I wasn’t paying any attention to the Afghan soldiers. Rod and I planned to keep driving east until we were obliterated or we found my team. Suddenly, with no warning, five or six Askars who were lying in a terrace about a hundred meters away leapt up and raced toward our truck. Wham, one was shot in the back and pitched forward. Wham, a second man went down screaming. Wham, a third—then the fourth and the fifth.
I had never seen anything like it. Five men taken down in five seconds. There was so much screeching and shooting that I couldn’t pick out the location of the weapon that shot them. To deliver such lethal grazing fire, the machine-gunner must have been hidden only a few hundred meters away, with a clear line of sight and his bipod firmly anchored.
Yet whoever shot those men didn’t raise his gun sights and stitch me. I knew he was looking at me, but I couldn’t see him. There was nothing I could do. He let me live. Not one of his rounds even struck our truck.
I can’t explain it.

Into the Fire, describing the ambush in Ganjigal valley.

By Dakota Meyer, USMC Corporal, Medal of Honor recipient.

Notes

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  10. echo-of-glass said: What’s an askar?
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