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That's a recurring theme. U.S. officials say Taliban units are led by a few wizened commanders, such as Hannan, who operate in the mountains they know well enough to walk blindfolded. The commanders, the U.S. says, maintain a nucleus of 10 veteran fighters and bombmaking experts plus dozens of fresh recruits, usually teenagers from local villages and radical madrasahs, or seminaries, in nearby Pakistan. The commanders' effectiveness determines how much money and how many guns and new jihadis are doled out to them by the Taliban's secretive, 10-man military council, whose members move back and forth across the Pakistan border, Kabul officials say.
But in recent days, a U.S.-led offensive has flushed Hannan and his fighters from their hideout in the mountains of north Kandahar. According to reports of the battle, which involved coalition special-ops troops, as many as 30 Taliban fighters have been killed out of an estimated force of 165. Turner and his company are assigned to wait for the Taliban when they spill out of the ravines. It's a tall order: there are a dozen draws leading out of the mountain labyrinth, and Turner has no way of knowing which escape route Hannan and his men might choose.
Still, Turner and his men are eager to join the operation. Driving all night along riverbeds and dirt tracks, the convoy reaches its destination at daybreak. A pickup carrying Afghan troops has flipped over, injuring two soldiers, so Turner is down several men. Gates, the least injured passenger in the bombed humvee, insists on coming along. "I wasn't that shaken," says Gates. "I was just pissed that I didn't have a truck anymore. I wanted to do something."
After spreading out his company, Turner receives new orders from headquarters. Two Chinook helicopters are due to ferry 50 of his troops up to a mountain ridge to keep the fleeing Taliban from outflanking the coalition special forces, who have set up an ambush for their prey in a deep canyon. But the Afghan commander, angry that a medevac chopper is late to arrive for his two soldiers who were injured when the pickup overturned, refuses to let his men join the mission. "Look at these Afghans. Why the hell should we be fighting their war?" says a U.S. sergeant disparagingly.
With the Taliban fleeing through the ravines, Delta Company is told that the operation on the ridge will take "just several hours" and they need to haul only their weapons and ammo onto the Chinooks. But like many missions, this one doesn't go according to plan. The first night, Delta Company's men are spectators. Once special forces pin down the Taliban, A-10 Thunderbolts light up the canyon with a barrage from their Gatling guns and several 500-lb. bombs. At about 2 a.m., an Apache helicopter roars overhead, dumps out a body bag and clatters away. It takes a while before one of the soldiers dares to zip open the body bag. It's full of imported mineral-water bottles and instant meals of beef teriyaki and cheese tortellini but no blankets to protect against the chill. Later, a civil-affairs officer, Major Alan McKewan, grabs the body bag and crawls inside to sleep.