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Horse Soldiers: The Extraordinary Story of a Band of US Soldiers Who Rode to Victory in Afghanistan Kindle Edition
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“A thrilling action ride of a book” (The New York Times Book Review)—the New York Times bestselling, true-life account of a US Special Forces team deployed to dangerous, war-ridden Afghanistan in the weeks following 9/11.
In the weeks following the attacks of September 11, a small band of Special Forces soldiers secretly entered Afghanistan. Riding on horseback, they pursued the Taliban over the stark and mountainous Afghanistan terrain. After a series of intense battles, they captured the strategically essential city of Mazar-i-Sharif.
The bone-weary American soldiers were welcomed as liberators as they rode into the city, and the streets thronged with Afghans overjoyed that the Taliban regime had been overthrown. Then the action took a wholly unexpected turn. During a surrender of six hundred Taliban troops, the Horse Soldiers were ambushed by the would-be POWs. Dangerously overpowered, they fought for their lives in the city’s immense fortress, Qala-i-Jangi, or the House of War. At risk were the military gains of the entire campaign: if the soldiers perished or were captured, the entire effort to outmaneuver the Taliban was likely doomed.
Previously published as Horse Soldiers, 12 Strong “is not just a battle story—it’s also about the home front. An important book” (the TODAY show). A thrilling, inspiring tale of a group of men on horses who did the impossible and an incredible account of real life bravery and heroism in the face of insurmountable odds.
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherScribner
- Publication dateApril 17, 2009
- File size18949 KB
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Editorial Reviews
From Publishers Weekly
Review
“A thrilling action ride of a book.” –Bruce Barcott, cover of The New York Times Book Review
About the Author
From The Washington Post
Copyright 2009, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
PROLOGUE
UPRISING
Qala-i-Janghi Fortress
Mazar-i-Sharif, Afghanistan
November 24-25, 2001
Trouble came in the night, riding out of the dust and the darkness. Trouble rolled past the refugee camp, past the tattered tents shuddering in the moonlight, the lone cry of a baby driving high into the sky, like a nail. Sunrise was no better; at sunrise, trouble was still there, bristling with AKs and RPGs, engines idling, waiting to roll into the city. Waiting.
These were the baddest of the bad, the real masters of mayhem, the death dealers with God stamped firmly in their minds. The city groaned and shook to life. Soon everyone knew trouble had arrived at the gates of the city.
Major Mark Mitchell heard the news at headquarters nine miles away and thought, You're kidding. We got bad guys at the wire?
He ran downstairs, looking for Master Sergeant Dave Betz. Maybe he would know what was happening.
But Betz didn't know anything. He blustered, "One of the Agency guys came down and told us we got six hundred Taliban surrendering. Can you believe that?"
Surrendering? Mitchell couldn't figure out why. He thought the Taliban had fled from the approaching forces of the Northern Alliance to Konduz, miles away. American Special Forces and the Northern Alliance had been beating them back for weeks, in battle after battle, rolling up territory by coordinating airstrikes from the sky and thousands of Northern Alliance soldiers on the ground.
They now stood on the verge of total victory. Konduz was where the war was supposed to go next. Not here. Not in Mazar. Not at Club Mez.
Besides, these guys didn't surrender. They fought to the death.
Die fighting and you went to paradise.
Mitchell stood at the dirty plate-glass windows and watched. Here they came, a motley crew of the doomed, packed into six big trucks, staring out from the rancid tunnels of their scarves. Mitchell could see their heads over the barricade that ringed his headquarters, a former schoolhouse at the junk-strewn edge of the city. The prisoners -- who surely included some Al Qaeda members -- were still literally in the drivers' seats, with Northern Alliance soldiers sitting next to them, their AKs pointed at the drivers' heads. The prisoners turned and stared and Mitchell thought it was like looking at hundreds of holes punched in a wall.
"Everybody get away from the windows!" said Betz.
Major Kurt Sonntag, Captain Kevin Leahy, Captain Paul Syverson, and a dozen other Special Forces soldiers knelt behind the black and white checked columns in the room, their M-4 rifles aimed at the street. Behind them, in the kitchen, the local cook was puttering -- the air smelled of cooked rice and cucumber -- and a radio was playing more of that god-awful Afghan music that sounded to Mitchell like somebody strangling a goose.
He had been looking forward this morning to overseeing the construction of the medical facility in town, and the further blowing up of mines and bombs that littered the area like confetti. Each day, a little bit more of the war seemed to be ending. Mitchell had even started to wonder when he would get to go home. He and a team of about a dozen Special Forces soldiers had moved into the schoolhouse only forty-eight hours earlier. Their former headquarters inside the Qala-i-Janghi Fortress, nine miles off, in Mazar's western quarter, had given them the shits, the croup, and the flu, and Mitchell was glad to have moved out. It seemed a haunted place. Known as the House of War, the fortress rose like a mud golem from the desert, surrounded by struggling plots of wind-whipped corn and sparse cucumber. Its walls towered sixty feet high and measured thirty feet thick under the hard, indifferent sun.
The Taliban had occupied the fortress for seven years and filled it with weapons -- grenades, rockets, and firearms, anything made for killing. Even Enfield rifles with dates stamped on the bayonets -- 1913 -- from the time that the Brits had occupied the area. Before their hurried flight from the city two weeks earlier, the Taliban had left the weapons and smeared feces on the walls and windows. Every photograph, every painting, every rosebush had been torn up, smashed, stomped, ruined. Nothing beautiful had been left behind.
After three years of Taliban rule, there were old men in Mazar with stumps for hands. There were women who'd been routinely stoned and kicked on street corners. Young men who'd been imprisoned for not wearing beards. Fathers who'd been beaten in front of their sons for the apparent pleasure of those swinging their weapons.
The arrival of Mitchell and his soldiers on horseback had put an end to that. The people of Mazar-i-Sharif, the rugmakers and butchers, the car mechanics and schoolteachers, the bank clerks and masons and farmers, had thrown flowers and kisses and reached up to the Americans on their horses and pulled affectionately at the filthy cuffs of their camo pants. The locals had welcomed the balding, blue-eyed Mitchell and two dozen other Special Forces soldiers in a mile-long parade lining the highway that dropped into town out of the snowy mountains. Mitchell had felt like he was back in World War II, his grandfather's war, riding into Paris after the Nazis fled.
Now thirty-six, Mitchell was the ground commander of the Fifth Special Forces Group/Third Battalion's Forward Operating Base (FOB). It had been a distinguished nearly fifteen-year career headed for the top of the military food chain. His best friend, Major Kurt Sonntag, a thirty-seven-year-old former weekend surfer from Los Angeles, was the FOB's executive officer, which technically meant he was Mitchell's boss. In the tradition of Special Forces, they treated each other as equals. Nobody saluted, including less senior officers like Captain Kevin Leahy and Captain Paul Syverson, members of the support company whose job it was to get the postwar operations up and running, such as providing drinking water, electricity, and medical care to the locals.
Looking at the street now, Mitchell tried to figure out why the Taliban convoy was stopping. If anything went bad, Mitchell knew he was woefully outnumbered. He had maybe a dozen guys he could call on. And those like Leahy and Syverson weren't exactly hardened killers. Like him, these were staff guys, in their mid-thirties, soldiers who had until now been largely warless. He did have a handful of CIA operators living upstairs in the schoolhouse and eight Brits, part of a Special Boat Service unit who'd landed the night before by Chinook helicopter, but they were so new that they didn't have orders for rules of engagement -- that is, it wasn't clear to them when they could and could not return fire. Doing the math, Mitchell roughly figured that he had about a dozen guys available to fight. The trained-up fighters, the two Special Forces teams that Mitchell had ridden into town with, had left earlier in the day for Konduz, for the expected fight there. Mitchell had watched them drive away and felt that he was missing out on a chance to make history. He'd been left behind to run the headquarters office and keep the peace. Now, after learning that 600 Taliban soldiers had massed outside his door, he wondered if he'd been dead wrong.
The street bustled with beeping taxis; with donkeys hauling loads of handmade bricks to the city-center bazaar; with aged men gliding by on wobbling bicycles and women ghosting through the rising dust in blue burkhas. Afghanistan. Never failed to amaze him.
Still the convoy hadn't moved. Ten minutes had passed.
Without warning, a group of locals piled toward the trucks, angrily grabbing at the prisoners. They got hold of one man and pulled him down -- for a moment he was there, gripping the battered wooden side of the truck, and then he was gone, snatched out of sight. Behind the truck, out of sight, they were beating the man to death.
Every ounce of rage, every rape, every public execution, every amputation, humiliation -- every ounce of revenge was poured back into this man, slathered on by fist, by foot, by gnarled stick. The trucks lurched ahead and when they moved on, nothing remained of the man. It was as if he'd been eaten.
The radio popped to life. Mitchell listened as a Northern Alliance commander, who was stationed on the highway, announced in broken English: The prisoners all going to Qala-i-Janghi.
Remembering the enormous pile of weapons cached at the fortress, Mitchell didn't want to hear this. But his hands were tied. The Afghan commanders of the Northern Alliance were, as a matter of U.S. strategy, calling the shots. No matter the Americans' might, this was the Afghans' show. Mitchell was in Mazar to "assist" the locals in taking down the Taliban. He figured he could get on a radio and suggest to the Afghan commander presiding over the surrender that the huge fortress would not be an ideal place to house six hundred angry Taliban and Al Qaeda soldiers. But maybe there was a good reason to send them there. As long as the prisoners were searched and guarded closely, maybe they could be held securely within the fort's towering mud walls.
And then Mitchell thought again of the weapons stockpiled at Qala-i-Janghi, the piles and piles of rockets, rifles, crates of ammo -- tons of violence ready to be put to use.
Not the fort, he thought. Not the damn fort!
Belching smoke, grinding gears, the convoy of prisoners rumbled past the fortress's dry moat and through the tall, arched entrance. The prisoners in the trucks craned around like blackbirds on a wire, scanning the walls, looking for guards, looking for an easy way out.
In deference to the Muslim prohibition against men touching other men intimately, few of the prisoners had been thoroughly searched. No hand had reached deep inside the folds of their thin gray gowns, the mismatched suit coats, the dirty khaki vests, s...
From AudioFile
Product details
- ASIN : B0026SCMMS
- Publisher : Scribner; Media Tie-In edition (April 17, 2009)
- Publication date : April 17, 2009
- Language : English
- File size : 18949 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Not Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 428 pages
- Page numbers source ISBN : 1847376665
- Best Sellers Rank: #217,476 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #22 in Afghan War History
- #59 in History of Military Special Forces
- #77 in Military Intelligence & Spies History
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

Doug Stanton is a #1 New York Times bestselling author, lecturer, screenwriter. His books include The Odyssey of Echo Company, In Harm’s Way, and Horse Soldiers. Horse Soldiers is the basis for the Jerry Bruckheimer-produced movie titled 12 Strong, starring Chris Hemsworth and Michael Shannon, released by Warner Bros. in 2018. Horse Soldiers is required reading by US Army Special Forces at the John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center and School.
In Harm’s Way, the definitive account of the sinking, rescue, and valor of the USS Indianapolis crew, spent more than six months on the New York Times bestseller list and became required reading on the U.S. Navy's reading list for officers. The unabridged audiobook edition of In Harm’s Way is the winner of the 2017 Audie Award in the History category. Horse Soldiers was featured on the front page of the Sunday New York Times Book Review, and is also a New York Times bestselling ebook and audiobook.
The Odyssey of Echo Company is a Military Times Best Book Of The Year and recipient of the The Society of Midlands Authors Best NonFiction Book Award. He has lectured at libraries, civic and corporate groups, bookstores, universities, including the US Department of State and The Center for Strategic International Studies. He recently appeared, with Lynn Novick, co-producer of PBS’s "The Vietnam War,” on CSPAN’s "American History” to discuss the Vietnam War.
Stanton has appeared on numerous TV and radio outlets, including NBC’s “Today,” CNN, Imus In The Morning, Discovery, A&E, Fox News, NPR, MSNBC’s Morning Joe, and NBC’s Nightly News, and has been covered extensively in prominent publications, including the Wall Street Journal, Washington Post, New York Times. Drawing on his experiences working in the U.S. and overseas, and with contacts in various branches of the U.S. military and government, Stanton lectures nationally to corporate and civic groups, libraries, writing & book clubs, and universities about current events, international affairs, politics, and writing.
Stanton says that he writes and talks about “existential moments when ordinary men and women are forced to adapt and make extraordinary decisions at the least likely moment. That’s when change happens, whether we like it or not.” He has written on travel, sport, entertainment, and history, and his writing has appeared in Esquire, Outside Magazine, Smart, Men’s Journal, the New York Times, TIME, Newsweek, and the Washington Post.
Stanton’s Horse Soldiers was also a best-seller on lists in USA Today, Wall Street Journal, Los Angeles Times, Chicago Tribune, Entertainment Weekly, Publisher’s Weekly, and IndieBound. Horse Soldiers was named a “Notable Book” by the New York Times, and it was chosen as a “Best Book” by Publishers Weekly, The Christian Science Monitor, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon.com.
Stanton attended Interlochen Arts Academy, Hampshire College, and received an MFA from the Writers’ Workshop at the University of Iowa, where he graduated with coursework in both fiction and poetry workshops.
He lives in Michigan with his wife, Anne Stanton, and their three children. Visit www.dougstanton.com and www.nationalwritersseries.org. Follow Doug on Twitter @dougstantonbook and Instagram dougstantonwriter
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Gaining the trust of Special Forces soldiers (the "Quiet Professionals") necessary to write this account of a major American military success was a feat. Interviews with these highly-trained and skillful warriors, rarely given, allows Stanton to guide his readers know a great deal about these men and their commitment. Stanton's forte' is helping the reader to know the major players--to know how they think, act and feel about their lives, their honor, their families and their countries. Stanton's portrayal of intimate and human details of the people involved -- Afghans and Americans alike. In the end, this book is compelling in its description of a harrowing mission experienced by some of America's finest professional soldiers.
Stanton describes the uniqueness of Special Forces like this:
"Special Forces trained to do something different from everyone else. They fought guerilla wars. This fighting was divided into phases: combat, diplomacy, and nation-building. They were trained to make war and provide humanitarian aid after the body count. They were both soldier and diplomat. The medics worked as dentists, fixing the teeth of local villagers; the engineers, experts at the orchestrated mayhem of explosives and demolition, were trained to rebuild a village's bridges and government offices. They spoke the locals' language and assiduously studied their customs concerning religion, sex, health, and politics. Their minds liked in the dark corners of the world. Often, they were the senior ranking American officials in a country, hunkered down in the dirt drawing out a water treatment plan with some warlord and acting as America's de facto State Department."
Not long after 9/11, the Department of Defense decided to drop two 12-man Special Forces teams into Afghanistan where they would work with the Afghan warlords. These men came by stealth of night, flown in by "Nightstalkers" - helicopter pilots specially trained to fly in the dark over dangerous terrain using sophisticated GPS and other electronic assistance. This was a top-secret mission.
The goal of Special Forces soldiers was not to tell the Afghani warlords what to do, but rather, to engage in a diplomatic advisory and military collaboration with them. Using their SF training, these two teams figured out what the Afghanis were thinking. They fought with the Afghanis remaining at all times conscious of how the Afghan Alliance leaders' view of the mission was impacted by their cultural and historical background. In other words, the SF soldiers made no judgment calls and did not insist upon substitution of their judgment for that of the Afghanis.
These SF soldiers did not know until they arrived in Afghanistan that they would be riding horses up steep, narrow and dangerous mountain trails, often only a couple of feet wide with a steep mountain wall on one side and an enormous precipice on the other. When it was obvious that this was not only expected, but necessary, they just did it. [Mind you, most of these men had never ridden a horse before.] Saddle sores were a given. Sleeping without much in the way of shelter or comfort, going days without food when the one allotted MRE per day was gone and supplies were hard to come by, these courageous Americans rode into battle and fought in the trenches along with the Afghans. Their secret weapons --GPS and laser-guided bombs ("smart bombs") - were part of what it took to conduct a very short and successful mission over a two-month period.
Stanton doesn't dwell on the fact that the amazingly quick recovery of Afghanistan from Taliban rule was not a lasting solution. He gives credit--well overdue--to the military specialists who made it possible. He also notes in the Epilogue:
"The epic success of the Horse Soldiers, as they were dubbed, was stunning, by both historical and contemporary standards. The campaign is, in fact, a template for the way the present war [the Iraqi war] - and future ones - should be fought. Instead of large-scale occupations, we should rely on small units of Special Forces who have proved it's infinitely more effective to work with a country's soldiers and citizens at eye level."
Stanton notes that "it took fewer than fifty U.S. military personal like Nelson and Dean [SF soldiers] on the ground. They accomplished in two months what Pentagon planners had said would take two years."
The concept used by the horse soldiers is simple. As Stanton explains:
"By entering Afghanistan with a small force, and by aligning themselves with groups that had once been battling each other and pointing them in one direction at the Taliban, U.S. forces found robust support among Afghans. They proved the usefulness of understanding and heeding, the `wants and needs' of an enemy, and the local population that may support it. Awareness is the soldier's number one too in his kit, besides his M-4 rifle. To win wars against enemies like the Taliban, which are often stateless in their affiliation, you adapt.
"You eat what they eat, sleep where they sleep, and think like they think. The information and insight gained from this was the essence of the Special Forces soldier's training and experience."
As Stanton relates in his Epilogue, he received a phone call in May 2003 after Ambassador Paul Bremer, the director of reconstruction and humanitarian assistance in Iraq, "fired" the Iraq National Army, disbanded it and sent those 500,000 people home with their weapons: "We just lost Iraq," said his caller.
Stanton's caller told him that by telling 500,000 Iraqis to "go home and let us do it" and by letting them take their weapons with them, America made the Iraqis feel as though the Americans were imperialists. Stanton says (and of course the subsequent course of events in Iraq) this decision has proven to be a costly and serious mistake.
Could America learn from this? One can only hope.
One last comment in this very long comment: What possessed me--a woman opposed to war--to read this book, almost non-stop, was this: Doug Stanton really makes you care about the people he is writing about - real people. People in peril. And I think I finally understand how he did that. In the last paragraphs of the Acknowledgments, Stanton writes about how he was finally able to convince one of the SF soldiers to talk to him. It was because he conveyed to this man that he (Stanton) understood the essentially human elements of what SF and the SF approach to situations like this Afghanistan insertion. Stanton went looking for a particular soldier. A suspicious man walked up to him and asked him what he wanted. When told that Stanton was writing a book, the man was unresponsive.
Stanton then writes:
"Then I threw a Hail Mary. I told him that I wanted to know what it was like to wake in the predawn hours on a tree-lined street in the middle of American and leave for war . . . Children's toys fill the cracked driveways of the neighbors' houses up and down the street . . .
"A man steps outside, walks to his car, and turns for a last look. He may not see this place again.
"This was the face I wanted to see, [he] said to the soldier--the face of that man in those private hours."
And that, Stanton said, led to this stranger opening his heart and his life to Stanton to talk about his experiences with the SF soldiers dropped by Nighthawks into Afghanistan. It was this essential putting of a human face upon the persons who took part in this amazing expedition that made this a book I could not put down.
Now a resident of Traverse City where he grew up, Doug is a product of the Interlochen Arts Academy and the Iowa Writer's Workshop. His first book, IN HARM'S WAY (2001), was an international bestseller. After reading HORSE SOLDIERS, I strongly suspect it will enjoy similar success.
The subtitle of Stanton's new book may be problematic for some. It reads: The Extraordinary Story of a Band of U.S. Soldiers Who Rode to Victory in Afghanistan. And, in a nutshell, it's a good description of the book's content. Because the soldiers described in these pages are indeed extraordinary people who deserve to be recognized. The problem for some more politically oriented readers, however, will be the word "victory." They will argue that the U.S. has not achieved victory in Afghanistan and probably never will.
But this is not a book about politics. This is a book about ordinary people, military men and officers, who have trained hard and dedicated their lives to safeguarding the security of our nation, both here and abroad. They are not political people. They were given a mission, and they carried it out to the best of their abilities, despite extreme hardships and unbelievably primitive conditions. They suffered hunger, thirst, cold, exhaustion, sickness and wounds incurred in battle. Against what appeared to be insurmountable odds, these Special Forces soldiers and Special Ops pilots (and a few CIA paramilitaries) persevered and were indeed successful in carrying out their mission, the taking of the town of Mazar-e-Sharif from the Taliban forces. Working in concert with the combined forces of several Afghan warlords of the Northern Alliance, the SF teams lived in caves or in the open, and ate what their Afghan allies ate - often little or nothing. They traveled on horseback, even though many of them had never been on a horse before. This initially prompted some rather comical scenes reminiscent of episodes from F Troop. But despite the too-small wooden saddles, too-short stirrups, and bleeding sores, they quickly adapted. And once mounted, these few dozen courageous soldiers became the first Americans of the twenty-first century to participate in a cavalry charge, racing up and down ridges against vastly superior Taliban forces as they marched steadily north to their objective of Mazar-e-Sharif. In a strange combination of spaghetti western and Star Wars, the Americans, packing radios, GPS devices and laser sights, called in gunships and pinpointed bomb strikes to put the fear of Allah into their numerically superior black-turbaned enemies.
The story told here covers no more than a couple of months' time shortly after the 9/11 bombings of New York. But, sticking to the style that earned him such success in his first book, Stanton fleshes out the narrative with personal details on all the principals involved, having interviewed the men, their friends, families and superior officers. He was able to do this by gaining unprecedented access to the lives of soldiers who are ordinarily very silent about their activities. Stanton logged literally thousands of miles of travel in the six years he spent researching his story, not just here in the U.S., but also in Afghanistan, where he interviewed some of the warlords involved in the operation, as well as various citizens and shopkeepers of Mazar-e-Sharif, the town liberated from the Taliban in November 2001. You will meet men - and their families - from Alabama, Kentucky, Minnesota, West Virginia, California, Kansas, Texas and Michigan. Any one of them could be your neighbor.
The story reaches a horrific climax in the closing chapters when several hundred Taliban prisoners being held in the ancient mud fortress of Qala-i-Janghi rise up and attack their Northern Alliance jailers, and the SF soldiers are caught in the middle of the ensuing siege and resulting bloodbath.
I am sure HORSE SOLDIERS will have its detractors, people who will argue that invading Afghanistan was not the proper response to the 9/11 attacks. And I would not completely disagree with them. And perhaps neither would Doug Stanton, judging by his epilogue critique of the war as it has been waged since 2001. Stanton's intent, however, was not to justify the war, but to honor the men who followed orders and prepared the way, at great cost to them and to their families. In this he has succeeded admirably.
Here is how Stanton explains his motives, at least in part, for writing this book about a period of just a few weeks which may one day be no more than a blip on history's radar -
"... I wanted to know what it was like to wake in the predawn hours on a tree-lined street in the middle of America and leave for war ... Children's toys fill the cracked driveways of the neighbors' houses up and down the street ... This was the face I wanted to see ... the face of that man, in those private hours."
Stanton found that man - those men - who left for war, and he is Everyman. Yet he is unique, apart. And we owe him.
- Tim Bazzett is the author of the Cold War memoir, Soldier Boy: At Play in the ASA. He lives in Reed City, MI.






