Lieutenant Commander Sarah Glenn was walking across the dusty compound of Forward Operating Base Rhino when the sun mercilessly pounded down. After three months of serving with Naval Intelligence in Afghanistan, she had become used to the weight of her sidearm and the ongoing attention to detail that was necessary, even in the relatively secure environment of the base. She kept thinking about what her father had said.
“Sarah, the easy part was space.” The true problem lies with people.
It had never been easy being the daughter of Colonel John Glenn. After graduating first in her class at MIT and shocking everyone by choosing Naval Intelligence over NASA, Sarah had lived up to the high standards expected of the first American to orbit the Earth. With a rehearsed smile, she told reporters, “One Glenn in space was enough.”
Her
She was carrying an intelligence briefing that was classified far above the clearance of the SEAL team that had arrived yesterday and the majority of the personnel on base. According to intelligence, Taliban troops were assembling in the northern mountains, presumably to guard a valuable target. Although protocol required her to brief their commander first, the SEALs would need her intelligence.
Upon
Sarah picked up a tray, picked out an apple and a bottle of water, and then located a peaceful corner table to go over her notes one last time.
“Wow, what a welcome committee, huh?” A tall, broad-shouldered lieutenant, who was obviously the last member of the SEAL team, entered the room with a booming voice. “Will any of you women reserve a seat for me?”
As he dropped his tray, which was filled with enough food for three men, his teammates chuckled and moved aside. Sarah listened to their conversation while she continued to focus on her papers. Gathering intelligence had become second nature.
In between mouthfuls, the lieutenant added, “Word is we’re heading into the mountains.” “Some spook has information about a tango gathering.”
Suppressing a smile, Sarah thought that spook would be me. To identify the location, she had spent three weeks coordinating with local resources and examining satellite imagery. She had personally overseen a nighttime operation to retrieve a compromised informant from a nearby village prior to that.
When their convoy was ambushed during that operation, she had to use her M4 carbine with deadly precision. The SEALs’ conversation shifted to complaints about working with intelligence officers who had never experienced combat. Every now and then, Sarah sensed that their gazes were drawn to her—the lone civilian woman in a corner who was obviously not from their world.
The lieutenant abruptly yelled, “Hey, Harvard.” Sarah looked up in surprise. He was speaking to her. Are you affiliated with the State Department? You appear disoriented.
Sarah calmly looked into his eyes. “Just completing a few tasks before a meeting.”
“If it’s okay with you, may I ask what rank you hold?” He was joking, obviously assuming she was at most a junior officer or civilian contractor.
Sarah gave her answer careful thought. She would be briefing their commander on an operation that would endanger everyone’s lives in a matter of minutes. The intelligence she had obtained, often at personal risk, would determine their strategy and likelihood of success. These men had to trust her judgment, as first impressions were crucial.
The lieutenant had no idea that his innocuous inquiry would soon alter the entire dynamic in the room. Unaware that her answer would send the entire cafeteria into shock, Sarah closed her folder and got ready to respond.
With a cool voice that cut through the din of the cafeteria, she answered, “Lieutenant Commander Sarah Glenn, Naval Intelligence.” She moved her credentials to the other side of the table. “I’ll be giving your team an Operation Shadowhawk briefing in 30 minutes.”
The smug grin of the lieutenant wavered. “Glenn, as in…”
Sarah confirmed, “Yes, Colonel Glenn’s daughter,” having long since come to terms with the fact that the answer would always be the first question. “But more importantly, I am the intelligence officer who has been mapping Taliban movements in the Korengal Valley for the past three months.”
Conversations had slowed in the cafeteria as staff members recognized the name. Sarah went on in a firm but level voice.
To install surveillance equipment and retrieve compromised assets, I have personally led four night operations behind enemy lines. During the most recent extraction, our team encountered an ambush five miles south of our target location.
From wrist to elbow, she had a scar that was still healing when she rolled up her sleeve. This was taken two weeks ago. The Taliban fighter who gave it to me would not harm me.
The lieutenant’s expression had changed from one of laughter to one of embarrassment mixed with respect. Before he could answer, Commander Jackson, the SEAL team leader, came in through the cafeteria doors. His gaze instantly fell on Sarah.
“Lieutenant Commander Glenn,” he nodded in acknowledgment. “You’ve met my team, I see.”
As she gathered her supplies, Sarah answered, “Just getting acquainted, Commander.”
“All right. Because you’ll be going into the valley with us in twelve hours.
There was a whisper among the SEALs. Usually, intelligence officers remained behind and coordinated from the base.
“Sir?” “What?” asked the lieutenant.
Commander Jackson clarified, “Lieutenant Commander Glenn speaks Pashto and Dari fluently.” Additionally, she is the only person who has spoken with our informant directly. The parameters of the mission have been modified.
Sarah’s heartbeat accelerated. The plan did not include this. “May I have a private conversation with you, Commander?”
Satellite imagery in the command center confirmed Sarah’s fears. The main path of extraction was now under threat. At least thirty Taliban fighters were seen establishing their positions along the southern ridge of the valley, according to thermal imaging.
Sarah pointed to the screen and remarked, “They knew we were coming.” Someone leaked information.
Commander Jackson’s expression grew stern. The mission remains intact. That compound contains information about three planned attacks on American territory. We require it.
“With all due respect, sir, we require a fresh strategy. Suicide is the original plan.
“Lord Commander, what do you recommend?”
Sarah surveyed the landscape. “At night, we insert here.” On the northern side, she indicated a rock face that was almost vertical. “They don’t watch it because they believe it’s unwatchable.”
“It is insurmountable,” Jackson contended.
Sarah retorted, “Not if you’ve climbed El Capitan.” “I have.” Twice.
The commander examined her face for signs of uncertainty or weakness. He couldn’t find any.
“And once we have the information?”
Sarah followed a path through a small gulf. We go out via Shepherd’s Pass. It leads to this plateau where extraction is feasible, but it is hardly wide enough for one person.
“Glenn, that’s a giant risk.”
“Sir, it’s less dangerous than going into an ambush.”
Sarah found herself climbing the sheer rock face with six SEALs, including the lieutenant who had questioned her in the cafeteria, under cover of darkness a few hours later. Each handhold was a test of will and strength due to the weight of her weapon and equipment.
As they stopped on a narrow ledge, the lieutenant muttered, “Not bad for an intelligence officer.”
As she checked her night vision goggles, Sarah answered, “I’m full of surprises.”
Below them, a sudden clatter of gunfire broke out. Shouts in Pashto reverberated through the valley as searchlights swept the mountainside.
“We’ve been spotted,” Commander Jackson growled.
“No,” Sarah shot back, looking down at the chaos through her scope. “They’re aiming at another team, something else.”
A special forces unit was pinned down half a mile away, and she was able to pick up snippets of American voices as she adjusted her radio frequency.
“Unrelated operation,” said Jackson. “Not our issue.”
In the shadows, Sarah looked him in the eyes. “Those people down there are ours.”
Time is of the essence for our mission. If we change our course…
Sarah interrupted, saying, “Commander, I know where the intelligence is kept.” While your team provides support to those soldiers, I can retrieve the intelligence.
As Jackson considered the unavoidable decision between mission goals and abandoning fellow Americans to perish, the tension in the air was evident.
Commander Jackson made his choice quickly. Divide the group. Take Cooper and Martinez to assist the special forces unit, Lieutenant Reeves. Wilson and Ortiz will accompany Glenn and me to the compound.
His gaze and Sarah’s met. Regarding that intelligence location, you had better be correct.
“I am,” she said, looking at her weapon.
Moving in practiced silence, the team split up at the ridge. Slowly but steadily, Sarah guided her smaller group along a narrow goat path. Sarah resisted the impulse to turn around as the far-off gunfire grew more intense because she knew she had to keep her eyes forward.
When they arrived at the compound, it looked abandoned, a strategic ploy she had expected.
She pointed to heat signatures on her specialized equipment and whispered, “Two guards inside.” “A secret room under the eastern building houses the intelligence.”
Commander Jackson gave a nod. “Wilson, make sure we get out.” I’m on the guards, Ortiz. Glenn, you discover that intelligence after we clear.
The process proceeded with accuracy until they arrived at the secret chamber. As Jackson and Ortiz stood watch, Sarah worked rapidly, taking pictures of documents and downloading files. Her source had pointed to the precise location of the information.
Plans for attacks on US embassies, including names and dates After obtaining the last flash drive, Sarah declared, “We have what we need.”
The compound was rocked by a sudden explosion. The strained voice of Lieutenant Reeves came through her earpiece. “Commander, we’re under a lot of fire, but the special forces extraction was successful.” Martinez has been struck.
“Status?” Jackson made a demand.
“Unfortunately. We must be extracted right away, but our path is blocked.
Sarah’s tablet displayed the satellite imagery. She traced a path with her finger and said, “There’s another way.” However, it’s through the compound, where we are. They must come see us.
It was Jackson who called. Please return to our position, Reeves. We’ll make a distraction.
The events that unfolded tested all of Sarah’s professional skills. She coordinated their defense as Taliban fighters gathered on their position. Her M4 carbine had become essential, not merely a safety measure.
Sarah was the first to react when a grenade landed close to their position, kicking it into a ravine just before it detonated. The injured Martinez was pulled between Lieutenant Reeves and his team as they arrived. The young SEAL had a pale face with blood seeping through a homemade bandage.
“The extraction point has been compromised,” said Jackson somberly. “We require alternatives.”
Sarah’s thoughts were racing as she studied her tablet. A village is located two miles to the north. There, I have contacts who have previously assisted me. They have the capacity to offer us sanctuary until our extraction.
“You entrust American lives to these individuals?” Jackson asked.
“I trust them with mine,” was Sarah’s straightforward response.
They were all pushed to their limits on the way to the village. They had to engage in combat on two occasions after encountering enemy patrols. Sarah’s actions spoke louder than her credentials, as she moved with the assurance of someone who had done this before.
By the time they arrived at the village, dawn was breaking. They were met on the outskirts by an old man who spoke to Sarah in quick Pashto before guiding them into a secret cellar under his house.
The village doctor attended to Martinez’s medical needs while Sarah connected with base. “Extraction within six hours,” she finally declared. “At dusk, the helicopter will arrive.”
She was keeping an eye on communications when Lieutenant Reeves came up to her. His face had lost its arrogance and taken on a more admirable quality: respect.
“You know,” he said softly, “I thought you were just another desk officer playing at war when I saw you in that cafeteria.”
Sarah didn’t look up and carried on with her work.
He paused before saying, “And now… presently I know better.” “Your dad would be pleased.”
At last, Sarah looked up into his eyes. I learned from my father that being brave isn’t about being fearless. It’s about doing what needs to be done in spite of it.
Dusk was coming, and they were getting ready to move. Back at base, the intelligence that Sarah had gathered was already being examined. They had stopped three terrorist attacks before they started. Martinez’s condition had stabilized and was no longer life-threatening.
Before departing the village, Commander Jackson assembled the team. “The official report doesn’t include what happened here,” he said. The calls Lieutenant Commander Glenn made and the risks she took were outside the scope of her assignment. She ought to be chastised by the book.
The group waited in silence.
“Instead,” Jackson went on, “I’m suggesting that she be awarded the Silver Star. The whole story will never be revealed to anyone outside of this room.
Sarah reflected on the cafeteria scene that seemed like a lifetime ago as the distant sound of helicopter rotors increased in volume. Having asked her rank in jest, the young lieutenant had no idea what the question would lead to. It was more than just a mission; it was a shift in the way these men of distinction perceived intelligence officers and, perhaps more significantly, women in combat.
Sarah took a final glance at the mountains that had almost killed them as they finally got into the helicopter. Her father had viewed Earth from space, observing its fragility and beauty. She had witnessed its harsh realities firsthand: the bravery, brutality, and kindness that characterized humanity at its most desperate.
She understood that both viewpoints were essential to comprehending the world they were defending.
