Contents
Guide
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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
Operation Opportune Strike
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.