He mouthed the words: We found him!
During my first tour in country, my team captured an
Afghan policeman who’d been working secretly as an
interrogator for the Taliban. He shared with us the
orders from his boss: “I want you to torture them with
methods so horrible that their cries of agony will scare
even the birds from their nests, and if any one of them
survives, he will never again have a night’s sleep.”
This guy described in vivid detail the creative meth-
ods he and his comrades employed to slowly and system-
atically kill their prisoners. The generous use of electricity,
insects, water, and clubs would’ve made even the most
iron-stomached soldier grimace as he listened to the
tales.
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Consequently, when we found Warris, my imagina-
tion had already run wild . . .
But I’d forgotten they wanted him in good condi-
tion. They still wanted to negotiate, and I’m sure Zahed
was heavily influenced by the company he kept, other-
wise Warris would have been much closer to death. I
took one look past the planks, and in the tiny shaft of
light created by Brown, I grimaced tightly.
Warris was sitting naked in a foot-high pool of water,
urine, and feces. He’d been gagged, his hands cuffed
behind his back, and when he saw us, saw me remove my
shemagh, his eyes lit with recognition. He struggled to
his feet and began crying. His face was bruised and bat-
tered, but otherwise he had all his appendages and could
still move.
I’d never seen a soldier, especially one from my own
unit, look as helpless and pathetic, and I suddenly didn’t
care what he said about me—politics and bullshit be
damned. We were going to get him out of there, out of
tunnels, out of that godforsaken country.
We’d brought about fifty feet of paracord in one of the
packs, but we didn’t need it. Hume rushed back to fetch
the ladder. The hole was about nine feet deep, the ladder
about seven feet long, so we’d get him out the easier way.
With Hume standing guard, Brown and I lowered our-
selves down the ladder, and I descended to the bottom
rung, just above the cesspool. I could barely look at War-
ris. “It’s all right, buddy. We’re getting you out of here.”
I removed his gag, and he swallowed and said, “Thank
you.” He began crying again. “I won’t forget this.”
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287
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But Scott, I can’t lie about it . . . about what hap-
pened. I can’t live with myself if I do that . . .”
My tone hardened. “You know what I think? I think
that if I save your ass right now, and you still turn me in,
that’ll be harder to live with than just lying. And really,
all you have to do is keep your mouth shut. That’s it.
You think about that . . .”
He bit his lip, then suddenly nodded.
“Can you climb?”
“I think so.”
“Then let’s move.”
They’d used a pair of our plastic zipper cuffs, and,
with a penlight in my mouth, I carefully sawed through
them. With that done, I started up the ladder, and he
ascended behind me. I ordered Hume to go fetch some
clothes from one of the guys we’d killed, along with an
extra shirt to use as rag. God, we needed to wipe him
off. He reeked. Hume hurried away, and once we pulled
Warris out, he backhanded the tears from his eyes and
said, “I’ve been down there most of the time. They
cleaned me up to make the videos. I’ve barely had any-
thing to eat or drink. I’m dying.”
“Easy, we’ll get you something,” whispered Brown.
“They got MREs down here.”
Within two minutes, Hume came dashing back with
the clothes and a concerned look. “I heard some crying
up there,” he began, cocking a thumb over his shoulder.
“You know what I’m thinking . . .”
“Give me that goddamned ladder,” I barked.
288 GH OS T RE CON
“Captain, do we really have time for this?” asked Brown.
“Indulge me for three minutes,” I said. “While you
clean him up and get him dressed.”
I dragged the ladder back up to the next hole in the
ceiling, ascended, and stepped into another chamber with
more boxes of MREs. A narrow tunnel led to a second,
even wider area where a few lanterns burned brightly.
My mouth must’ve fallen open.
Girls ranging in age from perhaps twelve or thirteen
up to seventeen or eighteen were dressed in tattered
clothes, bound and gagged, and sitting along the wall, a
few sleeping, others staring blankly at me, and a few
more crying through their gags.
At the far end of the room was a sleeping area piled
high with pillows and blankets, and I shuddered as I
imagined what went on there. Zahed would, of course,
deny any wrongdoing; he could blame it all on his men,
argue that in some respects he did not have control over
them. And, of course, he’d be lying. He allowed this to
go on, and in doing so, created a nightmare for the par-
ents of these poor girls.
I caught a blur of movement from the corner of my
eye, and then from a tunnel exit near the back came
another fighter. I raised my silenced pistol and put two
rounds in his heart. I wanted to put fifty.
I whirled back, lowered my shemagh, and in Pashto
said to the girls, “I will help you.”
One girl in particular fought more violently against
her binding and gag. As I crossed to her, she began to
look familiar, and then, with a start, I knew she was
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289
Shilmani’s daughter, Hila. I heard him screaming again,
“They took my daughter!”
They’d tied up the girls with cheap nylon rope and
gagged them with scarves. I untied Hila’s gag, and she
moved her mouth, licked her lips, and began to speak in
a rapid fire that I didn’t understand.
“It’s okay . . .” I said in a soothing tone.
She surprised me. “Thank you. I . . . what they did . . .
I cannot see my family again . . .”
“You speak English?”
“My father taught me.”
I grinned weakly in understanding. “Okay. That helps.
All I know is, we’re going to get you out of here. All of
you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell them for me?”
She nodded. I finished cutting her arms and legs free.
She stood and spoke rapidly to the girls, who all began
nodding. Brown came rushing into the chamber, took
one look at the girls, at me, and said, “Jesus Christ.”
“We’re getting them out.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope.”
“Aw, this has really gone to hell! We came here for
Zahed, and we’re going home with them!”
Hila turned back to face me. “You came here for
Zahed?”
I leaned over and nodded slowly.
She glanced away, a pained look coming over her face.
“He is very bad man.”
290 GH OS T RE CON
“Yes, he is.”