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Showing posts with label Delta Force. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Delta Force. Show all posts

16 August 2025

( VIDEO & TRANSCRIPTS )“The Fort Bragg Cartel”: Book Exposes U.S. Special Forces’ Involvement in Drug Trafficking & Murder 14AUG25



IF NOT MY pres drumpf / trump is actually concerned about crime in America he should be sending federalized police and National Guard to Fort Bragg (Fort Liberty) to end the drug dealing, money laundering and murder that is  rampant on that base and from there throughout Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia and probably D.C. too. Yes, this is the same base drumpf / trump and Sec of Defense fascist fotze petie lola hegseth spoke at before the DC Army anniversary parade praising the "service" and "patriotism" of the service personnel stationed there. Sadly, this is just another chapter in the history of our intelligence services as well as the US Military involvement in drug dealing, money laundering, political, law enforcement and military corruption, theft and murder. this from Democracy Now! and Rolling Stone..... 

( My apology, I had to trim this video to be able to add it to this post, was not aware the musical interlude was included. It just goes on for a minute or so or you can fast forward to the interview )

“The Fort Bragg Cartel”: Book Exposes U.S. Special Forces’ Involvement in Drug Trafficking & Murder


Guests
  • Seth Harp
    investigative reporter, foreign correspondent and an Iraq War veteran.

As President Trump threatens to use U.S. special forces against drug cartels abroad, a new book, The Fort Bragg Cartel: Drug Trafficking and Murder in the Special Forces, reveals some of the most secretive and elite special forces in the Army are heavily involved in narcotrafficking themselves. “There’s at least 14 cases that I’m tracking of Fort Bragg-trained soldiers who have been either arrested, apprehended or killed in the course of trafficking drugs in the last five years or so,” says author Seth Harp. The book also looks at “how U.S. military intervention often stimulates drug production,” including in Afghanistan, which he says became the biggest narco-state in the world during the 20-year U.S. occupation. “Most of the drug trafficking and drug production was being carried out and done by warlords, police chiefs, militia commanders, who were on the U.S. payroll in a corrupt structure,” says Harp.

Transcript
This is a rush transcript. Copy may not be in its final form.

AMY GOODMAN: This is Democracy Now!, democracynow.org, The War and Peace Report. I’m Amy Goodman.

As the National Guard expands its presence in Washington, D.C., President Trump says he’ll seek long-term federal takeover of the D.C. police force.

PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP: We’re going to need a crime bill that we’re going to be putting in, and it’s going to pertain initially to D.C. It’s almost — we’re going to use it as a very positive example. And we’re going to be asking for extensions on that, long-term extensions, because you can’t have 30 days. Thirty days is — that’s — by the time you do it — we’re going to have this in good shape.

AMY GOODMAN: Earlier this week, Trump declared a crime emergency in D.C., even though violent crime in the city is at a 30-year low. Washington, D.C., Mayor Muriel Bowser has denounced Trump’s takeover of the police force as an “authoritarian push.” At least 800 National Guard troops are being deployed in D.C., alongside 500 federal law enforcement agents.

The Washington Post revealed Tuesday the Trump administration is also planning a so-called Domestic Civil Disturbance Quick Reaction Force composed of hundreds of National Guard troops set to rapidly deploy to other U.S. cities targeted by Trump, including Democratic strongholds of Baltimore, New York, Chicago, Oakland. The force would be comprised of two groups of 300 soldiers permanently assigned to the force, stationed at military bases in Alabama and Arizona.

This comes after Trump earlier deployed the National Guard and U.S. Marines to Los Angeles during protests against immigration raids and arrests by masked, unidentified agents who also targeted U.S. citizens when they were making their arrests.

Rolling Stone reports, quote, “One of Trump’s biggest regrets from his first term in the Oval Office, according to former and current senior Trump advisers, is that he didn’t use military forces and other federal assets to crack down harder than he ultimately did in the summer of 2020” on racial justice protests. Trump’s secretary of defense at the time did not agree with the president’s idea to shoot Black Lives Matter protesters near the White House.

Meanwhile, earlier this week, Trump secretly signed a directive approving the Pentagon’s use of military force on foreign soil to target drug cartels, especially in countries like Mexico.

All of this comes as Trump is due to meet Friday with Russian President Vladimir Putin in Alaska to discuss a ceasefire in Ukraine, where the U.S. has also sent troops.

Today, we take a rare look at U.S. special forces deployed around the world, whether we’re talking about Mexico, Ukraine, Iraq, Afghanistan or here at home. They’re stationed at the most populous military base in the country, which was renamed Fort Liberty in 2023, until Trump’s Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth directed the Army to change the name back to Fort Bragg, saying, “Bragg is back.” Fort Bragg is home to Delta Force, the most secretive black ops unit in the military, which carries out classified assassinations and other clandestine missions and is also heavily involved in drug trafficking, as our next guest reveals in his new book.

Rolling Stone investigative reporter Seth Harp is a foreign correspondent who’s reported from Iraq, Mexico, Syria and Ukraine, also an Iraq War veteran. His new book, out this week, is titled The Fort Bragg Cartel: Drug Trafficking and Murder in the Special Forces.

I don’t think people usually expect to see, when talking about a cartel, the largest U.S. military base, Fort Bragg. So, if you can talk about drug trafficking and murder in the Special Forces? Begin with what Fort Bragg is, who the Special Forces are, especially Delta Forces, and who these dead bodies are that are turning up all over Fort Bragg and the surrounding area.

SETH HARP: Well, Trump says he wants to deploy military forces to countries like Mexico to crack down on drug cartels there, but I think he should look closer to home, because there’s at least 14 cases that I’m tracking of Fort Bragg-trained soldiers who have been either arrested, apprehended or killed in the course of trafficking drugs in the last five years or so, often in conjunction with those very same Mexican drug cartels.

This is especially concerning because of what Fort Bragg is. It’s not only the largest U.S. military base, but it’s central to U.S. operations and special operations. It’s the home of the 82nd Airborne Division, which is the United States’ main contingency force. It’s also the headquarters of the Green Berets, the Special Forces, as well as the Joint Special Operations Command, which includes Delta Force, which is the most —

AMY GOODMAN: That’s JSOC?

SETH HARP: That’s JSOC. That’s the most secretive and elite component of the U.S. military. And as you said, there have been some members of Delta Force who have been involved in trafficking drugs recently.

AMY GOODMAN: So, you begin this book with the discovery of two bodies. Tell us when they were discovered and who those men were.

SETH HARP: In December of 2020, two dead bodies were found in a remote training range of Fort Bragg. One of them was a member of Delta Force. They had both been shot to death. And the limited information from police at that time was that it was believed to be a double homicide from a drug deal gone wrong. The other person who was killed at that time was Timothy Dumas, who was a support officer, a logistics officer, for JSOC. The other one, the Delta Force operator, his name was Billy Lavigne. And my book mostly is, or at the core of it, it’s an investigation into who committed these murders.

AMY GOODMAN: So, Billy Lavigne, Delta Force. Talk about the Delta Force operations. And you just mentioned that people are being killed in Fort Bragg, and part of the killing responsibility is the Mexican drug cartels, but those cartels, you talk about being trained at Fort Bragg?

SETH HARP: Mm-hmm. Well, it’s unclear who committed the murders of Billy Lavigne and Timothy Dumas, I’ve got to say. Certainly, we might suspect that it could have been some of their associates in the drug trafficking industry. I did learn in the course of researching the book and reporting it that Lavigne and Dumas were buying cocaine through the Los Zetas cartel in Mexico, which, in fact, was trained in the United States. It began as a project, a joint project, between the U.S. Special Forces and the Mexican government to create an elite paratrooper unit of the Mexican Army, and later went rogue and became one of the most feared cartels in Mexico, Los Zetas.

AMY GOODMAN: So, you’re talking about a kind of Mexico Delta Force.

SETH HARP: You could say that. You could say that, or Mexican Green Berets.

AMY GOODMAN: The numbers that you’re talking about of soldiers who have died at Fort Bragg, in a couple years over 100?

SETH HARP: A hundred and nine from 2020 to 2021. And only four of those deaths took place in foreign combat zones, in Afghanistan and Syria. All the rest took place stateside, either on Fort Bragg itself or in Fayetteville, which is the town right by Fort Bragg.

AMY GOODMAN: So, can you talk about, with this number of deaths, how does it compare, for example, to Fort Hood? And talk about what happens when you have this massive number of deaths. Who is held responsible? And how are they dying?

SETH HARP: Well, so far, nobody has been held responsible. Fort Bragg is the largest military base; however, the number of deaths there, on a per capita and absolute basis, outstrips any other that you might compare it to. For example, we’re well aware that in Fort Hood in 2020, 38 soldiers died. That led to extensive news coverage, as well as two congressional investigations, which ultimately concluded with the entire chain of command at Fort Hood being fired. Even though the situation at Fort Bragg is objectively worse, and has been for years, so far, to my knowledge, nothing has been done about it.

AMY GOODMAN: You say that “Fort Bragg has a lot of secrets. A lot of underground narcotics secrets. It’s its own little cartel.” That was Freddie Huff, who is the ex-DEA agent, talking about Fort Bragg. What exactly does that mean?

SETH HARP: So, Freddie Huff was a corrupt North Carolina state trooper and DEA task force agent who became a high-level drug trafficker in North Carolina. He was the connection between Los Zetas in Mexico and this group of Special Forces soldiers on Fort Bragg who were trafficking and distributing drugs in the area. And that quote was from Mr. Huff. And, you know, he was alleging that he sold, you know, hundreds of kilograms of cocaine to this group.

AMY GOODMAN: How many people die of suicide, and how is that dealt with, in the military at Fort Bragg?

SETH HARP: A shocking and depressing number. You know, the Army is well aware that it has a suicide problem. It has for a long time. But the numbers at Fort Bragg are really extreme, and it’s the number one cause of death at Fort Bragg by far. And many of those deaths are also drug-related, regrettably.

AMY GOODMAN: So, why isn’t there investigation going on? As President Trump tariffs Mexico and increases tariffs on Canada, talking about fentanyl, talk about what’s happening at Bragg.

SETH HARP: Well, on the contrary, there haven’t been. Not only has there not been any sort of reforms or any crackdown on this, but Trump and Hegseth, they make a big show of their support for Fort Bragg, changing the name back to Fort Bragg from Fort Liberty, giving speeches there, touting the Special Forces and the Airborne Corps, without really taking seriously some of these underlying and systemic issues, which are quite troubling.

AMY GOODMAN: One of the ways you use these murders to talk about U.S. presence in the military around the world is when you talk about Timothy Dumas — you say he was a quartermaster with the Special Forces — and how he used his position — was it in Afghanistan? — to bring drugs into the United States. Now, this is the guy who was murdered.

SETH HARP: Yes, that’s the allegation. Not only did — not only was he involved in that, actually, Timothy Dumas, before he died, wrote a letter, a blackmail letter. It was with the intention of blackmailing the Special Forces, because he had been kicked out of the Army for his misbehavior and his crimes and had been deprived of his pension as a result of that. In order to — in a stratagem to exert leverage on the Special Forces and get his pension reinstated, he composed this document, which purported to name the members of what Mr. Huff called the “Fort Bragg cartel.” But before he was ever able to release that letter, he himself was murdered.

AMY GOODMAN: So, let’s talk about Afghanistan for a moment. Talk about the U.S. presence there, the forever war, and talk about heroin, drugs and how they became so critical to the Afghan economy. And did the Taliban have anything to do with that?

SETH HARP: It’s really shocking, the degree to which the war in Afghanistan had to do with drugs and drug production. It’s an aspect of the war that was never covered to the degree that it ought to have been. Afghanistan under U.S. occupation became by far the biggest narco-state in the world, producing more heroin than the entire planet could absorb. Most of the drug trafficking and drug production was being carried out and done by warlords, police chiefs, militia commanders, who were on the U.S. payroll in a corrupt structure, which you could plausibly describe as a cartel, that went all the way up to the president of Afghanistan, Hamid Karzai, and his brother, as well as Ashraf Ghani. During the entire time that the U.S. occupied the country, it was turning out staggering quantities of very high-potency heroin, which flooded the entire planet and caused terrible heroin crises all over the world, including in the United States.

AMY GOODMAN: You write, “No person in any position of influence dared to suggest that the scourge of opiate addiction then afflicting the poor and working class across the United States might have resulted from the wartime narcotics bonanza.”

SETH HARP: Right. And part of that has to do with the DEA’s assertion that only 1% of heroin in the United States comes from Afghanistan. This is something that we were told by the DEA during the course of the war, and which was duly repeated by many media outlets. But I go into some detail in my book about why I believe that that number was fictitious. And in fact, just as in Canada, just as in Australia, Russia, wherever you look in the world, by far the majority of heroin in the United States, I believe, came from Afghanistan.

AMY GOODMAN: I wanted to move over to Ukraine. You have the summit that President Trump is holding with Vladimir Putin in Alaska tomorrow. You spent a good amount of time in Ukraine. Talk about where you were, when you were there, and what the U.S. Special Forces were doing there.

SETH HARP: I was in Ukraine at the start of the war. I was in Kyiv during the Battle of Kyiv. And at that time, we had been told that there were no U.S. military forces in Ukraine, that they had all been withdrawn on orders of President Biden before the Russian invasion. However, I was the first to report that, in fact, there were members of the Joint Special Operations Command active in Ukraine from day one, including members of the Delta Force, as well SEAL Team Six. And that reporting was subsequently confirmed by other media outlets. They may not have specified what units they came from, but certainly the presence of U.S. special operators in Ukraine has been confirmed.

AMY GOODMAN: So, talk more about the significance of this, where they came from in the United States, what they were doing.

SETH HARP: Well, they all come from Fort Bragg. And the conventional troops that were there in Poland to back up the Ukrainian army also came from Fort Bragg, the 82nd Airborne Division. That’s an illustration of the centrality of Fort Bragg to all U.S. military operations. Now, where are they in the country of Ukraine right now? That’s not — I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know that anybody knows that. But certainly, it is concerning that we have our U.S. military personnel there in a conflict with another nuclear-armed power.

AMY GOODMAN: I wanted to go to President Trump’s relationship with the military. There’s the op-ed in The New York Times today talking about how it was thought it would ultimately, interestingly, be the military that would stop Trump from using it on the ground in the United States. The headline is “We Used to Think the Military Would Stand Up to Trump. We Were Wrong.”

And I wanted to go back to — well, we’ve talked about The New York Times revealing a trove of confidential military interviews with the Navy SEALs who accused Chief Edward Gallagher of war crimes. He met with President Trump at Trump’s private resort in Mar-a-Lago weeks after Trump overruled his own military leaders and blocked them from disciplining Gallagher, despite him being — despite him being convicted of posing with a teenage corpse in a high-profile war crimes case. He was also accused of fatally stabbing the captive teenager in the neck and shooting two Iraqi civilians, but he was acquitted of premeditated murder. In the never-before-released videos, the soldiers tell Navy investigators Gallagher was “toxic” and “freaking evil.” So, he was a Navy SEAL. You served in Iraq. You also report on Iraq. Talk about the significance of this pardoning, ultimately, that Trump did of Gallagher, and who exactly he was, and where he was found guilty of committing these crimes in Iraq.

SETH HARP: Trump’s cozying up to war criminals like Eddie Gallagher is the one — one of the most deplorable features of his administration and is an illustration of the incredibly deleterious effect that Trump’s malignant command influence has had on the entire special operations community, because Eddie Gallagher is somebody who was turned in by his own teammates, who were far from bleeding-heart liberals. These are active-duty Navy SEALs fighting in Mosul, in Iraq, who see their chief murdering people right and left, men, women, children, unarmed people. He was caught on video about to stab that teenage ISIS fighter in the neck. His teammates wanted him gone. The Navy SEAL command wanted him gone.

But Trump saw an opportunity to make guys like Eddie Gallagher part of his personal political brand. And that is — he also pardoned people like Mathew Golsteyn, who was the Green Beret officer who admitted to committing murder on live television. Other people that Trump has made part of his retinue, some of the craziest people in the special operations community.

All of this has had the effect of — you know, there are people in this community who do go by a sense of ethics and who are not so criminally inclined, and the more Trump is in office and doing things like this, the fewer you have of those people, and the more you have of the sort of piratical types like Eddie Gallagher staying in and rising higher in the ranks. And you see that in the kind of fallout of the domestic crime that I describe in my book.

AMY GOODMAN: We’re talking to Seth Harp. He is the author of The Fort Bragg Cartel. It’s out this week. The subtitle, Drug Trafficking and Murder in the Special Forces. What did you discover, Seth, about the intelligence role of Delta Force and its covert actions in countries where the U.S. is not at war?

SETH HARP: It’s really incredible how little we know about the Delta Force. I believe my book is the only sort of serious investigative look at the unit, despite the fact that it is the most elite unit in the U.S. military and has been at the forefront of all U.S. wars since at least 2001. So, Delta Force, I’d be happy to tell you anything about the unit. What was your — what should I say?

AMY GOODMAN: You tell us. You did the — you wrote the book.

SETH HARP: The intelligence gathering, you said.

AMY GOODMAN: Yes.

SETH HARP: So, it’s interesting, because a lot of people are not aware the extent to which these type of units, Delta and JSOC, which Delta is a part of JSOC, are — besides their paramilitary capacities, besides their operations doing assassinations and abductions in war zones, they also have strong intelligence-gathering capabilities and are — they have troops that are overseas, that are active-duty U.S. military members who are not wearing uniforms, who are not carrying IDs, who are operating under cover identities, sometimes pretending to be American businessmen, other times pretending to be State Department employees, but, in fact, are carrying out military operations in countries with which the United States is not at war, including things like bugging missions, other things that we don’t know about.

And I think what’s most crucial to emphasize in this context is that, unlike the CIA, unlike other civilian intelligence agencies that are subject to congressional oversight and must report their covert actions to Congress, the military is largely exempt from that type of oversight. And so, I think that’s one reason why you have seen a lot of the authority over covert action shift from civilian agencies to JSOC over the last 20 years.

AMY GOODMAN: Before we wrap up, I wanted to go to these latest moves by Trump, I mean, that special secret directive. We’re using it today to talk about what’s happening at home when it comes to drug cartels. But what about — and you’ve reported from Mexico. What about what Trump is saying, that the Pentagon can deploy in countries like Mexico? The Mexican president said — you know, had a very fierce reaction against this, going after drug cartels there. You started talking about Fort Bragg being a place where some of the most dangerous of these cartels were actually trained.

SETH HARP: Mm-hmm, that’s right. Los Zetas were trained at Fort Bragg, at Fort Benning, and they also received training from Israeli instructors, before they went rogue — another indication or another illustration of how U.S. military intervention often stimulates drug production. What was the second part of your question? Or what was the —

AMY GOODMAN: Well, talking about Mexico, and the U.S. deploying troops there.

SETH HARP: I mean, it’s complete — to the extent — in these days, with the genocide in Gaza and so many other things going on, we almost have lost sight, and it seems like nobody cares about international law. But I just want to point out kind of the obvious, that using military force against drug traffickers, however bad you think drug traffickers are, that’s a total violation of the laws of war. They’re not combatants in war; they’re criminals. So, that’s one thing.

Another aspect of it is, you know, the sort of typical Trump showmanship. It’s not clear to me, having worked in Mexico as a reporter for years, that the sort of cartels that the DEA creates organization charts to illustrate and tout and purport — I don’t know that those really are such coherent organizations as they might imagine, and I question whether they have the intelligence on these purported organizations where they could actually carry out military strikes on them. I don’t know that they actually have the targeting intelligence for that to become a reality. But in any event, they ought to look more closely at the drug crime that’s taking place in the United States and even on our own military bases.

AMY GOODMAN: And can you talk about the long U.S. history, military and clandestine operations and drug trafficking in Southeast Asia, for people who are not aware of what happened, as well as in Latin America, for example, the illegal funding and support of the Contras in Nicaragua, and the thousands of Nicaraguans who were killed?

SETH HARP: Sure. There is a long pedigree of this kind of thing, covert alliances between U.S. Special Forces and paramilitaries and intelligence agencies and foreign forces that are implicated in the international drug trade. As you indicate, one of the first examples of that was in Laos and in Cambodia and Vietnam during that era, as well as in Central America, the case of the Nicaraguan Contras.

However, I must say, all of it pales in comparison with the complicity of the — practically the whole of the U.S. government with heroin cartels in Afghanistan during the war there. The amount of drugs that were produced, the openness of the alliance between the United States and known drug traffickers in that country surpass anything that we had previously seen in American history.

AMY GOODMAN: What most surprised you, Seth, in your research for this book? You, as a member of the military, but then stepping outside, you became a lawyer. You were an assistant attorney general in Texas, but a longtime investigative journalist around the world.

SETH HARP: The stuff about Afghanistan, I think, was the most shocking to me, because it was one country where I had not worked, and I really wasn’t aware of the degree to which the U.S. client state was the entity responsible for producing most of the drugs in Afghanistan. I have been kind of snowed, like everybody else, with this narrative that it was the Taliban that was doing it. But in the course of writing the book, the U.S. withdrew from Afghanistan, and the Taliban in 2023 had completely eradicated all drug production from Afghanistan. So, seeing the Taliban come into power and totally eliminate that massive drug-producing industry that the U.S. had not only tolerated, but supported for 20 years, really showed — I guess, really belied the claim, until then, that it was either the Taliban or it was both sides, when, in fact, it was really our guys that were doing it the entire time.

AMY GOODMAN: Do you think with this special directive, a secret directive that Trump has signed, that special forces operations in Latin America will increase under the guise of fighting cartels?

SETH HARP: It’s possible. I find that to be a very complicated prospect. So many of the drug traffickers in Latin America are military or police forces that are allied with the United States. Things are changing in Mexico and in Colombia, but, historically, the biggest drug traffickers in the Americas have been, let’s say, the Colombian Army and right-wing paramilitaries affiliated with the Colombian military, as well as, you know, you see the same type of phenomenon in Honduras and El Salvador and also in Mexico. So, when they talk about targeting these people, who exactly are they talking about?

AMY GOODMAN: Well, you’ve set us up well for our next segment. I want to thank you so much, Seth, for joining us. Seth Harp, Rolling Stone investigative reporter, his new book is just out. It’s called The Fort Bragg Cartel: Drug Trafficking and Murder in the Special Forces.

17 October 2013

Tina Brown's Must-Reads: On Heroism & Black Hawk Down’s Long Shadow & Former Syrian Soldier Describes Life in the Army at the Start of War 10&&9&4-5OKT13

HERE'S two great stories about good people facing bad situations and doing the right thing, some making the ultimate sacrifice. It gives one hope, and it is good to read and hear about the good people out there, real heroes. The full stories follow the NPR article.....
The wreckage of an American helicopter sits in Mogadishu, Somalia on Oct. 14, 1993. The events of the Battle of Mogadishu became a flashpoint for conversations about military interventions — and fodder for a big-budget Hollywood drama.
The wreckage of an American helicopter sits in Mogadishu, Somalia on Oct. 14, 1993. The events of the Battle of Mogadishu became a flashpoint for conversations about military interventions — and fodder for a big-budget Hollywood drama.
Scott Peterson/Getty Images
Tina Brown, editor-in-chief of The Daily Beast, joins NPR's Steve Inskeep again for a recurring feature Morning Edition likes to call Word of Mouth. This month her suggestions are all about heroes — whether being heroic means doing something, or not doing something.
Revisiting Black Hawk Down
Brown's first selection is a Daniel Klaidman piece from The Daily Beast today, looking at a fateful U.S. military operation in Somalia from the vantage point of 20 years later. Eighteen American soldiers were killed in the Battle of Mogadishu when a rescue mission — one that was later dramatized in the Ridley Scott film Black Hawk Down — went terribly wrong.
"Of course it's now become a kind of mantra, that we don't want to have 'another Black Hawk Down' ... when people talk about intervention or going into a very risky place to rescue people."
In "," Klaidman interviews many of the people who were part of the mission, drawing somewhat different conclusions than were arrived at in the movie inspired by the incident.
"The mantra of that movie, at the end, was 'It's not about politics, it's not about a mission, in the end it's about the man standing next to you,'" Brown says. "He's the guy that you fight for, he's the guy that you die for.
"But 20 years later, when Dan Klaidman goes back to interview many of the people who were part of it, it's more complicated than that. Yes, it was about their colleagues. But they do also want questions answered."
"They really want to know whether this was worth it," Brown continues. "Why [it was] that people died. Why we were there at all. And was this mission in vain? It's a very haunting thing for the people who lived and survived."
The article also looks at how the operation has affected the lives of the soldiers who were there.
The remains of a U.S. soldier killed in Afghanistan in May arrive at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware. In Breach of Trust, writer and veteran Andrew Bacevich asks whether we the people are sufficiently connected to those who fight our wars — and die in them.
The remains of a U.S. soldier killed in Afghanistan in May arrive at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware. In Breach of Trust, writer and veteran Andrew Bacevich asks whether we the people are sufficiently connected to those who fight our wars — and die in them.
Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images
"One of the people who was there, [Chris] Faris, he says that he vows that he'd never send a man or woman into battle unless he could tell their mother or father their child didn't die in vain," Brown says. "And he speaks with a great deal of conviction about never sending people into battle without a clear, attainable objective, and without fully considering the consequences of those actions — something that he says wasn't done before he and his brothers fast-roped down into the streets of Mogadishu."
The Heroes Of The Military
"The whole question now is whether or not we have now become far too dislocated from the ethos, from the values and from the sacrifice of our military," Brown says, talking about her second selection. It's Breach of Trust, a book by Andrew Bacevich about the public's relationship with the military.
"He himself is a vet and his son died Iraq. And he talks about how we all stand up and have patriotic moments at the start of ball games — we all sort of salute and say thank you for your service — but then we really move on," she says. "There's a great disengagement now. We are disconnected from our military. It is they who go make the sacrifice, and we simply say 'thank you for your service' and go shopping."
The book also looks at how this disconnect may have changed how and when we go to war.
"[Bacevich] thinks that this dislocation between civilian life and military life has allowed our military leaders far too long a rope to send us into reckless wars," Brown says. "That if, in fact, there was far more engagement, we wouldn't have had more than a decade of unwinnable wars. Had we been sacrificing, we would have probably ended these wars way, way faster than they did."
When Heroism Means Saying 'No'
Brown's final pick is yet another Daily Beast article, this time reported by Andrew Slater.
A Syrian soldier takes aim at rebel fighters positioned in the mountains of the town of Maalula in September.
A Syrian soldier takes aim at rebel fighters positioned in the mountains of the town of Maalula in September.
AFP/Getty Images
"Former Syrian Soldier Describes Life in the Army at the Start of War" is a -part focusing on a man in the Syrian army under Bashar al-Assad, who showed his heroism when he refused to kill civilians.
"It talks about how heroism really can also be simply about saying 'No,'" Brown says. "[The soldier] was given the instruction to shoot a group of 30 men coming out of a mosque, and when the order came to fire, he told the five guys with him to shoot over them, not at them."
The five soldiers were arrested for not following orders.
"They were tortured in prison for three days," Brown says. "And one of them eventually confessed that it was our hero who had told them not to shoot" — and then he was arrested.
Finally, a lawyer for one of the five soldiers helped to get him released, after which he fled to Iraq.
"What it shows, I think, is that just by saying 'No' you can be a hero," Brown says. "Here is a guy who is willing to go through torture, beatings, humiliation and terror, simply because he knew it was the wrong thing to shoot people that he'd been told to shoot. He refused to follow orders, he's an unsung hero and I'm so thrilled, in a way, that we've given him his voice with this piece."
http://www.npr.org/2013/10/10/230965782/tina-browns-must-reads-on-heroism
131009-black-hawk-down-tease-NEW
Scott Peterson/Liaison

Heroes

Black Hawk Down’s Long Shadow

Twenty years later, the battle still echoes in America’s top policy circles. As the U.S. sets foot in Somalia again, men who fought in 1993 tell Daniel Klaidman what still haunts them.
Danny McKnight’s trip began in a tiny New England cemetery on Saturday, September 28, 2013—a crisp, clear fall morning. He kneeled by the gravestone of Corporal James Cavaco and placed a rock on top of it. McKnight’s wife, Linda, had painted the rock black, and on it, he had written with a silver Sharpie, “An American Hero” and “RLTW”—Rangers Lead the Way, the elite infantry unit’s motto.
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A child walks near the wreckage of an American helicopter in Mogadishu, Somalia on October 14, 1993. (Scott Peterson/Liaison, via Getty)
McKnight was at the outset of a pilgrimage to the gravesites of men who served under him in Somalia—his “kids,” as he calls them. They were part of Task Force Ranger, an American assault team assigned to capture Mohammad Farrah Aidid, an elusive Somali clan leader who held sway over the war-torn city of Mogadishu. On October 3, 1993, the team began what seemed at first to be a routine mission to detain two of Aidid’s top advisers. But after a Black Hawk helicopter was shot down, the operation shifted to a far more dangerous rescue mission—what would become the bloodiest U.S. combat engagement since the Vietnam war.
Cpl. Cavaco, “Vaco” to his friends, was a gunner in a convoy that McKnight led through the dusty, blood-stained streets of Mogadishu that day. Known for his devastating accuracy, Cavaco fired round after round into a second-story window from which the convoy was taking fire. But on the streets of “Mog,” Somali bullets and RPGs seemed to be coming from every direction at a terrifying volume. He was hit by a bullet in the back of the head and died instantly. In the end, the 18-hour fight left 18 American soldiers and airmen dead, and 73 wounded. As many as 1,000 Somalis were killed, by some estimates.
Today, thanks to Mark Bowden’s best-selling book Black Hawk Down, and a blockbuster movie of the same name, the battle is one of the best-known episodes in American military history. And like many pivotal historical events, it has, over time, acquired a number of meanings. To the public at large, the episode became synonymous with raw, almost inconceivably selfless battlefield bravery. The movie, coming right after 9/11, when Americans were rallying around their armed forces, was itself a cultural moment.
In the policy arena, the incident left a profound imprint on a generation of national security decision makers, making them skittish about sending small groups of soldiers into chaotic situations. “It was the policy equivalent of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” a recently retired U.S. general told me. (Just this past weekend, Navy Seals staged a daring raid on the seaside villa of a senior Islamist leader in Somalia. Yet the fact that the American Commandos retreated under fire without capturing their target—to avoid civilian casualties, officials say—suggests there is still trepidation about the possibility of another Black Hawk Down.)
For those who fought there, the legacy of Black Hawk Down is more complicated. Partly, it’s about the loss of their comrades and the traumatic experience of combat; it’s also about the pride of having faced the most extreme of human tests, and measuring up. Yet for many combatants, the battle’s legacy is about bigger questions as well. Had their friends died in vain? How could future Black Hawk Downs be prevented? And who gets to control the lessons of what happened on the battlefield?
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McKnight was a stoic presence for his troops, a seemingly fearless leader who pushed through the fire zone as if oblivious to danger. But he was crushed by the deaths of the six soldiers who served under his command. Later, he vowed that every five years he would visit their graves and spend time with their families.
After visiting Cavaco’s grave, he next traveled to the Sacred Heart Cemetery in Vineland, New Jersey, where he paid tribute to Dominick Pilla, beloved by his teammates for his Jersey sense of humor and the satirical skits he put on at the expense of their commanding officers. Pilla, like Cavaco, was a gunner; he too was shot in the head and killed early in the battle.
On Monday morning September 30, McKnight visited Arlington National Cemetery, where Sgt. Casey Joyce and Specialist Richard Kowalewski are laid to rest. The burial ground was empty except for the occasional horse-drawn caisson being pulled through its quiet lanes.
Along the way, McKnight spent time with the families, keeping alive the memories of their loved ones by telling stories. But there were also moments of personal soul searching—the resurfacing of questions that never fully go away. After the chopper went down, McKnight was redirected to the crash site where much of the fighting force was pinned down. Massive enemy fire, road blocks, and poor communications hampered his ability to reach them. Faced with the choice of trying to grind ahead toward the crash zone with a convoy full of prisoners and bloodied soldiers or return to the base, McKnight decided to return home. He calls it the toughest decision of his life.
At Fort Benning, Georgia he visited the gravesite of Corporal Jamie Smith, who had been shot in the thigh while closing in on the crash site. The bullet severed one of Smith’s femoral arteries and he bled to death several hours later. Even though doctors told McKnight that he’d never have been able to save Smith, he is still haunted by the memory. “If I could have gotten that convoy there that day, he would be here,” McKnight told me.
Following a trip to Fort Bliss in El Paso—where he visited the grave of Sgt. Lorenzo Ruiz—McKnight ended his pilgrimage on October 3 in north Texas, the site of one of several Black Hawk Down reunions taking place around the country for the battle’s 20th anniversary.
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A crowd of Somalis cheer in Mogadishu as the body of a U.S. soldier is dragged through the streets on October 4, 1993. (AFP/Getty)
The reunion weekend began at a VFW hall in a non-descript strip mall in Plano—the Casey Joyce All-America Post 4380. (Joyce was a Plano native.) When I arrived, around 5:00 pm, the room was thick with cigarette smoke and country rock music blared over the speakers. Veterans of old and more recent wars crowded around the bar downing shots of Regal Crown Black, chased by Shiner Bock.
A couple of vets of Task Force Ranger were already there, but around 6:00, more began filtering in—eventually numbering a few dozen. As they saw each other, in some cases for the first time since they’d left Somalia, their eyes lit up. They exchanged long hugs, kidded each other, teasingly pulled rank, and shouted “hooah,” the warrior expression of approval.
The weekend was filled with poignant moments, like when Mike Kurth told Sean Watson about an act of leadership he’d always admired but never acknowledged. When word reached the Rangers at the crash site that the convoy was headed back to base and would not be able to pick them up, Kurth’s instinctive reaction was, “We’re fucked!” But it was Watson who understood the need to sustain the morale of the troops. “We could be here for a little while,” he said calmly. “Everyone needs to preserve their ammo.”
There were bittersweet moments, too. One was when the widow of Casey Joyce embraced Todd Blackburn, the private who’d missed his rope as he leapt from the helicopter and fell 70 feet to the ground at the outset of the operation. It was Joyce who’d scurried for a medevac vehicle, an intrepid act that may well have saved Blackburn’s life. A few minutes later, Joyce was killed, shot in the back by a Somali militiaman.
“It’s about the men next to you, and that’s it. That’s all it is.”
Some of the Rangers were staggered by the memories. At the VFW hall on that first night, a short movie was shown about two Rangers who’d recently returned to Mogadishu and drove through the very streets where they had witnessed and taken part in unspeakable carnage. One lanky Ranger, who’d had a few drinks, began to weep as he watched the scenes unfold on the screen. He’d been a cook and not part of the team assigned to go out on the mission. But when a convoy was spontaneously organized to rescue a second Black Hawk pilot who’d been shot down, he as well as others volunteered. Now, two decades later he was crumpled on the ground in front of his former teammates sobbing uncontrollably. His friend, a fellow Ranger cook who’d been on the same rescue convoy, picked him up and wrapped his arms around him. “Maintain yourself,” he told him firmly. Another overwhelmed Ranger watching the movie left the hall and vomited.
The psychological after-effects of battle are, of course, very different from soldier to soldier. One Ranger I spoke with, Christopher Atwater, seemed troubled by the fact that he didn’t know the answer to a question he’s been repeatedly asked over the years: had he killed anybody? “I don’t know,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I fired my weapon and I did the best job I could.” The wife of another Ranger said her husband hadn’t sought much counseling after Mogadishu but early October is usually a difficult time for him. “He gets real withdrawn,” she said.
Among the anxieties experienced by Black Hawk Down veterans is a sense that their stories might be forgotten. Andrew Flores, a member of the 10th Mountain Division, part of the quick reaction force that was brought in late to the battle to mount an armored rescue, lamented that his fellow Mountaineers were overshadowed by the Rangers, Delta Force, and other elite operators depicted in Bowden’s book. Pulling me away from the crowd at the VFW, Flores said, “We suffered, we lost men, we bled that day.” (Two members of his division died in the battle.) And he pleaded that we not forget their sacrifice. “Don’t let ours be another forgotten war.”
Mike Kurth retired in 1996, but after the attacks of 9/11 he had a powerful urge to reenlist. By then in his 30s, he felt he still had something to contribute. But in retrospect he also thinks the impulse may have stemmed from survivor’s guilt. He sought some counseling, talked to some of his Ranger buddies, and eventually concluded, “It’s ok to be happy.”
Kurth was hardly alone in finding a way to move on: Bowden says most of the men emerged from Black Hawk Down emotionally and psychologically intact. They were proud to have served in a fight that will stand in the pantheon of American battles for its acts of valor and sacrifice. “If they believed in what they were doing and they acquitted themselves well and didn’t betray their cause, then they came out of it well,” Bowden says. “Some come out of combat deeply troubled and wounded,” he adds. “But most don’t.”
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The U.S. involvement in Somalia began in 1992 as a humanitarian operation aimed at ending a devastating famine. These were heady days for America. The Cold War had recently ended and the country’s sense of hegemony was only heightened by its crushing defeat of Saddam Hussein’s army in the first Gulf War. The Somalia intervention was an expression of what George H.W. Bush dubbed “The New World Order”: the United States, the world’s remaining superpower, would be in the vanguard of a muscular multilateralism that would seek to prevent humanitarian catastrophes and human rights abuses.
But following Black Hawk Down, it became clear that international altruism could be costly. The Clinton White House, under heavy congressional pressure, pulled out of Somalia, and the episode spawned a whole new lexicon for policymakers spooked by the prospect of the United States getting ensnared in future military debacles. It was during the Somalia operation that a Washington Post columnist coined the term “mission creep” to characterize ill-defined ventures that could easily spin out of control. Meanwhile, “we don’t want another Black Hawk Down” became a reflexive catchphrase for policymakers wary of American intervention.
Just days after Clinton called off Task Force Ranger’s mission in Somalia, a U.S. Navy vessel anchored in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. U.S. and Canadian peacekeepers were deploying to train Haitian security forces for the return of President Jean-Bertrand Aristide. But when the U.S.S. Harlan County was greeted by a throng of angry anti-Aristide protestors—some of whom fired shots in the air while others shouted “Somalia! Aidid!”—the ship weighed anchor and steamed out of port. A few months later, Clinton chose not to intervene in Rwanda where hundreds of thousands of Tutsis were being slaughtered by rival Hutus. His decision came after Hutu militia members killed and mutilated 10 Belgian U.N. peacekeepers in an echo of what Aidid’s forces had done in Somalia.
Throughout the 1990s, a profound risk aversion settled over civilian policymakers and, to a lesser extent, the military. When the U.S. did intervene militarily, such as in the Balkans, air power was the only real approach considered palatable. “No boots on the ground” became the mantra—a very different American way of war. Some have argued that the Bush administration’s aggressive response to 9/11 laid to rest the ghosts of Black Hawk Down, heralding a new dawn for America’s lethal Special Operations Forces. But even as the Bush administration launched major ground wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, it was still true that there was a deep reluctance to order commando operations in chaotic, out-of-the-way places.
One former top special operations commander recalls what transpired when a mission would be proposed that was “stealthy, surgical, and light,” the bread and butter of special ops: “We’d start with a recommendation of 50 men, but by the time it got briefed all the way up the chain, it would involve 10,000 men” and massive amounts of equipment and armor. Everyone wanted to make sure they’d be able to fight their way out of a Black Hawk Down situation. But then the plan would be cancelled because the Pentagon didn’t want to expend that level of resources.
During his first term, Obama repeatedly resisted putting “boots on the ground” in Somalia and personally invoked Black Hawk Down on more than one occasion, according to one of his closest military advisers. In September 2009, Obama and his advisers debated options for going after Saleh Ali Saleh Nabhan, a top Al Qaeda operative whom U.S. intelligence had identified in Somalia. The military wanted to capture him, but that would have required a potentially risky ground operation. Obama opted for a targeted killing, in which Little Bird attack helicopters strafed his car while he was traveling on an isolated road.
He did allow commandos to touch down in order to collect DNA samples so the military could prove Nabhan had died. But for most of the first term, Obama generally resisted the military’s requests to allow special operations forces to land on the ground—denying them, for instance, the ability to collect a target’s “pocket litter,” valuable intelligence they would likely find on his body or vehicle after the kill.
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But what about those who fought in Black Hawk Down? On the surface it might appear that, for them, all these policy implications are very much beside the point. It’s an ancient warrior creed that the human experience of combat transcends politics. That attitude is typified by Hoot, the composite character played by Eric Bana in Ridley Scott’s movie version of the battle. “You know what I think,” he says when asked if it was a worthwhile mission. “Don’t really matter what I think. Once that first bullet goes past your head, politics and all that shit just goes right out the window.” Toward the end of the movie, Hoot reduces war to its most elemental quality: “It’s about the men next to you, and that’s it. That’s all it is.”
But that’s not exactly right. The warriors who fought in Mogadishu in some ways care about the politics in a more profound and visceral way than anyone else. If the most emotionally searing experience in combat is the death of a comrade in arms, then the most human impulse of the warrior is to ask: why? For all their expressions of pride in how they fought, some members of Task Force Ranger still are tormented by the belief that their brothers died in vain. They point to President Clinton’s decision to call off the mission after October 4, even though the objective of capturing Aidid had not been achieved.
“We had 18 lives committed to that mission,” says retired Col. Thomas Matthews, the air mission commander who guided the pilots of the 160th Nightstalkers in Mogadishu. “Once they decided to commit us, they needed to let us finish the job.”
Nothing seems to stir more ire than the fact that a few weeks after the battle, the Clinton administration entered into negotiations with Aidid, transporting him on a U.S. plane. Some members of Task Force Ranger were even assigned to provide security for the negotiations. “Don’t ask us to guard him,” says Mike Kurth, his lip quivering with anger at the thought of it all these years later.
Kurth and most of the veterans of Task Force Ranger are in no way trapped by Black Hawk Down. Still, many of the paths they’ve chosen have kept them connected to that formative experience. A number of them, like McKnight and Matt Eversmann—the Ranger played by Josh Hartnett in the movie—became motivational and public speakers, drawing on the experience to impart lessons about leadership and sacrifice and commitment.
All these years later, there isn’t a day that Black Hawk Down doesn’t flash through his mind.
Other veterans of Black Hawk Down have become preachers and have drawn spiritual meaning from the experience. One former Ranger, Keni Thomas, became a popular country singer. His songs are filled with themes of war and patriotism. “Some say a hero is born to be brave,” read the lyrics of his song “Hero.” “But I’m here to tell you that a hero is a scared man that don’t walk away.”
Some Task Force Ranger vets left the military relatively soon after Black Hawk Down. William F. Garrison, the general who commanded the operation and was played by Sam Shepherd in the film, took full responsibility for the episode’s tactical failings. Shortly after the event, he hand-wrote a letter to President Clinton, Defense Secretary Les Aspin, and members of Congress explaining his actions but not making any excuses. His career was short-circuited and he retired two years later.
Garrison now lives on a farm in Hico, Texas, and has never given an interview about Black Hawk Down. He is revered by most of the troops who served under him in Somalia. During the reunion weekend, he attended a barbeque held at Ross Perot’s house in Texas. He apparently mingled easily with the members of Task Force Ranger and seemed happy to be there.
Many others who participated in Black Hawk Down stayed in the military and are just beginning to retire now. Eversmann, who served a 15-month tour in Iraq and retired in 2008, says that, before deployment, he obsessively tried to meet as many of the family members of the soldiers who served under him as he could. He never again wanted to have to meet them for the first time at their child’s funeral, as he had after Black Hawk Down.
A number rose thorough the ranks to become senior commanders in Iraq and Afghanistan. Captain Mike Steele was a company commander whose Ranger and Delta operators provided security around the crash site of one of the downed Black Hawks. They fought off thousands of militants throughout the night, but several of Steele’s men were killed. Later, according to a profile in The New Yorker, Steele was haunted by questions about whether his troops had been adequately prepared for the battle. The story suggested he would never let that happen again. As a result, some allege that in Iraq he created a culture of aggressive soldiering—one that may have gone too far. He was investigated for his role in the killing, by soldiers under his command, of four unarmed Iraqis. Though Steele was never charged, he was given a career-ending reprimand.
Chris Faris, a Delta Force operator in Mogadishu, rose to the pinnacle of the military’s elite forces. He is Command Sergeant Major to the Special Operations Command and, thus, the top enlisted adviser to Admiral William McRaven. In Somalia, Faris was part of the initial Delta assault team assigned to capture Aidid’s aides. After the first Black Hawk went down, Faris and his team moved toward the helicopter to secure the crash site.
On the way, they encountered a ferocious ambush. Earl Fillmore, a Delta operator two or three men up from Faris, took a round in the head, or, as Faris puts it, was “drilled in his brain housing group.” Seconds later, a soldier standing directly in front of him was shot. As Faris tended to his wound, he was shot in the back. The bullet didn’t penetrate his armor, but the kinetic force of the round caused hydrostatic shock and some internal bleeding. He was able to function, but he believed he was going to die. In a house the team had occupied, Faris held up his wedding band and said goodbye to his wife and his two small daughters. By now a calm had settled over him, a kind of primordial survival instinct, he believes. The only thing he feared was that if he died, his family would see his mutilated corpse dragged through the streets.
Faris survived and went on to have a storied career in America’s shadow wars, participating in or supervising thousands of classified missions in the world’s most dangerous places. Still, all these years later, Faris says there isn’t a day that Black Hawk Down doesn’t flash through his mind.
For him, the legacy of the mission is complicated. He appears troubled by those who weren’t there yet seem to have appropriated the legacy of the battle for their own political purposes. In 2009, he was part of a Pentagon team that proposed a secret counterterrorism mission in Somalia. At a planning session with senior Obama aides, a high-ranking State Department official said he was uncomfortable with the plan because he was worried it would lead to “another Black Hawk Down.” According to Faris, the official went on to say, “I’m the guy who had to fly into Mogadishu afterwards to clean up your mess.” (The official apparently did not know that Faris had been in Mogadishu.)
Faris began to sense the anger rising up through his body. As he started to get up, he felt Admiral McRaven’s hand squeezing his thigh. He got the message and sat back down. But he still boils when he thinks about it. What would he have told him, I asked Faris? “This guy didn’t know that when Earl Fillmore was killed his blood and brains were seeping out of his helmet,” says Faris. “Or that five hours later, moving his cold body to another position, rigor mortis has set in and his arms are sticking straight up into the air. He doesn’t know what a mess is.”
At the same time, Faris also knows that there are political lessons to be learned from Black Hawk Down: he speaks with conviction about never sending people into battle without a clear, attainable objective and without fully considering the consequences of those actions, something he says was not done before the battle in Mogadishu. “I thought the larger mission was bullshit,” he says. “Everyone died for absolutely no reason. It was wasted lives, wasted blood, and wasted treasure, and I’m angry about it.” Faris says that he vowed as a commander that he would never send a man or woman into battle unless he could tell their mother or father that their child did not die in vain.
In the end, the human toll of war cannot be separated from the larger political questions. They are intertwined and co-dependent. There was enormous heroism, valor, and tragedy in Mogadishu. “But,” says Andrew Bacevich, a professor at Boston University and retired Army colonel, “if you reduce war simply to a human story, you rob it of its political significance.”
“And war,” adds Bacevich, who lost a son in Iraq, “is ultimately a political act that has to be judged on that basis.” Many veterans of Task Force Ranger intuitively seem to understand that.
http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2013/10/09/black-hawk-down-s-long-shadow.html
Syrian government forces patrol the Khalidiyah neighborhood in the central city of Homs on July 28, 2013. (AFP/Getty)

Syria

Former Syrian Soldier Describes Life in the Army at the Start of War

A Syrian soldier who was ordered to shoot civilian protesters and imprisoned for refusing to do so speaks with Andrew Slater about life in the Army and the crimes of the Assad regime.
In the coming days the United States and other countries will make a decision on the use of military force against Syria. The consequences of this decision will affect not only the Assad regime loyalists but also the foot soldiers manning bunkers, barracks, and installations across the country. For the vast majority of Syria’s conscripted soldiers, military service amounts to a brutal prison sentence of unknown length now that the war has extended service periods indefinitely. Though the Syrian army does contain true believers who believe that it’s their duty to defeat the rebels and any means justifies this end, many are draftees with no ideological sympathy for the regime and are merely following orders to survive.
Faced with certain death for desertion, and possible retaliation against their families, many conscripts have been put in the nightmarish situation of choosing between committing war crimes or being killed for trying to flee from a war effort they don’t support.
The excuse of “following orders” has its moral limits but to ignore the position forced on Syrian conscripts is its own form of blindness. Pretending that all Syrian soldiers are the same and equally culpable may be of some comfort if the decision to attack is made but it obscures the truth of the situation.
Most deserters living in refugee camps are now scarred by the brutality they witnessed and participated in, all for a cause they despised. There is no one to sympathize for their war trauma and most would like nothing more than to forget. You won’t hear from the unsuccessful deserters and dissenters of the Syrian ranks who have been executed anonymously, often casually by a loyal inner corps of junior officers and paramilitary, in untold thousands.
What follows is the first-person account of a former Syrian Army sergeant who was imprisoned for protesting orders to shoot civilians. I interviewed the man, whose name and identifying details I have altered to protect his identity, in late 2012 at a refugee camp in Northern Iraq. The interview, which has been edited for length and to preserve the voice of “Heen,” is a testimony to the evolution of events in Syria. In this first part, Heen describes his unit’s role in Dara’a, where the protests started and the war began and concludes with the events that led to his own arrest. Click here to read the second installment, in which Heen describes being imprisoned and fleeing Syria for a refugee camp in Iraq.
No one thought anything like this could ever happen in Syria. When I reported for my conscription in 2010 I thought I would do my two years of service without anything happening. Everyone said it would be bad, that they would insult you and hit you, but you could put up with it. I didn’t think I would ever see a war. Before the war I was a short-order cook in Zabadani, which is a beautiful tourist valley in Reef Damashq, near Lebanon. All kinds of foreigners came there for vacation, Khaleejis [Gulf country citizens], Lebanese, even Europeans. The mountains are very beautiful there.
After six months’ basic training in Khan Ash Shaykh, I was made a sergeant in charge of a BMP [a Russian-made armored personnel carrier] section. I was in charge of 14 privates in my unit, almost all young Sunni Arab guys. Kurds like me usually don’t get made sergeant. There were 16 sections like mine in my company with a captain in charge. There were no lieutenants in our unit, just musa’ada, or warrant officers, to help the captain.
Our captain had a very strong voice and a strong personality; he was an Alawi like most officers. He never sounded unsure of himself or conflicted about what we had to do in Dara’a. While he got his orders from the ameed, the colonel, mostly he had freedom to do anything he wanted in our assigned area: arrests, raids, shootings, destroying buildings.
Our unit was sent to Dara’a after the protests started in March of 2011 and our area was at the center of the problems because it contained the Umari mosque. There was no base for us in Dara’a so we took over an elementary school and turned it into our base. At the beginning we never worried about being attacked, we just had to deal with protests. We thought we would be there for a few weeks and then things would settle down.
When we arrived in Dara’a we were given strict orders to never speak with civilians there. Not during arrests, not breaking up protests, not on patrols. You would be beaten and sent to jail if you were seen speaking at length with civilians. We were told repeatedly that the protests were instigated by infiltrating foreigners, mostly supported by the U.S. and Western powers to undermine Syria, and that most of the protesters weren’t even Syrian. We were told they were Iranians, Afghanis, Americans, and Pakistanis forming these groups. As time went by it was obvious this wasn’t true and much of it didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t speak openly about it. At first, most of us just accepted that foreigners were behind it all.
In the beginning we were strictly prohibited from shooting at the protesters and the officers were very careful to avoid confrontation. At first we would just show up and surround the protests and hope that the show of force would convince them to disperse. Almost all of the protests started after Friday prayer at the mosques, because that is when all the men in the area gather together. We came to expect that every Friday we would have to break up a protest, but they grew larger and larger. When they became too large for us to arrest and disperse we began firing over the crowd or at unoccupied buildings nearby. When this didn’t work, my captain ordered me to fire a tank shell into a building near the protesters, but we didn’t kill anyone until later in April.
We heard that protesters had been tearing up posters of Assad, I don’t know where, and the colonel flew into a rage. I remember the protest that Friday outside the Umari mosque and at first we fired over the heads of the protesters. Then the colonel arrived at our position and told the captain to have us shoot into the crowd. The captain gave the order and he was the first one to shoot at them with his rifle. It wasn’t a free for all, but my soldiers all shot a burst or two into the crowd and everyone ran. Some shot more than others.
I remember it was a warm and mild day, sunny and clear. Within 10 minutes of the shooting starting, the streets were empty. After a while, people carefully came up to drag the bodies out of the street. I remember seeing the bodies lying in the street. Our chain of command told us that the eight we had killed in the protest had all been foreigners. None of us had hesitated to shoot, because we all believed it. We only realized over time.
Within my section I had a difficult time with my pro-Assad soldiers, my dirty guys. They were Sunni Arab but they came from tribes in Raqqah that were favored by the regime and they were ignorant. Some of them had clips of Assad’s speeches and pro-Assad songs on their phones they would listen to all the time. When we were waiting for protests to emerge, my worst soldier would lean on his machine gun and say, “Hurry up and come out so I can start shooting you.”
Most of my guys were not like this, but you had to act like you supported the government. As we shot at more and more protests and killed more and more civilians, I started to notice there were five other soldiers in my unit who realized that killing the protesters was wrong. Some of them would ask why we were shooting at people, even though in the end they had to do it like everyone else. Maybe there were more, but I knew that these five felt like I did. I told them discreetly that when the order came from the captain to shoot, to shoot near people but don’t hit them, so you seem like you are following orders.
One of my soldiers would shout curse words while he shot into the crowds and seemed to enjoy killing people. I had to be very careful around soldiers like this. We divided our time between living out of our BMP vehicle at an intersection which we were charged with guarding and at the school. All we had was a bed roll and a blanket, but it was very hot during the summer and impossible to sleep during the day. There were sinks and toilets in the school and tents in the courtyard, but we were still miserable.
I rarely got to speak with my parents on the phone, but the conversations were difficult. Everyone knows that the government could be listening, so you have to be very careful about how you talk. They were very worried about me. My father would speak in a coded way that let me know they were worried that I was doing bad things and that I was involved in the horrible things the Army was doing. I tried to reassure them, but after a while I got very angry. I couldn’t tell them about how impossible things were for me here. They didn’t understand what life was like for me and I couldn’t really explain it on the phone.
Officially school ended in July, but students stopped showing up in April, once the siege started. We had set up very strict curfew rules, and since we could not speak with the locals, communications were made by loudspeakers. Only women and children were allowed to leave the home between 5 and 7 in the evening to obtain essential things. To enforce this, people in the street were shot on sight, and Dara’a became a ghost city.
Only one of my soldiers was hurt in the fighting while I was there. One night, we were at a security position outside our BMP vehicle when someone threw a grenade at us from a nearby building. One of my soldiers was hit by fragments, but he lived. Much of the fighting was at night when the resistance could move around without being seen. There was a lot of mortar and RPG fire at us, but it was mostly inaccurate. Because units didn’t talk to each other there were lots of friendly fire incidents at night, 20 soldiers were killed that way while I was there.
When you are a soldier in Syria you must never let anyone think you are religious. You will immediately be suspected of sympathizing with the protesters. No one prays. No one fasts at Ramadan. No one has a Quran or suras from it. No one has tasbeeh prayer beads. You don’t even dare say 'Ya Allah' if you feel emotional about something. Later, when they were beating me in prison and I tried to swear to them, and I said ‘wallah’, they cut me off and said ‘Swear to us. We are your gods here.’
We were encouraged to abuse the people, even when it seemed pointless. We collected 2,000 motorcycles off the street and destroyed them. I ran over many with my BMP. The motorcycles are how poor people get around and live. We stole whatever we wanted from stores as we passed them. My soldiers’ favorite thing to steal was Marlboro cigarettes. One time we were ordered to drive our BMP into the front windows of a supermarket, it was very new and updated, and it collapsed the whole front of the roof. I don’t know why we did it. We were ordered once to shoot the water tanks on top of an apartment building, if you destroy the tank the building gets no water, and my gunner began shooting them all the time after that.
As the situation got worse during the summer, people were too afraid to collect the bodies out of the street. They began to smell very quickly. There was a special unit in charge of collecting bodies who wore black uniforms and drove Toyota trucks belonging to the Amin Al Askari [military security]. We were not supposed to talk to them, but the bodies went to the stadium which had become a makeshift morgue full of freezers.
By August we were rounding up any young man we found, whether we were looking for him or not. At night we would raid houses with the mukhabarat [Syrian intelligence agents], with a big Toyota bus with covered windows to put the prisoners in. The houses were filled with daughters and wives who would scream and cry when we entered. If there were any men, they would either try to run or hide, but we shot runners on sight. The most common hiding places where we found men and boys were under beds, under stairs, and in closets. Almost no one let himself be arrested, because they knew what would happen. They were blind-folded and bound and gathered on our bus to send back to the stadium.
These scenes began to make me crazy. On the buses full of prisoners men were crying and screaming. We had to beat them. I thought about what it would be like if someone raided my parents’ home and dragged me out in front of them. You could not talk about what we were doing ever, but it was clear some believed in what we were doing and others did not.
They arrested me in November. It was a Friday and we saw a group of 30 men come out of a mosque and some of them had pistols. When the order to fire came, I told my five guys I trusted to shoot over them. The captain was there at the time and saw that they were doing this. Later that day, my five soldiers were arrested and taken away. We were not told why. They were tortured in prison for three days and one of them eventually confessed that I had told them not to shoot people. Then they arrested me.
A Syrian man reacts while standing on the rubble of his house while others look for survivors and bodies in the Tariq al-Bab district of the northern city of Aleppo on February 23, 2013. (AFP)

Syrian Soldier

A Syrian Soldier on Being Arrested for Refusing to Shoot Civilians

Imprisoned for refusing to shoot civilian protesters, ‘Heen,’ a Syrian soldier in Assad’s army, was tortured for months—before his escape to Iraq, he tells Andrew Slater in the second part of a riveting interview.
The following is the second part of an interview conducted with a former Syrian army sergeant, “Heen,” whose name and identifying details have been altered to protect his identity. The interview, which has been edited for length and to preserve the voice of Heen, is a testimony to the evolution of events in Syria. Click here to read the first part of the interview where Heen describes his unit's role in Dara'a, where the protests started and the war began, and the events that led to his arrest.
In this final part, Heen describes his arrest and imprisonment for disobeying orders to shoot at civilians and his eventual flight to Iraq, where he settled in a refugee camp.
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Heen's refugee camp in April 2013. (Nicolas Babonneau )
They arrested me in November. It was a Friday and we saw a group of 30 men come out of a mosque and some of them had pistols. When the order to fire came, I told my five guys I trusted to shoot over them. The captain was there at the time and saw that they were doing this. Later that day, my five soldiers were arrested and taken away. We were not told why. They were tortured in prison for three days, and one of them eventually confessed that I had told them not to shoot people. Then they arrested me.
I knew the mukhabarat prison where they took me; I had been there before. I knew exactly what kind of men worked there. It was a squat building with two floors above ground and two below and the grounds surrounded by a wire fence. After my initial beating they brought me into the interrogator’s office blindfolded.
My blindfold was not well secured, so I could see over the top. The interrogator was a heavyset man in a civilian suit, green jacket and pants. From his coastal accent it was clear he was Alawi. He had dyed black hair that was gray at the roots and a thick mustache. There was a television on in the corner with a government station on, Ad Dunia. He did not turn it off for the session. He was very calm when he spoke to me and never got angry.
“Did you order those soldiers not to shoot?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
The interrogator smoked and paused, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am sure,” I said.
The interrogator walked out, and I was left standing there for six hours, never knowing when he would return, listening to the television in the corner. Then I was taken to a room where I was hung by my arms from a pipe for what seemed like five days. I don’t know how long it was. My legs were swollen and the pain was incredible. I was completely broken by this. I thought I would go crazy from the hanging. When I passed out they woke me with a bucket of cold water. When they let me down I signed the confession immediately.
I spent two months in the basement of the mukhabarat prison. There was only enough room to sit or stand because the cell was so crowded. All of us become covered in lice and insects, which became maddening. It was a mix of military and civilian in the prison. Some soldiers were there for selling military supplies on the black market. Everyone had a single blanket, which was inadequate for the cold of the winter. Eventually, most of us wanted to die rather than continue life there.
The food was half-cooked and revolting. You were given five minutes to eat it. A lot of prisoners began to get sick and there was a man with an open bullet wound that got infected. Some nights I would hear people in other sections screaming like they had gone insane.
Every ten days I was taken up and tortured and interrogated again. These sessions usually lasted five hours. There were no windows or clocks so we had no idea how much time was passing down there.
In January, I was finally transferred to the regular prison at Sayyed Naya under a charge of disobeying orders, cursing the president, and gathering in a group to plan seditious activity. I spent four months at Sayyed Naya, where conditions were slightly better, but not much. There were periodic beatings where the guards would enter with canes. Everyone had to put their hands on the wall and get on their knees, facing the wall. Anyone turning around or not assuming the position would be severely beaten. In this position, they would arbitrarily hit us on the back and head.
I thought I would go crazy from the hanging. When they let me down I signed the confession immediately.
I don’t know all the circumstances, but one of the five soldiers had his family hire a lawyer that petitioned for our release. I never saw the other five in prison, but the lawyer came to see me. He told me to stick to the story that my confession was extracted under torture, and if we all stuck to this, the charges would be dismissed and I would be sent back to my unit. I did as he said and I was released on a lesser charge. It was a military-affairs case, and they released me from prison while the case was ongoing. I had to return in a few days when they would either send me back to prison or release me back to my unit. I don’t know which one I was more afraid of. I went back to the old neighborhood in Damascus where I used to live.
I knew I couldn’t go back to my unit, so I contacted a friend who worked in administration to write up a fake leave paper for me. With this fake leave paper I took a collective bus back to Qamashli. There were many checkpoints, but thanks to God the paper worked. I met my uncle near Qamashli, and he knew how to get around the checkpoints to the border with Iraq. The crossing point is called Skoda. He took me there in his pickup truck and dropped me off at Skoda, where I crossed into Iraq on foot, and on the Iraqi side the Peshmerga [the military of the Kurdish Regional Government] were waiting to help us get to the refugee camp. This was June of 2012, and I have been in Iraq ever since.

This interview was conducted with the assistance of a translator, Usama Al-Haddad. Usama is an Iraqi-American currently residing in Erbil, Iraq. He has conducted research at Harvard University, and holds a Masters from the School of Oriental & African Studies, University of London.