rally for the Troops (now part of Racing for Heroes) and has worked on other veteran-based projects.
He is currently attending Columbia Business School while running current business projects, creating new possibilities for future endeavors, and parenting his two children with his wife, who is also a US military veteran.
As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.
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