Team Infidel
Forum Spin Doctor
San Diego Union-Tribune
November 9, 2007
Pg. 12
Home of the Brave
By Steve Liewer, Staff Writer
Navy Lt. j.g. Bradley Pate thought he was finished.
Taliban fighters had ambushed the convoy of his humanitarian-aid team in an Afghan mountain pass, wounding half of the 30-member group Nov. 2, 2006.
Pate and others cared for the wounded, and then the entire team hunkered down for the night, sensing that another battle would come. As the sun rose, a mortar shell exploded in their midst. Pinned down by rifle fire and more mortar rounds, Pate heard the screams of bleeding troops.
He saw a badly wounded serviceman lying in the open. Pate raced out and dragged him to relative safety next to an armored Humvee.
Then he wrapped the man's head while directing fire against enemy positions. A relief unit arrived later, allowing him to make it back to his base – and the rest of his team – alive.
“They were hugging us. They didn't know if we were going to get out,” Pate said. “It was definitely a good experience to have walked away from.”
The military awarded Pate a Bronze Star as recognition of his service during a yearlong tour in Afghanistan, including his courage on that mountain. Pate received the medal in September in San Diego, where he now is stationed.
He hardly could have envisioned a ground fight like the one in Dowlet Shah, northeast of Bagram Air Base, when he joined the Navy. But it's the kind of action sailors are seeing more frequently. The Navy is using up to 11,000 sailors at any given time for non-seagoing roles in the Middle East.
Perhaps ground warfare is in Pate's genes. His father and two uncles served in the Army.
Pate grew up in Fairfax, Va. At the urging of his grandfather, he joined the Navy in 1996 after spending 1½ years in college.
“My grandpa always thought the Navy had a better quality of life,” said Pate, 31. “I wanted to see the world, and I liked the idea of being on the high seas.”
He served in the enlisted ranks for several years, left the active-duty ranks to finish college and then returned to the Navy as an officer.
In 2005, Pate volunteered for a tour with a reconstruction team. He liked the idea of winning hearts and minds by rebuilding nations where U.S. forces were at war.
After arriving in Afghanistan in February 2006, Pate plunged into a job that coupled high reward with high risk. The team met daily with local elders and funded construction of new schools, playgrounds and hospitals, frequently in hostile countryside. The deaths of two of his teammates in a car bombing that September only underscored the dangers.
On Nov. 2, 2006, Pate's team drove up a mountain to inspect a new district center built with military funds. The convoy encountered gunfire on the way up, but nothing like the ambush it confronted on the way down.
The Taliban's grenades and small-arms fire disabled an Afghan truck and a U.S. Humvee and wounded about half of the team. It's an ironclad rule that U.S. military vehicles must not fall into enemy hands, so the convoy's commanders sought permission to blow up the wrecked Humvee and get out of the dangerous pass in the remaining trucks.
Instead, Pate said, they were ordered to stay and guard it until a tow truck could come up the mountain the next morning.
“We thought we were dead,” Pate recalled, anger still in his voice. “They just hung us out to dry.”
Members of the team parked the remaining vehicles in a circle and camped inside, readying for the attack they knew would come. When the mortar shell hit after dawn, Pate avoided injury only because he and a soldier were a short distance away, pushing the Afghan truck over an embankment.
The Taliban attack continued even after reinforcements came, but Pate and the other survivors managed to straggle back to their base.
Three months later, Pate finished his deployment and was sent to the San Diego-based destroyer Benfold as an electronics warfare officer, working on ballistic-missile defense.
Pate said he harbors no regrets about the civil-affairs work he found so rewarding, but sometimes feels guilty to be among the few who escaped the mountain ambush uninjured.
“It was two days I don't want to relive,” he said.
November 9, 2007
Pg. 12
Home of the Brave
By Steve Liewer, Staff Writer
Navy Lt. j.g. Bradley Pate thought he was finished.
Taliban fighters had ambushed the convoy of his humanitarian-aid team in an Afghan mountain pass, wounding half of the 30-member group Nov. 2, 2006.
Pate and others cared for the wounded, and then the entire team hunkered down for the night, sensing that another battle would come. As the sun rose, a mortar shell exploded in their midst. Pinned down by rifle fire and more mortar rounds, Pate heard the screams of bleeding troops.
He saw a badly wounded serviceman lying in the open. Pate raced out and dragged him to relative safety next to an armored Humvee.
Then he wrapped the man's head while directing fire against enemy positions. A relief unit arrived later, allowing him to make it back to his base – and the rest of his team – alive.
“They were hugging us. They didn't know if we were going to get out,” Pate said. “It was definitely a good experience to have walked away from.”
The military awarded Pate a Bronze Star as recognition of his service during a yearlong tour in Afghanistan, including his courage on that mountain. Pate received the medal in September in San Diego, where he now is stationed.
He hardly could have envisioned a ground fight like the one in Dowlet Shah, northeast of Bagram Air Base, when he joined the Navy. But it's the kind of action sailors are seeing more frequently. The Navy is using up to 11,000 sailors at any given time for non-seagoing roles in the Middle East.
Perhaps ground warfare is in Pate's genes. His father and two uncles served in the Army.
Pate grew up in Fairfax, Va. At the urging of his grandfather, he joined the Navy in 1996 after spending 1½ years in college.
“My grandpa always thought the Navy had a better quality of life,” said Pate, 31. “I wanted to see the world, and I liked the idea of being on the high seas.”
He served in the enlisted ranks for several years, left the active-duty ranks to finish college and then returned to the Navy as an officer.
In 2005, Pate volunteered for a tour with a reconstruction team. He liked the idea of winning hearts and minds by rebuilding nations where U.S. forces were at war.
After arriving in Afghanistan in February 2006, Pate plunged into a job that coupled high reward with high risk. The team met daily with local elders and funded construction of new schools, playgrounds and hospitals, frequently in hostile countryside. The deaths of two of his teammates in a car bombing that September only underscored the dangers.
On Nov. 2, 2006, Pate's team drove up a mountain to inspect a new district center built with military funds. The convoy encountered gunfire on the way up, but nothing like the ambush it confronted on the way down.
The Taliban's grenades and small-arms fire disabled an Afghan truck and a U.S. Humvee and wounded about half of the team. It's an ironclad rule that U.S. military vehicles must not fall into enemy hands, so the convoy's commanders sought permission to blow up the wrecked Humvee and get out of the dangerous pass in the remaining trucks.
Instead, Pate said, they were ordered to stay and guard it until a tow truck could come up the mountain the next morning.
“We thought we were dead,” Pate recalled, anger still in his voice. “They just hung us out to dry.”
Members of the team parked the remaining vehicles in a circle and camped inside, readying for the attack they knew would come. When the mortar shell hit after dawn, Pate avoided injury only because he and a soldier were a short distance away, pushing the Afghan truck over an embankment.
The Taliban attack continued even after reinforcements came, but Pate and the other survivors managed to straggle back to their base.
Three months later, Pate finished his deployment and was sent to the San Diego-based destroyer Benfold as an electronics warfare officer, working on ballistic-missile defense.
Pate said he harbors no regrets about the civil-affairs work he found so rewarding, but sometimes feels guilty to be among the few who escaped the mountain ambush uninjured.
“It was two days I don't want to relive,” he said.