Saddles and Satellite Radios: The Heroism of 9/11’s Immediate Response

Only three times in American history has the United States been attacked on its home soil: during the War of 1812, on Dec. 7, 1941, at Pearl Harbor, and on Sept. 11, 2001. In every case, America fought back. 

With roughly a third of the American population under 25 years old and living in a post-9/11 world, many do not appreciate the audacity and speed of America’s initial response to the 9/11 attacks. Just 15 days after the nation was shocked, and while the rubble of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon was still smoldering, America struck back. 

On Sept. 26, 2001, in the freezing pre-dawn of an Afghan winter, a single helicopter navigated the dangerous 16,000-foot peaks of the Hindu Kush. On board was an elite eight-man CIA team code-named Operation Jawbreaker. Landing in the Panjshir Valley carrying satellite radios and $3 million in nonsequential $100 bills, they set out to secure alliances with anti-Taliban warlords—entirely isolated, ten days before the official military campaign began. 

That campaign, Operation Enduring Freedom, launched on Oct. 7 with U.S. airstrikes to topple the Taliban regime and eliminate al-Qaeda’s sanctuary in Afghanistan. Twelve days later, Special Forces Operational Detachments Alpha 595 and 555 inserted to rally the Northern Alliance and launch a lightning campaign toward the strategic stronghold of Mazar-i-Sharif. If they failed, they would be hunted down in the mountains; if they succeeded, they would break the spine of the Taliban. 

Nothing in the Green Berets’ training manuals prepared them for the terrain or transport. Upon linking up with ethnic Uzbek warlord Gen. Abdur Dostum, the twelve men of ODA 595 discovered that moving through the steep gorges of the Dari-a-Souf Valley meant riding horseback. 

The horses were small, spirited, and outfitted with primitive, wooden Afghan saddles that were agonizingly uncomfortable. Few operators had riding experience. Yet they mounted up, wore local wool pakols for warmth, and rode alongside Dostum’s militia. 

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It was a staggering clash of centuries: modern warriors carrying space-age satellite GPS receivers and laser target designators guiding horse cavalry charges against Soviet-era T-55 tanks. The ODA 595 team leader’s declassified situation report, read publicly to a stunned Pentagon press corps, captured the sheer boldness of the mission: 

“I am advising a man on how best to employ light infantry and horse cavalry in the attack against Taliban T-55s… and machine guns–a tactic which I think became outdated with the invention of the Gatling Gun … We have witnessed the horse cavalry bounding overwatch from spur to spur to attack Taliban strongpoints–the last several kilometers under mortar, artillery, and sniper fire.”    

A man on horseback could not destroy a battle tank—but a B-52 strategic bomber miles above, connected to his radio, could. 

This seemingly incongruous type of warfare reached its peak on Nov. 5 at the fortified village of Bai Beche. The Taliban were bunkered in deep trenches protected by armor and heavy machine guns. After two Northern Alliance attacks were bloodily repulsed, ODA 595 climbed to high ground to paint the defenses with laser designators and call in precision strikes. 

Dostum planned a cavalry charge immediately following the airstrike, but in the confusion of battle, 250 horsemen charged prematurely—galloping straight toward enemy lines while 2,000-pound bombs were still falling. Resting hot AK-47 barrels across their forearms, the horsemen fired wildly into the trenches under exploding mortar fire. Just as they reached the trenches, the laser-guided bombs struck directly in the center of the Taliban positions. 

Before the smoke cleared, the horsemen swept through the blast zone, overrunning the shell-shocked defenders. As one ODA 595 operator recalled: “Three or four bombs hit right in the middle of the enemy position. Almost immediately after the bombs exploded, the horses swept across the objective … It was the finest sight I ever saw.” 

These initial victories came with a cost. On Nov. 25, 2001, Mike Spann—a former Marine and CIA officer on that first helicopter into Afghanistan—became the first American killed in the conflict. His final conversation with his parents remains a chilling warning: “What everyone needs to understand is that these people hate you. They hate you because you are an American.” 

Barely six weeks after the most devastating attack in American history, these few hundred “Horse Soldiers,” working alongside anti-Taliban allies and backed by U.S. airpower, started the toppling of the Taliban regime. Simultaneously, Marines from Task Force 58, who conducted the longest amphibious raid in history,  and the U.S. Army Rangers completed the action and captured Kabul and Kandahar. 

On this 25th anniversary of Sept. 11, let us remember those American special operators who climbed onto wooden saddles, rode under artillery fire in the Afghan mountains, and wrote a chapter of heroism that will not be forgotten.