General Surab Azimi Deserved Better

But I will have my vengeance--in this life or the next.

Three years ago today, the Taliban executed my good friend, General Surab Azimi. His brothers at the Afghan United Front thought it proper to promote him posthumously. That’s the appropriate thing to do because he would’ve been a General, eventually.

(Warning: This is a link to the film the Taliban took of them executing Surab and his men after they surrendered because they ran out of ammunition)

But when I knew him during America’s fateful final year in Afghanistan, he was just a swashbuckling, cocky as fuck Afghan Commando. I will be very honest. At first, I didn’t like Surab. But that’s because my pride let me get in the way of his knowledge.

I was the Afghan Hand in the office. I had been to Afghanistan three times before—and twice to Iraq, for over 1200+ days in combat. I thought I knew a lot. I was confident. I could talk circles around most Americans on the subject matter. I could tell them what it was like to be in the real part of Afghanistan, which isn’t Kabul. Far too many Americans thought Kabul was Afghanistan.

Is DC America?

No.

Surab was part of our office Strength and Wisdom Network, a fraternity of Afghan officers who graduated from America’s elite military schools. Surab, of course, graduated from Command and General Staff College in beautiful Leavenworth, Kansas. I graduated from the School of Advanced Military Studies at Leavenworth, so I know CGSC can be difficult even for Americans.

Now, try doing it when English is your fifth language. Who are the advanced people again? Us or the Afghans?

Surab, whose father was a senior Afghan general, could’ve just hung out in the Afghan version of the Pentagon. I’ve seen countless American officers receive such treatment. They are the anointed ones. They may deploy once or twice, but it’s just another step in their meritocratic rise to greatness.

Surab could’ve gone that route.

Instead, he became a commando and participated in some of the most complex, dangerous missions imaginable. Nighttime insertions into mountainous terrain? You got it. Do you know why? Because the Afghan Special Mission Wing was good, bruh. The SMW was legit. They were a very aggressive version of our 160th Special Operation Aviation Regiment—the legendary Nighstalkers.

They were Afghan’s finest. And so was Surab.

So he had earned that cockiness, much like some of my special forces brothers I served alongside in Ghorak, Kandahar. I had to respect his skill set.

And he never let me forget that.

“Hey, look, it’s the Chair Force officer,” he would quip relentlessly.

At first, I took the good-natured ribbing. I’ve spent four years with mostly Army maneuver units — I’ve heard it all before. But he kept coming at me and poking at me. Finally, I pushed back.

“Hey, bro, I know you think I”m just like the rest of these Americans,” I asserted myself. “But, I’ve spent time in Tag Ab and Ghorak for extensive periods of time. This ain’t my first rodeo, bro.”

Surab chuckled.

“Chair Force thinks he’s tough,” he laughed. “I’ve been fighting for years without a break. Constantly my entire life.”

He was right. I needed to shut up and listen. No matter how much experience I had, it paled in comparison to the Afghans. We had trained their elite operators very well. And they no longer needed us that much to be lethal on the battlefield.

Listen to the Afghans. We trained them, but they knew the enemy better than us. Why? Because they grew up alongside them.

And they always laughed when I brought up the Doha Agreement.

“You diplomats think words will stop the Taliban,” Surab chuckled. “These Talibs need the gun, brother. Stop overthinking it.”

He was right.

I will say my prayers for Surab today. He was my brother. And I will mourn him.

And I will let the rage of Haqqani’s continued tour motivate me to exact my vengeance upon him. I don’t turn the other cheek. That’s some gentile shit. Sorry. I want my revenge. I’m a Pashtun Texan. It’s how we roll.

Nevertheless, today, the very day that Surab was killed, I learned that Sirajuddin Haqqani remains in Saudi Arabia conducting the Hajj.

He remains because the Hajj starts today. It’s a multi-step pilgrimage. And like we said, it will elevate him.

But here’s the thing: he won’t be the only one. Because today, the Taliban’s leader, Haibatullah Akhunzada—may G*d curse his name from his lips—released the Taliban’s Eid-ul Adha message. Here’s the most important part.

Praise be to Allah Almighty, this year, up to thirty thousand pilgrims from Afghanistan have traveled to Saudi Arabia to perform the great duty of Hajj. The Ministry of Hajj and Religious Affairs of Afghanistan, along with other relevant institutions, are providing them with comprehensive care and necessary facilities.

Sure, those numbers are inflated, but by how much?

So here’s my question? Why are we allowing hundreds and possibly thousands of Talibs access to Saudi Arabia, where they can fundraise for future attacks on American forces in the Middle East?

Why has my government decided to dishonor me? Why have they decided to dishonor my Afghan brothers, like Surab Azimi?

But here’s the thing. I’m feeling better—and I’m coming for them. My government might want to grant legitimacy to my brothers and sisters’ killers, but I will not. I will not dishonor Surab by shaking hands with his killers.

No.

Siraj, Yaqoob, Akhunzada, and all the rest —- I will have my vengeance in this life or the next.

See you soon.

General Surab Azimi - RIP, my brother. Love, your favorite Chair Force Officer