I just needed to capture a Taliban commander. One of

the first things I learned after joining the military was to

focus on my mission and leave the debates to the fat

boys back home. I talked to my colleagues, and it was

the same old story: Officers who got too caught up in

the politics of their missions were, in most cases, not as

successful as those who did not. Success was judged on

whether the mission goals had been achieved and at

what cost.

Lest we be accused of theft instead of borrowing, we

dropped off the pickup trucks at the edge of town and

were met by a driver and Hummer for the ride back to

the FOB.

En route, I made a satellite phone call to Lieutenant

Colonel Gordon, who suggested I speak directly with

General Keating. I tried to restrain myself from explod-

ing as I described the situation to the general. He told

me Harruck had contacted him already. “Sir, the bot-

tom line is, I want the guy’s head on a platter.”

“You guys were very well liked and made a great team

during that Robin Sage.”

“Yes, sir. But I don’t think the captain is playing on

our team anymore.”

“I know you feel that way, but you need to under-

stand something. First, I can’t stop you from lopping off

CO MB AT O P S

85

his head. If you put it in writing, I’ll have to forward the

charge.”

“I’ll have it to you right away.”

“Slow down, son. Our situation is complicated, and

Captain Harruck’s mission further complicates matters.

But that can and should work to our advantage.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Mitchell, we can use his mission as a distraction to

keep everyone busy while you hunt down our boy. The

COIN mission is our screen. Harruck’s attempts to win

over the locals will keep the Taliban busy.”

“Sir, how about the same plan, only we let the XO

take over. Lose Harruck.”

The general sighed deeply. “Better the devil we know

than the devil we don’t, Mitchell.”

“Sir, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Son, this has already become a huge task manage-

ment problem. We don’t need to make it more difficult.

Go talk to Harruck. Work it out. I know you can.”

I could barely answer. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m counting on you, Mitchell.”

I ended the call before cursing.

Harruck was waiting for me outside his office when the

Hummer pulled up. “You were wrong about Keating,”

he said to me abruptly.

“Oh, yeah?”

“He’s not a soldier. He’s a politician, just like the rest

of them.”

86

GH OS T RE C O N

“Just like you.”

He shook his head. “Come inside.”

I raised an index finger, deciding I was going to make

this bastard suffer a little more for what he’d done. “At

this point, I advise you to speak very carefully, because

you’ve just committed a court-martial offense, and even

worse, an immoral and ethical offense. You’ve not only

disobeyed an order from a superior, you’ve broken the

code of honor by endangering me and my Ghosts.”

“Scott, this is the part where I say I don’t know what

you’re talking about.”

“Look, buddy, I won’t even ask what kind of proof

you have or how you tried to orchestrate this thing to get

yourself off. Point is, without authorization you called in

those birds to abort my mission. And you know, if word

of this gets out, it’ll spread like wildfire. No one will

trust you.”

“I got two merchants who said people tied them up

and stole their trucks. I got chopper pilots telling me

you blew the bridge over the river. Hell, we heard the

thing go up. And now you’re playing angel? Jesus Christ,

Scott . . . you can’t walk in here and take over. I told you

I got eight months in here! EIGHT GODDAMNED

MONTHS!”

As he raised his voice, I grew more calm and para-

phrased regulations, which I knew would spike his pulse.

“By law, you were required to carry out the last order

given to you by your superior officer and only afterward

were you to question that order by going up the chain of

CO MB AT O P S

87

command to my superiors. I’m sure neither Gordon nor

Keating gave you the okay to abort my mission.”

“Don’t stand there and think you can burn me, Scott.

I’ve got a lot on you, too. I’m talking lots of stuff in the

closet, friendly-fire crap that was covered up . . . you

know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Actually, I didn’t because there were too many close

calls, too many missions where collateral damage needed

to be addressed by my superiors, who, for the most part,

kept me and my team out of the loop. Whatever he

thought he had was probably bullshit . . . but then again,

you never knew . . .

He turned and headed into his office. I followed. He

crossed around his desk but remained standing. I kept

near the door and didn’t take a chair, either.

After a deep breath, I said, “Simon, I’m trying to

decide if I should have you removed from command.”

“That’s not your decision.”

“Once I light the fuse, there’s no putting it out.”

“Yeah, you like blowing things up. So why the

bridge?”

“Changing the subject?”

“Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Yeah, made it harder for them. They’ve been using

the bridge we built to come over here and attack us.

Now if they want to come, they get to go swimming.”

“That bridge was symbolic of our presence here.”

“Like the school and the police station and the well

you want to drill?”

88

GH OS T RE C O N

“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

“Man, I would’ve never seen this coming.” I closed

my eyes and took another deep breath. “We can agree to

disagree, but you cannot interfere with my mission.”

“You know your mission is worthless. And it might

mean we have to sacrifice everything—even now when

things are finally going to happen.”

“They gave me a target.”

“And you think you can act with impunity?”

I tensed. “I can and will act with impunity.”

“So now you’re God.”

My hands turned into fists. “Why are you doing this?

We’re on the same side. Zahed is a thug.”

He rubbed the corners of his eyes. “You think I’m a

bleeding-heart liberal now?”

“They sent you here to secure the town and help the

people, and they’re calling that counterinsurgency. It’s a

goddamned joke. They sent me here to capture or kill

the bad guy. To them, it’s all very simple.”

“I just want to help these people, give their kids a

school, let ’em have a police station, and let them have

more drinking water so they’re not constantly screwed

over by the Taliban, who’re selling it to them at outra-

geous prices. What’s wrong with that? We’re talking

about basic human rights.”

I hardened my gaze. “At what cost? My life? The lives

of my team?”

He couldn’t meet my gaze.

“Simon, you’re not here to create a legacy. Just get