Heroes 2011
'Rambo did stuff like that'
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With only five weeks on the ground, the last thing three enlisted American servicemembers defending a mud-walled compound want to hear from a Special Forces commander is, “you guys are crazy for even being here.”
He had a point. If military strategists were building a base to test the skills of their fighters, they might devise something like Patrol Base Pashad.
Located just a few miles from the Pakistan border, the primitive compound is susceptible to fire from anyone who pops over the nearby mountain ridgeline.
Meanwhile, the Taliban regularly operates out of one of the nearby villages. The terrain is spiked with roadside bombs, and is so rough that it takes about 40 minutes for a mine-resistant armored vehicle to drive 15 miles from the closest friendly outpost, Patrol Base Penich.
In 2009, Patrol Base Pashad was also positioned on a key route for weapons and opium smuggling, and so despite its strategic flaws, it needed to be held — even if a couple hundred Taliban were coming.
On Aug. 19, “Major Joe” — as is often the case with Special Forces soldiers, he gave only his first name — and 15 other Special Forces soldiers happened to be in the neighborhood on business. They stopped by Pashad to let them know they had intelligence that 100 to 200 fighters might show up in a matter of hours.
Afghanstan was holding elections the next day, and the enemy was keen on keeping voters away from the polls.
Major Joe asked Marine Staff Sgt. Rodrigo Arias-Hernandez, the noncommissioned officer in charge, how many men he had to set up a defense.
He had five — himself, Sgt. Charles Bokis IV, Georgia National Guard Spc. Clark Turner, and two Afghan soldiers.
“Are you kidding?” Major Joe asked.
After considering the potential ratio of 40 enemy fighters per allied fighter, Arias-Hernandez wished that he were.
“Rambo did stuff like that,” said Arias-Hernandez, 35, of Bethesda, Md. “And I’m no Rambo, either.”
Arias-Hernandez spent the next two hours poring over maps, placing his men and planning for potential casualties. The 16 Special Forces soldiers agreed to stay on, improving his options.
“They said, ‘This is your show and we don’t take anything away from you. We’re here to assist,’ ” Arias-Hernandez said. “That boosted my confidence.”
The first mortars came around midnight from the mountains. One round landed close enough to splash Arias-Hernandez with mud and temporarily deafen him.
Small-arms fire then joined the barrage. Arias-Hernandez checked on his Afghan soldiers, and wondered why they weren’t firing back.
They couldn’t see who they were firing at, they said. Arias-Hernandez pulled out an M203 grenade launcher, fired into the distance, and suddenly, there was light.
“I lit them up in the back, and once they saw that, they started returning fire,” Arias-Hernandez said.
The enemy attacked on a moonless night — unusual, since it put them at a disadvantage against Americans equipped with night vision goggles, said Capt. Brian Allis, then a lieutenant and Arias-Hernandez’s commanding officer.
Allis maintained communication with Arias-Hernandez from Patrol Base Penich. He had moved to Penich earlier, thinking it was a more likely point of conflict because of the major voting centers nearby.
“That turned out not to be the case,” said Allis. “They consolidated almost every force they had against Pashad. Maybe they thought they had a better chance of success.”
After the opening volleys, the base began taking automatic weapon and rocket-propelled grenade fire from the town itself, which was a first. This was now a 360-degree attack.
For two hours, the rounds kept coming. While directing his men, Arias-Hernandez kept firing enough to feel the brass burn of so many shells being rapidly spent.
The compound would later receive a visit from an Army convoy, but by around 4 a.m., both the convoy and the Special Forces soldiers had to leave, Arias-Hernandez said.
On their way out, the soldiers called Arias-Hernandez and told him their fire was on the mark. The area was littered with dead fighters.
Sporadic fire continued, pushing Arias-Hernandez to exhaustion. In the moments between gun battles, he prayed.
As the sun rose over the desert, the firing ended. Around 8 a.m., villagers passed by the patrol base. They had just returned from a polling station.
“I was still standing at the .50 cal (rifle), and people were passing by, showing me their ink-stained fingers [from voting],” Arias-Hernandez said. “In English, they were saying, ‘Thank you, thank you.’ It made me think the hell of that last night was worth it.”
But battles don’t always end neatly. By noon, mortar fire resumed. Arias-Hernandez and his small group withstood six attacks of sporadic fire that day, according to Marine Corps records.
Military officials would later estimate that more than 100 enemy fighters attacked Patrol Base Pashad. Dozens were probably killed, though the bodies had been removed during lulls in the fighting.
Arias-Hernandez and his men didn’t suffer a single casualty.
“It made my year to see Staff Sgt. Arias-Hernandez’s Bronze Star [with “V”] get approved,” Allis said. “The simple fact that everyone survived made it less visible heroism, but the bravery he showed that day absolutely deserved to be recognized.”
A few months later, Arias-Hernandez ran into Major Joe again — the man who called Arias-Hernandez crazy for even being at Pashad that night — and got a bear hug.
Looking back, Arias-Hernandez says he was proud to show his Army counterpart what “crazy” Marines could do in a fight.
“I think he got the best impression [of the Marines] he could ever get,” he said.
