|
BOOTS ON THE GROUND BY DUSK: MY TRIBUTE TO PAT TILLMAN |
|
Chapter 4
My eyes open just as the neighborhood roosters start their crowing. I tiptoe down the hall, trying not to wake anyone. As I walk gingerly into the kitchen, I see Kevin is asleep on the living room couch. Michelle and Richard are curled up inside sleeping bags on the family room floor, and Mike, with a pillow over his head, is crashed on the couch beside them. I pour coffee beans into the grinder but then realize I'll rouse everyone in the house if I turn it on, so I pull the plug from the socket and return to my bedroom to grind the coffee. Back in the kitchen, I look into the family room and see Michelle is lying on her back with her eyes wide open. "Good morning," she whispers drowsily as she stretches and slips out of the sleeping bag. "Good morning," I whisper back. She pads up to the table in her stocking feet and sits down. Her blond hair is endearingly rumpled. She yawns, and her dark brown eyes water as she breaks into a smile. "Did you sleep all right on the floor?" I ask quietly, knowing full well Michelle always has difficulty sleeping. "Well, I slept okay once I got to sleep." Her smile widens. I take two coffee mugs from the cupboard and sit with Michelle to wait for the coffee to finish dripping. We chat quietly for an hour or so as Mike, Kevin, and Rich reluctantly get up and take turns in the shower. I make French toast for everyone as Kevin and Rich get ready to leave for their dad's house. They're going to meet Lieutenant Colonel Jeffrey Bailey at Patrick's house so Bailey can present the information to them before he comes to see me. Kevin and Rich drive off at about eight thirty. Bailey won't be at Patrick's for several hours, but Kevin wants to prepare his father for some of the details he will hear. Michelle and I clear the breakfast dishes and get showered and dressed. Marie pulls up in the driveway around noon, and Mike, Michelle, Marie, and I sit in the yard, talking and nervously awaiting the Ranger commander's arrival. Several hours later, the phone rings. Kevin is calling to tell me Richard is riding to my house with the colonel in his rental car. Kevin says he's going to sit with his dad for a while to make sure he deals all right with all he has had to absorb. Within twenty minutes, Colonel Bailey and Richard pull up. Bailey emerges from the driver's side, a tall, fit man wearing a uniform. He greets Marie, and she introduces him to the rest of us. He graciously shakes our hands and expresses condolences. Handsome and fair-haired, with striking blue eyes, the colonel must be in his late forties but looks much younger. Seated at the dining table, Colonel Bailey looks me in the eye and apologizes for the way we had to learn of Pat's death. He tells me he had investigated the area where Pat was killed the day after his death and was pretty certain Pat had been killed by his own men. No one from the Army had said anything about this to us because they wanted to conduct an investigation first. I think his explanation is a bit odd -- why couldn't they have done both? -- but I don't say anything. I tell him that Kevin already has given us a detailed description of what took place, so we have an idea of what to expect. We make small talk for several minutes, waiting for Kevin to arrive from his dad's. But then we decide Bailey should begin. He asks for a piece of paper; I take several from my printer and hand them to him. Although I absorbed every detail of Kevin's presentation, my stomach constricts in anticipation of information I'm afraid to hear. Bailey draws a map identical to the one Kevin drew for us. He explains the platoon's mission, the problem with the Humvee, and how the platoon had stopped in Magarah. I ask him pointedly why the platoon had to drag a broken vehicle through such a dangerous region. "Couldn't it have been run off the road? Couldn't it have been destroyed?" I ask. "Kevin said a lot of the soldiers believed it should have been blown up." The colonel stares at me. "Ma'am, they couldn't leave the vehicle. Locals could get on the vehicle and take pictures. The pictures could then be used for propaganda purposes, which wouldn't look good." I can't believe what I'm hearing. "Pictures of local Afghans in U.S. vehicles don't look good, but killing two men and wounding two others is acceptable? That doesn't make any sense," I tell him. He looks at me without responding. "Why couldn't it have been destroyed?" I ask in frustration. "Couldn't they have blown it up? It was a $50,000 vehicle; that's nothing." "That goes against Army policy, ma'am," he says, looking at me as if I'm crazy to even consider destroying the vehicle an option. He said the platoon leader, Lieutenant David Uthlaut, radioed the commander in Khost and asked if the Humvee could be lifted out by air, but his request was refused. It appears that the MH-47 helicopters [1] -- which could do the job -- were not available. Kevin quietly comes in and sits at the end of the table. Bailey explains, as Kevin had, that a fuel pump was flown in but didn't fix the vehicle, so a local truck driver was hired to evacuate it with his flatbed truck. He tells us that Uthlaut had no direct order to split his platoon but did so because the chain of command in Khost wanted "boots on the ground" in Manah, a village on the other side of the canyon, by dusk, and he wanted no further delay. Bailey reiterates that Uthlaut aggressively objected to being placed in a position to have to split his men into two sections, for the reasons Kevin stated. But his protests were futile. I am appalled at what I hear. I look across the table at my brother; his face is somber. My gaze turns back to Bailey. "Why wouldn't the officers in Khost listen to the officer in the field? He is the one who best knows the situation. If he was protesting his predicament, why wouldn't they respect his concerns?" Bailey explains that Uthlaut had misunderstood his orders, which were not to have his troops in Manah by dusk but rather by dawn, a crucial difference. The commander in Khost didn't realize Uthlaut thought he had heard "dusk" and not "dawn." I feel myself becoming incensed. "That makes no sense at all!" I say harshly. "He was concerned about moving during daylight, yet he never specifically questioned the time to get clarification? Wouldn't he logically say to his superiors that he doesn't want to move before dark? What about military time? Kevin and Pat referred to military time when they talked about going to breakfast. Why weren't they using military time?" I feel myself wanting to cry, but I hold back the tears. Bailey says he doesn't know how the misunderstanding occurred, then tells us there was a doctor in the village of Magarah who passed a note to one of the soldiers during their long wait. He says no one knows what the note said and no one followed up on it. Some of the soldiers were angry that the note wasn't investigated, as they believe it could have been a warning of some kind. Kevin, Marie, and Richard look numb. They have heard this before and have nothing to say. Mike and Michelle are obviously taken aback. I feel like I am going to burst out of my skin. How could there be so much incompetence? These are Rangers. I thought they were so well trained. I want to scream, but I contain myself and allow the colonel to continue. Mike, as if reading my mind, tells Bailey that he had real fears about Pat and Kevin being in the regular Army but believed the Rangers to be better trained. He asks, "How could everyone be so inept?" Bailey says he doesn't know everything that went on between Uthlaut and CENTCOM. [2] "CENTCOM?" Mike says, looking astonished. "You mean Florida?" Colonel Bailey stares at Mike, who looks at me with a furrowed brow. Clearly, he assumes, as I do, that Bailey's lack of response means orders had come from Florida. My head starts to pound; I look desperately around the table to see if everyone is as outraged as I am. Kevin and Mike's eyes are fixed on Bailey as if their intent looks will move him to explain. Marie looks at me, dismayed. Richard gets up from the table, and Michelle watches apprehensively as he walks out the door. It's unconscionable that commanders in Khost, sixty-five miles away from the situation, were passing along orders originating half a world away while disregarding the concerns of the field officer. Bailey continues with his explanation of the chain of events, how the serial was split and how Uthlaut felt such a sense of urgency that he did not think he had time to inform the whole platoon of what was happening, so he gathered his sergeants to let them know the plan. Most of the soldiers had no idea where they were going or what they were supposed to do. Bailey stops talking as Richard returns to the table. He can see that Richard is trying to suppress his agitation. Kevin goes to the kitchen to get several bottles of water out of the refrigerator. He places them on the table. Bailey thanks Kevin as he opens a bottle and takes a drink. He seems to appreciate Kevin's gesture, which defuses the tension a bit. He then continues with the account, describing, as Kevin had done, how Serial One got through the canyon just about the time the jinga truck driver, towing the disabled Humvee, realized he could not maneuver up the northern road to Tit. Soon after that, explosions and gunfire were heard from the canyon. My brother interrupts, "Did anyone question the jinga truck driver? Maybe he was involved." "We took him in and questioned him," Bailey responds. "He didn't have any involvement." Bailey goes into detail about how Pat ran up the hill with Private Bryan O'Neal and the Afghan Militia Force soldier. Bailey thinks the Afghan was just following Pat. He tells us O'Neal was frightened by the mortars, the gunfire, and the chaos. Pat had to calm down O'Neal, who was only eighteen years old. Pat positioned him near a rock and told him where to shoot. Bailey repeats what Kevin told us about how Pat tried to drop his protective gear and improve his position and how Sergeant Greg Baker, standing outside his Humvee, shot the Afghan in the chest, killing him. Bailey pauses, turns, and looks directly at me. His expression appears pained. He tells us that when he questioned Baker about killing the AMF soldier, Baker told him, "He was just a haji," an offensively negative term for an Afghan. He tells us he was appalled at Baker's callous and bigoted remark. Bailey explains that the Afghan soldier was shooting upward, toward the enemy across the road, so that Baker's vehicle might have passed safely. "Regrettably, from Baker's angle, it appeared as though the Afghan was firing at them," he says. He adds that Baker's vehicle was not taking fire from anyone at this point, and he is uncertain why they behaved as they did. We are dumbstruck by the lack of communication, the misunderstandings, and the blunders. Calmly, I say, "You said the Afghan soldier was one hundred meters away; you can see a person one hundred meters away easily, especially if he is on elevated ground. We have a ridge behind this house. I could identify the boys at one hundred meters when they would play up there as kids. Was it too dark?" Bailey explains that it wasn't dark. He reminds us he walked the site of Pat's death twenty-four hours after it occurred, and the light conditions were the best of the day because there were no shadows. He says the distance may have been two hundred meters; he can't be sure. "Didn't you measure the distance?" I say, my distress growing. "No, ma'am," he says. "Actually, the distance was anywhere from one hundred to two hundred and fifty meters." "Don't you know? You're a colonel in the Rangers! You were conducting an investigation!" Looking annoyed, Bailey waits to see if I have anything else to say. Without responding to my comment, he continues to explain what happened after the Afghan soldier was shot and how the soldiers in Baker's vehicle started firing on the ridgeline where the soldiers were waving their arms and yelling, "Cease fire! Friendlies! Cease fire!" He discusses how a barrage of bullets came at Pat and O'Neal as they crouched behind the rocks, bullets and shrapnel flying. Although Pat waved his arms and kept yelling, "Friendlies! Cease fire!" the soldiers in the vehicle were unable to hear because of all the gunfire. Pat managed to throw a grenade that produced purple smoke, a feat Bailey says was remarkable under such intense fire. He tells us Pat did everything he should have done and more. Bailey says he found the residue of a flare as well, but he wasn't sure if Pat set it off. Seconds after Pat threw the grenade, the firing stopped. Believing the soldiers in the vehicle recognized the smoke, Pat and O'Neal got up, and Pat came out from behind the rock to run up the hill toward the enemy. Again, the guns from the vehicle started firing. Pat again was yelling, "Cease fire, friendlies! Cease fire! I'm Pat fucking Tillman, damn it!" I look at Bailey through tear-filled eyes, and my body starts to shudder. Bailey pauses, gauges our reactions, and then continues: Pat was hit in the legs and fell in a crouched position. There was another lull in fire. O'Neal could hear Pat trying to speak. The soldiers in the vehicle suddenly opened up again as they drove down the road, shooting at the houses in the village, hitting the radio operator and Uthlaut before coming to a halt. O'Neal heard what sounded like running water coming from the rock, and then he realized he was covered in blood. Pat had been shot three times in the head. Kevin had already gone over the last moments of Pat's life. I knew what to expect. Yet the details, coming from Lieutenant Colonel Bailey, are utterly jarring. For several minutes we sit, unable to speak, then Richard and Michelle get up and go to the kitchen to make coffee. Colonel Bailey drinks the rest of his water and looks warily at Kevin, Mike, and me. Marie returns to the table and sits down. I feel sick thinking about what this is doing to her. Appearing uncomfortable, the colonel begins to tell us that Uthlaut was hit in the face with shrapnel, and the radio operator was hit in the knee. He says he thinks they were hit as the vehicle drove past the houses just before stopping. However, he says, it's possible they were shot while the vehicle was stopped in front of Pat's position. Further questions will have to be asked. He said Uthlaut was devastated by Pat's death and felt responsible. "Why?" I ask. "He protested the splitting of the troops. It seems like his superiors are more to blame. What about the soldiers in the vehicle? Are they going to be punished? No one was firing at them. They killed Pat and another man and wounded two more of their own, and no one was firing at them!" "Ma'am, I'm sorry," he says gently. "Why didn't the soldiers stop firing when they saw the smoke Pat threw?" "They didn't see the smoke," he tells me. "Why was there a lull in fire?" "Ma'am, I believe they were reloading their weapons." "You mean they reloaded and started firing without looking at who they were shooting! Are you kidding?" Tears start to run down my face, and I try to keep myself from shaking. Bailey looks close to tears himself. He says he thinks that's what they were doing, but we will have to wait for the official report to be certain what happened. Again, he tells us he's sorry. I look Bailey in the eye. "Colonel, what would you want your wife to do if this happened to you?" He is taken off guard by the question. He tells me he would expect her to realize mistakes happen in battle. There was a lot of confusion. Bailey says that in his view, Uthlaut should have had more control of the situation, even though he admits the lieutenant determinedly tried to prevent splitting the troops. He says he is disgusted with Sergeant Baker, who, in his mind, is very much to blame. He was in charge of that vehicle, and he allowed his men to lose control. Sergeant Baker told him he had tunnel vision when he shot the Afghan soldier, but he can't really explain what happened. Several soldiers, he says, may be punished, but Baker is most culpable. Bailey is adamant that he will make sure the people responsible for Pat's death are punished. He then remarks that a lot of mistakes were made and that he told the platoon that everyone must take responsibility for what happened. Mike and I both see the confused and injured expression on Kevin's face. I shoot an indignant look at Bailey. I know what he was trying to do by telling his soldiers they are all accountable; he doesn't want to assign blame and cause enmity. But it's ludicrous to blame everyone. I remind him, "Five vehicles of soldiers weren't even out of the canyon when this happened, and the soldiers on the ridgeline were getting shot at by men they were trying to save. How is it their fault?" "Yes, ma'am," he says, not wanting to upset me further. "Was anything accomplished on this mission?" my brother asks, in part to break the tension. "Were any enemy killed? We read an Associated Press story about Pat's death by a reporter in Afghanistan which said that nine enemy were killed." "No, sir," Bailey responds. He tells us a few Afghan men were picked up in Manah, but they turned out to be insignificant to the incident. He also admits there was faulty intelligence, along with a false sense of urgency. My heart sinks and my stomach feels sick. Words get caught in my throat and I look down at the table. "Are there going to be any changes in training procedures because of this incident?" Mike says. Marie and I make it clear to the colonel how important it is that nothing like this happens again. "Yes," Bailey says earnestly. He indicates that they will use the situation in training soldiers to prevent the same kind of accident. He stands up from the table and tells us again how very sorry he is that Pat was killed in such a senseless manner and says he takes full responsibility as the battalion commander. He says we will get more information with the official report in several weeks. I gather myself and stand up. "You know," he says, "I liked Pat." He tells us that he got to know him a little when he went to Pat for advice about an injured ankle; Pat, who was familiar with sports injuries to ankles, was very helpful. Staring out the window, as if in a trance, I say, "He was an amazing person." We all start drifting around the room as the colonel prepares to leave. "Do you mind if I change into my civilian clothes?" he asks. "No, that's fine," Kevin tells him. He walks him to his car to get his duffel bag, and then shows him to one of the bedrooms. After more than three hours in the house, it's getting claustrophobic. We go out into the front yard to wait for the colonel to change out of his uniform. The day is warm, and the air is clear and fragrant. I wonder how the day can be so beautiful when Pat is gone. Richard and Mike are smoking by the elm tree. Marie, Kevin, and Michelle stand in a huddle and talk. After a few minutes, Bailey comes out of the house. He looks very different out of uniform, a bit younger and less serious. We thank him for coming out and taking so much time with us. After shaking our hands, he gets into his car. Richard guides him as he backs out of our driveway, turns around, and heads down the road. We wave as he leaves. For several minutes we stand around and stare at each other, not knowing what to say, afraid to say anything. Finally, cautiously and cynically, Mike says, "If that was an unofficial visit, why was he wearing his uniform? I think it's strange." "I'll tell you something more strange," Richard says, lifting his face as he blows cigarette smoke out the corner of his mouth. "After listening to this bullshit at Dad's, I said to Bailey on the way here, 'I don't care what anyone says, I think my brother was fucking murdered.''' Kevin looks at Richard and asks apprehensively, "What did he say?" Our eyes shift back and forth, ready to weigh each other's reactions. "He said, 'You may be right.''' _______________ Notes: 1. A long-distance, heavy-lift helicopter. 2. One of nine commands in the Department of Defense, the central command (CENTCOM) oversees operations in twenty-five countries, including Afghanistan and Iraq. It is headquartered at MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa. |