On June 28, 2005, an MH-47 helicopter carrying 16 SEALs and Army aviators was shot down in the rugged mountains of Afghanistan’s Korengal Valley. They were responding as a Quick Reaction Force to rescue a SEAL team under fire. The men on board were not just names in a report—they were my friends, my brothers. Commander Erik Kristensen, Troop Commander. Lieutenant Mike McGreevy, who once led my platoon. Their loss was seared into American memory by Marcus Luttrell’s story, Lone Survivor.
Every June 28th, I remember them. I remember their families—the wives who raised children alone, the parents who buried their sons, the kids who grew up without fathers. For years, I told myself it wasn’t in vain. Despite the pain, I believed we had made a difference in Afghanistan. I had seen progress: a budding economy, beginnings of a professional military, small businesses, and Afghan women stepping into leadership in law enforcement, business, and government. It was imperfect, but hope.
Then came August 15, 2021.
I sat stunned as I watched the U.S. government make a series of short-sighted, disastrous decisions that abandoned two decades of blood, sacrifice, and fragile progress. Overnight, everything we had fought for was surrendered back to the Taliban—the same extremists who had harbored al Qaeda and murdered thousands of Americans on 9/11.
We left behind Afghan allies—men and women who had risked everything to fight beside us. We left behind American citizens. And we abandoned those we had promised freedom, especially women and girls, who now live under a regime that despises them.
In the days that followed, as Kabul collapsed into chaos, I received a message from my friend, retired Green Beret Lt. Col. Scott Mann. He was launching something called Task Force Pineapple—a volunteer effort by veterans, intelligence analysts, and civilians determined to honor America’s broken promises. His message was simple: “Yes. We need your help.” That night, I joined.
Task Force Pineapple became a citizen liaison network—a virtual Underground Railroad. From our homes across the U.S., we coordinated with desperate Afghans via encrypted apps, sharing intelligence about Taliban checkpoints, Abbey Gate access lists, and safe routes to the airport.
I remember one family I helped—a young interpreter named Muhammad, his 21-year-old wife, and their two small children. They made several attempts to reach Abbey Gate, often turned away, always at risk. On August 26, we finally got them close. But chaos at the gate overwhelmed them.
Then tragedy nearly struck. As Muhammad waded through a sewage canal, his baby daughter slipped from his arms and swallowed toxic water. Terrified for her, he pulled back to find help. Hours later, the Abbey Gate suicide bomber detonated his vest, killing 13 Americans and hundreds of Afghans. Had Muhammad’s daughter not fallen, they would likely have been among the dead. A brutal reminder: God works in mysterious ways.
That family remained trapped for nearly a year before escaping with help from other volunteers. I worked with Task Force Pineapple for months—guiding families, raising awareness, and mobilizing networks. All told, our ad-hoc “Pineapple Express” helped rescue roughly 1,000 people—an astounding achievement for a group formed in days. It was a moral victory born from chaos. Proof that America’s veterans do not leave friends behind.
Yet as I look back four years later, I still wrestle with our government’s decision. We turned Afghanistan back over to the terrorists who killed our citizens and teammates. We consigned a generation of Afghan women to shadows. We betrayed allies who believed in the ideals we claimed to represent.
My message today is simple: wake up.
Freedom is not free. It is not permanent. It is not guaranteed. It must be protected, preserved, and passed on—not just for those we agree with, but for all people.
We live in an age of short attention spans. Headlines move on. But cost of forgetting is always the same: blood, suffering, and tyranny.
Never forget the men who died on June 28, 2005. Never forget the Afghans who fought beside us and were left behind. Never forget the 13 Americans killed at Abbey Gate. And never let your children forget, because a nation that forgets its history will soon forget itself.
On the anniversary of Afghanistan’s fall, I mourn what was lost. But I also honor what was revealed: the unshakable moral courage of ordinary Americans who stepped up when our leaders failed.
Task Force Pineapple showed the best of us. It proved that while governments may abandon promises, veterans and patriots will not. That spirit—the refusal to leave others behind—gives me hope for America’s future.
But hope alone is not enough. We must wake up. We must remember. And we must act—to protect freedom, challenge complacency, and demand accountability from those who squander it.
Because freedom is precious. Once lost, it is rarely regained.
God bless the warriors of Task Force Pineapple. God bless the fallen. And God bless the future of America.