[osint] Soldiers recall bloodiest day

[Bruce Tefft]

 
 
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Soldiers recall bloodiest day
Aug. 7, 2006. 04:50 PM
TERRY PEDWELL
CANADIAN PRESS
 
KANDAHAR, Afghanistan - The day started as expected, with the soldiers of
Charlie Company of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry setting
out in the early morning darkness on orders to root out Taliban fighters. 
It was Thursday, Aug. 3, 2006. 
What they would not discover until many hours later was that they had
witnessed what would become known as Canada's bloodiest day of combat so far
in Afghanistan. 
"We got our orders early in the evening for the mission," recalled Sgt.
Patrick Tower, a blond, bespectacled 34-year-old whose body language
displays a sense of authority. 
"The mission was to move into a school in Pashmul, which is in Panjwaii
District," he said. 
The troops drove out in their heavy green machines under cover of darkness,
heading west, and almost instantly got into a fight. 
"As we were coming up to the objective . . . we saw an enemy position lined
up in front of us," Tower recalled. 
Master Cpl. Tony Perry was the 2nd Platoon crew commander of the Light
Armoured Vehicle, or LAVIII, at the front of the assault. 
He radioed his commanding officer, asking if there were Afghan National
Police patrolling the area, to make sure he wasn't about to hit friends. 
"No, there's not," was the response heard back on his headset, clearing the
way for Perry to light up the guns, the loud rat-tat-tat of machine gunfire
cutting through the night air. 
Within only a few minutes, the initial engagement over and the enemy
destroyed, Two Platoon moved forward. 
They were far from being out of danger, however, as the third vehicle in the
convoy, another LAV, was struck by two roadside bombs. 
It would be their first casualty of the day. Despite valiant efforts to save
him, Cpl. Christopher Reid would later succumb to his injuries from the
bigger of the two blasts. The vehicle's platoon commander was also hurt, but
survived. 
Once the casualties were in the hands of medics, the troops moved on to what
would become a 12-hour battle marked by blood, heat exhaustion and a storm
of grenades and bullets. 
Even under heavy fire, the Canadians were able to overtake a school that was
at the heart of their mission. 
"On the initial assault, I was on the first wave," explained Cpl. Jason
Hoekstra, describing how Afghan police officers who were part of the mission
were being overwhelmed. 
"We took a lot of fire, but they're just police officers," he said. "So we
took the initiative and we took the school." 
But the Taliban - between 150 and 200 of them - weren't about to give up
without a fight. 
Forming a horseshoe and nearly surrounding the building, they attacked with
a vengeance. 
"At that time, we started taking fire from multiple spots," Hoekstra
recalled. 
The Canadians fought back hard. 
"We just, we hammered them," said Hoekstra. 
"If we had four deaths, I can guarantee you we had four times that. We gave
it to them." 
Military officials refused to say how many Taliban fighters were killed.
Sources say, however, that dozens of bodies littered an area around the
schoolyard. 
As bullets flew and rocket-propelled grenades smashed the building, at one
point coming every few seconds, it's unclear when the Canadians realized
that they were literally in the middle of a killing field. The Taliban had
strategically planted landmines throughout the compound. 
With nine soldiers down, three of them dead, they knew they had to get out. 
"Are you sure you guys want to do this?" the LAV platoon commander asked his
fellow soldiers as they desperately pleaded to move in to save their
brothers in arms. 
No one who was there will reveal the identity of those who risked their
lives by literally driving through a daisy chain of mines to reach their
comrades. The actions of one should never overshadow the actions of many,
they insist. 
"Every one of the soldiers that were there can be proud of the way that they
acted, with heroism and bravery and courage," said Tower. 
"I don't want to take away from any one of them by trying to identify a
specific soldier who outshone the rest," he explained. 
"They're all heroes to us, and that's how they'd want to be thought of." 
Canadians also need to understand, Tower stressed, that those who lost their
lives that day were not unwilling participants. Everyone knew the risks of
the six-month tour of duty. 
"The soldiers that died weren't victims," he said. "They were fighting. And
they were fighting for each other." 
"People at home should be proud of the quality of soldier that's over here."

On Saturday, many of the 10 Canadians injured in the operation shed tears on
the tarmac 

[osint] Soldiers recall bloodiest day

[Bruce Tefft]

 
 
http://www.thestar.com/NASApp/cs/ContentServer?pagename=thestar/Layout/Artic
le_Type1
 &c=Article
&pubid=968163964505&cid=1154952611335&col
=968705899037&call_page=TS_News&call_
pageid=968332188492&call_pagepath=News/News
 
Soldiers recall bloodiest day
Aug. 7, 2006. 04:50 PM
TERRY PEDWELL
CANADIAN PRESS
 
KANDAHAR, Afghanistan - The day started as expected, with the soldiers of
Charlie Company of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry setting
out in the early morning darkness on orders to root out Taliban fighters. 
It was Thursday, Aug. 3, 2006. 
What they would not discover until many hours later was that they had
witnessed what would become known as Canada's bloodiest day of combat so far
in Afghanistan. 
"We got our orders early in the evening for the mission," recalled Sgt.
Patrick Tower, a blond, bespectacled 34-year-old whose body language
displays a sense of authority. 
"The mission was to move into a school in Pashmul, which is in Panjwaii
District," he said. 
The troops drove out in their heavy green machines under cover of darkness,
heading west, and almost instantly got into a fight. 
"As we were coming up to the objective . . . we saw an enemy position lined
up in front of us," Tower recalled. 
Master Cpl. Tony Perry was the 2nd Platoon crew commander of the Light
Armoured Vehicle, or LAVIII, at the front of the assault. 
He radioed his commanding officer, asking if there were Afghan National
Police patrolling the area, to make sure he wasn't about to hit friends. 
"No, there's not," was the response heard back on his headset, clearing the
way for Perry to light up the guns, the loud rat-tat-tat of machine gunfire
cutting through the night air. 
Within only a few minutes, the initial engagement over and the enemy
destroyed, Two Platoon moved forward. 
They were far from being out of danger, however, as the third vehicle in the
convoy, another LAV, was struck by two roadside bombs. 
It would be their first casualty of the day. Despite valiant efforts to save
him, Cpl. Christopher Reid would later succumb to his injuries from the
bigger of the two blasts. The vehicle's platoon commander was also hurt, but
survived. 
Once the casualties were in the hands of medics, the troops moved on to what
would become a 12-hour battle marked by blood, heat exhaustion and a storm
of grenades and bullets. 
Even under heavy fire, the Canadians were able to overtake a school that was
at the heart of their mission. 
"On the initial assault, I was on the first wave," explained Cpl. Jason
Hoekstra, describing how Afghan police officers who were part of the mission
were being overwhelmed. 
"We took a lot of fire, but they're just police officers," he said. "So we
took the initiative and we took the school." 
But the Taliban - between 150 and 200 of them - weren't about to give up
without a fight. 
Forming a horseshoe and nearly surrounding the building, they attacked with
a vengeance. 
"At that time, we started taking fire from multiple spots," Hoekstra
recalled. 
The Canadians fought back hard. 
"We just, we hammered them," said Hoekstra. 
"If we had four deaths, I can guarantee you we had four times that. We gave
it to them." 
Military officials refused to say how many Taliban fighters were killed.
Sources say, however, that dozens of bodies littered an area around the
schoolyard. 
As bullets flew and rocket-propelled grenades smashed the building, at one
point coming every few seconds, it's unclear when the Canadians realized
that they were literally in the middle of a killing field. The Taliban had
strategically planted landmines throughout the compound. 
With nine soldiers down, three of them dead, they knew they had to get out. 
"Are you sure you guys want to do this?" the LAV platoon commander asked his
fellow soldiers as they desperately pleaded to move in to save their
brothers in arms. 
No one who was there will reveal the identity of those who risked their
lives by literally driving through a daisy chain of mines to reach their
comrades. The actions of one should never overshadow the actions of many,
they insist. 
"Every one of the soldiers that were there can be proud of the way that they
acted, with heroism and bravery and courage," said Tower. 
"I don't want to take away from any one of them by trying to identify a
specific soldier who outshone the rest," he explained. 
"They're all heroes to us, and that's how they'd want to be thought of." 
Canadians also need to understand, Tower stressed, that those who lost their
lives that day were not unwilling participants. Everyone knew the risks of
the six-month tour of duty. 
"The soldiers that died weren't victims," he said. "They were fighting. And
they were fighting for each other." 
"People at home should be proud of the quality of soldier that's over here."

On Saturday, many of the 10 Canadians injured in the operation shed tears on
the tarmac