OUR SOLDIERS: TESTED IN THE DRUG WARS

He sat quietly near the pool, a young man with close-cropped hair, huge
shoulders and a firm handshake. He was in his mid-20s, but there was
something about his eyes that made him look older.

It was a small dinner party. We poured some wine and made small talk. He
said he worked in construction and was also a military reservist. He was
being processed out of the service for an injury sustained during a
training exercise. His wife was worried that he would be called up for a
mission to Afghanistan before he was given his discharge, but with his
injury, he didn't think so.

"If you had asked me a couple years ago about how I'd feel about going, I
would have been eager," he said. "But now, I don't feel that way anymore. I
just want to be a builder and start a family."

I asked what he does in the military.

"I'm in a special operations unit," he said.

Special operations. Green Berets, Rangers, Seals, Marine Special Ops -- the
kinds of soldiers who are being sent into Afghanistan to strike swiftly and
vanish.

His story came out slowly at first, but in riveting detail. I have no way
to confirm if it's true. But 25 years in news have tuned up my B.S. meter,
and it wasn't going off.

No foreign army has ever won a war in Afghanistan. Soviets, English,
Persians -- all limped away defeated from that hard-scrabble land. Now we
will be sending in our soldiers to fight people who have been hardened by
20 years of fighting. I have wondered if they are up to the task. I assumed
that few of the special forces going to Afghanistan have any real combat
experience.

This young man's story made it clear that our special forces have indeed
seen combat -- in the drug wars.

"I've gone on four missions in two countries," he said.

I will not tell where he went. They are two countries both in heavy jungle
along key fronts in the drug trade. One of the countries would not surprise
you very much; the other made my jaw drop, because it has never been
reported that our military has participated in raids there.

He is part of an eight-man unit. Their training has been extensive, from
the Sahara, to the jungles of Africa, to wintertime Alaska. Each man has
his own specialty.

"I am a sniper," he said, the way you might say, "I am a radiologist," or
"I am an office leasing agent."

When called on a mission, he usually has received only a few days' notice.
Intelligence officers provide a thorough briefing. The team is given
coordinates for the target and detailed descriptions of whom they will
encounter and what they must destroy. And they are given a time frame -- a
"window of opportunity" in which the drug runners will be present. Those
windows have ranged from one week to one month.

The team is dropped at night from helicopters or planes, sometimes climbing
down ropes, other times parachuting. In two of his missions, the drop was
made well out at sea, followed by a long swim to shore.

Once on the ground, the team splits up. They must encircle the target and
steal their way into striking range from separate directions. Doing so can
take weeks.

The target might be a cocaine processing pit. It might be a hub for
smugglers who move drugs by the ton. Or it might be a marijuana or poppy
plantation.

Surprise is essential. There can be no electronic communication devices
used. If they are not in place by the time their window closes, they must
turn around and make their way back to their rendezvous without attacking
their target.

"Sometimes you cover miles in a day," he said. "Sometimes it's taken me all
day to go 10 yards."

The men he is assigned to attack are not fools. They are experienced
soldiers of the drug wars. Sometimes they are foreign mercenaries -- even
former American special operations men; soldiers of fortune recruited by
drug money. They have deadly tricks.

"They'll scatter bird seed all over the jungle floor in a wide circle
around their operation. If you try to crawl through that, they'll see
flocks of birds fly up into the air. They'll know you're there."

When he gets in position with high ground and a clear shot at the target,
he digs in. And then the sniper waits.

Communication is nonverbal. Team members, for example, will shake a tree
when they're in position.

"A little shake at the base of a thin tree makes a big shake at the top.
You can look around at the jungle canopy and see the trees shake for about
five minutes apiece. It's easy to see."

If all eight members are in place and on time, they attack. The two snipers
begin by opening fire. They shoot to kill. The others rush in. While they
destroy the drug operation, the snipers turn and quickly make their way
back to the rendezvous.

In and out. Silent, fast and deadly. A war most of us will never see. A war
just as deadly and horrible as any other, but with a very small, secret
theater.

While his story gave a sense of how special operations teams work, another
question was left hanging: How will it work in Afghanistan, where there is
little foliage -- only rocks, mud, snow and bitter cold?

He doesn't have an answer, except that he's happier working construction.