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By Root 1430 0

of the Navy SEAL operational liaison officers exclaim hours after the insert at his post at the Jalalabad Airfield Combat Operations Center. Long, who, like Wood, viewed the decision to helo-insert what he thought to be an insufficiently manned team for phase one with skepticism, felt his heart drop at the news—news immediately conveyed to the recon team once the MH-47s returned to base and Kristensen learned of the rope’s jettison. This is their backyard, Long thought, referencing the locals whom Shah was known through intel to pay to keep tabs on Sawtalo Sar’s many facets. Long knew that even tightly coiled, the fastrope would occupy a volume similar to that of a good-size moving box, something like three large suitcases stacked one atop another. Where are they going to hide it? Long wondered as he observed the commotion of the COC ramp into a near uproar. He imagined his own backyard, wondering how an outsider would conceal such a large package without him noticing. They couldn’t. Period. And villagers throughout the Kunar lived far more intimately with their mountainous environment than the lieutenant did with his backyard. But with all the gear the SEALs already had with them, they couldn’t pack that “anaconda” of a piece of gear as well. Besides, Long thought, they must be far downrange of the fastrope. Would they break out of their concealed hide at OP-1 and risk being seen on their route to or from caching the rope?

But the dropped fastrope could very possibly reveal itself to be a complete nonissue, Long realized. Regardless of the number of decoy drops in days past, Shah certainly would push out patrols to see what a dark night’s clattering helicopters left in their wake each following day, as well as to get the word out to all the locals either paid by him or scared of him to look for signs of the presence of American forces. Where are they and what are they looking for? Long imagined Shah’s thoughts. With his rigorous training as both a ground intel officer and a sniper platoon commander, the lieutenant viewed the first two phases of Red Wings as “duct-taped together—at best” from a command and control perspective, and completely haphazard from an on-the-ground operational standpoint. Long kept wondering how the four would dispose of the dropped fastrope—go back and try to conceal it as a full team, just leave it and hope it wouldn’t be discovered, or have two SEALs remain at OP-1 while the other two dealt with the problem, breaking an already undersize team in half. Or call for an extract, which he thought to be the best option, based primarily on the loud helo insert, which he regarded as a huge neon sign proclaiming AMERICAN FORCES ARE HERE. But like Wood, Rob Scott, and even MacMannis, Long had no say. This phase of Red Wings was completely controlled by USSOCOM rules—and nobody in that chain of command, Long knew, would want any input from a young Marine Corps lieutenant.

Then, late in the morning of the twenty-eighth, the inevitable transmission Long had feared crackled over the radio in a barely audible voice: “We’ve been soft-compromised.” The exhausted Long’s ears pricked up; his heart pounding, he rose from his chair and lunged to the corner of the JAF COC occupied by the Navy SEAL Red Wings liaison officers. “Goat herder,” Long thought he heard at the tail end of the weak, thready transmission. Herder or herders? Didn’t matter. Had they seen the fastrope, or found it buried—then searched for the team? Or just spotted the four by chance? Or were they Shah’s operatives, locals earning a little extra money as yet another set of the terrorist’s eyes? Didn’t matter. Mission’s blown. Get the FUCK outta there! Long screamed in his head at the news of the “soft” compromise, a term referencing a unit’s discovery by apparently noncombatant locals. Had this been Team Ronin, Keith and his team would have photographed the locals, asked them a few questions, then sent them on their way—then called the COC to discuss options; but given the current circumstances now, there would have been only one choice: extract,