Friday 19 August 2022 06:58 PM Inside Operation Pineapple Express - the bid by US Special Forces to save ... trends now

The tireless effort by veterans to get Afghans out of Kabul as Western troops left and the Taliban continued their rampage has been documented in a harrowing new book by a former Green Beret who frantically tried to help his comrades escape - while US officials stood by. 

Retired Lt. Colonel Scott Mann told DailyMail.com that he feels 'a very deep sense of betrayal' that the Biden administration and military leaders did not do more to help those who fought alongside Americans for two decades in Afghanistan.

'When I look at the moral injury that's happened to our people, our veterans, our volunteers, and the national security impacts of this abandonment at every level, it really makes me - I really want to see some accountability,' Mann said. 'I feel like the Biden administration has really tried to just move past this.'

In an excerpt from his book Operation Pineapple Express, exclusively obtained by DailyMail.com, Mann describes how Afghan Army Master Sergeant Bashir Ahmadzai was forced to leave his family behind as he tried to get on a plane at Hamid Karzai International Airport on August 19, 2021.

The Taliban had taken over Kabul just four days earlier and time was running out for allies who had served with US forces during America's longest war. One of the striking images from that day was an Afghan baby being plucked from the crowd and pulled over a razor wire-topped wall by Marines stationed on the perimeter.

The videos of desperate evacuees falling off of planes in a bid for freedom and the masses of men, women and children trying to get on flights had already sent shockwaves across the world and for some, they would never get out.

Bashir was in touch with a US counter-IED expert known as Commander James, who told him he could only get through the crowds alone and he needed to essentially abandon his heavily-pregnant wife and children.

With the air squeezed from his lungs by the people around him trying to escape, Bashir saw the North Gate open suddenly and he surged through, and trusted the American he was messaging to take care of his family.

Mann also details how US Special Forces and Green Berets were exchanging multiple Signal calls and messages trying to get allies out with the help of operators on the ground, while their frustration with the Biden administration and military reached boiling point.

A Green Beret emailed his commander in fury asking why senior leaders 'hadn't lifted a single finger to help their Afghan comrades'.

He got a response saying: 'I know you're upset about this. We all are. But we've got to focus on our own theater of operations. Not a lot we can do in Afghanistan'. 

There was also the birth of Task Force Pineapple Express, the name of the war room-like operation involving special operators trying everything to make sure Afghans got out safely. It was a mission that they considered was fulfilling a promise from locals who had also risked their lives and were considered close friends.

But Mann had one thought that kept haunting him from his home in Tampa, Florida: The State Department and Department of Defense should be getting these guys out.

Mann's dramatic recounting of the collective effort in the US and central Asia on August 19 while carnage unfolded in Kabul is told in full below.

HAMID KARAI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, KABUL - AUGUST 19, 2021 

This time, Master Sergeant Bashir Ahmadzai went alone to HKIA's North Gate. After his first attempt a few days earlier—when his pregnant wife had nearly passed out and they buried a dead man—he and his family had tried two more times. 

Neither attempt got them any closer to North Gate. 

The second attempt ended due to exhaustion; the third ended with Bashir and his brother getting beaten by several Taliban. 

The beating had partially been Bashir's fault. Stubbornly, he'd refused to part ways with his Afghan Army uniform, his Special Forces Qualification Course certificate, and a folded Afghan flag, all of which were in the bottom of his rucksack. 

When a very young Talib fighter demanded to inspect the bag, Bashir refused. He lied, telling the teenage fighter that it contained 'woman things,' hoping that would offend his twisted piety and send him away. Instead, it sent Bashir—and his brother—to the ground under a flurry of blows from the young Talib and others who had joined in for the sport of it. 

They'd only escaped because of an intervention by a more wizened Talib, who admonished the young men. 

Bashir was prepared to give up and stay in Afghanistan for now—it was too difficult, and his wife was in too delicate a condition. She was only days from delivery. 

But Commander James had convinced him otherwise. Bashir didn't really know Commander James. 

He didn't know that he was a man who'd been spiritually wrecked by his Army service and his long experience in America's forever wars. He didn't know that James hardly slept, or that he blamed himself for the deaths of other men. 

He didn't know that he'd been hit by an IED while deployed, or that he suffered from crippling arthritis due to his injuries, or that he had regular seizures due to brain trauma from the blast. 

He didn't know that after leaving the Army, James became a premier counter-IED expert who did numerous rotations training members of the Afghan National Mine Removal Group. 

He didn't know that James became a National Mine Removal Group (NMRG) adviser because he was racked with guilt over losing one of his men to a roadside bomb. He didn't know that James saw—as early as 2008—that the U.S.- led war was lost. 

He didn't know that James drank too much. He didn't know the depths of James's guilt, his rage, his bitterness, his feelings of helplessness. What Bashir did know was that he needed help. 

He was truly desperate, and he listened to Commander James when he encouraged him to do something he never would have considered on his own. 'Bashir,' James had said on the night of their third failed attempt, 'you need to go alone.' 

Bashir protested. How could he leave his family? How could he leave his wife in her state? He couldn't. It was impossible. Despite Commander James's many afflictions, he was clear-eyed in his assessment. 

'You have to go alone. Hear me out. I can protect your family in Afghanistan, but I can't protect you in Afghanistan. You have to leave now. I'll take care of your family, Bashir. I'll get them to you. I promise.'

For better or worse, Bashir had agreed. 

Now he was back along the edge of the throng. This time, he left his military mementos behind. Without the presence of his family, he was able to be both immersed and above the situation. 

He could observe like the operator he was. Before descending into the crowd, he stood near it, watching for patterns. 

There was no rhyme or reason to the gate access process. It would open now and then for about a minute for no consistent reason. Sometimes American soldiers would spot an exfil from above and dash out to drag the person in. 

Sometimes a mad rush of desperate Afghans would surge through the gate, eighty or ninety people getting through. 

The opening and closing created an accordion effect—a rush of forward momentum followed by a sudden stop, mashing people against the fence. 

Frail and strong alike were trampled underfoot. The mob neither chose nor discriminated. 

Bashir watched as children, adults, and elderly were alternately crushed to death before his eyes. 

Still, people were getting in. Especially people who were alone. He took a deep breath and entered the crowd. 

He pushed his big frame forward, being mindful not to crush anyone. When he got within sight of the gate, the crowd closed tightly around him. 

He shouldered past one human being after another as they snapped at him, cursing him, or begging for water. 

Commander James had been right. There was no way he could have gotten his family through this crucible. But he was still unsure as to whether he could trust the American stranger who had promised to take care of his wife and children. 

After eight hours, Bashir was within striking distance of the gate. Even though he knew better, primal instincts had compelled his tongue to wet his chapped lips. 

He'd run out of water hours earlier and had no money to pay the exorbitant cost of one dollar per bottle—five times the normal cost. He could now almost touch the gate. 

He could hardly breathe or call out, as the air was squeezed from his lungs by the pressure. Just then, North Gate opened for some unknown reason. Without thinking, Bashir surged forward, like he'd done hundreds of times when moving down a corridor in a gunfight, heading for his target, eyes fixed. Moments later, he was inside. 

He'd made it. He grabbed two bottles of water from a pallet, downing one and pouring the other over his head. 

He got out his phone and texted Commander James. I'm in. 

COLORADO, AUGUST 19, 2021 

Peyton was furious. Four days had passed since Kabul had fallen, and as far as he could tell, U.S. Special Forces senior leaders hadn't lifted a single finger to help their Afghan comrades. 

'Why isn't anyone doing anything? We're Green Berets. They were our partner force for twenty years,' he angrily pounded in an email to his entire chain of command. A mass email like this was risky, but who cared. 

Hell with it, he thought, and hit send. The reply-all response he received moments later was an order to report to his company commander's office, which he did. 

'That's a pretty passionate letter, Peyton,' the major said. 'Maybe a little out of line to send it to the battalion and group commander? I know you're upset about this. We all are. But we've got to focus on our own theater of operations. Not a lot we can do in Afghanistan.' 

Peyton marched out, fuming inside. His detachment had been one of the last Special Forces teams sent to Kandahar and had turned the lights out at the airfield in May. 

A base that had once housed over forty thousand troops had been reduced to a dystopian industrial landscape. They even bulldozed the Tim Hortons Coffee Shop and TGI Fridays. 

His team had spent days exploring the airfield and taking stock of the millions of dollars' worth of abandoned equipment in warehouses and hangars. 

On one sweep, he opened a padlocked door to discover several tons of toilet paper. They also destroyed equipment. Peyton sent a video to a friend showing bearded American operators laughing as they tossed grenades into generator shacks.