Part 3. – Reflections

An Unlikely Friendship

The previous four generations of women in my family all married cops, soldiers, and spies. The World Wars, the Cold War, The Troubles – they all left their mark on my house. By my mid-forties, as I was in 2011, I already knew that the stories we tell about wars are often at odds with the reality of those who fight them.

I am still surprised that our little gaming group was in the centre of such a historic tragedy. I accept that the reader might find some assertions made in this piece hard to believe. Sometimes, I do too.

People might ask: “How can a peace campaigner be friends with operatives from such a unit?”

That is easy. It is because I loved them. The opposite of war is not “anti-war,” or even peace. The opposite of war is care. And I cared for the guys. Enough to look into some very difficult truths about the war in Afghanistan, and how it was fought.

Conclusion

We live in a world now where celebrity SEALs go on talk shows and podcasts, and are greeted with the same enthusiasm as rock musicians and movie stars – a long way from the “silent professionals” of the Extortion era.

The modern myth prefers Achilles: the invincible, rage-filled warrior who as Auden put it, “would not live long”. But I knew the guys as Hector: the man who fights not for glory, but for who is behind him. The one who “accepts the inherent hazards” of their chosen profession and leaves the safety of the city to stand in front of the wall.

They knew there could be observers: which is why they stayed behind the ridgeline for as long as they could. They knew the Taliban were determined fighters, which is why they brought everyone. They knew the dangers, but they went anyway, as their duty demanded. “Send me.”

I had told the boys once, before they left, that it would be a very quiet world without them. As it turned out, the world itself became noisier than ever, filled with movies and merchandise.

It is my world that is quieter.

There’s an old Persian tradition of the night letter, or Shabnamah. I have repurposed the medium, as a signal of goodwill: one sent back into the night, for the reader seeking answers at 3AM. It felt like a reasonable way to respond.

I must confess I had hoped for a better outcome for the kind, gregarious souls I knew. I wanted to believe they were still out there somewhere, with hopefully fond memories of their silly English friend.

Years afterwards, I still miss them very much. And not just as individuals. I miss us: who we all were together. It was a time in their lives, and in mine.

All those affected by the Extortion 17 shootdown and its aftermath remain in my prayers, the Gold Star families especially. I remain grateful for the valour of the Rangers, Pathfinders, and others who worked the recovery: I believe my grandfather who fought with the OBLI in Caen by way of Sword Beach would describe them as “proper soldiers.” On our most difficult day, we should all have such brothers.

We shared a common faith, so I know that one day we will all be together, “upon another shore, and in a greater light.”

Until that day comes, cheerio boys. You didn’t suck.

Fig. 9. The Swamp Rose, a wild flower that grows happily on land and in water, native to the Eastern US and parts of Iowa. Photograph by Malcolm Manners, CC BY 2.0

Dedication

This piece is dedicated to the guys and their families but also our mutual friend Bulldog, a retired US Marine who died in 2011. His health was deteriorating, so we all joined him in-game to mark that year’s Memorial Day, which he hugely appreciated. It was to be his last, and theirs.

I had met the guys after several of them joined Bulldog and me in a game lobby: they were snowbound following storms just after Christmas 2010. They were pretty madcap, Bulldog was definitely not, and it was highly amusing. After the holidays, we stayed in touch.

Speaking like the former Senior Staff NCO he was, he once told me we would “report them to their Command” if they ever caused me grief. Bulldog, consider the report submitted.

At this point, if this was a traditional memoir, the response would be, “I have the watch”, or something like. But that’s not me. As the waitresses say, “not my table.” But maybe it is yours. So, remaining true (always) to the Fifth General Order for Sentries of the United States Marine Corps, let me quit this post properly, by offering a heart-felt benediction:

“Wrap up warm, don’t eat junk, and if you can, please, call your mum.”

Kirsten Bayes
Reading, UK
May, 2026

To download the project text, or get access to the source materials go to the Downloads page.

To get the key data, and honour the men by completing the “Mathlete Memorial Challenge”, go to the Data page.

To meet some of the men on Extortion 17, go back to Part 1: Friendship.

To better understand the causes of the Extortion 17 shootdown, go back to Part 2: Investigation.

To find out more about the project and its author, go to the About page.