This time, two more journalists, the photographers Tim Hetherington and Balazs Gardi, were coming along on the operation. Captain Kearney gave each of the four of us the choice of which platoon we wanted to accompany for the mission. Kearney would hang back from the fighting with what was called the overwatch team, but First and Second Platoons were going to be on the front line. They would enter the villages, search the homes, and be on the offensive if attacked. The first destination, the village of Yaka China, was almost vertical in layout. If we were to accompany them, we would be walking at night, with all our gear, straight up through steps of irrigated land at a seventy-degree angle. We would be responsible for carrying our own food, water, sleeping gear, work equipment, clothing—everything we would need for a week of patrolling, camping, and trekking in the mountains—while hunting and being hunted by the Taliban.
Elizabeth suggested that we stick with Captain Kearney and the overwatch team, and Captain Kearney encouraged us to do the same—to hang back. I wanted to go with Second Platoon, on the front line, but wasn’t sure we could keep up. Elizabeth decided to run the debate by Balazs, telling him what she needed for her story and also that she was pregnant. He seemed slightly taken aback, and his response was firm: We should definitely stay back with Captain Kearney and the overwatch team, who would position themselves behind the platoons’ fighting in order to monitor and command the operation. We decided to stick with Captain Kearney.
I thought about Paul and was grateful he wasn’t aware of what I was about to do. Though we were talking over my satellite phone almost every day, I was prohibited by embed rules from mentioning any tactical or strategic information in case an insurgent was listening. Our conversations were relegated mostly to what protein bars and MREs I ate that day and what was happening back in Istanbul with his work and our friends.
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THE EVENING OF OCTOBER 19 we piled onto Black Hawks bound for the mountains overlooking Yaka China. I was terrified. Foreign troops hadn’t attempted to enter the area in years. The Black Hawk hovered above the rugged mountainside, and we were prompted to jump into the blackness, several feet above the rough terrain. I leaped out of the helicopter, struggling to keep my cameras from smashing into the ground, and landed amid a contorted mess of soldiers. We lay there momentarily, a disheveled pile of humans and gear, as the Black Hawk flew off into the darkness, spraying us with weeds and dirt. I hoped my cameras didn’t break in the fall and wondered whether Elizabeth and the little one were OK.
I had no idea what we were supposed to do next. Captain Kearney had lent us night-vision goggles, and I struggled to reposition mine on my helmet in front of my eyes. Within minutes Kearney got word from the TOC at Blessing that a small group of armed men was making its way toward us. The Black Hawk had given away our location. Kearney spoke to the JTAC, who then communicated with the air force to send over an AC-130. Soon we heard the sounds of planes above, the thunder of ammunition nearby, and knew the insurgents had been reduced to dust.
On the side of the mountain overlooking Yaka China, the overwatch team unpacked cumbersome machines that looked as if they had been airlifted in from Vietnam. My adrenaline, which usually kicked in at this point, was mysteriously gone. We were thousands of feet up into the October air, and the chill had sunken into my bones. There were no tents, no walls, no roof above our heads, just some brush and trees with gnarly roots and patches of dirt on the side of a mountain for us to sleep on under the stars. I unpacked my sleeping bag while Kearney and the JTACs communicated with airpower, and I fell asleep in the middle of another battle, my Nikons sitting faithfully next to my head.
Sometime later Kearney woke me up, excited: “Addario! Check out the sparkling!”
Through my goggles the JTAC soldier stood silhouetted in a green, night-vision glow as he beamed a giant laser from a flashlightlike device down onto the village below. An AC-130 circled overhead. The JTAC was helping guide the attack aircraft onto the target by “sparkling” the target. It was like a mile-long light saber out of Star Wars. There was a constant hum of communication among Kearney, the JTAC, the overwatch team, the Taliban intercepts, and the men in the command center at Camp Blessing.
I picked up my camera, put my night-vision goggles in front of my lens, and shot from my horizontal position, trying desperately not to fall back to sleep. I drifted in and out of slumber with my goggles on and my camera in hand. The next morning, when I awoke in a haze, they were where I had left them, still working. I wondered if anyone else had slept. In the quiet moments I soaked up the sun, trying to warm my shivering body, as the Taliban continued talking over the intercept to each other.
“We have the Dushka ready.” An interpreter was speaking the Taliban’s words. “We see them across the valley.”