Jaeger: At War with Denmark's Elite Special Forces

293 Pages·2015·5.47 MB·English

by  Thomas Rathsack

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,