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  “I said if I was able to select, hire, and fire, I would take the job. I made a list of how many weapons we needed, what kind, and we had to coordinate that with State. It had to be sanctioned by the DoS, and they were in way over their head.” So the State Department supported Craige’s idea and added the plan to an existing DynCorp contract, making Maxim and his men subcontractors to DynCorp. “DynCorp already was doing State Department security contracts in Jerusalem and Bosnia, and they had $50 million left over on their contract, so they just shoehorned the Karzai job on their contract.” Although some Afghans would be integrated into the Karzai Protection Detail, or “KPD” as it was called, it would remain a foreign-manned and funded detail paid out as a private contract to DynCorp.

  Using private contractors could contribute to a slightly more positive public perception than having Karzai constantly accompanied by members of the U.S. military, which only added to the impression that he was an American puppet. Also, if any unfortunate incident occurred, the blame could be shifted away from the American government and military to the provider of services. Further, the contractors’ training could be tailored for the special situation in which they would be expected to work, something that Maxim believed could prevent a controversial tragedy such as what occurred in the Kandahar incident. “I have a love-hate relationship with the SEALs. They do things differently. For example, the AIC’s [agent in charge] job is to cover and evacuate. You can’t do that if you are carrying a long gun. I will just say that the events that transpired were directly related to the SEAL mind-set.”

  Craige and his advance team spent time in Kabul in July of 2002 doing the initial vulnerability assessment. Craige then spent July and August recruiting. By September 8, he had thirty-nine contractors lined up for the Karzai protection detail, and he continued adding to that as he could. “What we did was spend a lot of money to hire the right people. We hired the kind of people whose safety is between the trigger finger and the brain. People who can read the situation—color, contrast, movement, stuff you either understand or you don’t. A good seventy percent of my team were ‘white side’ SEALs. Forty-six was the total number we ended up with. When I hire a team, it’s all about attitude and tactical sensing. That’s something you get with experience. Combat veterans have it, but so do cops.” State initially requested that all security details be made up of former SF, but Maxim insisted that former police officers would also have the skills necessary for the job. Given the limited recruiting pool of former SF and the ballooning demand for such security details, the concession was an important one.

  Craige recruited his Karzai team before the Iraq war, and thus prior to the massive explosion in demand for private security services, so he envisions a day when it won’t be so simple to assemble a team of experienced professionals for such an important assignment. “At some point, we are going to have to train people from scratch…. We know that the tier-one people are going to be tapped out. It takes ten years to become a professional, ten minutes to dress like one, and ten seconds to talk like one.”

  A high-risk personal security detail goes to a much greater measure of protection than the standard variety, and operators must be highly trained to anticipate and respond to a virtually unlimited variety of attacks. Craige points out, “There is a big difference between high-risk protection and the kind of protection that the Secret Service provides. The Secret Service and State Department provide executive protection typically in a nonhostile environment. We add to that because of the threats where we work. They provide a two-car motorcade. If it’s a high threat, we roll a lot harder. We make sure we have enough spank to get the job done.”

  When on duty guarding the “principal,” or protected individual, an operator must be completely attuned to the possibility of danger behind every car or around every corner, without allowing paranoia to spark overreaction to nonthreats. It’s difficult to estimate how many individuals actively seek the assassination of Karzai, but since one lucky bullet could end America’s plan for Afghanistan, the State Department was taking no chances. Snipers, sniffing dogs, fortified checkpoints, and many other military elements were combined to create a small armed force similar to the Swiss Guard that protects the Pope.

  Craige views the business of PSDs as a cat-and-mouse game—a game he has yet to lose. He also knows that as the protection around the principal increases, so does the level of threat. “When we first arrived, the Taliban were doing ‘dog’ hits… putting out objects with explosive residue on them to see if we would stop. They used a double-layer toolbox once and had a surgical glove with explosives residue just to see if we would find it. The enemy learns and adapts.” Not long after the new DynCorp security detail arrived, massive bomb blasts and even surface-to-air missiles would be targeted at Karzai.

  Conditions were not ideal. Maxim refused to let his people use the building set aside for their housing because of security issues. The assigned house was abandoned in favor of a hastily constructed “Camp Aegis,” a cluster of tents erected a hundred yards away from where Karzai slept. Maxim’s team moved into Camp Aegis on December 15, 2002.

  Craige delivered his team on schedule, and Karzai stayed alive during his time on watch, but the deal would come crashing down when DynCorp’s management style clashed with Maxim’s understanding of their business arrangements. Craige is blunt about what happened: “DynCorp fucked with us on our benefits, mostly holiday pay, so we walked as a group when our ninety days was up.” The experience left a bitter taste in Mad Max’s mouth. Faced with the mutiny of Karzai’s entire PSD deciding not to renew their contracts, DynCorp had to scramble to replace the entire team, or risk leaving an important client completely exposed.

  When Craige Maxim and his team walked on DynCorp, it was not reported or known to the outside world that Karzai’s life could be dependent, not on national security or patriotic loyalty, but on a dispute over holiday pay. For DynCorp, losing a few million dollars on a contract that does not affect the core business does not have much effect, though not being able to deliver on the Karzai detail could risk endangering other government contracts. At the time of the Karzai contract, 95 percent of DynCorp’s $2-billion company and 23,000 employees worked on U.S. government business. Much of the personal security work that DynCorp won before September 11 has been subcontracted to aggressive new companies like Blackwater and Triple Canopy.

  In DynCorp’s scramble to replace Karzai’s security detail, Pete Walther, an ex–Special Forces weapons sergeant from South Dakota, signed on with four dozen other ex-police and -military for two back-to-back six-month contracts.

  Square-jawed and built low, Pete resembles a real-life white-skinned version of the Incredible Hulk. In his early thirties, he originally hails from the Midwest and spent over a decade in the Special Forces as weapons specialist. He had been in ODA 595, the Special Forces A-team that teamed up with General Dostum in the Dari Suf Valley at the beginning of the U.S. offensive in Afghanistan. He followed Afghanistan with a tour in Iraq, and then returned to his home base at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. He admits that Afghanistan was the World Series for the Green Berets. His time in Iraq taught him that “Big Army” controlled that war and that Special Forces took a backseat to the traditional military. The “Stop Loss” had been lifted on his team, giving him the freedom to make a decision—stay in the Special Forces until retirement, or get out to work as a contractor making three times his normal salary. DynCorp typically paid State Department rates—$450 to $550 a day—but the Karzai contract paid $600 a day and a guaranteed year-long assignment with two six-month contracts. Over $200,000 sounded enticing to a soldier who would typically make less than $50,000 a year in the U.S. military. Pete represents just one of thousands of operators who have decided to leave the military and transfer millions of dollars’ worth of training and institutional knowledge to the private sector, where it is repackaged and sold back to the government at a premium. Shortly after his retirement, Pete boarded a plane and headed to Kab
ul to risk his life in the protection of a foreign leader.

  Guarding “the Old Man”

  Kabul has changed dramatically in the two years since the Taliban fell. Sandbags block easy access to the oft-shelled palace complex in Kabul. Along the busy road, shipping containers filled with dirt act as blast barriers against truck bombs. Improvised steel plates provide cover for machine-gun positions. The rooftops sprout antennas. Snipers watch through binoculars from makeshift towers. Tajik-Afghans from the ethnic group of the head of the military, General Fahim, have posts outside the perimeter, while mostly Pashtuns help guard the Pashtun president inside the gates. A simple flash of my U.S. passport allows me access to the outside gates, but the Afghans who accompany me must cajole and bullshit their way through to the inner sanctum, even though it is common for foreigners and journalists to have an interpreter and a driver in Kabul.

  The Afghan guards at the entrance to the palace appear flummoxed by my request to visit a member of Karzai’s protective detail. I had met Pete when I traveled with his Special Forces ODA during the earliest phase of the war in Afghanistan, and we had kept in touch in the two ensuing years. Pete and I had been chatting on his Afghan cell phone since I had arrived in Kabul, and he told me to just stop by the palace for a visit. Outside the small gate office, I could see a group of American contractors standing around behind their sandbags. Frustrated by the Afghans’ refusal to allow me entrance, I just politely tell them that I am going to go over to talk to the Americans and that if I am an imposter, the Americans would shoot me before they could.

  Calling the Afghans’ bluff, I then run into a wall of bureaucracy as the Americans have to radio the command center, check my bags, search me, and figure out what to do. They finally radio to see if Pete is around. He answers back that he is working the “old man’s” PSD, “walking the diamond” while Karzai attends meetings. I am supposed to wait until he can break away.

  Since the contractors are not allowed to receive packages, I suggest that they check my camera bag and confiscate a suspicious item—a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label. A gift of liquor usually earns fast friendship with contractors working in a country that bans its sale. Nick, who is working the gate, is especially appreciative, and we hang out while he gives me a thorough briefing about his job.

  Nick, a former Marine Forward Recon from a small town in the Midwest, is at the tail end of his contract with DynCorp. He saw working the Karzai detail as a way to make money, continue his interest in the military, and be part of a unique moment in history. A young, bearded operator, Nick takes me through the mechanics of joining the Karzai detail and the specifics of what they can expect and encounter while on duty.

  “To join the detail, a résumé is sent to DynCorp, which is sent to the State Department. If the State Department then decides that the candidate qualifies, a bio is requested and more paperwork is generated. The next step is to pass a psychological test and fill out the forms to get a top-secret clearance. Then DynCorp sends the applicant a class date. The class goes through three weeks of training for close protection; driving; shooting; close-quarter battle, or CQB; hand-to-hand stuff; and other topics related to the State Department requirements for personal protection details. An average of seven applicants are dropped during the classes. Graduates are issued gear; sign a raft of paperwork, including employment contracts, insurance forms; and then are flown to Afghanistan. On arrival the scrutiny continues. When you get to the detail, the newbies are evaluated by all sections: CAT [counterassault team], snipers, PRS [primary ring security], and drivers. Then the team leaders sit down and pretty much choose who they want. If drivers got the first pick from the last class, then CAT or snipers will get the first pick from the next class. Usually the best shooters and guys go to PRS because they are the actual bodyguards.”

  These days the team consists of mainly ex–Delta Force, Marine recon, Navy SEALs, Army Rangers, Army Special Forces, and air force combat controllers. There are also two active-duty combat controllers assigned for close air support capabilities, which can include A-10s, Apache helicopter gunships, and B-52s. Regardless of any kind of supply shortage the military may suffer, the Karzai detail wants for nothing. According to Nick, “it is amazing the money they spend in this detail. State Department went out and bought all the same gear, radios, weapons, vehicles, that DEVGRU had when they ran the detail, and that is what we use. Today there is a B-1 bomber on station for a show of presence. The pilots decide to buzz the palace and the city of Kabul to remind everyone of America’s military might. The Karzai detail still has carte blanche from the Pentagon. Ammunition requests, any type of support, never gets turned down.”

  All of the autos used for the Karzai detail are fully armored, and DynCorp uses a combination of Lexus and Mercedes-brand SUVs. Contractors on the Karzai detail carry M-4s and Glock 19s and are each issued a personal Motorola radio for communication while on duty. Those operating the PRS have to wear collared shirts or a suit and tie over their body armor, since they’re likely to be in the background during media photos, but the rest can wear whatever they want. The style of the detail still echoes the look Craige Maxim created. Some dress OGA-style with distinctive safari vests and outdoor runners, while others sport a casual look that almost says fishing or weekend hunting. They have relaxed grooming standards, and members can wear beards, goatees, and long hair.

  A normal day on the detail starts the night before when Karzai returns from his day of meetings. At the front gate of his house, the Afghan chief of protocol asks Karzai when he will be coming to work the next day. That time is passed on to the shift leader of the detail. The shift leader announces the time over the radio for the leaders of the PRS, drivers, and countersniper teams. Then the team leaders from each section check in to let the shift leader know that every element of the detail knows when to be ready the next morning. Much of Karzai’s work is local, but when he goes farther afield or when important dignitaries are at the palace, a specialized counterassault team (CAT) is included in the schedule.

  Karzai’s movements are limited because he is such a high-value target. Most of his movements are inside the secured palace area. No matter where he goes, even inside the palace grounds, he has a full contingent of foreign contractors and Afghan bodyguards walking the diamond. Nick walks me through the daily routine of protecting Karzai from assassination: “In the morning, the drivers and bodyguards… get ready on the boardwalk of the camp one half hour prior to the start time. They then get into the Suburbans and drive to the Man’s house. The drivers take the vehicles to get washed, and PRS and the two State Department guys [shift leader and agent in charge—AIC] wait in front of the house. Afterwards, the drivers show up when the vehicles are done and stage also in front of the house. The Man comes out, and the personal detail or the ‘diamond’ walks Karzai to the office in the palace along with some Afghan bodyguards. The drivers follow behind the diamond with the limo and Suburban in case the Man gets ambushed on the way to the office. Snipers are covering from rooftops around the move site. Afterwards, the bodyguard stays with Karzai and rotates through positions at the office building.”

  Karzai spends most of each day in meetings, making Nick feel privileged for his special position watching the business of running Afghanistan. “I have gotten a chance to meet some very interesting people on this detail, especially working PRS. When you are at position three by the Man’s office, you hear and see a lot. I have heard Karzai talking to George Bush, Kofi Annan, CIA and MI6 officials, and many other dignitaries. I have helped protect Pervez Musharraf from Pakistan, Hillary Clinton, Senator McCain from Arizona, president of Albania, prime minister of Belgium, and Colin Powell, plus numerous generals and foreign ambassadors, and Rush Limbaugh. I have also seen BBC, CNN, and PBS do their interviews with him, and a ton of press conferences. When the three UN officials were taken hostage in Kabul, I even overheard American generals and Karzai discuss the rescue of the three hostages, which never took place because the Afg
han government negotiated with terrorists and paid the ransom. One of the hostages was the wife of the top UN official here in Afghanistan. I have also seen many jihad leaders.

  “During the afternoon, Karzai goes to the mosque to pray. The detail walks him again. Then they take him to lunch in a building where he will typically eat lunch with elders from different provinces of Afghanistan. The elders are there to bitch at him and give him gifts. Snipers work this event, just in case. This is a daily occurrence for this schedule. At times in the evening, Karzai will also go and visit the king of Afghanistan, who lives on the palace grounds. That move also requires the bodyguards, drivers, and countersnipers.

  “In the afternoon after his meetings, the bodyguards walk him back to the office with drivers following once again in the vehicles and snipers providing cover from buildings around the area. PRS then takes up their positions again around the office building and continue to work until the Man goes home. Protocol will give the State Department shift leader the time to go home, and he then announces it over the radio again. The Man then gets walked home just like when he was getting taken to the office in the morning. That’s a typical day of keeping Karzai alive.”

  Though Nick may enjoy certain aspects of his position near the circle of Afghan power, he can never forget the ever-present danger in which he operates. Karzai still has a long list of enemies, and attacks can be as random as the time when someone fired two rockets at him as he walked out of his office. The rockets went high and long, and his bodyguards managed to grab him and push him into a building. There are other attempts that Nick remembers: “There are three incidents that have occurred that stick in my mind the most. The car bombing of DynCorp was a huge bomb that killed three DynCorp employees. It rocked everything around us. At the time, Karzai was outside talking to elders from another province. He was obviously nervous, but would not go inside or stop talking, even though a car bomb just went off a few thousand meters from him.” The car bomb had targeted the antidrug trainers working for DynCorp and may have heralded the new direction of the war, not with the Taliban or al-Qaeda, but by drug interests against the U.S.-hired companies who aim to shut down Afghanistan’s most lucrative business.