Holding the Line:

Page 2 of 4

Abbey Gate

At the same time as 1/8 occupied North and East gates, 2/1 touched down in waves and moved to Abbey Gate. Unlike a typical combat deployment, the Marines arrived lacking much of the gear that normally came with them. They relied on whatever they could carry, but Marines being Marines, they quickly adapted.

“It’s like if Stephen King and Dr. Seuss got together and wrote a book, that would be all of HKIA,” recalled Gunnery Sergeant Melissa Marnell, a combat photographer attached to 2/1. “It was like the Wild West. Marines were doing anything they could to get by. I saw rifle squads traveling on bicycles, or entire sections moving on bulldozers or fire engines. I had no idea so many Marines knew how to hot-wire vehicles. If you found a vehicle and could get it started, spray paint your name on the side, and it was yours.” 

Sergeant Dalton Hannigan served as the assistant team leader for a seven-man sniper team called Reaper 2. He went to work “acquiring” assets. An Army Ranger taught Hannigan how to hot-wire a vehicle, and he picked one out of many scattered around the airport. Now with wheels, the team made their way to the terminal.

Reaper 2 received the task of providing overwatch at Abbey Gate. The team set up in a two-story guard tower presiding over the outer gate and exterior wall of the airport. The position offered a unique perspective. A road led straight out from the gate below, and a high wall rimmed with concertina wire lined one side served as the airport’s outer wall. A shallow canal lined the other side of the road, running directly below the tower and continuing beyond the gate in the opposite direction. A pedestrian walkway ran along the opposite side of the canal with another tall, chain link fence separating the walkway from the rest of the city beyond. In total, less than 50 feet stood between the tower and the fence beyond the canal.

Turmoil enveloped the world within the snipers’ view. A sea of people pressed toward Abbey Gate from up and down the canal. Other Marines from 2/1 held the ground outside, struggling to keep the peace. The canal proved to be an open sewer, and the Marines nicknamed it “shit creek.” The smells of feces, urine, blood and decaying bodies rose into the tower, creating a toxic and intolerable environment around the gate, but the filth and stench failed to dissuade civilians. They waded through the knee-high water up to the side nearest the gate. Marines stood on the wall preventing some from climbing out and helping up others who showed appropriate documents. 

Less than 200 yards down the road, a bridge spanned the canal, leading out of the airport toward the Baron Hotel. The British set up their base of operations there, processing people for evacuation. Maintaining the path of entry and exit for the Brits was critical.

Marines worked for hours clearing the road in front of Abbey Gate. The sheer weight of the desperate crowd seemed impossible to push back. After nearly 24 hours, 2/1 finally cleared the road out to the bridge over the canal. Engineers hauled in large shipping containers and placed them in a chevron-shape at the bridge, blocking vehicle entry to the gate.

The chevron morphed into one of the great incongruities representing those ending days of the war in Afghanistan. Taliban soldiers, operating in partnership with U.S. forces, occupied the chevron as an outer checkpoint. Their armed presence at this blocking position prevented the possibility of vehicle-borne improvised explosive devices (VBIED) from reaching Abbey Gate. In theory, the Taliban also provided an initial screening of civilians for evacuation. To the Marines of Reaper 2 observing the Taliban from their sniper tower, reality appeared quite different. 

“We saw people getting beaten and executed, but there was nothing we could do,” remembered Sgt Hannigan. “At different points, we’d see the Taliban sit down on the shipping containers and grab a couple kids and the kids would just sit up there with them. What the Taliban were doing with their families I don’t know. But it was just weird seeing a toddler holding their baby brother or sister, sitting up there in the heat alone with the Taliban.”

Random shootings at the chevron drove civilians into the canal, where they bypassed the Taliban checkpoint. The Taliban presence left everyone on edge although the crowd remained mostly peaceful.

Marines arriving at Abbey Gate found themselves in a position no training could prepare them for. DOS officials appeared sporadically and in short intervals over the first several days. They alone made the determination on “acceptable” documentation for evacuation. They operated inside the gate, however, and Marines outside acted independently to determine who should be let in. Every Marine recognized an American passport or green card and identified those rare individuals to be let in but what does a German work visa look like? Or an Australian visa? What if a civilian handed you a cellphone and an English-speaking voice on the other end claimed to be a congressman or a colonel or someone else “important” enough to vouch for the person who handed you the phone? 

Complicating matters, guidance on acceptable documentation shifted constantly. Just like 1/8 experienced at North Gate, 2/1 Marines grew frustrated and exhausted as they processed civilians through to safety, only then to discover the papers they possessed were unacceptable. Hundreds of civilians fit inside the inner holding area at Abbey Gate awaiting DOS approval. Sometimes, more than 2/3 of these groups were forced back out.

Desperation grew as time passed. Families stood on the road or in the canal for days. Many succumbed to thirst and heat exhaustion. Whenever DOS personnel left or the airfield shut down flight operations, processing halted. The crowd grew agitated and teetered on the brink of rioting. Marines witnessed unimaginable scenes as men, women, and children trampled each other to death, were crushed against concrete barriers, or were left for dead in the canal. 

No Decision is the Worst Decision

Marines clung to a sense of decency. They wanted to help but felt incapable in the wake of so much terror and tragedy. Even so, opportunities arose. Without clear guidance, young Marines acted independently, making decisions that meant life or death for people outside the gate. 

“The first couple days I was looking around to see everybody else’s reaction, or to see how they handled things, but eventually I realized it doesn’t come down to me asking somebody if I can do something if it’s going to help,” said Cpl Markland. “It came down to understanding that right now, no decision is the worst decision for these people.”

Markland found a distraught family at North Gate one day, just after they made it through the initial screening. The family of five entered HKIA, prepared to leave their entire lives behind with a single blue backpack. It contained all their money, documents, and whatever other possessions they could fit inside. Somehow, the backpack disappeared. The frantic mother approached Markland with broken English, explaining their bag went missing during the initial search. As Marines held the family off to the side, Markland backtracked into the holding area looking for the bag. He spotted a blue bag in the crowd, but another civilian claimed it. Markland finally gave up and returned. The mother begged Markland to take her with him to search a second time.

 He knew the uncleared civilians presented a security risk and taking her back through the entrance created a problem for everyone else trying to get in. He also understood that without the backpack, the family would not have the required documents and would be kicked out. He took the risk. They walked 100 yards back towards the gate. The woman immediately identified her bag as the one Markland had noticed before and retrieved it from the other civilian, who offered no resistance. They returned to the rest of the family, who wept with joy and thanked Markland for his help.

At another point near North Gate, Cpl Straight received the task of guarding an Afghan interpreter named Reggie. Reggie served with U.S. forces as an interpreter in 2012, then immigrated to the U.S. and enlisted in the Marines. After serving his time on active duty, he returned to Afghanistan as an interpreter once more. Now, Reggie sought evacuation to the U.S., and Straight helped him search the crowds for his wife and children. Miraculously, they found Reggie’s family and got them on a plane.

In the personnel terminal, GySgt Marnell learned firsthand how the smallest of gestures meant the world to the civilians. She found a refrigerator full of water bottles and took several out to a crowd waiting to board their plane. After enduring the heat with no food or water for days, the people beamed with gratitude. Marnell and one of her Marines made trip after trip, emptying the fridge for the people outside.

“I’ve never seen someone so thankful for something so minor in my life,” she remembered. “That was the one time I was happy over there, doing something so small for those people.”

The FETs

Of all the Marines immersed in the good and the bad playing out at HKIA, the Female Engagement Teams (FETs) held a unique role. Afghan culture dictated women and children could only be handled by females. Female Marines across the commands on deck formed together to support processing operations. The significant number of women and children present and the limited number of female Marines available requited the FETs to work non-stop.

“They were being worked to a degree where they didn’t have any down time,” said Markland. “We at least changed between the gate, the airfield perimeter, and rest. They didn’t have that as much it was just gate to gate to gate. And the things they were being used for, with the women and kids, was very emotionally draining.”

Some of the most widely publicized photos to come out of HKIA featured FET members caring for babies. Many desperate families handed their babies to Marines over the gates or left them lying outside where they knew Marines would rescue them, just to give the kids a chance at life. An orphanage was formed on the airfield to care for and protect all the children separated from their parents. Marines cherished the moments playing with all the kids, while wrestling inside with the terrifying reality surrounding them.

The Children of HKIA

GySgt Marnell waited with three young girls for their flight out of HKIA. The girls and their parents were cleared and approved for evacuation, but the youngest of them was still unaware of their circumstances. The girl, only 4 or 5 years old, pulled off her bracelets and handed them to Marnell.

“You can have these,” the girl said. “I won’t need them when the Taliban kill me.”

Marnell stared, taken off guard. How could this be the thought of a 5-year-old? She noticed the girls all wore a cross on a necklace. She learned the girls’ parents were English teachers at a school. Marnell reassured the girls they were safe now, held them, and stayed with them until they boarded their flight.

As days passed, units at the gates adopted rest plans to finally relive those who had been on guard for days. Many Marines endured 72 hours or more without sleep. They cycled back for rest and witnessed some results of their work; C-17s loaded with civilians taking off.