U ZBE K ISTA N

oarding the CH-53E Super

Stallion helicopter was the

moment I had been training

for. But my anticipation for

the worst left me consumed
with fear, feeling faint and lightheaded
as we ascended into the sky.
A massive dust cloud formed around
us from the spinning rotor blades as
the helicopter finally touched down.
Over the radio I heard, Voodoo Two,
Intel is reporting that the Taliban is
aware of our presence. Lets move.
We were only hours away from
combat.

OPERATION ENDURING
FREEDOM

TA JIK ISTA N

T U R K M E N ISTA N

I S TA
FGHAN
Kandahar

By Sergeant Charles Nathan Swope

AN EAGLE SCOUT MARINE HELPS

THOSE IN NEED ON THE OTHER
SIDE OF THE WORLD.

Kabul

INDIA

PA K I S TA N
100 k m

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It was the night of June 15, 2010.

Teams from 1st Reconnaissance Battalion, 1st Marine Division, United
States Marine Corps, had left Camp
Bastian Air Station, Afghanistan, for
a dangerous mission in support of
Operation Enduring Freedom.
Before landing, I reflected on boyhood experiences that ultimately led
me to Afghanistan with an elite Marine recon team: As a Scout, I sought
adventure and studied wilderness survival, emergency preparedness and
leadership. While Scouting sparked
my interest in joining the military, I
was unaware that the skills I learned
in pursuit of Eagle Scout would save
my life as I fought behind enemy lines
in Afghanistan.
That night, my team followed me
along a canal where we hid until the
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BLACK-DIAMOND
DANGER

Following 72 hours of intense fighting,

our team hiked several miles back to
a friendly position where we collapsed
from exhaustion. After a few hours of
rest and a warm meal, we returned to
the front lines and linked up with an
infantry platoon at their observation
post. These Marines were attacked
by enemy fighters at least twice a day.
They were in dire need of relief.
Our recon team would sneak
behind enemy lines at night and find
a concealed position in which to hide.
During the day, we observed the battlefield and called for artillery, mortar
and missile strikes on any enemy positions we could identify. Sometimes

The Marine on the other end of the

radio replied, Roger. An F-18 is inbound for a gun run and bomb drop.
Seconds after that transmission, I
heard an aircraft blaring through the
sky with hundreds of rounds impacting the enemys position. Less than a
minute later, the massive explosion
from a GBU-38 (a 500-pound bomb)
detonated, and debris flew hundreds
of feet into the air.

our snipers delivered precise shots to

enemy fighters that were preparing to
attack the Marines on the front lines.
The Taliban nicknamed us the Black
Diamonds because of the black
mount on our helmets that held our
night-vision devices. Intel would
often report them saying, Stay away
from the Black Diamonds, or you will
surely die.

HARROWING ESCAPE

BEHIND ENEMY LINES

As our battle-hardened reputation

grew among the enemy, the more
missions we received. Eventually, we
were ordered to spend a long period
of time in enemy territory. The next
four weeks would prove to be the
most grueling fighting conditions any
of us had ever seen.
My team started the long trek
deep into Taliban country during the
dead of night. About 5 miles south of
friendly lines, we selected a defendable compound and fortified it with
sandbags, machine guns, rockets and
mortars. As the sun started to rise, we
could see Afghans emerge from their
homes and go about their normal
business unaware that recon Marines were watching their every move.
Suddenly, bullets screamed overhead
as a Taliban fighter pinged my position with machine-gun fire.
I peered over the sandbag and saw
tracer rounds coming from a tree line.
Voodoo Main, I said into the radio.
This is Post One. I have one enemy
machine-gun position at two-sevenzero degrees and 350 meters, over.

Every few days, we would tear down

the posts and move during the night.
The terrain was uneven, and the roads
were littered with improvised explosive devices. After a few days, we ran
out of food and water. To survive, we
filtered water from abandoned wells
using our kits and chlorine tablets and
ate vegetables grown inside compounds we seized.
Finally, after 32 days of fighting
behind enemy lines, helicopters were
sent to extract us and return to Camp
Bastian. Adrenaline was flowing
through my body as I ran toward the
CH-53E as fast as I could. Immediately
after the last man stepped onto the
loading ramp, the helicopter lifted into
the air and started moving at a high
rate of speed.

PHOTO CREDITS GO HERE

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sun peeked over the horizon. Our mission was to conduct a zone reconnaissance of the enemy-controlled village
of Trek Nawa, confirm the location
of Taliban fighters and block enemy
operations.
While scanning the area, I could see
women and children flee our immediate surroundings an indication that
the area was about to become hostile.
After we quickly relocated to a defendable mud-walled compound, the
harrowing sounds of enemy rounds
overhead made it clear that the
Taliban meant business. Nevertheless, our covert snipers ensured their
machine-gun attack was unsuccessful.

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I thought I was safe when

BOOM! an RPG warhead exploded
just beneath our formation and bullets
cracked all around us.
The pilot started rocking us back
and forth through the air, making
it harder for the enemy to shoot us
down. Luckily, we landed safely back

at Camp Bastian, where we received

our first real meal in more than a
month.

NEXT MISSION

After a few days of rest and relaxation,

my team ascended into the sky on a
CH-53E toward the most hostile area
of Afghanistan for our next mission.
After a hard landing, we swiftly moved
through the enemys backyard and
crept past Taliban sentries guarding
the main road. We seized a compound
overlooking a valley and constructed
fighting positions to
prepare for a massive battle.
At exactly 0700, just after the sun
had risen over the mountains, machine-gun fire erupted from several
positions within the valley. A round
from a Taliban sniper hit my assistant team leader in the helmet and
knocked him unconscious for a few
minutes. Amazingly, he woke up and
continued to fight as if nothing had
happened.
Mortars crashed down around the
compound, and the wall I was leaning
against was hit with an 82 mm rocket.
Antiaircraft machine guns were fired
at our posts, and 30 mm grenades
came from down below. It didnt take
long to conclude that we were about
to be overrun.
Thankfully, more than a dozen
aircraft were standing by. Within
seconds of declaring our need for
immediate help, enormous explosions
erupted as F-18s soared overhead
and missiles launched from the camp
shook the earth as they annihilated
the enemys position.

HELPING THOSE
IN NEED

Four weeks later, with a short break

in between, we finally extracted from
enemy territory for the last time.
As I stared outside the helicopter, I

couldnt help but notice how beautiful

the Upper Sangin Valley was, and I
prayed for peace in Afghanistan.
Less than one year after leaving
Afghanistan, I returned with another
recon team from 1st Reconnaissance
Battalion. I was astonished by the
progress our forces had made, and
upon arriving at a new patrol base in
the Upper Sangin Valley, I was met
by smiling children and families who
were enjoying their newfound freedom from the Talibans oppressive
control.
While walking down the street,
hand in hand with my new Afghani
friends, the reason why I fought on
the other side of the world became
clear to me: to help those in need. f

SERGEANT SWOPE

is currently serving
in the United States Marine Corps as a
training non-commissioned officer at 1st
Reconnaissance Battalion. Through formal
classes and field exercises, he has assisted
in the development of more than 200
Marines for combat/clandestine operations
in Afghanistan
and other countries.