My name is Travis Ervin. I am a former United States Marine Corps Infantryman with several deployments to the Middle East.

I would like to take this time to speak on behalf of one of those deployments specifically. 

In 2010, my unit (2nd Battalion 9th Marines Echo Company) was tasked with clearing the cities of Marjah and Sangin, Afghanistan. This was a heavily fortified Taliban stronghold in the notorious Helmand Province.

My platoon was assigned 3 Afghan interpreters, 2 of which are missing and presumed dead. I do not write to you today to speak about the interpreters who have already been killed for assisting The United States Military. Today, I write to you to speak about the 1 interpreter who is still alive. His name and picture are currently being withheld for security purposes due to the current state of Afghanistan. 

During our time spent in Marjah and Sangin, Afghanistan, Echo Company was tasked between 2 Battalions (2/9 and 3/5). In total, these units lost over 40 Marines. Hundreds came back wounded. These scenes were horrific. These young Marines and Afghan Interpreters truly gave everything they had to provide a better life for the Afghan children and the overall future of Afghanistan. My interpreter stood toe-to-toe with the Taliban alongside us. Always volunteering to participate in highly kinetic foot patrols around the area of operation. 

We were in heavy combat for the duration of our entire deployment. The gunfights and IEDs never stopped. We were constantly taking casualties. I have personally seen the Interpreter that I am speaking about, carry my dead and wounded Marines through open fields of gunfire. As an interpreter and non-combatant, my Interpreter was not allowed to carry a weapon. During these times of heavy gun fighting and IED strikes, my Interpreter would volunteer to help run our casualties to medevac helicopters with complete and in total disregard for his own life. These medevac helicopters would have no choice but to land in the middle of wet cotton and poppy fields. While the rest of us on the ground would lay down cover fire, this Interpreter and our Marines would grab our wounded brothers riddled with gunshot wounds and missing limbs. They would then make a run for the medevac helicopters. “I will be useful to my Marines” he would say to us. He felt bad that he was not allowed to carry a weapon and assist us in the gunfights. 

This Interpreter is a man of honor and respect. He is a gentleman with a thirst for knowledge of the American way. He is our ONLY interpreter who we know is still alive. After several years of fighting alongside U.S Troops and patiently waiting for a Special Immigrant Visa from the United States government, he had no choice but to leave his family in Kabul, Afghanistan in an attempt to gain citizenship in Turkey. This was a frantic effort to find a better life for his family.  

Over the past month, Afghanistan as a whole has officially collapsed. The Taliban’s swift take over of the capital in Kabul has solidified a Taliban victory, ensuring certain death to any individual and their families who assisted The United States of America over the past 20 years. 

The paperwork process designed to grant Special Immigrant Visas to interpreters has failed these incredible people who stood alongside The United States Military. Thousands have been left stranded without paperwork from The United States government. After promising these interpreters and their families asylum for their efforts, they and their families are now being left to die at the hands of the Taliban. 

Two weeks ago, my Interpreter reached out to me in a last-ditch effort to save his family from certain death from the Taliban. I was willing to assist in any way possible. 

Over the past 14 years, I have been heavily involved in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. After being honorably discharged from The United States Marine Corps, I took a job with The National Geographic Channel to help raise awareness for this seemingly forgotten war. After the completion of this documentary, I continued to stay involved. I would later go on to take a job providing security for U.S Diplomats in the region. 

When my Interpreter reached out to me to save his family, I dropped everything I was doing. I pulled together every resource and tapped every network that I had created over the past 14 years, for a final attempt to save this incredible family. Through my past experiences and overall knowledge of Kabul, Afghanistan, I knew I was capable of assembling the right group of people to help give this family a second chance at life.

I reached out to my former squad leader Jeff for assistance. Jeff was able to get in touch with a former supervisor of this interpreter, a former Army Captain, and West Point Graduate named Christine. These two incredible people were irreplaceable in this effort to save the family. 

Duties and responsibilities were immediately decided. Jeff would lead the charge in writing to numerous Congressmen and Senators while providing me with any real-time intelligence he had come across. Christine kept the ship afloat by ensuring the administrative side of the Interpreters case was organized and also tracked down any leads she had discovered to get the family the correct Special Immigrant Visas they so desperately needed.

Based on my experience in the area, and current contacts on the ground, I would lead all ground movements for the family. I would tell the family when to move and when to remain sheltered in their home.

I reached out to my network of individuals that I had met during my time spent in various combat zones. I began making a list of individuals who could directly help my situation. The list was small. I needed someone who had real-time contact on the ground at the Hamid Karzai International Airport. This is where the evacuation efforts were taking place. Afghan citizens with the correct paperwork were allowed to board the aircraft bound for Doha, where they would later be dispersed to various refugee sites around the world. This was not as simple as it sounds. The U.S Government had brokered a deal with the Taliban and left them in charge of the outer perimeter at the airport. Yes, the same group of men who were killing Afghan’s and their families by the thousands for having any sort of association with The United States Government, were the ones checking paperwork outside of the airport. The Taliban would then send the Afghan civilians to various gates around the airport for a chance for them to plead their case to a United States representative. The gates were horrendous. The mobs of Afghan men were seen throwing small children to the back of the crowd, away from the gate. It was a mob of people who were desperate to flee the country. Afghan men, women, and children were trampled and crushed outside of these gates. Afghan men without correct paperwork lined these gates by the thousands. Desperate for their chance at getting on a flight, they were willing to kill to hold their place in line.

My interpreter’s family consists of:

1  adult female (wife)

2  young girls (daughters, ages 4 and 7)

1  young boy (son, age 4)

2  adult males (brothers-in-law)

I knew this young family with children stood no match for the unruly mob of Afghan men at the gate. They wouldn’t be able to get even remotely close to the gate. But, we had no choice but to try.

I knew we needed help. I needed a contact on the ground that could positively I.D. this family in the crowd of thousands of desperate Afghan’s. I needed someone who could reach out and extend the arm of America. I needed someone to physically pluck this family from the crowd.

This was a tall order for someone who was sitting at his house in Tennessee.

I continued troubleshooting. I had to find a way to solve this problem. I had to save this family’s life from certain death by the Taliban. I desperately needed someone on the inside. I racked my brain for an answer. Finally, in the middle of the night, the answer came to me.

During my time protecting U.S. Diplomats in the Middle East, I was once assigned to a Senior State Department Officials detail in a city left anonymous for security reasons. I was tasked with protecting a man whose name will also be left anonymous for security purposes. He was the top U.S Diplomat in the region and I was his driver. I will refer to him as Dave. Dave and I had logged thousands of miles on the road together in Iraq. While always maintaining a level of professionalism, Dave and I had developed a great relationship. He was sent to this area specifically to counter the Iranian influence that was taking place in the region. Dave was a busy man. Which meant I was a busy driver. I knew Dave’s routines. I knew what he liked. I knew what he didn’t like. I knew when to drive fast. I knew when to drive slow. I knew when he went to take a drink of something in my backseat to keep the wheel steady and let off the gas. I couldn’t have him walking into a meeting full of foreign government officials with a fresh stain on his suit and tie. I watched him in the chow halls at our base. I knew what he liked to eat. I knew what he liked to drink. Ice-cold lemonade juice boxes were his favorite. I made sure to keep these stocked in a cooler in the back of my up-armored Suburban. Dave loved lemonade. For some weird reason that I can’t explain, I liked when he would drink the juice boxes in my backseat. In a field where anticipation is the name of the game, hearing Dave reach for the cooler in my backseat while running a motorcade through crowded streets and bazaars was instantly gratifying. Dave was a smart man. He was a former United States Marine turned U.S diplomat. His keen sense of the region and tremendous speaking abilities made him a giant asset to The U.S State Department. Always on time and always prepared. This is rare to see. Our time in the region together was cut short due to the imminent threat of ISIS and the Iranian-backed militias in the area. The Pentagon finally pulled the plug on our entire operation and Dave and I went our separate ways. He was sent back to an Embassy where I had previously worked before. I decided to resign and take a job as a location scout for various film companies.

As I was sitting on the couch in a hotel room watching the events at the airport in Kabul unfold, it struck me. Dave was my answer. I shot him a text and he immediately responded. I explained to him the current situation I was involved with in regards to my interpreter’s family. I also threw in a “PS- Don’t forget who had the coldest lemonade juice boxes in all of the land!” He immediately replied back. “Travis, it’s great to hear from you. I wish it were in better circumstances. Where is he now? Please send me his information and I will get it to the right people. I’ll get a polite email back but at least they will acknowledge. Has he received any paperwork? I’ll do everything I can. Things are crazy as you note but we’ve got about 10 days to get this done.” I could have run through a brick wall at that point. I knew there was hope. During my time spent with Dave, I knew he meant it. I forwarded all of my interpreter’s information regarding his situation directly to him.

While I waited on a miracle from Dave, I began planning the ground side of operations for my Interpreter’s family. I collected all available information on Kabul. I broke out my old maps from my time spent in Kabul with The National Geographic Channel. I knew the airport. I had successfully smuggled out of Hamid Karzai International Airport back in 2013 during a visa crisis. I began marking my maps with updated intelligence of the current situation on the ground in Kabul. Identifying gate locations accepting Afghan civilians was key. Identifying over 200 Taliban checkpoints around Kabul and the perimeter of the airport was paramount. I needed to successfully be able to navigate this family around the city. I needed to mitigate these risks. I needed to statistically reduce the family’s exposure to the Taliban based on real-time intelligence gathering that my team and I had continued to gather.

I was familiar with Kabul. However, I was not familiar with the city being taken over by Taliban forces. They were calling the shots. They were checking paperwork along the perimeter of the airport. We needed to be careful. We couldn’t run the risk of the Taliban discovering that our family had cooperated and worked for The United States Government. Any supporting documents proving the assistance to the U.S Military must be hidden. Jeff and Christine had been working tirelessly to track down letters from Congressmen and Senators pleading this family’s case. As supporting documents were being gathered, I asked Christine to always keep me updated with the most up-to-date packet of documents via a PDF file. This was the fastest and most effective way to get the family their paperwork. We had the Interpreter forward these documents directly to the family. We carefully instructed the family to hide these documents in their cell phone. This was incredibly dangerous, but we had no choice. The family needed to be prepared to show these documents to U.S representatives at the airport, further pleading their case for asylum. At the same time, we ran a giant risk of these documents being discovered by the Taliban if the family was stopped at a checkpoint. The suspense was almost unbearable. The weight of the world was on my shoulders, but I knew this was the family’s only shot at freedom. We had to make an attempt.

Finally, as promised, Dave was able to provide me with a point of contact on the ground at the airport in Kabul. This was a massive boost to my morale. My confidence in the success of this operation had been plummeting fast. This was the hope I needed. I knew if I was able to establish communications on the ground with someone at the airport, our chances of having this family plucked from the crowd outside the gate of the airport would improve drastically.

The point of contact that Dave provided me with, wishes to remain anonymous. I will refer to him as “Pete”. This individual was an American Embassy Officer of sorts. Pete and his crew had the ability to execute my requests. But, with the crowds outside of the gates gathering to over 5,000+ people at times, we still had our work cut out for us. I needed to be able to provide Pete with real-time locations of the family at all times. I also provided Pete and his crew with updated pictures of the family. In these pictures, the family needed to be wearing exactly what they would have on at the airport. I relayed this information to my Interpreter and had his family put on the clothes they would be wearing to the airport. I also instructed the adults of the group to tie a red scarf around their arms. This would make it easier for Pete to identify them. Once the dress rehearsal was complete, I had the family take pictures and send them to me. The plan was coming together and my nerves were at an all-time high. I knew the time was coming where I would get the green light to push the family to the airport. I forwarded these pictures directly to Pete and waited for a reply.

While we waited, I had the adult male of the group leave the safe house to gather supplies for the attempt at the airport. With temperatures reaching upwards of 120 degrees on the concrete outside of the airport, heatstroke was a giant possibility for the children. This was a risk we had to take. This was the family’s only shot at freedom and escaping certain death from the Taliban. I assembled a bare-bones list of supplies. The family could not be weighed down by suitcases and irrelevant items. My list consisted of water, food, cell phone battery packs, a stroller for the children, and an umbrella for shade. The bare minimum. They had to be light. They had to remain hydrated. This was key. I knew if the opportunity came, they had to be able to move quickly. If Pete and his crew were able to positively identify the family in the crowds, they couldn’t be weighed down by trivial stuff. The stroller could be tossed aside at a moment’s notice in the event of them being seen by my contact.

The family was ready. We were all on the same page. I carefully went over the plan with the family over and over again. They had to understand the small details. With cell phone reception being extremely limited outside of the airport gates, I knew I would run the risk of losing direct communications with the family. Thus, losing the ability to relay instructions from Pete. I relayed to the family that they needed to be able to get as close to the gate as possible. They needed to be able to make themselves seen by Pete and his crew, without drawing too much attention to themselves. The Taliban and ISIS-K had spies in the crowds and were relaying information to their teams running the checkpoints. I instructed the family to only wear the red scarves when they felt like they weren’t being watched. Only when it was safe, and only once past the Taliban checkpoints surrounding the perimeter of the airport. Keeping the children safe from being trampled would be a huge issue. The family had to get close enough to the front of the gate for them to be able to be grabbed by Pete and his crew. I can’t put into words how difficult this request was.

The time had finally come where the first attempt at the airport would be made. The family would be headed to East Gate. Through my intelligence gathering, I knew this would be a difficult gate to find success at. But, we had no choice. We had to increase our family’s odds of survival. The reality was, nobody was going to come for this forgotten family who had given so much to the American troops on the ground over the past 20 years. They had to fight for themselves.

On Sunday, August 22, 2021, Pete finally gave me the thumbs up to push the family to the airport. I relayed to the Interpreter that it was time to move. I requested real-time updates of the family’s location at all times. The family seemed to be dragging their feet in order to move. This was frustrating to me. I needed them to follow my orders exactly. It wasn’t until later that I realized that this family was saying goodbye to the life they were leaving behind. They were giving final hugs and kisses to their mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews. They were saying goodbye to their life in Afghanistan forever. I relayed my frustrations to my Interpreter. I told them to speed up. Keeping our timelines was a key to the success of this plan. Such an easy order to give from someone sitting comfortably in their home in Tennessee. A million miles away from the forgotten war. This was extremely selfish of me. It was also extremely necessary. This is the reality of war. Nothing is fair. Nothing makes sense. Emotions and feelings lay at the bottom of the priority level in a combat zone.

The family finally departs the safe house for the first time. I am terrified but trying to keep it together. This family’s life is in my hands. The weight of this responsibility is impossible to describe. I feel completely helpless and in complete control at the same time. I am constantly requesting updates on the family’s location as they move about the city. I update my maps continuously as the family continues to push closer to the airport. In the event of an emergency or lost communications, I needed the last known locations to forward to my contact on the ground.

I watch the clock tick in slow motion from my living room. My coffee table is covered in my notes and the open-sourced intelligence that I have gathered over the past week. I have both of my computers up and running with maps of the city and airport. Satellite images of Kabul provide me an overhead view of where the family is located. I drop digital pins on the map as the family’s location is pushed to me via text from my interpreter. I can tell my interpreter is nervous by the typos coming through when he messages me updates. My Interpreter and I have seen the wrath of the Taliban firsthand. We completely understand what horrors they are capable of. We are both helpless. We want to be there but do not have the ability. We continue to watch the clock tick slowly. I update Pete on the family’s location.

Finally, the family has successfully navigated past known Taliban checkpoints. The city was crawling with people attempting to gain entry into the airport. Men, women, and children have filled the streets of Kabul with suitcases and belongings. It is the end of the world in Kabul and the scene looks like something out of a zombie apocalypse movie.

By the grace of God, the family has reached the East Gate of the airport without being stopped and searched by the Taliban. I notify Pete of the family’s arrival. I anxiously await a response. While waiting, I request the adult male in the group to provide me with video and pictures of what he is seeing. I am trying to establish identifying markers around the family, so I can relay this to Pete. The video comes through to me and the scene is mayhem as expected. Thousands of panicked Afghanis are crowded outside of East Gate. They are in the same desperate situation as my family. I request my Interpreter to tell the family to slowly move closer to the gate. He immediately relays that my request is impossible. He is scared that his children will be trampled in the chaos. I am petrified. But, I can’t let my Interpreter see this. I can’t have my Interpreter’s fear dictate the outcome of this operation. I relay to him to remain calm and that my people are doing their best.

Pete checks in with me and I pass along identifying objects surrounding the family’s location. He quickly responds back with, “ They need to get closer in order for this to work”. I pass this along to my Interpreter immediately. I knew what his exact response would be while I waited for a reply.  “My dear brother, it is impossible. My family will be crushed.” I requested that they continue trying and remain patient.

After 18 long hours in 120-degree heat, the family had been trampled, beaten, and robbed. They were forced to sit on top of piles of human feces, as they waited for a man from Tennessee to give further instructions. Finally, all three children had fallen victim to heatstroke. In a desperate attempt to save their children’s lives, the mother and uncles decided it is time to leave. They can no longer continue to wait. They exit the airport perimeter, once again traversing through Taliban checkpoints. In a panicked state, that only a helpless Mother would understand, they rush their children to a nearby hospital. The children needed fluids pushed into their veins immediately. Upon arriving at the hospital, the Taliban denied them entry. Forcing the family to return to their safe house to recover.  

This was devastating. I knew the family was quickly losing confidence in me. I knew we had to make something happen. According to The President of The United States of America, the U.S. had reached an agreement with the Taliban. All flights bound for countries accepting Afghan refugees would end on August 31, 2021. This was the red line in the sand that the Taliban had drawn. We were obeying.

It was now Monday, August 23, 2021. As the days went on, the situation at the gates grew increasingly worse. The mobs of Afghan men clogging the gates became more and more violent. Desperation had officially set in. The Afghan people had lost all confidence in the United States of America’s relief efforts. Panic was now calling the shots. Story after story of Afghan children being trampled and killed at the gates were becoming more and more common.

Not only did the Taliban own all of the territories outside of the airport in Afghanistan, there was now an increasing threat of ISIS-K fighters swarming into the area. Their sole purpose is to disrupt any sort of cooperation taking place between the Taliban and the U.S Government. With ISIS-K reports becoming more and more prevalent, I knew the odds of a suicide attack were increasingly on the horizon. The packed gates outside of the airports would be a prime target for these cowardly fighters to take advantage of.

Two days had passed and all gates to the airport had been closed. This was due to the ISIS-K intelligence collected by the Central Intelligence Agency and other private intelligence companies that provided their services to the United States Government. We still had Afghan intelligence assets providing The United States Government with information to assist in these efforts. Their willingness to continue to assist us at this point was truly remarkable.

The Boeing C-17 Globemaster had been the aircraft facilitating the transport efforts to the American citizens, Afghan refugees, and various other citizens from around the world. From my sources inside the airport and at various refugee sites, the inside of these aircrafts were covered in human feces, urine, and vomit. They were using the 3 days of gate closures to prepare the aircraft for more evacuation efforts. It was truly a humanitarian crisis.

On Tuesday, August 24th, 2021 my contact Pete had reached out to me once again. He relayed that tomorrow would be a good day for a second attempt at the airport. I was happy to hear back from him. I was always nervous that he would be pulled in another direction, leaving me and the family without a point of contact on the ground at the airport. Pete is a very busy man.

I immediately reached out to the family and told them to prepare for tomorrow’s attempt. I carefully went through the gear list of basic essentials. Water, food, stroller, an umbrella for shade, and paperwork. I also requested an updated picture of what the family would be wearing at the airport gate. My Interpreter relayed this information to his family and officially put his family on stand-by. We would wait until Pete gave the order for the family to push to the airport once more. I also took this time to reiterate to my Interpreter that he needs to have faith in me and follow all of my instructions. I knew I had lost his confidence during the initial attempt at the airport. I needed him to trust me with his family’s life once more.

The day for the second attempt at the airport was finally here. The day was Wednesday, August 25, 2021. I sent Pete an updated picture of the family. He provided me with the name of the gate that the family would be utilizing. He gave me the thumbs up, it was time to push the family to the airport once again.

I sent a message to Jeff and Christine to let them know the family was moving and to hold all non-emergency communications until the family had been rescued. All of our hard work was coming down to this moment. As I had previously mentioned, Jeff was my squad leader in the Marine Corps. I couldn’t let him down. He put all of his faith and confidence into me to complete this mission. He was a man who wouldn’t take failure as an option. We fought alongside each other with this Interpreter in Marjah and Sangin. If I failed, he would have never let me hear the end of it. He would have been disappointed. A key tactic that a squad leader uses to get his young Marines to perform. Yes, this is Stockholm Syndrome at its finest.

I immediately notified the family it was time to move. Once again they said their goodbyes and wiped their tears. In order to conserve energy, the family flagged down a taxi to drive them through the city. This was the family’s decision. I wasn’t keen on trusting anyone outside of our circle at this point. This instantly made me nervous. I am a control freak and this wasn’t in my plan. The family bypassed the heart of the city where the Taliban had their checkpoints set up. The taxi driver took them as close as possible to Abbey Gate, before telling the family he could no longer go any further. The family exited the taxi, grabbed their supplies, and started walking. Once again, the family made it into the perimeter without being stopped by Taliban forces. They walked around 2 miles before reaching the gate. I kept close contact with Pete during this movement, as usual, providing a real-time estimated time of arrival for the family.

Finally, the family had officially arrived at Abbey Gate on the east side of the airport. I immediately notified Pete that the family had arrived. This gate was a little different. Instead of the family having to get directly up next to the gate, they needed to be within at least 50 meters from it. The scene was similar to our previous attempt at East Gate. Mobs of unruly Afghan men and other desperate families clogged the Abbey Gate entrance for 300 yards. My Interpreter immediately relayed to me the situation on the ground through speaking to his family. I could feel his confidence instantly deflate once telling me about the number of people there. I would estimate around 5,000 fleeing Afghan’s were there at that time. I had to talk him off the ledge and once again tell him to “trust me, this is your family’s only chance.”

Abbey Gate was a little different than East Gate. There was a sewage canal that ran parallel to the congested road that the fleeing refugees were staking a claim on. Across the sewage canal, were a group of United States Marines closely monitoring the situation outside the gate. I knew they were there before Pete decided to use this gate. In the days leading up to the attempt on Abbey Gate, I was hoping he would suggest this entrance. These Marines were my people. We were cut from the same cloth. Infantry squads and fire teams lived off of the intel that I was hoping Pete would get to the Marines. I knew from a statistical standpoint that this would increase the odds of the family being seen. 

Pete immediately responded back to me to let me know he was in the area and that he was working closely with another individual. For the sake of his identity remaining anonymous, I will refer to him as Jack. Pete had passed the current pictures of my Interpreter’s family directly to Jack and The Marines on the ground at Abbey Gate. Pete stayed in direct communication with me to help coordinate the rescue. He was watching from a nearby gate. He couldn’t leave the area he was observing because he would then lose all direct communications with me and the family. The cell phone service was horrendous. My Interpreter and I anxiously awaited updates from the family at Abbey Gate. Minutes seemed like hours. I paced around my backyard like a complete psychopath in the middle of the night. My nervous system was on the brink of collapse at this point. I couldn’t eat and would have to force myself to drink water. First-world problems compared to what this family had been going through.

Pete began instructing me to have the family move as close to the sewage canal side of the road that was separating the Marines and the refugees. Once positively identifying the family, Jack and The Marines on the ground would facilitate plucking the family from the crowd. Pete finally requested that the family start to maneuver through the crowd. They needed to get at least 50 meters from the gate. This is easier said than done. I relayed the messages directly to my Interpreter and had him tell his family. Cell phone service continued to be atrocious. With so many people clustered in one area, it was taking forever to get messages through. My Interpreter insisted that this request was impossible. He was once again, scared that his children would be crushed in the unruly crowds. I had to assure him that this was the best chance his family had at survival. After talking him off the ledge, he passed my requests to his family.

The family received my orders and began to slowly move through the crowd. Picture a violent mob at Woodstock fighting for their lives. This was the situation at Abbey Gate. The Interpreter relayed to me that the family was on the move. I then relayed to Pete. The communications piece of this entire operation was a weird love triangle. We would periodically lose communication with the family as they moved deeper into the crowd. I could feel my Interpreter’s nerves as he sat on the other side of the world in Turkey. He felt just as helpless as I did. He questioned everything we were doing. Selfishly, this started to irritate me. After carefully reflecting on these days I realized he is a Father and a Husband. He was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing.

Out of nowhere, I started to receive text message after text message from my interpreter in his broken English form of typing.

“My dear brother. They are in bad situation on ground.” 

“People attack my wife and children.” 

“My Wife is injured. Fuck everything.” 

“My kids also.”

“My family must leave. My children’s lives are in danger, my dear brother.”

He was machine-gunning me with messages. I immediately replied back:

“Tell them not to leave”.

“They must stay in the area”

“Tell them to hold their position”

“Pete and Jack are looking for them now”

“Marines are looking for them”

“THEY MUST NOT LEAVE”

“What is happening?”

I fired these messages back to my Interpreter as fast as I could. One after another. In his panicked state, my Interpreter was once again in fear of his family’s life. I selfishly told him to calm down once again. He told me his family had to retreat further back into the crowd and that it was too dangerous to continue.

During the family’s initial push into the crowd they were attacked by angry Afghan men who had been staking a strategic claim outside of the gate. These are the same men who had been clogging the gates during the entire evacuation of Kabul. Constant reports through underground intelligence gathering claimed that these men didn’t even have paperwork. They had offered zero assistance to the U.S Government during the war. They were hash smoking, whiskey drinking Afghan’s who cared for nothing but themselves. Pure cowardice. Prioritizing themselves over women and children in an event like this is the only evidence I needed to come to this conclusion.

I was raging. As I paced around my backyard, I continued to calm my Interpreter down. I asked for constant updates of the family’s location and the overall severity of the injuries her family sustained. I relayed the situation to Pete and Jack on the ground. They were doing everything they could to get a visual.

At this point, my Interpreter and I were having issues getting a hold of the family. I had previously given Pete the wife’s and one brother-in-law’s contact information. I asked him to attempt the wife or the brother-in-law on their cell phones. He obliged and told me to stand by. I continued pacing.

My Interpreter had told me that he was able to get ahold of his brother-in-law and that he was moving back into the crowd in an attempt to link up with Jack. I hated that they were separated now, but it was our only option at this point. The wife and children were hysterical and scared for their lives. I relayed to my Interpreter what Jack was wearing. A baseball hat, pants, and a pistol. This is our guy. I tried desperately to get a hold of Jack with no success. The suspense was truly unbearable. I sent a message to Pete telling him to attempt The Wife on her cell phone again.

After what seemed like a full calendar year (exactly 2 minutes), I asked Pete for another update. I saw that he instantly received my text. I watched as he was replying. By this time I was back inside my house overlooking my property in Tennessee. I have no recollection of when I stopped pacing in my backyard and made my way inside. Suddenly, I receive a text from Pete.

“Stay tuned. We are working to bring them in. Jack has linked up with the family.”

I replied back “Copy all”.

When Jack finally linked up with the brother-in-law, the brother-in-law had to then retrieve the rest of the family. Once instructed by Jack, the family climbed down into a sewage canal filled with the most unimaginable things you can think of. The adults lifted the children above their heads and waded across the sewage canal. Once reaching the other side of the sewage canal, U.S Marines extended their arms and pulled this family to safety. These Marines instantly made this family Americans. It is a true gift U.S Marines have and a true testament to a family in a fight for their lives.

At this point, I could have been kicked in the face by a horse and not felt anything. I relayed the messages directly to my Interpreter.

He replied back immediately in his broken English, “yes yes this great news”.

Pete then confirmed with me:  “Our guys have them. They are moving them to my location”

I relayed the news to my Interpreter and didn’t even wait for a reply. I literally collapsed on the ground and cried uncontrollably. 14 years of being involved in the Middle East came out of me. It will be something I will never forget. But, don’t tell my Squad Leader Jeff that I cried.

After recovering from my meltdown, I immediately texted Jeff and Christine:

“Ladies and Gentleman. Congratulations, we just rescued our Interpreter’s family!”

They went bonkers.

Within 20 minutes of being rescued, Pete had sent me a picture of the family as they were preparing to board a flight out of Afghanistan. When the family was finally wheels up, I thanked Pete and Jack for what they did for my friends. I assured them that this family will make damn fine Americans.

In true hero fashion, they deflected any type of thanks I could offer. Instead, Pete replied back with:

“We did it together. Our brave security forces and the family who braved the hardship deserve the real credit.”

Meanwhile, the family was leaving their country behind forever. Bound for a country that welcomes all. A country where anything is possible. A country where every man is in complete and total control of his or her own destiny. A land that little Afghan children could only quietly dream about while under Taliban control.

Once the family was in the sky, I sent a message to my friend Dave who was directly responsible for linking me up with Pete. I requested that he call me immediately. When he did, I broke the news to him with tears once again streaming down my face. He immediately replied back with “ Noooooo!!! We did it, Travis!” I went on to tell him that I will be personally sponsoring this family. I will be bringing this family into my home in Tennessee to show them the American way. I relayed to him that I will watch over this family for the rest of my life.

Sadly, less than 24 hours after my Interpreter’s family was rescued, Abbey Gate at Hamid Karzai International Airport was hit with a suicide bombing that killed 11 Marines, 1 Navy Corpsman, and 1 U.S Army Soldier, who was from my home of Knoxville, Tennessee. We will never know for certain if these Marines, Sailors, and Soldiers were the ones directly responsible for saving my Interpreter’s family.

The death toll for Afghan civilians injured in the bombing continues to climb. As of today, that count has reached 100 innocent Afghan civilians. Men, women, and children who are all attempting to flee a country from a terrorist regime that will drape a black curtain over their country in an attempt to cut out the outside world.

I would have never thought in a million years that my love affair with the incredible country of Afghanistan would have ended like this. I wasn’t prepared to have the blood of my Interpreter’s family on my hands. I truly don’t know if I could have recovered from that.

Now, I am asking you, the American People, to help my Interpreter and his family. 

I am requesting that we as a nation show my Interpreter and his family who American’s really are. Please help this family of 7 beautiful people land on their feet as they wash up on the shores of this incredible country to start their lives over.

This Interpreter is my brother.

Please help me and other veterans who fought alongside him to find peace.

This family needed me just as much as I needed them.