JAEGER: At War with Denmark’s Elite Special Forces Thomas Rathsack Also by Thomas Rathsack: Shadow Army Black Dawn Handbook in High Performance Visit the author’s website at: www.thomasrathsack.dk/ Contents Preface Chapter One: Living the Dream Chapter Two: From Indian kayak to the burgundy beret Chapter Three: No oxygen Chapter Four: Survival and shattered dreams Chapter Five: War’s garbage man Chapter Six: The Middle Ages in 2001 Chapter Seven: Surrounded by Taliban Chapter Eight: New world order Chapter Nine: At war with the Taliban and al-Qaida Chapter Ten: Deep in Taliban territory Chapter Eleven: The Mullah has left the building Chapter Twelve: Security for Europe Image Gallery Chapter Thirteen: Bodyguard in Baghdad Chapter Fourteen: Undercover Chapter Fifteen: Better safe than sorry Chapter Sixteen: Night Hawk—probably the best exercise in the world Chapter Seventeen: In deep shit Chapter Eighteen: Invisible in the militia’s backyard Chapter Nineteen: Quick reaction force Chapter Twenty: The highest honor Afterword: The Jaeger case The Jaeger Corps at war-a timeline The Jaeger Corps-a Danish special operations force Copyright Preface Lose your dreams and you might lose your mind. Rock legend Mick Jagger’s words may as well have been my own. From early childhood, running around in the woods playing soldier, through my late teenage years and early adult life as an infantryman in the Danish Royal Guards, the dream of entering the prestigious elite military unit, the Jaeger Corps, consumed my life. From the age of 16, I trained intensively to fulfill that dream, and the reward came seven years later, after having served for five years as a sergeant in the Royal Guards. The thousands of hours I had put into my solo training had paid off; I had flown through the Corps’ selection process and could finally put on the burgundy beret adorned with a brass emblem of a hunter’s bugle. I will always remember the words of my course commander after another exhausting week on the selection course. Eight of the 94 applicants remained at the final evaluation, and he said: “Rathsack, it’s too good to be true.” I do not write this because I view myself as a superior human being or to fuel the superman myths. I have plenty of weaknesses and negative impulses. But the dream of becoming a Jaeger motivated all the best aspects of my character. I had the privilege of having a clearly defined goal and was able to focus all my energy on reaching it. No static from everyday life, no disturbances, no worries. I lived in a black-and-white world consisting of eating, sleeping, and training. This gave me a mental focus that enabled me to reach my full potential. The conventional and predictable life has never appealed to me. I have always had a desire to explore, experience, and discover—to feel alive. That’s the key to life for me. I know I would be unhappy if I looked back on a life devoid of intensity and thrills. Thankfully, I have experienced the life I wanted as a soldier in the Jaeger Corps, as a Jaeger. Initially though, my boyhood dream turned to disillusionment. I came to realize, after three decades of Cold War, the Jaeger Corps and the Danish military were simply not geared for operational service. It took me some time to acknowledge this, but once I had, I left the Corps to seek new challenges. In the following years, I traveled the world as a photographer in South America, became the head of NGO mine-clearing projects in the Caucasus region and Afghanistan, and even went through a short stint as a computer salesman. Then, 9/11 happened. The terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and all Western civilization in 2001 prompted me to once again pull on the Jaeger Corps’ uniform. I became a part of the Jaeger Corps’ deployment to Afghanistan as a member of the Task Group Ferret unit, a component of the international task force K-Bar, which was under the command of the US Special Forces. As an operator, I took part in search-and-destroy operations against Taliban and Al- Qaida in the harsh and dazzlingly beautiful mountains of Eastern Afghanistan. I also participated in unconventional warfare operations dressed as an Afghan, and later spent more than a year in Iraq participating in operations to target the infamous Jaysh al-Mahdi militia. I was also, for the first time in the Jaeger Corps’ and indeed the Danish military’s history, deployed as a bodyguard in a war zone. With the words of another great rock legend—Bono from U2—I do not hold much respect for medals, but for scars. I have never been interested in medals, honors, or decorated uniforms, but there is one award I am proud to have received after participating in the Jaeger Corps’ operations in Afghanistan in 2002: the Presidential Unit Citation Award. It is the highest honor bestowed on military units, and the President of the United States at the time, George W. Bush, personally awarded it to my commander, Lt. Col. Frank Lissner. As a soldier representing a small nation, I was enormously proud to be part of a unit that accomplished something extraordinary. And Denmark is a small nation, with a population of a little less than 6 million people. But despite being one of NATO’s smallest member states, Denmark has seen its fair share of action on the battlefields in Iraq, and especially in Afghanistan. From the end of 2001 until the middle of 2013, 43 Danish soldiers were killed and 211 were wounded in action in Afghanistan. Not much by American standards, I am aware. But during this period, Denmark was the NATO member with the highest rate of casualties and was also one of the biggest contributors to the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF), measured by population size. A 750-man-strong Danish battalion has, throughout the past decade, operated in Afghanistan’s bloody Helmand province. Denmark has also contributed to the war effort with F-16 fighter jets, Leopard-2 tanks, medical facilities, mobile Air Force radar units, and logistical units. Last but not least, teams of Danish special operations forces—from the Frogman Corps to the Jaeger Corps—have been operating in Afghanistan since 2001, and continue to do so to this day. As a Jaeger, I have worked with some of the most elite units in the world. I’ve met many excellent soldiers and some of them have become great friends, but I’d argue that my brothers in the Jaeger Corps are among the finest soldiers in the world. We are not the best equipped, nor are we blessed with extensive resources, but the integrity, skills, and mental toughness of my fellow operators are, in my experience, unsurpassed. I feel privileged and proud to have served with these men. With this book, I have done my best to offer realistic and honest insight into my life as an operator in the Jaeger Corps without compromising the safety of the Jaegers or other members of the coalition serving in Afghanistan and Iraq. Identities, training missions, assignments and locations have been altered where necessary. This book is dedicated to my Jaeger brothers and colleagues still operative in the Corps. You know who you are. Thank you guys. Thomas Rathsack Jaeger nr. 229 Chapter One: Living the Dream We roar along at 155 miles per hour, about fifteen feet above ground level in the Iraqi desert. I sit on the outermost seat in the transport helicopter, feeling the heat of the motor exhaust against my left arm. The night is black, but I have a clear view of the vast, flat landscape. It is dotted with bright spots created by the gas flares of countless oil refineries. Inside the cabin sit seven other Jaegers. The hollows of their eyes glow green through the faint light of my night vision goggles. As always, they look calm and relaxed. I check my equipment and weapon, a C8 carbine, one final time. The helicopter’s loadmaster, who directs us in and out of the cabin, sticks two fingers in the air. Two minutes from the target. This is “Operation Viking.” Its purpose: to identify and gather information about the enemy and, if necessary, take him down. Tonight, the mission is to destroy a weapons cache. Life had been hell during the last couple of months at Basra Air Station—once a civilian airport under Saddam Hussein, now home to Western coalition forces during “Operation Iraqi Freedom.” It also served as home to the 500-man Danish DAN-BAT battalion’s headquarters, a battalion under the command of a 4000-soldier British brigade. The base had been under attack throughout the winter and spring of 2007: The Jaysh Al-Mahdi (JAM) militia—led by the Shia Muslim cleric Muqtada al-Sadr—had been firing rockets at it from a radius of 3-6 miles up to 25 times a day. A decision had been made to tackle the problem by locating JAM’s weapon depots in the region. A few Jaeger Corps teams had been summoned for the task. In the previous 24 hours, 16 rockets had been launched at our camp. A British soldier was killed and two others critically wounded when a Chinese-built 107 mm rocket slammed into their sleeping quarters, transforming it into a bloody amalgamation of bones, blood, and stumps of twisted metal. When a reconnaissance patrol identified a depot 12 miles from the camp containing several 107 mm rockets, we became anxious to get there quickly and destroy them. My team had just returned from a six-day operation and settled into rest and recovery mode when our platoon commander, known to us as “The Bicep”, arrived to announce the new mission. Within an hour, we had studied the area in which the rocket depot was located, planned emergency procedures, and organized assistance from an unmanned surveillance aircraft which, from a height of 9000 feet, was capable of filming and reporting any activity on the ground before, during, and after the operation. I was not the team’s demolitions expert, but due to my experience with clearing landmines and the four years I’d spent in demolitions, I was tasked with gathering information about the rockets, preparing an explosive charge, and working out a procedure for disabling the weapons. And just like that, I’m in the helicopter, two minutes from the coordinates given to us by the team that discovered the weapons cache. The area is crawling with JAM units, recognized as the most belligerent militia fighters in Iraq. We have no desire to let our presence be detected. Our reconnaissance team is still in the area and informs us over the encrypted radio that the landing zone is secure. One minute until we land. I am preparing to disembark first because I am the team’s scout. I lean forward in the seat and get ready for the loadmaster’s signal. Go, Go, Go! I jump into the Iraqi night and move swiftly away from the cloud of sand, gravel, and stones whipped up by the helicopter’s blades. My seven teammates are right behind me. We hit the ground and form a circle to secure the landing zone. It is safe. The helicopter takes off immediately, returning to standby at the base. Being our scout, I signal to the team already on the ground with my white spot, a passive light on my weapon visible only to those wearing night vision goggles. The flicker is answered and we join forces. The surveillance craft, Shadow,