The Taliban had heard demands and complaints from American administrations before. Nothing significant had come of them. "We don't foresee an attack against us," said the Taliban foreign minister, "because there is no reason for it."22 Taliban officials undoubtedly believed that Afghanistan's forbidding geography would discourage anything but a cosmetic military effort. After all, they had heard President Clinton declare after a previous bin Laden attack in 1998 that Afghanistan had "been warned for years to stop harboring and supporting these terrorist groups. But countries that persistently host terrorists have no right to be safe havens.... There will be no sanctuary for terrorists."23 Things were different now. And if the Taliban believed America was bluffing, they miscalculated.

PART IX

Into the Graveyard of Empires

Afghan-Uzbek BorderFEBRUARY 15, 1989 One after another, Soviet soldiers boarded military convoys. Their final withdrawal from Afghanistan was underway. A few waved good-bye as they looked at that country for the last time. Just across the border, in Uzbekistan, the returning troops received flowers, were serenaded by a military band, and sat at long, linen-draped tables for a banquet in their honor.1 Though it was likely not lost on any of the soldiers that the Soviet adventure in Afghanistan had ended in failure, their commander, General Boris Gromov, saluted his men for fulfilling their "internationalist duty." Though it was likely not lost on any of the soldiers that the Soviet adventure in Afghanistan had ended in failure, their commander, General Boris Gromov, saluted his men for fulfilling their "internationalist duty."2 General Gromov had arranged to be taken back into Afghanistan by helicopter so he could be the last member of the Soviet military to depart the country, making a dramatic exit by walking alone across the inaptly named Friendship Bridge that connected Afghanistan to the Soviet Union. "There is not a single Soviet soldier or officer left behind me," he declared. "Our nine-year stay ends with this."3 The Soviet "stay" in Afghanistan officially came to a close on February 15, 1989, at five minutes before noon local time. Appropriately, the USSR's final act in the war was another miscalculation: Gromov's ch.o.r.eographed departure occurred two hours later than had been planned. The Soviet "stay" in Afghanistan officially came to a close on February 15, 1989, at five minutes before noon local time. Appropriately, the USSR's final act in the war was another miscalculation: Gromov's ch.o.r.eographed departure occurred two hours later than had been planned.4 The Soviet Union put a brave face on its humiliation. But it was obvious to people around the world-and to the Soviet people in particular-that Afghanistan was the rock on which the last empire of the twentieth century had foundered. Lasting just less than a decade, the war had claimed the lives of fifteen thousand Soviet soldiers.5 It disillusioned a generation of young Russians who had been led to believe that the Soviet Army was invincible. Even General Gromov, while distancing his military from the failure, later acknowledged the depth of the calamity, admitting that "the war was a huge and in many respects irreparable political mistake." It disillusioned a generation of young Russians who had been led to believe that the Soviet Army was invincible. Even General Gromov, while distancing his military from the failure, later acknowledged the depth of the calamity, admitting that "the war was a huge and in many respects irreparable political mistake."6 The legacy of the decade-long Soviet misadventure would not be erased easily. The Soviets had brutalized the country's people, killing one million and displacing five million more. They had also destroyed much of the land, stripping its forests of trees. The prospects of survival for the puppet regime they left behind in Kabul were exceedingly poor. Once the Soviets withdrew, opposition forces, known collectively as the mujahideen ("holy warriors" in Arabic), quickly closed in on Kabul and seized power.

For most of the 1980s the U.S. government channeled funds and materiel to various mujahideen groups as part of the largest covert operation in CIA history.7 As the Soviets completed their retreat, the CIA station in Islamabad, Pakistan, cabled the headquarters at Langley, Virginia, two words: "We won." As the Soviets completed their retreat, the CIA station in Islamabad, Pakistan, cabled the headquarters at Langley, Virginia, two words: "We won."8 Not long afterward, American activities in Afghanistan ended. After the disintegration of the Soviet Union, the administrations of George H. W. Bush and Bill Clinton turned their attention away from Cold War preoccupations. In the chaos and civil war that consumed the country after the Soviet departure, the United States emba.s.sy in Kabul closed its doors. As America lost interest in Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia and Pakistan poured in millions of dollars to fund roads, clinics, radical Wahhabi madra.s.sas and mosques. The Pakistani government cultivated Afghanistan's Pashtun warlords and, beginning in 1996, supported the regime that became known as the Taliban. None of this caused any noticeable concern at the senior levels of the U.S. government. Few American policy or intelligence officials imagined that they would ever have to concern themselves again with that distant, poor, and abused land.

CHAPTER 27

Special Operations.

When U.S. military action against the Taliban regime and its al-Qaida guests was imminent in late 2001, I mulled over the lessons of the Soviet defeat. The Red Army was only the most recent in a long line of foreign forces that had attempted to secure the country. Afghanistan's tough, martial people and land-locked, mountainous terrain had undone the plans of even the most intrepid invaders. Alexander the Great was nearly killed by the arrow of an Afghan archer. Though Genghis Khan managed to extend his empire into Afghan territory after savage warfare, his successors could not hold it. In 1842, Afghan resistance forced the British military to make an ill-fated retreat from Kabul to its garrison in the city of Jalalabad, a little more than one hundred miles away. Some sixteen thousand British soldiers and camp followers began the trek. Only one man made it to safety.1 After 9/11, a.n.a.lysts in the United States and abroad wondered aloud if American armed forces would also stumble similarly. After 9/11, a.n.a.lysts in the United States and abroad wondered aloud if American armed forces would also stumble similarly.2 Since President Bush had decided to confront Afghanistan, the challenge was to strike our enemies in such a way that it would shock terrorist networks worldwide. We wanted to not only destroy al-Qaida in Afghanistan, but to cause al-Qaida and its affiliates everywhere to scramble for cover, to coerce their sponsors to sever their ties with them, and to persuade our allies and friends to join us in our efforts. Afghanistan would be the opening salvo-our nation's first major foray into a global, unconventional war aimed at preventing terrorists from launching future attacks against Americans.

By the end of September 2001, we had not yet determined exactly how we could best achieve our goals. Some administration officials at State and the CIA argued in favor of allowing the Taliban to stay in power in the interest of maintaining regional stability. But a question, at least in my mind, was whether this might be a time when the United States had an interest in instability if it might bring about needed changes.

The more we considered a policy toward the Afghan regime, the more persuaded I became that there was little prospect of an acceptable accommodation with them. The Taliban leaders were brutal totalitarians who had imposed an extremist Islamic ideology on the Afghan people. Women could not attend school, could not leave their homes without a male family member, and could not see male doctors, which made medical treatment for them next to impossible. Citizens could be jailed for owning a television. A man could be imprisoned in Afghanistan if his beard were not long enough. It was illegal for youngsters to fly kites. Afghan soccer stadiums were used for public stonings and beheadings. The so-called Ministry of Vice and Virtue patrolled the streets, beating any who violated the Taliban's laws. In an act of deliberate and barbaric vandalism, the Taliban dynamited two monumental, carved Buddhas in Bamiyan in March 2001, turning the magnificent sixth-century statues into rubble.

If the Taliban remained in power, we risked sending a message to other nations that harbored and aided terrorists that they could a.s.sist a group like al-Qaida and then negotiate a "grand bargain" with the United States. Indeed, over the years, a number of governments had successfully bargained with terrorist groups in order to keep their own countries from being attacked. But in my view, rewards of security guarantees and aid in return for dubious promises of better behavior in the future were not the best means of deterring more terrorist attacks.

In the weeks after 9/11, work went forward at the Defense Department on an unconventional military campaign. As we began planning, I came to rely on the incoming chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, d.i.c.k Myers. As a matter of principle that was informed by my experience in the Ford administration, I felt strongly that the secretary of defense and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff needed to be closely linked, especially in wartime. And with Myers, it was easy to put that principle into practice. I believe we averaged three or four hours a day together while we held our posts.

Myers and I began working closely with the officer who would lead the military effort in Afghanistan: General Tommy Franks, who had been appointed by President Clinton to head the U.S. Central Command. A big, tall, earthy man with a quick smile, Franks had a colorful manner of speaking-though he could on occasion complete a sentence without an expletive. Born just after the close of World War II, Franks was adopted by a couple in Oklahoma, and the family later moved to Midland, Texas. In 1965, he enlisted in the Army as a private and moved up through the ranks to become a four-star general. He lacked the polish of some of his fellow generals, who had graduated from West Point and spent many years learning the ways of Washington, D.C. But on the battlefield Franks was a leader.

We had worked together very little in the eight months I had been in office; as a result, it took some time for us to get used to each other. My habit of asking probing questions was new to Franks; he needed to become comfortable with my queries and confident of my regard for him. After several weeks of daily contact, and at least one sushi dinner, we developed an effective working relationship.

President Bush took to Franks from the start. Once, when Bush asked him how he was doing, Franks replied, "Mr. President, I'm sharper than a frog hair split four ways."3 That was the kind of folksy manner they both liked. He and Franks would occasionally joke about how far "two boys from Midland" had come. That was the kind of folksy manner they both liked. He and Franks would occasionally joke about how far "two boys from Midland" had come.

Franks knew something about the history of Afghanistan and its long record of defeating outsiders attempting conquest. He also knew that when seeking cooperation from Afghanistan's neighbors in the weeks ahead he would be having many cups of tea with the political and military leaders of the twenty-six countries in CENTCOM's area of operations.

Franks' immediate task was to develop a war plan. Though even the best one off the shelf would have required substantial updating to fit the new realities we faced, the fact was that there was no existing war plan for Afghanistan. Further complicating matters, there was scant current intelligence on the country. Steep and damaging budget cuts to our intelligence community during the 1990s had resulted in American operatives being moved to other matters after the Soviet withdrawal. By 2001, our intelligence personnel did not know the extent to which tribal leaders would tolerate, let alone welcome, American forces into the country. We didn't even have an up-to-date picture of the terrain. In some cases our a.n.a.lysts were working with decades-old British maps. The early information we did receive was spotty: one site might or might not have been an al-Qaida safe house; another may or may not have been a Taliban weapons facility. In addition, few intelligence operatives and a.n.a.lysts spoke the Afghan languages.

We faced other planning issues. The use of our Navy would be limited in landlocked Afghanistan. The high alt.i.tudes and dust would make helicopter operations challenging. Ground forces would have a difficult time trying to operate in the unfamiliar and inhospitable Afghan terrain in the approaching winter months. The United States did not have even modest working relationships. with most of Afghanistan's neighbors.* The Department of Defense would need to rapidly organize a campaign-in which it could cooperate with local militias, conduct manhunts, and operate with agility-as the enemy reacted and adapted in an environment it knew far better. The Department of Defense would need to rapidly organize a campaign-in which it could cooperate with local militias, conduct manhunts, and operate with agility-as the enemy reacted and adapted in an environment it knew far better.

Several days after 9/11, I asked Franks how long he thought it would take CENTCOM to craft a plan for Afghanistan. We both knew he would need considerably more detail than the sketchy options presented by Shelton at Camp David on September 15.

"Two months," Franks responded.

The President was not going to wait patiently for another two months to take action. Daily threat reports provided by the intelligence community cautioned that additional terrorist attacks were likely. Therefore, we needed to begin putting pressure on their networks as rapidly as possible. Additionally, the pa.s.ses through the towering Afghan mountains would soon be blanketed with snow, rendering them impa.s.sable.

"General, I'm afraid we don't have that much time," I told Franks. I asked him to come up with a first cut of a plan in a few days.

On September 21, 2001, Franks and I drove over to the White House to present his initial operational concept. Wanting the meeting to be as confidential as possible, Bush restricted the group to four senior generals-Shelton, Myers, Franks, and Major General Dell Dailey, head of the U.S. Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC). The President also parted from his normal practice of meeting in the Situation Room and had us meet in his private residence on the second floor of the White House.

Bush was informal, his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. At one point he lit a cigar as he listened to Franks and Dailey. The President's black dog, Barney, ambled around the room.

As Franks prepared to outline his initial concept, I reminded President Bush: "You are not going to find this plan completely fulfilling. We don't."

Bush said he understood that this was a work in progress.

Franks and Dailey led the briefing. Bush would need to be working with them closely in the months ahead, and I thought it important that the Commander in Chief get to know them early on.

A key element of Franks' plan involved linking American special forces teams with Afghan forces. This was a departure from the first concept that had been outlined at Camp David, which focused on using conventional U.S. military might. Wolfowitz and I encouraged Franks to take full advantage of our special operators.4 General Dailey briefed the President on targets that could be handled by the elite squads. General Dailey briefed the President on targets that could be handled by the elite squads.

The President asked how soon a campaign could begin. Franks responded that under this type of plan, his forces could begin to attack in the following two weeks.5 Bush liked that answer. He ended the meeting saying that he would continue to counsel patience to the American people. We were all aware that pa.s.sions were running high.

While the imminent operations in Afghanistan would be challenging, we did have some advantages. An active opposition movement-the Northern Alliance-had been trying to liberate the country from the Taliban and al-Qaida for five years. Joining up with these opposition forces would ally us with seasoned local fighters who knew the languages and the terrain. But this approach also had risks. For years these fighters had been unsuccessful. Some intelligence officials, the CIA's station chief in Pakistan in particular, cautioned that if America allied with the Northern Alliance militias, which were dominated by ethnic Tajik, Uzbek, and Hazara fighters, we ran the risk of uniting the ethnic Pashtuns in southern Afghanistan against us and planting the seeds of a north-south civil war. This was one reason some recommended a continuing role for the Taliban in postwar Afghanistan.

Franks and I looked for opportunities to manage those risks. Though we understood well the need to also reach out to anti-Taliban Pashtuns in the south, the Northern Alliance, comprising some twenty thousand Afghans, remained the most credible and best-organized opposition force in the country. At first glance they appeared to be a ragtag band of unsuccessful, poorly armed guerrilla fighters on the verge of defeat. But they were also tough, motivated, and battle hardened.

For years the Northern Alliance had been led by the "Lion of Panjshir," Ahmad Shah Ma.s.soud. Through his audacious combat against Soviet forces during the 1980s and his force of personality, Ma.s.soud commanded the respect of millions of Afghans, and he had pulled together several ethnic groups under the banner of his leadership. To this day Ma.s.soud's image, with his signature woolen pakol hat and checkered scarf, remains emblazoned on posters, tapestries, and murals in homes and public places across much of Afghanistan. Ma.s.soud struggled to keep his outnumbered Northern Alliance forces in the fight against the Taliban. He had repeatedly asked Western countries for military and financial support. The United States had been less than forthcoming. As a result, the Northern Alliance had an a.r.s.enal that was a small fraction of the Taliban's. During the Clinton administration, CIA officers advised Ma.s.soud not to kill bin Laden if the oppurtunity arose. "You guys are crazy," Ma.s.soud reportedly responded. "You haven't changed a bit."6 While Ma.s.soud's importance as a leader of the Afghan people was largely lost on Western governments, it was not lost on al-Qaida. The terrorist organization sent operatives into Ma.s.soud's camp disguised as reporters. Once in his presence, they detonated explosives hidden in their equipment, killing him. The a.s.sa.s.sination occurred on September 9, 2001.

As al-Qaida had intended, the death of Ma.s.soud left the Northern Alliance forces with a leadership vacuum. But other leaders emerged, including: General Fahim Khan, a Tajik and heir apparent to Ma.s.soud; General Abdul Rashid Dostum, an Uzbek; General Ismail Khan from Herat in western Afghanistan; Abdul Karim Khalili of the Hazara minority; Muhammed Mohahqeq; and Muhammed Attah.*

These men were not saints, but saints are in short supply in the world. Though moral considerations in American national security policy are of critical importance, warfare continually poses excruciating moral trade-offs. I recalled Winston Churchill's famous retort to criticism of his alliance with Stalin, an acknowledged butcher of millions, against n.a.z.i Germany. "If Hitler invaded h.e.l.l," he said, "I would make at least a favorable reference to the devil in the House of Commons."

My willingness for our forces to work with the Northern Alliance was based on my conviction that we would be making a mistake if our military effort appeared to the Afghans as an American invasion aimed at taking control of their country. I concluded it would be far better to position ourselves as the allies of indigenous Afghan forces. I saw this as the best way to avoid the heavy-handed errors of Afghanistan's past invaders and occupiers.

This was one of the lessons of Vietnam for me. I thought the Vietnamization strategy of President Nixon and Secretary of Defense Mel Laird, to push America's South Vietnamese allies to do more for themselves, would have been far more effective, perhaps decisive, if it had been implemented from the outset of the war. In Afghanistan there was at least a possibility that the United States could play a supporting rather than a leading role in the fight against al-Qaida and the Taliban from the beginning.

On September 30, 2001, I outlined our approach for Afghanistan to President Bush as part of a broader framework for the fight against terrorists. Given the scope of al-Qaida's reach, as well as that of other groups in the web of international networks of Islamist extremists, I thought we needed to start thinking early about how this larger campaign might take shape.

I developed this approach during lengthy consultations with Myers, Franks, and the senior civilians in the Pentagon, including Paul Wolfowitz, Doug Feith, and Peter Rodman. The memo setting out this framework was an example of the constructive working relationships at the senior levels of the Department of Defense-military and civilian. We would meet and then circulate draft papers. It started with some preliminary ideas that were then reviewed and polished until we were reasonably satisfied with what was truly a collaborative product, though it came under my signature.

Because the global task that lay ahead was too big, too broad, and too multidimensional for us to think we could rely exclusively on American military forces, I suggested the following to the President: The U.S. strategic theme should be aiding local peoples to rid themselves of terrorists and to free themselves of regimes that support terrorism. U.S. Special Operations Forces and intelligence personnel should make allies of Afghanis, Iraqis, Lebanese, Sudanese and others who would use U.S. equipment, training, financial, military and humanitarian support to root out and attack the common enemies.7 In the Afghan war's early phases, it was especially important that the United States work with local groups to develop better intelligence before initiating major air strikes, so as to minimize civilian casualties.8 We did not want our war of self-defense and our fight against extremist regimes, which oppressed their Muslim citizens, to be symbolized by images of Americans killing Muslims. The signal we needed to send, I wrote, was that "our goal is not merely to damage terrorist-supporting regimes but to threaten their regimes by becoming partners with their opponents." We did not want our war of self-defense and our fight against extremist regimes, which oppressed their Muslim citizens, to be symbolized by images of Americans killing Muslims. The signal we needed to send, I wrote, was that "our goal is not merely to damage terrorist-supporting regimes but to threaten their regimes by becoming partners with their opponents."9

The Northern Alliance was not to be our only support in this campaign. In a matter of weeks, President Bush and the Departments of State and Defense had brought together a coalition of dozens of supportive nations. At CENTCOM headquarters in Tampa, Franks a.s.sembled a "coalition village," where representatives from partner nations provided input. Britain, Canada, Germany, and Australia offered infantry, aircraft, naval units, and special operations forces. j.a.pan was prepared to send refueling ships, destroyers, and transport aircraft. France and Italy each offered to deploy an aircraft carrier battle group. In all more than sixty-nine nations would eventually contribute to the coalition effort in Afghanistan.10 As CENTCOM finalized the war plan, Myers and I communicated daily with Franks and his deputy, Marine Lieutenant General Mike DeLong. I believed that Washington policy makers should, as a rule, show considerable deference to the professional judgments of the combatant commander. But the plan being developed for Afghanistan was not an off-the-shelf one that had been war-gamed and practiced. We did not have a longstanding doctrine on how to conduct this sort of war. Therefore, the chiefs and DoD civilians helped hone the approach before Franks presented it to the President and the National Security Council. The hard-charging Franks was not always delighted with what he considered to be an overabundance of advice but, in the end, he told me, he felt the results were worth it.

As I had hoped and expected when Franks first briefed the President, the plan he eventually developed was a substantial improvement. It would begin with a major air campaign. Bombs and cruise missiles first would target the Taliban's few radars, limited air-defense systems, and command-and-control facilities, weakening their ability to coordinate a counterattack. Strike fighters from aircraft carriers-the USS Enterprise Enterprise and the USS and the USS Carl Vinson Carl Vinson-off the coast of Pakistan, B-2 stealth bombers flying on seventy-hour sorties from Whiteman Air Force Base in Missouri, and B-52s staging out of Diego Garcia, an island in the Indian Ocean, would hit suspect targets across Afghanistan. Helicopters would insert our special operations teams-over time numbering some two hundred individuals-to link up with anti-Taliban militia commanders. Once embedded, our special operators would call in American air support for Northern Alliance ground operations as well as provide supplies for our new allies. A relatively small contingent-several thousand conventional Army soldiers and Marines-would follow to help deal with remaining enemy fighters that the Northern Alliance and special operations forces had not killed or forced to surrender. Additional forces would be on alert if Franks determined they were needed.

One of the most innovative elements was a merger of the CIA's broad authorities and experienced intelligence operatives with the Defense Department's greater military resources. CIA teams would make first contact with the Northern Alliance elements and lay the groundwork for American military cooperation. The next phase called for the insertion of U.S. Army Special Forces Operational Detachment Alpha (ODA) teams, twelve-man squads trained to work alongside foreign fighters. Together with their special operations counterparts from the other branches-Navy SEALs and Air Force combat air controllers-these men would take on the toughest missions in Afghanistan. Once in country, the ODAs, or A-Teams, as they were called, would link up with friendly Afghan militia commanders.

During the Afghan campaign, I worked as closely with CIA Director George Tenet as I have with any government official. We had lunches most Fridays, during which we worked out any issues or challenges facing the Agency or the Pentagon. Tenet had a brash joviality that I enjoyed. It wasn't hard to work long hours alongside someone like Tenet, who had a way of lightening the mood.

Given the large scale of the planned operation, Tenet and I agreed that operational control of the joint Defense-CIA efforts would migrate over time from the CIA to Defense once our special operators were on the ground with the Afghan anti-Taliban militias. The CIA would have the lead initially, since its personnel would be in Afghanistan first. Command would shift to Franks and CENTCOM, as the campaign took on more of a military character. This was exactly the kind of flexible, cooperative arrangement that was needed. We didn't want to stifle improvisation in the field, but at the same time we could not afford to have confused lines of command.

A few in the CIA apparently objected to the agreement Tenet and I reached and portrayed it as a power grab.11 I understood the complaints from lower levels at the Agency. There had always been deep-seated anxieties at the CIA about the much larger Defense Department. Though I know Tenet did not feel this way, some at the CIA did not want to be seen as subordinate to the Department of Defense. Tenet and I were conscious of the challenge that all presidents have in getting the various agencies of the government to work jointly. But we both felt that close, visible personal cooperation between the two of us at the top could ease them and encourage a joint approach for those down the chain of command. I understood the complaints from lower levels at the Agency. There had always been deep-seated anxieties at the CIA about the much larger Defense Department. Though I know Tenet did not feel this way, some at the CIA did not want to be seen as subordinate to the Department of Defense. Tenet and I were conscious of the challenge that all presidents have in getting the various agencies of the government to work jointly. But we both felt that close, visible personal cooperation between the two of us at the top could ease them and encourage a joint approach for those down the chain of command.

In addition to the teamwork of DoD and CIA operators in the field, a second key element of the war plan was the introduction of America's twenty-first-century technology to the relatively primitive operations of the Afghan militias. For years Northern Alliance commanders had managed to survive by building a modest a.r.s.enal of AK-47 automatic rifles, rocket-propelled grenades, a few rusty Soviet tanks, and some helicopters that could barely make it off the ground. Once embedded with the Northern Alliance, American special operations forces would upgrade their weaponry, provide supplies, and serve as on-the-ground air controllers to call in precision air strikes. The effort would combine the use of satellite communications, laser designators, GPS capability, and powerful precision munitions with friendly Afghan intelligence, language skills, cultural familiarity, and ground combat manpower.

CIA operatives scrambled to revive long-lapsed relationships with Northern Alliance commanders. This effort was complicated by the Agency's ties with the Pakistani government, which favored the ethnic Pashtuns in southern Afghanistan. In line with the views of the Pakistani government, CIA officials continued to caution President Bush against any military plan that relied heavily on the Northern Alliance.12 I worried that the views of some intelligence officials seemed colored by Pakistan's interests, which were not necessarily identical to ours. I worried that the views of some intelligence officials seemed colored by Pakistan's interests, which were not necessarily identical to ours.

Powell, Armitage, and other State Department officials also expressed misgivings about the Northern Alliance. Without offering an alternative or explicitly disagreeing with our approach, Powell described the Northern Alliance militias as a "fourth world" fighting force, implying that it could not prevail against the Taliban and al-Qaida. Though I understood those concerns-the Northern Alliance, after all, had been unsuccessful over the preceding years-ultimately I disagreed with them. I believed that with our airpower and special operators, the Afghan opposition could drive the Taliban from power at significantly less risk to our men and women in uniform than a conventional invasion. Myers, Franks, and I concluded that we should continue to base our military strategy on cooperation with the Northern Alliance and opposition militias in the Pashtun south.

Help in developing our linkages with friendly Afghan forces came from an unlikely source. On September 26, I ran into California Congressman Dana Rohrabacher in the Pentagon parking lot. He had worked in President Reagan's White House and developed an interest in the mujahideen's efforts to rid Afghanistan of the Soviet occupiers in the 1980s. The congressman said that he and his staff were in contact by satellite phone with Northern Alliance commanders whom they had known in the 1980s. His contacts reported that Taliban morale was up, and that our allies in the Afghan opposition forces were discouraged by statements made by Bush administration officials that America's goal was not to remove the Taliban but instead to seek a compromise with it.13 We were sending mixed signals to our enemies and to our friends. We were sending mixed signals to our enemies and to our friends.

In later years, critics would pose questions as to why we didn't immediately prepare to deploy 50,000, 100,000, or 150,000 American troops to Afghanistan. There were several reasons. If we were going to employ overwhelming force at the outset, we would have needed many months to build a large occupying army. This would have given the Taliban time to prepare for the conflict, and al-Qaida both the incentive and the opportunity to relocate. In addition, we would have risked additional terrorist attacks in the interim, and made it easier for our enemies to portray us as imperialist invaders and occupiers, like the Soviets and others before us. Finally, delay may have eroded popular support at home and abroad for the President's counterterrorism strategy. It is also the case that large numbers of American troops in Afghanistan could have limited our ability to act elsewhere in the world if necessary. We had to keep in mind that other contingencies could arise, particularly if a would-be aggressor believed the United States military was stretched thin. This was Myers', Franks', and my a.s.sessment-and ultimately President Bush's.

As such, the emerging war plan did not call for the kind of armored divisions and heavy artillery the Soviets had used in Afghanistan. Rather, it emphasized speed, flexibility, and precision. Air strikes and small helicopter-borne teams were arranged to execute quick responses to the changing circ.u.mstances on the ground. U.S. special operations forces would provide the technology necessary for our naval and air-strike aircraft to attack al-Qaida and the Taliban with unprecedented precision firepower.

The Army's Special Forces, the Navy's SEALs, and the Air Force's combat controllers had not been previously entrusted with the lead in such a major mission. The few hundred men who were ready to risk their lives in the service of their country by going after the Taliban and al-Qaida terrorists alongside the Northern Alliance forces were among the most highly trained, best equipped, and most experienced soldiers on the face of the earth. Some were fluent in the local languages and versed in the cultures they would be encountering. They had trained foreign militaries and understood how to get along with those who thought and fought differently. They were experts in the irregular guerrilla warfare that would be critical to success. They were trained in demolition, hand-to-hand combat, and mountain and desert warfare. American special operators would be the sharp tip of the spear in the first war of the twenty-first century.

The military services also found ways to adapt and contribute to our unconventional Afghan campaign. It took a creative, forward-leaning admiral to a.s.sist in a country three hundred miles from the nearest ocean. In Admiral Vern Clark, the chief of naval operations, the U.S. Navy had such a leader. Within hours after the 9/11 attack, submarines and Arleigh Burkecla.s.s destroyers armed with Tomahawk cruise missiles were speeding toward the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea. Clark ordered a refit of the 60,000-ton USS Kitty Hawk Kitty Hawk from a fleet aircraft carrier designed for launching jet aircraft into a "lily pad," a seaborne platform for helicopters carrying special operators. The ship was in the northern Arabian Sea and in position to send the special operations teams into Afghanistan by early October. from a fleet aircraft carrier designed for launching jet aircraft into a "lily pad," a seaborne platform for helicopters carrying special operators. The ship was in the northern Arabian Sea and in position to send the special operations teams into Afghanistan by early October.

With the Soviet disaster still in many people's minds, with winter approaching, and with our faith in a group of haggard yet battle-hardened Afghans, the United States was on the verge of one of the most unorthodox military campaigns in our history.

CHAPTER 28

Little Birds in a Nest.

General Franks planned to insert special operations teams into Afghanistan on the evenings of October 6 and 7 using a nontraditional, celestial ally. The moon would rise several hours after sunset, allowing our forces a small window when their helicopters could traverse the vast Afghan mountain ranges in darkness and be less vulnerable to Taliban antiaircraft emplacements.

Knowing military action was coming, I set out in the first week of October to meet with leaders in some of the countries in the region. In Saudi Arabia, Oman, Egypt, Uzbekistan, and Turkey I consulted with government officials on our plans, sought their advice, and learned what support they might be willing to provide. I a.s.sured our potential partners of two things: The United States would appreciate whatever public or private support they might offer, and we were going to respond aggressively with force against the terrorist threat on a vastly different scale and level of intensity than in the past. This was a welcome message to most leaders of the region, who did not relish the prospects of emboldened radicals in their backyards.

I generally made a point of refraining from asking for specific types of a.s.sistance in meetings with foreign leaders. Nor did I spend a lot of time "transmitting"-giving lengthy presentations on the President's goals and views and trying to push them to see things our way. I listened instead, which was valuable either because the foreign leaders had useful thoughts to convey or simply because those leaders were grateful to be heard out by the American secretary of defense. It is hard to overstate the practical importance of mutually respectful discussions of this kind. I have always found that these exchanges are especially important with smaller nations, and particularly with those that have not had long close relations with the United States.

When foreign leaders offered a.s.sistance, as they often did, I expressed our appreciation. I made a practice, however, of not publicly discussing the specifics of our understandings unless they did so themselves. Some nations preferred to support the United States quietly, so as not to inflame their enemies, stir up domestic political opposition, or become a terrorist target. This practice, of course, allowed administration critics to claim we were acting unilaterally, often without knowing the extent of the a.s.sistance and cooperation we actually received.

The aides who made official foreign trips with me-I visited seventy-five countries, many of them several times, and traveled 750,000 miles during my second tour as secretary of defense-generally described them as forced marches. We could not afford to waste time. If I could squeeze in stops to two countries on a given day, I did. Three was even better. The combination of constant motion, jet lag, early morning wake-up calls, and difficult, high-stakes work was invigorating. But it could be tough for the staff. On one flight I received a memo from a few long-suffering stalwarts who had dubbed themselves "Rummy's Tube Dwellers." They joked that they had "taken control of the plane, and diverted to the Virgin Islands," unless I agreed to some "non-negotiable demands" such as "frequent flyer miles...less diet c.o.ke, more martinis...For every day spent in a 'stan' [the countries of Central Asia] we get 4 comp days."1 On October 4, we arrived in Oman, a country on the eastern tip of the Arabian Peninsula. Sultan Qaboos received us in a large, open tent in the middle of the oppressively hot and humid Omani desert where he regularly camped to meet with his subjects. The tents were brightly colored. Carpets of deep reds and blues covered the sand inside. Those of us in our American contingent, in dark suits and black SUVs, did not cut the image of modern-day Lawrences of Arabia. Every article of clothing we wore was quickly drenched through from the heat. Qaboos, however, seemed unfazed by the temperature as he held forth.

With his immaculately trimmed, strikingly white beard and Bedouin features-skin hardened by sand and sun-Qaboos was much as I had remembered from when I met him in 1983 as President Reagan's Middle East envoy. The Sultan was sympathetic toward the West, having been educated at Sandhurst, the British military academy, and having served in the British army. In his three decades as sultan, Qaboos had opposed Islamist fundamentalism. He skillfully developed Oman-a nation that in 1970 had few diplomatic relations with foreign states, a meager education system, less than ten miles of paved roads, and a draconian legal code-into a modern Middle Eastern country.

Qaboos became emotional when he discussed 9/11. Then he said something that I found striking. He speculated that the attacks might serve an important purpose by awakening America and the world to the dangers of Islamist extremism and the lethality of weapons of ma.s.s destruction. He urged a sustained campaign against the terrorists, cautioning that it would take a long time to do it right. Qaboos lamented that the Arab news media promoted the terrorists' point of view. And he said we should suggest to other Muslim friends that their leading clerics speak out against terrorist atrocities to change the moral climate that influences young people. He told me he considered some of the Arab countries "hypocrites" who turned to America when they were in trouble but did little when America needed them.2 In that a.s.sessment he found a sympathetic ear. In that a.s.sessment he found a sympathetic ear.

Sultan Qaboos also offered important a.s.sistance to the Afghan campaign. He said Oman would allow us to base our C-130 aircraft at Masira Island in the Arabian Sea.

"We trust you. We're allies," he said simply. "I have nothing else to add."3 From Oman, we headed to Egypt, where I met with President Mubarak. After a career as an air force officer, Mubarak had risen to power in 1981, following the a.s.sa.s.sination by Islamist extremists of his predecessor, Anwar Sadat. Mubarak, then the vice president, had declared a state of emergency and a.s.sumed near dictatorial powers. Usually pragmatic in foreign policy, Mubarak followed Sadat's strategy of cooperation with the United States on issues such as Iraq, counterterrorism, and peace talks with Israel. For decades Egypt had received billions of dollars in American aid annually.

I had first met Mubarak in June 1975 when, as White House chief of staff, I accompanied President Ford to his meetings with President Sadat in Salzburg, Austria. I had worked with Mubarak later when I served as President Reagan's Middle East envoy, in 1983. Little had changed about the man since our first meeting. On a personal level, I found him animated, even ebullient. Sensing that war in Afghanistan was imminent, he wanted to impart some advice. He shared President Bush's concern that simply firing cruise missiles at caves in Afghanistan would not be effective. He urged us to use financial a.s.sistance to "buy allies on the ground." He reflexively mentioned the Israeli-Palestinian issue as a root cause of terrorism but did not dwell on it. This was the standard line in the Middle East-everything was Israel's fault, although in truth Arab nations had done little to help the Palestinians.4 My next stop was Uzbekistan, the most populous of the Central Asian republics and perhaps the most crucial of my trip. It was an example of a country that was generally ignored by American officials. Central Asia, which includes several former Soviet republics, is a blank slate to many in the West, in contrast to Eastern Europe, which Americans had reached out to after the collapse of the Soviet Union. This was due, in part, to personal familiarity. A major reason Americans were eager to forge close ties with Poland, the Czech Republic, and other Eastern European countries after the Cold War was that many Americans in cities like Chicago, Detroit, and Pittsburgh had relatives there or next-door neighbors of East European descent. It worried me that the countries of Central Asia were not getting similar attention, aid, and encouragement as they tried to move toward freer political and economic systems. Yet because of their location-squeezed between two large nuclear powers, Russia and China, and straddling the legendary East-West corridor through Asia-they were countries of great strategic importance with a potential that remains to this day largely unfulfilled. Well before 9/11, in fact, I made it a personal goal to develop new relationships in Central Asia.* Now suddenly their support was of enormous importance. We needed overflight rights, and fueling and operating stations in countries like Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Kyrgyzstan. Indeed, U.S. military operations could not begin or be sustained in Afghanistan until we made the necessary arrangements with its neighbors. Now suddenly their support was of enormous importance. We needed overflight rights, and fueling and operating stations in countries like Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Kyrgyzstan. Indeed, U.S. military operations could not begin or be sustained in Afghanistan until we made the necessary arrangements with its neighbors.

The Uzbek president, Islam Karimov, had come to power as a commissar in the waning days of the Soviet Union. He was now attempting a balancing act. He wanted to support America's efforts in Afghanistan but not at the expense of riling his neighbor, Russia. Karimov started our meeting in Soviet style with a thirty-minute statement.5 I recalled Russian President Putin opening in a similar manner when I first met with him, so it did not surprise me; for many who came of political age in the Communist system, this was their normal approach with foreign leaders. Possibly they saw it as a way to a.s.sert authority at the outset of a meeting. In any event, after his formal opening remarks, Karimov became quite cordial. I recalled Russian President Putin opening in a similar manner when I first met with him, so it did not surprise me; for many who came of political age in the Communist system, this was their normal approach with foreign leaders. Possibly they saw it as a way to a.s.sert authority at the outset of a meeting. In any event, after his formal opening remarks, Karimov became quite cordial.6 Usually I did not ask countries for anything specific, but in Uzbekistan's case it was clear what we needed. Karimov agreed to allow our special operators to launch from the decaying Uzbek air base at Karshi Khanabad, known as K-2, conveniently located only 120 miles from the Afghan border. Two decades earlier K-2 had been used by Soviet bombers during their invasion and occupation of Afghanistan. Now the Uzbek base would be used once again, but this time for the liberation of the same troubled people to their south.

Echoing the Egyptian president, Karimov said, "You can buy any warlord and neutralize him. You don't need to persuade him to join the Northern Alliance, just neutralize him." As his translator spoke, I reflected on the differences in English between buying and renting, the latter being more likely for the transactions he was describing. He stressed the importance of putting an Afghan face on the conflict: "In Afghanistan, only Afghans should fight." And he underscored the importance of coupling military force with humanitarian aid to try to win over the population. He was wise in his advice, and helpful. He knew the territory. I soon learned from Karimov that earlier Russian offers of a.s.sistance to us had limits: He confided to me that Russian officials were pressuring him to seek and receive Moscow's a.s.sent before agreeing to provide any help to the United States.

In fact, the Russians already knew the purpose of my visit. Karimov was not pleased that news of my trip had been leaked to the Russians in advance, nor was President Bush, and nor was I. Only a small universe of people knew about my plans to visit Uzbekistan, and apparently an even smaller number were preoccupied with keeping the Russians happy by sharing information with them. "I do not know precisely who is talking to the Russians in real time," I said in a memo to Powell and Rice, "but you folks should know how unhelpful it is."7 At a press conference following our meeting, President Karimov was in good spirits. But though he seemed pleased with his evolving relationship with the United States, he spoke carefully. "I would like to emphasize that there has been no talk of quid pro quos so far," he said. Having little interest in subtlety, he added, "I would like the Russian journalists, in particular, to take this into account."8 As I departed Uzbekistan, I was asked by a member of our traveling press corps whether the Taliban might stay in power if we were to target al-Qaida in Afghanistan. Even as late as October, despite the public statements by President Bush that should have ended the administration's internal debate, there were American officials who were still telling journalists that it was in our interest to reach an accommodation with the Taliban.

"Tony Blair said today the Taliban needs to either surrender bin Laden or surrender power," a reporter told me. "Did he frame that correctly?"

"Well, I guess there are those who think it might be nice if they did both," I answered.9 On my last stop, in Ankara, Turkey, its leaders offered a.s.sistance with military facilities. They were strong backers of our plan to arm and supply the Northern Alliance. The Turks knew the Taliban threatened the interests of Muslims worldwide. For many years I had considered Turkey a key country for the United States-a West-leaning Muslim democracy and NATO member that could function as a link between East and West. I had always been concerned by the American tendency to favor Greece over Turkey, at least in part because of our large politically active Greek-American population and their representation in Congress. "The U.S. needs to publicly show more support for Turkey," I noted in December 2001, "if we are going to have their help when we need it."10 Before I returned to Washington, a videotape from Osama bin Laden was aired on the Arab news channel Al-Jazeera, the Arabic TV station that would regularly provide a platform for terrorist propaganda over the coming years. In this tape, his first since 9/11, bin Laden prophesied that the United States would fail to oust al-Qaida from Afghanistan and renewed his call for jihad against the West.

We did not help our cause against al-Qaida's propaganda machine when CENTCOM announced that Infinite Justice would be the name for combat operations in Afghanistan. The phrase provoked immediate criticism from Muslims who a.s.serted that infinite justice is reserved for G.o.d alone. In light of that early error, I joked with the President that Operation Unilateral Hegemony would have been about as well received. Bush was sympathetic. He had created a similar flap when he referred to the war on terror as a crusade. Christendom's Crusades, of course, hardly symbolized the kind of cooperation with Muslim partners that we knew we needed.

Such missteps focused attention on the pitfalls of waging war against a global network of Muslim extremists whose history, culture, and practices were unfamiliar to most Westerners, myself included. There was an enormous amount about Muslim communities we had to learn if we were to reduce the influence of the extremist ideology that was motivating the terrorists. Soon thereafter, at one of my regular morning meetings in late September, General d.i.c.k Myers told us CENTCOM's replacement for the name of the Afghanistan campaign: Operation Enduring Freedom.

As the sun was setting in Afghanistan on October 7, 2001, giving way to a moonless sky, morning broke in Washington, D.C. That Sunday I stood with General Myers in the Pentagon's National Military Command Center awaiting the start of America's operations in Afghanistan. Through Myers, I had sent Franks the execute order signed by the President for Operation Enduring Freedom.

In the command center, the same place where we had worked in the smoke after the Pentagon came under attack, the senior civilian and military leadership gathered to ensure everything was on track. Myers and I sat at the head of a V-shaped, dark wooden table with senior team members arrayed to our left and right. On television monitors in front of us, Franks appeared from CENTCOM headquarters in Tampa; on other screens were several of his senior officers who were deployed across the Middle East. The video feed was grainy, but we could hear Franks and his officers clearly. Franks informed us that bombs and missiles would begin to strike their targets at 12:30 p.m. Eastern Time, or 9:00 p.m. in Kabul.11 Oddly, Afghanistan's local time zone differed by thirty minutes from the on-the-hour time zones used by most of the rest of the world. This peculiarity seemed apt for a nation run by men who wanted to turn the clock back to the seventh century. Oddly, Afghanistan's local time zone differed by thirty minutes from the on-the-hour time zones used by most of the rest of the world. This peculiarity seemed apt for a nation run by men who wanted to turn the clock back to the seventh century.

Each senior officer leading a major component proceeded to report on the readiness of his forces. Each had previously a.s.sured the President that he had what was needed to begin and complete the mission. All indicators were green-ready to go.

After the teleconference ended, I called Franks. "General," I said, "the President asked me to extend to you his respect and best wishes, and that we're going to finish what began on September 11."

"G.o.d bless America," Franks replied.