"I wrote a check with my life, a blank check"
A "Ground Pounder" on Afghanistan and Forever Wars
Dan Piotrowski gave 10 years to the Forever Wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. As a common soldier, he shouldered America’s attempts to subdue terrorists and build nations, doing the dirty work for politicians who learned again this week that ending a war is tougher than starting one. Over the past 10 days, as this nation endured the ugliness in Kabul, he watched from his Mesa home and wondered if it was at all worth it. Was it worth the loss of life he witnessed firsthand, worth sacrificing Dad time with his young daughter, worth losing a firefighting career, worth his daily battles to recover from two bomb blasts that still rock his brain?
Before he became Sgt. Daniel Piotrowski, Dan grew up across the street from me, the adopted son of two amazing parents who taught him to love America so much that he literally gave away a normal life in its service. Throughout the 2000’s, with Dan away in the danger zones, his Mom and Dad, proudly told us of his exploits. Whenever he was home on furlough, Dan and I shared a beer, and my daughters listened to his stories of life on the front lines. He lived what we read about, saw on television, heard on the radio, argued about with colleagues and relatives. My kids were off to college while he went off to war.
“We put a lot of blood and sweat and determination to build that country up. Now, all that has been stripped away again.”
Now, with the last military transport out, the last diplomats gone, and a decades-long war over, I called him to get his unfiltered take, a perspective away from the Washington experts who’ve opined nonstop on the all-news networks. We spoke for two hours and I heard a combat veteran who is conflicted at best, furious at worst.
“Unfortunately, people are going to die because of our hasty withdrawal. And Taliban will make young girls marry Taliban fighters. And they’re going to go door-to-door and seek out everyone who helped the U.S. And they’re going to murder them and probably make them a public spectacle while doing it. All of us are scratching our heads and you know, was any of this worth it? All the life that we’ve lost, trying to gain a little bit better lives for these people. It just breaks my heart.”
Dan’s words reflect anger, disgust, resignation, and hurt. He calls himself a “ground pounder,” who served both as an Army infantryman and in support of Special Forces. When he sets aside his opinion of the Oval Office and Pentagon, he remembers the core of his many missions and oath to serve, no matter the outcome.
“As a soldier, we get our orders, we go, and we do. Our job is not to be like, ‘Yeah, we shouldn’t be there.’ We go where they tell us to go and we do it. We cover our brothers’ backs and that’s as clear and cut as the job is.”
An Eager Soldier
Daniel Piotrowski covered plenty of “brothers’ backs” from 1992 to 2012, first as an 82nd Airborne paratrooper, then after 9/11, as a National Guard mechanic attached to Special Forces in Afghanistan. Eventually, he transitioned to infantry duty as an Army regular patrolling in a Bradley Fighting Vehicle. Over two tours in Afghanistan, he trained their army, earning an audience with then Afghan President Hamid Karzai, who expressed his gratitude. Then, over the past two weeks, Dan watched as the Afghan military collapsed in the face of a Taliban offensive and an American force that simply had no fight left.
From 2001 to 2012 his service in Afghanistan and Iraq was nearly continuous, the consequence both of a volunteer army and his love of the work, work that twice nearly killed him. The repeated calls to war stressed family life to the breaking point and dissolved his plan to trade desert camo for firefighter gear. Instead of answering fire calls, and watching his daughter grow up, Dan walked the streets of Baghdad and Kabul in and out of full body armor, experiencing the people and the culture. Both continue to amaze him. Even as America in Afghanistan dissolves, Dan finds pride in his mission and the changes his presence fostered. Despite traumatic brain injuries from explosions that earned him two Purple Hearts, his memories are crisp.
“We put a lot of blood and sweat and determination to build that country up. It wasn’t just to build the military so that they could protect themselves. It was allowing girls to go to school for the first time. Women to have some freedom from the Taliban. That actually happened. Girls went to school. Life was a lot better for them. Now, all that has been stripped away again.”
Dan went willingly to the Army. He’d dreamed from an early age of becoming a paratrooper, fueled by the books on World War II his father read and talked about. He would learn that his war was far from the conflicts of the mid 20th century. The Afghanistan Dan entered early in 2002 sheltered a new breed of enemy: Osama bin Laden and Al Qaeda, the Saudi terrorists responsible for the 9/11 carnage. His first deployment was beyond dangerous. He was aboard a C-17 transport landing at Kabul International, dodging surface to air rockets as it descended into extreme darkness.
“They’ve got these cities but they don’t have a power grid that we have here. Everything was on a portable generator,” Dan recalls his 3AM arrival from Germany with a laugh. “Darkest country I’ve ever been to in my life. When they closed up shop, there was no light as far as you could see. It was crazy.”
Life was intense. His unit, the 19th Special Forces Group, was locked down at a former Russian tank facility turned Afghani college that had been bombed by the U.S. days before they arrived. Known in his units as “a good guy,” Dan engaged with the locals. They’d seen foreign armies come and go, survived, and saw opportunity in the jobs that these newest invaders would provide. As American dollars began to flow, interactions with the natives relaxed both on base and in the capitol.
“They started to bring bazaars every Friday. Wanted to sell their stuff. Downtown Kabul is very cool. They had a street for everything you wanted. If you wanted a car, you just went down to car street and they just had all these cars. It was really cool.”
Making A Difference
“Cool” also was the freedom for Afghanis brought by the Americans.
“Seeing schools being built, seeing girls and women’s lives change for the better. Under Taliban rule, kids couldn’t be kids. They couldn’t even fly a kite. Just to see life kind of return to a better life, I guess. That was really nice to see.”
Over time, burkas were replaced with hijabs and eventually Dan and his team saw young girls going to school in the most American of uniforms, blue jeans.
“We turned down one street and saw a whole group of schoolgirls walking, all in jeans. We were like Holy Shmuley! That had to be amazing to them. It just had to have been a monumental feeling for them to walk outside in a pair of jeans and not have retribution. That’s where my heart breaks the most, that freedom being stripped away again.”
Freedom is now stripped away. The final flights carrying American military personnel have left Kabul days after an ISIS-K suicide attack killed 13 members of U.S. Armed Forces and dozens of Afghanis trying to escape the Taliban. Dan mourns the losses and worries about the interpreters left behind.
“These interpreters put their whole entire lives in jeopardy, and not just them, their whole entire family and relatives and everyone they knew to help us. For our government to just walk away from them. I can’t even count on two people’s hands, how many interpreters I knew who lost mothers, fathers because of the Taliban or Al Qaeda in Iraq or from Saddam. Like massive loss of life, because these guys said we’re going to help the United States.
“I knew it, I lived it, and I’m proud of every accomplishment I received in it.”
We’re nearing the end of a two-hour conversation. Dan had opened his heart and bared his soul to speak transparently about this war, what he gave to it, and what it took from him. Dan is thoughtful and serious, among the best this country can offer. It is humbling to speak with him. I wondered how to express my gratitude for his time and for reliving some rough moments. Was it appropriate to say, “thank you for your service?” The phrase is so overused that it can feel as empty as the “thoughts and prayers” comments that flow after every national catastrophe. I asked if it meant anything to him.
“Um, for me,” Dan paused for a long time. “Personally it feels good. I wish our Vietnam veterans felt that coming home. I know that I chose to do this line of work. I wrote a check with my life, a blank check. I knew that my job could eventually kill me. I knew it, I lived it, and I’m proud of every accomplishment I received in it.”
Dan had just turned 19 when he graduated Airborne School and earned his jump wings. He’s 50 now. Thank you for your service SGT Daniel Piotrowski, U.S. Army Veteran. We are fortunate that you selflessly gave your service to us.
Note - This is the first of a two-part report on Dan’s experience and his road to recovery from his wounds. Next time, the war may be over, but for thousands of wounded veterans, like Dan there’s a daily reminder of what they gave in the defense of freedom.