s the Afghan evacuation was under way, like many others, I received a desperate phone call— it was my interpreter. He had been standing in a massive crowd at the East Gate at Hamid Karzai International Airport for more than 24 hours hoping to get out of the country. There was no food, no water, no bathrooms, and no shelter from the unrelenting heat. The last 200 meters of the corral leading to the gate were so densely packed that it was impossible to see where one person’s body ended and another began: it was an impenetrable wall of flesh. My interpreter was with another special forces’ interpreter, both with a wife and three young children who were starting to get sick. I could hear the desperation in his voice. He was past the point of exhaustion and ready to turn back, fearing that his children would not survive the conditions much longer.
By this point, our small team of current and former members of special operations was now reaching the 36th hour of an intense sprint trying to evacuate them. Leveraging our networks, we had spoken to reporters, members of Congress, and officials at the State Department. We were part of an army of volunteers and NGOs fighting to get people out, sourcing intelligence from the thousands of messages across our Signal and WhatsApp groups. Our team had gotten the appropriate documents and approvals in the hands of servicemembers on the ground. The interpreters and their families were positioning so they could be pulled through the right gate. They had made a final frenetic attempt to get to the entrance, but despite their valiant efforts, could not get close enough to the gate. Our ‘plan’ had been foiled by a mass of bodies simply too dense to move through.
We had pulled every string, called in every favor, used every ounce of privilege that came with the title of ‘special operations’ – and although they were within 200 meters of success, the interpreters might as well have been miles away. The window was closing, and if we abandoned the attempt or waited much longer the likelihood of getting them into the airport would be non-existent.
The consequences of failing to do so were perilous – these men were known to the Taliban after many years of serving the United States military. U.S. missions had brought them face to face with key Taliban leaders because these interpreters had helped fight, capture, and question many of them. These leaders were now roaming free and empowered to seek unbridled vengeance. The interpreters had received death threats before the Taliban took control and, with the U.S. backed government collapsed and American military gone, torturous reprisals and murderous retribution were all but assured.
We told our interpreters to take a few hours to rest and regroup. In the meantime, our team would work out alternatives and try again. In another desperate attempt our fortunes took a miraculous turn— a contact relayed that our interpreters happened to be in an optimal location for a squad of soldiers to extract them from outside the perimeter of the airport. Our team helped coordinate with the troops on the ground, sharing locations and pictures (incredibly, a photo of their extraction was posted on the U.S. DOD Facebook page).
These interpreters and their families were lucky: they were in the right place at the right time. Many thousands of others were not. The families are now safely in another country, waiting to be processed and relocated to the United States. In the aftermath, we have started crowdfunding money to support them as they escaped with only the clothes on their backs and in the weeks of fleeing the Taliban were forced to leave everything behind. The reprieve has allowed for some reflection on the evacuation.
The effort to get interpreters out of Afghanistan was nothing short of all consuming and should not have needed to happen at all. It shouldn’t have taken a bunch of civilians outside government to make good on the obligations of the United States. It is a bitter irony that the effort to evacuate our allies fell to the same people whose years of advocacy for interpreters fell on deaf ears. They are unwitting victims of an atrophied bureaucracy, savage politics, and callous policy. The reality is that these interpreters and many other allies have waited years to immigrate to the United States. The cavalier policymakers who allowed for the evacuation of allies to be delayed until the final days of the U.S. withdrawal (despite the crushing Taliban advance) have caused senseless deaths and irreparable harm. This dark chapter of American history has ended with a stain on the honor of the United States, impugned our national integrity, and diminished our country’s standing amongst allies and enemies alike.
a global affairs media network
A Moment of Desperation
Photo by Sohaib Ghyasi via Unsplash.
November 16, 2021
Private efforts to get Afghan combat interpreters and their families out of Afghanistan, often led by the very U.S. service members who worked by their side, have all been complex and often desperate. Peter James Kiernan shares the story of one such effort.
A
s the Afghan evacuation was under way, like many others, I received a desperate phone call— it was my interpreter. He had been standing in a massive crowd at the East Gate at Hamid Karzai International Airport for more than 24 hours hoping to get out of the country. There was no food, no water, no bathrooms, and no shelter from the unrelenting heat. The last 200 meters of the corral leading to the gate were so densely packed that it was impossible to see where one person’s body ended and another began: it was an impenetrable wall of flesh. My interpreter was with another special forces’ interpreter, both with a wife and three young children who were starting to get sick. I could hear the desperation in his voice. He was past the point of exhaustion and ready to turn back, fearing that his children would not survive the conditions much longer.
By this point, our small team of current and former members of special operations was now reaching the 36th hour of an intense sprint trying to evacuate them. Leveraging our networks, we had spoken to reporters, members of Congress, and officials at the State Department. We were part of an army of volunteers and NGOs fighting to get people out, sourcing intelligence from the thousands of messages across our Signal and WhatsApp groups. Our team had gotten the appropriate documents and approvals in the hands of servicemembers on the ground. The interpreters and their families were positioning so they could be pulled through the right gate. They had made a final frenetic attempt to get to the entrance, but despite their valiant efforts, could not get close enough to the gate. Our ‘plan’ had been foiled by a mass of bodies simply too dense to move through.
We had pulled every string, called in every favor, used every ounce of privilege that came with the title of ‘special operations’ – and although they were within 200 meters of success, the interpreters might as well have been miles away. The window was closing, and if we abandoned the attempt or waited much longer the likelihood of getting them into the airport would be non-existent.
The consequences of failing to do so were perilous – these men were known to the Taliban after many years of serving the United States military. U.S. missions had brought them face to face with key Taliban leaders because these interpreters had helped fight, capture, and question many of them. These leaders were now roaming free and empowered to seek unbridled vengeance. The interpreters had received death threats before the Taliban took control and, with the U.S. backed government collapsed and American military gone, torturous reprisals and murderous retribution were all but assured.
We told our interpreters to take a few hours to rest and regroup. In the meantime, our team would work out alternatives and try again. In another desperate attempt our fortunes took a miraculous turn— a contact relayed that our interpreters happened to be in an optimal location for a squad of soldiers to extract them from outside the perimeter of the airport. Our team helped coordinate with the troops on the ground, sharing locations and pictures (incredibly, a photo of their extraction was posted on the U.S. DOD Facebook page).
These interpreters and their families were lucky: they were in the right place at the right time. Many thousands of others were not. The families are now safely in another country, waiting to be processed and relocated to the United States. In the aftermath, we have started crowdfunding money to support them as they escaped with only the clothes on their backs and in the weeks of fleeing the Taliban were forced to leave everything behind. The reprieve has allowed for some reflection on the evacuation.
The effort to get interpreters out of Afghanistan was nothing short of all consuming and should not have needed to happen at all. It shouldn’t have taken a bunch of civilians outside government to make good on the obligations of the United States. It is a bitter irony that the effort to evacuate our allies fell to the same people whose years of advocacy for interpreters fell on deaf ears. They are unwitting victims of an atrophied bureaucracy, savage politics, and callous policy. The reality is that these interpreters and many other allies have waited years to immigrate to the United States. The cavalier policymakers who allowed for the evacuation of allies to be delayed until the final days of the U.S. withdrawal (despite the crushing Taliban advance) have caused senseless deaths and irreparable harm. This dark chapter of American history has ended with a stain on the honor of the United States, impugned our national integrity, and diminished our country’s standing amongst allies and enemies alike.
