New York Times #1 bestselling author, Bing West, called \u201cthe grunt\u2019s Homer\u201d by the Los Angeles Times, has a new book out this month. \u201cTHE LAST PLATOON: A Novel of the Afghanistan War\u201d traces the physical and moral path of Marine Captain Diego Cruz, whose platoon, together with a small band of CIA operatives, is protecting a besieged base in Helmand, Afghanistan\u2019s most violent province. To be promoted, Cruz seeks to win the approval of the colonel in charge. At the same time, the president has ordered the capture a nearby drug lord. To protect a fortune in drug money, the Taliban attack fiercely and the president, feeling political pressure, seeks a secret deal. As the battle escalates, Cruz must defy his colonel in an epic last stand. \u201cTHE LAST PLATOON\u201d is a gripping tale of conflicting policy goals, unremitting battlefield loss, and leadership under extreme stress. West is the only writer who has been on the front lines in Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan and he spent his 70th birthday embedded with a rifle platoon in Afghanistan. Here is an excerpt from the new book:<\/i><\/p>\n\n\n\n
Zar hunkered down on the far side of the canal. The strengthening wind was already blowing the grey smoke and the vinegar stink a full kilometer to the southwest. Across the district the ICOM and cell phone nets had lit up. Every farmer had a question or a comment about the raid. There was no sense visiting any more farms, and Zar was too experienced to try to ambush the patrol returning to its base. The americani eye in the sky was too keen and the infidels were listening for code words in phone conversations. They could be tricked by clever planning, but only a fool rushed into battle against them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Zar forced his mind to concentrate upon the assault. It would take the shura in Quetta a day to assess the damage. In the meantime, he was on his own. The attack against the americani base had to succeed. It was the only way to make amends.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
***<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The askaris had moved away from the Marines and were standing in a loose column, with the captured Taliban in the center. Off to one side, Afghan Lt. Ibril was shaking his finger at the terp, Mohamed. As Mohamed turned away, a tall askari wearing Army-green wool mittens slapped at him with the butt of his PKM. Mohamed staggered slightly, retaliated with a short kick and walked over to Cruz.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI want out, sir,\u201d he said. \u201cI want to go back to the ODA. The SF are my real brothers, not those crazy fuckers. Let the f—ing Tajiks and Pashtos kill each other.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMohamed, you can\u2019t walk off,\u201d Cruz said. \u201cIbril needs a terp.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the distance, Ibril was waving dismissively, indicating he didn\u2019t want Mohamed to rejoin his group.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSir, Ibril speaks English good enough,\u201d Mohamed said. \u201cHe was with 10th Mountain in the Korengal. I want nothing to do with his shit and he doesn\u2019t want me with him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Major Barnes and Tic had hurried back from the front of the column.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m picking up a lot of chatter,\u201d Tic added. \u201cNot good to stay here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOps center\u2019s reporting bikers off to the east,\u201d Barnes said. \u201cWe have to move. What\u2019s the hold-up?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIbril\u2019s in a pout,\u201d Cruz said. \u201cI\u2019ll settle with him later. Mohamed, you stay with us. Now let\u2019s step.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ibril was leading his men through the crumbling compound wall. The askaris were looking toward Cruz and giggling nervously, like students concealing something from the teacher. As the Taliban prisoner, arms bound behind him, struggled through the wall, he slipped and fell. His guards jerked him to his feet and kicked him. He stood tottering, then suddenly bolted across the wash toward the Marines. The askari with the mittens raised his PKM and fired a three-round burst, striking the man in the back. He sprawled on his face, twitched and lay still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat the f—?\u201d Cruz yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ibril strode to the askari and slapped the killer with the back of his knuckles. He gestured toward Cruz with his palms up, indicating there was nothing he could do about an idiot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tic exchanged a glance with Mohamed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey were going to kill him anyway,\u201d Mohamed said. \u201cThey didn\u2019t want him talking.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d Cruz said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey\u2019re carrying,\u201d Tic said, pointing at the askaris. \u201cIn that cave, each grabbed three or four kilos. That\u2019s why they rushed into the mosque. They wanted to score.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ibril stiffened, glaring at Tic and Mohamed. His askaris immediately grew defensive, shifting to face the Marines. The Marine column turned, weapons half raised. Between the two groups, the dead prisoner lay in the scree, the blood-splashed pebbles glistening like rubies. Eagan and Ashford stepped off to one side to have clear angles of fire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHey, Tic,\u201d Eagan called out, \u201ctell Mittens over there, don\u2019t even twitch.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tic didn\u2019t have to translate. The askari with the PKM had the sense to remain frozen. This wasn\u2019t a two-sided standoff. Every askari knew he would die inside a few seconds. Barnes didn\u2019t know what to do. His mind was blank as he watched the blood from the dead man ooze into the dirt. Richards and Stovell kept quiet. This was a matter for the Marines to work out. Everyone was silently deferring to Cruz.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDrop your packs,\u201d Cruz said, pointing at Ibril and the askaris.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His tone was as neutral as death. Ibril sensed his doom. The Americans were rigid about things they didn\u2019t understand. It was insane to challenge them. With no way out, he exploded in anger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCIA got prisoners!\u201d he shouted. \u201cWe helped you!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ibril had participated in enough spec ops missions to know that Richards and Stovell were CIA. He was bargaining, demanding payment for services rendered. Cruz kept his face firm and unyielding. He pulled the handheld from his vest pocket and pointed it at Ibril.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m calling Captain Golstern,\u201d he said. \u201cWhen you get back, you\u2019ll be searched. You have no choice. Drop those packs.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ibril didn\u2019t back off. He was enraged, his face turning purple.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhy Colonel Ishaq say no go to mosque?\u201d he shouted. \u201cEveryone take. My men have nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There it was, direct and unapologetic, the great wheel of commerce revolving in its immanent tribal circle from farmer to drug lord to the Taliban to the ANA colonel, each receiving payment and none facing punishment. Why shouldn\u2019t one skinny, burnt-out lieutenant steal a sliver of drug money for his castaway platoon? The heroin would reach the addicts regardless of who sold it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cruz looked at Richards, standing there beside him, blank as a telephone pole.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTic probably told you Irbil took that powder,\u201d Cruz said, \u201cBut you didn\u2019t tell me. You were going to let them steal it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t want you dealing with this,\u201d Richards said. \u201cIt\u2019s not your mission.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Major Barnes was listening intently. A few feet away, the dead Taliban was still leaking out. Whether he was murdered or executed depended on one\u2019s point of view. And the enraged Afghan Lt. Ibril, was he an ally or a thief? Barnes didn\u2019t know. He did know he couldn\u2019t stand there with his mouth open like a beached fish. He had to say something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe don\u2019t have proof,\u201d Barnes said. \u201cWe can\u2019t strip search our f—ing allies! Let\u2019s not hang around here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was more a plea than an order. The decision still rested with Cruz. All of his training \u2014 the rigid discipline and sense of order accumulated over sixteen years, his unquestioned assumptions about right and wrong \u2014 told him to search the askaris. His parents had ingrained rectitude into him. Though he hadn\u2019t attended church since enlisting, Catholicism had helped to shape him. The Corps wasn\u2019t a God-substitute, but like most Marines, Cruz believed in its dogma. \u201cFirst of fight for right and freedom, and to keep your honor clean.\u201d To Cruz, that hymnal verse was real. It had molded and stamped him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But without Ibril, they couldn\u2019t have entered the mosque and the mission wouldn\u2019t have succeeded. He hesitated. If he didn\u2019t search the askaris or call the ops center, they\u2019d hide their heroin stash and eventually sell it. He could think of no right decision.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Major Barnes had grown impatient.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLet this go,\u201d Barnes murmured. \u201cIt\u2019s not our business. We\u2019ve busted up the lab. Time to beat feet. Icom chatter is increasing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cruz glanced at the Taliban\u2019s body. Only the dead didn\u2019t have to make decisions. Staring at Ibril, he slowly slid the 153 handheld back into his breast pocket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAye-aye, sir,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ibril nodded and gestured for his askaris to move out. Cruz turned away, feeling he had left part of himself behind. Stovell read the turbulence in his face. Ordinarily, the CIA wizard wouldn\u2019t intervene. But this platoon commander needed reassurance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCruz, you\u2019ve done all you can here,\u201d Stovell said. \u201cDon\u2019t think of Afghanistan as a country. It\u2019s a pathology. You can\u2019t straighten it out. “<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In dispersed column, the Marines warily walked down the road. The two blindfolded mullahs stumbled frequently, slowing the pace. Chatter on the Icom nets was constant, but the patrol was pestered by only a few desultory shots from tree lines rustling and bending under the stiffening wind. Soon too the fight would stiffen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A former assistant secretary of defense and combat Marine, New York Times bestselling author Bing West has written a dozen books from the frontlines about our wars in Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan. He also co-authored the New York Times #1 bestseller, \u201cCall Sign Chaos: Learning to Lead\u201d with retired Gen. Jim Mattis. \u201cTHE LAST PLATOON: A Novel of the Afghanistan War\u201d can be purchased <\/i>here<\/i><\/a>.<\/i><\/p>\n\n\n\n