MARINE DEFIED ORDER…SAVED 36 LIVES….
http://m.tennessean.com/localnews/article?a=2011309070102&f=560
“Dakota Meyer defied orders to try to save his unit from certain death. – Rob Curtis / Marine Corps Times / Associated Pres
GREENSBURG, Ky. — When Marine Cpl. Dakota Meyer plunged into Afghanistan’s Ganjgal Valley, the Medal of Honor winner was sure he wouldn’t come out alive.
“I don’t think there was ever a question in my mind if I was going to die,” Meyer said. “It was just when.”
Inside the narrow valley, Taliban insurgents were dug into the high ground and hidden inside a village, pouring down deadly fire at Afghan forces and their American advisers. Armed militants swarmed the low ground to try to finish off the troops.
Meyer’s team was pinned down near the village.
Drove into firefight
He wasn’t going to wait and see whether they would get out. Defying orders to stay put, Meyer set himself in the turret of a Humvee and rode straight into the firefight, taking fire from all directions. He went in not once, but five times, trying to rescue his comrades.
During about six hours of chaotic fighting, he killed eight Taliban militants and provided cover for Afghan and U.S. servicemen to escape the ambush, according to a Marine Corps account of the events.
Meyer saved the lives of 13 U.S. troops and 23 Afghan soldiers that day, Sept. 8, 2009.
Next week, President Barack Obama will award him the Medal of Honor, the nation’s highest medal for bravery. During the ceremony Sept. 15, Meyer will become the third living recipient of the Medal of Honor for actions in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Meyer said that what he did was an easy decision to make.
“My best friends were in there getting shot at,” he said.
Meyer said he knew he was taking a chance by defying orders, but he never doubted his decision. “I’d rather be sitting in jail right now for the rest of my life for something like this and those guys be alive than … questioning if I could have done something different,” he said.
Meyer was 21 in the fall of 2009, part of a small team of advisers attached to an Afghan army battalion operating in Kunar province, a remote and mountainous region that borders Pakistan.
The mission on Sept. 8 was straightforward.
The Afghan battalion would go to the village to meet with elders who had indicated they were willing to switch allegiance and turn on the Taliban, the Muslim clerical movement ousted from power in 2001 by a U.S.-led invasion after it refused to turn over Osama bin Laden after the Sept. 11 attacks.
The plan was for the Afghan battalion to leave base before the sun came up and arrive at the village before first light. They would talk to the elders about renovating a mosque and see whether there were other projects the government could help with.
A U.S. quick-reaction force would be on standby, and an observation post would be established to keep an eye on the battalion as it moved down the valley toward the village. Snipers would be positioned to fire into the valley if needed.
Aircraft were not assigned directly to the mission, but teams were told attack planes or helicopters could respond quickly if needed.
“They said if we were to get into a firefight or an ambush, we’d get it (air support) right away, within 10 minutes,” said Marine Gunnery Sgt. Juan Rodriguez-Chavez, who was deployed with Meyer to Afghanistan.
The Afghan troops and their U.S. advisers left Forward Operating Base Joyce at about 2 a.m. According to the plan, Meyer was to stay with the vehicles near the mouth of the valley. The Afghan soldiers and their U.S. advisers would walk into the village from there.
Walk into ambush
More than 50 insurgents fired from positions on mountains surrounding the valley and from within the village. It was perfect geography for an ambush: high ground with clear fields of fire. The troops were trapped.
Back at the vehicles, Meyer and Rodriguez-Chavez heard the firing and could see into the valley. The volume of fire increased, and the radio traffic grew increasingly desperate.
The team was pinned down, and the only way out was to pound the militant positions with airstrikes or artillery.
Meyer’s team and others in the valley called for airstrikes. The requests were denied by staff officers in a command center who were concerned about civilian casualties and were unclear how fearsome the ambush was, according to a military investigation.
From the valley it appeared as if the entire village had joined the fight. Women were running between positions, resupplying ammunition. Some of the shooters were children.
Coalition command policy was to use airstrikes sparingly to avoid harming civilians, but troops in trouble were supposed to get the firepower they needed to protect themselves.
The shooting was surprisingly accurate — not the typical harassment fire. These were hardened fighters in protected positions. Some wore helmets and body armor.
Over the radio, Taliban insurgents called on the Afghan soldiers to surrender. They refused.
Meyer and Rodriguez-Chavez called four times to their headquarters, pleading for permission to drive into the valley to help Meyer’s team. Permission was denied. Senior advisers worried that vehicles driving into the valley would add to the chaos, Rodriguez-Chavez said.
Moment of truth
Meyer and Rodriguez-Chavez looked at each other.
“We have to get in there,” Meyer told Rodriguez-Chavez.
Meyer recalled, “I couldn’t just sit back and watch.”
Rodriguez-Chavez jumped behind the wheel of a Humvee, and Meyer climbed into the turret, operating a grenade launcher. They headed down the valley and straight into the fight.
Bullets pinged off the turret; mortar shells landed around them, and rocket-propelled grenades streaked past.
Meyer fired furiously in all directions as the Humvee bounced along the rutted dirt road.
They came upon Afghan soldiers, some wounded, staggering out of the valley. Meyer got out and put five of them in the vehicle. Others were cut down as they ran for the Humvee. The Marines drove back to a safe spot, let their passengers out and headed back in.
Meyer and Rodriguez-Chavez, then a staff sergeant, returned to the valley repeatedly, firing at insurgents, retrieving wounded and pulling out bodies. Rodriguez-Chavez would barely slow the vehicle, and Meyer would jump out to rescue survivors.
At one point, Meyer dropped from the turret, falling into the vehicle. Rodriguez-Chavez assumed he was dead.
“I’m OK, I’m OK,” Meyer yelled and got back behind the gun, blood gushing from his right arm as he resumed firing.
His weapon jammed, so the two Marines went back to get another Humvee, this one with a .50-caliber machine gun. Rodriguez-Chavez warned that the vehicle might get stuck on the barely passable dirt track as they drove deeper into the valley.
“I guess we’ll die with them,” Meyer said
Back in the valley, an insurgent got within a couple of feet of the driver’s side of the Humvee, startling Rodriguez-Chavez. Meyer aimed his M-4 rifle and shot the insurgent in the head.
After four trips, Meyer had not found his team. Together with Marine 1st Lt. Ademola Fabayo and Army Capt. William Swenson, Meyer and Rodriguez-Chavez headed back into the valley a fifth time.
At that point, they were an easy and expected target. It was as though every gun in the valley was turned on the vulnerable Humvee.
By this time, helicopters were buzzing the area, helping Meyer search for the missing team.
The helicopter crew saw what appeared to be four bodies just west of the village and radioed to the men on the ground searching. The helicopter couldn’t land, so its crew dropped a smoke grenade marking the position.
A sad discovery
Meyer bolted from the Humvee and ran toward the smoke. Insurgents trained their weapons on him. Rodriguez-Chavez, still behind the wheel, thought it would be the last time he saw Meyer.
Ten minutes later, Meyer was back.
“They’re all dead,” Meyer told Rodriguez-Chavez. “Every single one of them.”
The team — Marines 1st Lt. Michael Johnson, 25; Gunnery Sgt. Edwin Johnson, 31; Staff Sgt. Aaron Kenefick, 30; and Navy Corpsman 3rd Class James Layton, 22 — appeared to have been killed by insurgents who had sneaked up on them, according to the military investigation.
Rodriguez-Chavez, 34, now a gunnery sergeant, and Fabayo, now a captain, were awarded Navy Crosses, the nation’s second-highest medal for valor.
Meyer, who later was promoted to sergeant, has left active duty and returned to Kentucky. He works as a concrete contractor with a cousin.
Meyer is not sure about his future. At various times, he considered a career in the Marines, but eventually he decided to leave active duty.
“I just thought that chapter of my life is over with,” Meyer said.
Meyer appears to be uncomfortable with interviews and the publicity, but he says he endures them to honor the men killed in Ganjgal Valley and the troops still fighting in Afghanistan.
“It’s kind of frustrating because everyone wants to get an interview about the worst day of your life,” Meyer said.
“At the end of the day, I do it because I think it needs to be told.”
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