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Michael Golembesky - Dagger 22: U.S. Marine Corps Special Operations in Bala Murghab, Afghanistan

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Dagger 22: U.S. Marine Corps Special Operations in Bala Murghab, Afghanistan: summary, description and annotation

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The sequel to New York Times bestseller Level Zero Heroes Level Zero Heroes, Michael Golembeskys bestselling account of Marine Special Operations Team 8222 in Bala Murghab, Afghanistan, was just the beginning for these now battle-hardened special operations warriors. The unforgiving Afghan winter has settled upon the 22 men of Marine Special Operations Team 8222, callsign Dagger 22, in the remote and hostile river valley of Bala Murghab, Afghanistan. The Taliban fighters in the region would have liked nothing more than to once again go dormant and rest until the new spring fighting season began. No chance of thatthis winter would be different. Along with Afghan and International Security Forces (NATO), the Marines of Dagger 22 continued their fight throughout the harsh winter to shape the battlefield before the Afghan ground began to thaw. From one firefight to the next, the noose began to tighten around the village of Daneh Pasab and the Taliban command cell operating there. On April 6, 2010, a ground force consisting of U.S. Army Special Forces, Afghan Commandos and Marine Corps special operations conducted a night assault to destroy the heavily entrenched Taliban force, breaking their grip on the valley and stopping the spring offensive before it even began. But nothing in Bala Murghab comes easily as combat operations wear on the operators of Dagger 22 as they lean on each other once again in order to complete their mission in one of the most brutal environments on earth.

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The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use - photo 1

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The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the authors copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

To the men of Marine Special Operations Team 8222 and everyone who lived, fought, and died in the Bala Murghab River Valley

* * *

Always Faithful, Always Forward

Dagger 22 US Marine Corps Special Operations in Bala Murghab Afghanistan - photo 4

Dagger 22 US Marine Corps Special Operations in Bala Murghab Afghanistan - photo 5

Operation Opportune Strike - photo 6

Operation Opportune Strike Main Engagement Compound In every battle - photo 7

Operation Opportune Strike Main Engagement Compound In every battle - photo 8

Operation Opportune Strike

Main Engagement Compound In every battle there comes a time when both sides - photo 9

Main Engagement Compound

In every battle there comes a time when both sides consider themselves beaten, then he who continues the attack wins.

ULYSSES S. GRANT

4:00 A.M.

NOVEMBER 2015

HOTEL BAR

CRIPPLE CREEK, COLORADO

No words can describe the sorrow and pain I feel when looking back on this story you are about to read. But all this is trumped when I remember the courage and bravery I witnessed as our teams situation in Afghanistan darkened and grew hopeless. I chose to tell this story not because I wanted to, but because I made a promise to. It was a promise made to my fellow team members friends and brothers. It was an honor to serve among all of you when the light of hope was at its dimmest.

This book represents that promise kept in full.

The overwhelming success of Level Zero Heroes (St. Martins Press, 2014) was humbling and helped give me closure to that part of my life. The response from readers speaks for itself and gives testament to the grit and dedication of the people represented in this story, regardless of their nationality or background. The men and women who served in the Bala Murghab Valleyand all of Afghanistandid so because that is what their country asked of them.

Ive come up alone to this tiny hotel in the mountains of Colorado to give Dagger 22 a final read through before sending it off to my editor. It is amazing how many things you forget or just dont think about anymore until you sit down and begin putting them into words. The whole process of writing this story has gone further than I could ever have imagined. I only hope that I have done my best to honor and give recognition to all those who have given so much and have asked for so little in return. In the end, the only people I answer to are my teammates, and the only thing they have ever asked in return for their unconditional service and sacrifice to their country was to send more ammunition and Rip It.

Ski

It was dark, and my vision was blurry. The uneven floor and rough mud walls had a soft glow to them from the moonlight shining in through a small window on the other side of the room. A solid column of pale blue light radiated in at an angle, striking the floor and partially illuminating a small flight of narrow dirt stairs leading to the first floor. Voices could be heard yelling from the level below as I staggered and hit the wall, positioning myself at the top of the stairs. The wall was cold, and I could feel it pulling the heat from my body.

Then I saw ita dark silhouette of a man gripping a weapon at the bottom of the stairs. All black, featureless, and silent as he began to rush up the steps toward me. The muzzle of my weapon flashed and cracked as I rapidly pulled the trigger.

But he didnt stop.

I brought my weapon back close to my body as he reached the last two steps, and I raised my knee high. Kicking with all of my strength, the heel of my boot hit him square in the chest.

Ouch, I yelled out in pain.

The living room was dark, and the heavy wooden coffee table was sitting on its side. It was usually about a foot or so from the couch where I had been sleeping for the past month, but now was three feet away. Pain was shooting up from my toes.

What the fuck did I do? Had I just kicked the table in my sleep?

My first reaction was to think I had broken my toe, it was hurting so badly. My dog, Bear, who normally sleeps on the floor next to me, had jumped up and ran to the other side of the room and was just staring at me. He looked just as startled and confused as I did. The house was quiet. There was no movement upstairs from my wife and daughter, Sabrina and Devlyn, who were sound asleep.

Its okay, Bear, come here.

He slowly lumbered over and pressed his head against my leg as I scratched the back of his short cropped ear.

My heart rate and breathing began to slow back down as I sat on the couch just staring into the dark. The dreams had started to grow worse again. This was the exact reason why I moved out of the bedroom and down to the couch. My twitching, tossing, and turning, and occasional physical outbursts were happening too often. The last thing I wanted was to accidentally punch Sabrina or, God forbid, kick my daughterwho often cuddled in bed with usin her sleep, as I had done to the coffee table. The risk of physically hurting someone was too great, so now it was just me and Bear until this passed again.

Hobbling from the pain in my toes, I staggered into the kitchen. The light from the refrigerator was blinding as it cracked open. I gulped down some orange juice to soothe my throat, which had dried out from the heavy breathing in my sleep.

Eventually this has to stop right?

Quietly closing the door, the room was dark again as I navigated by feeling the wall back into the living room and rolled onto the couch. I just lay there gazing at the ceiling, wide awake, the adrenaline slowly wearing off.

The dream was familiar; I knew exactly where I had been. It was the village of Daneh Pasab (pronounced Donny-pa-saab), one kilometer south of Forward Operating Base Todd in Bala Murghab, Afghanistan. That place just wont let me go, or maybe I cant let it go. The dream was still as vivid and fresh in my head as the pain was in my foot.

I knew the exact building I was in; it was down by the inverted triangle area, where the two narrow dirt roads intersected. I had only been there once beforefive years ago, but it literally felt like I was just there. All of the memoriesall of the details, the smell, the texture of the walls still remained. It was all still there, deep inside of my head.

Where was the rest of the team at? Was I the only one going through this? If I told the voodoo doctor at the VA (Veterans Affairs) clinic here in Colorado, she would only want to put me on another pharmaceutical. They have a drug for everything you know, even drugs to counteract the side effects of the ones you are taking.

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