Three Brothers (Paperback)

About the Author: Jörg H. Trauboth was born just outside of Berlin in 1943 during an air-raid. He discovered his love for writing early in his career as an officer and was awarded top honors by the General Inspector of the German Bundeswehr. Along the way, he accumulated over two thousand flight hours as a weapons systems officer and instructor in the Phantom F-4F/RF-E4 and the Tornado aircrafts. Trauboth become a General Staff Officer in Hamburg-Blankenese and enrolled in the NATO Defense College in Rome. He has served in the German national operational headquarters as well as in the NATO Headquarters in Brussels as the German representative in the areas of Crisis Management, Operations, and Intelligence. At the age of fifty, he retired early from his post as a colonel in the German Air Force to become a Special Risk Consultant at the Control Risk Group in London and was engaged in negotiating extortion and kidnapping situations in South America and Eastern Europe. The former colonel, eager to start making money on his own and contribute to society, soon founded the Trauboth Risk Management company. He received a startup award for his company and quickly made a reputation for himself internationally as an top-notch crisis manager. During his time as CEO, he conceptualized crisis prevention strategies for a number of European companies and employed a 24-hour task force to protect them from product tampering, product recalls, kidnappings, and image crises. He was also a co-founder and the first president of the European Crisis Management Academy in Vienna and wrote a standard reference book on the subject of crisis management for companies at risk of threat. Jörg H. Trauboth is an author, filmmaker, and an enthusiastic pilot. He has served as the European Director and President of the international American Pilots Organization. His advice on crisis management remains continually sought after and he has appeared in many television interviews regarding his opinion on current international crisis situations. He is married, has two sons, three grandchildren, and lives with his wife near Bonn, Germany. In addition, Trauboth voluntarily contributes his time and expertise to the Crisis Invention Team of the German Federal Foreign Office in Bonn. www.traubothautor.de

Chapter 1 Afghanistan For the last five hours, a group of six men have been trudging through the dark, barren landscape of the vast Hindu Kush Mountains. The distant howling of a lone wolf accompanies them as does the cold wind, but the men dont seem to feel the sting. One of them stops abruptly. Marc Anderson, captain of the German KSK Special Forces Commando, raises his hand to his neck and decisively whispers into his throat mic. George, I see her. The nose of the aircraft is at eleven oclock, the tail at two. George, the short, wiry Navy Seal One squad leader from Ohio, folds down the night vision lens mounted on his helmet. For whatever reason, the fighter jet did not explode, but the debris is still smoldering. Copy that, Ill inform Bagram Air Base. Charlie Force from Echo Force - over. Echo Team go ahead over. We found the jet - now searching for the crew - over. Roger Echo Team - were waiting for your response - over. As unorthodox as it is, the Navy Seals insisted on having German elite soldier Marc Anderson with them on the mission. He is one of the few soldiers who knows the area, located deep in the hinterlands of Afghanistan, better than anyone else on account of a number of earlier missions in the region. At only 27 years old, the tall, slender soldier from the southern German town of Calw has already achieved legendary status among the American and British Special Forces. Together with the Navy Seals, he has succeeded in rescuing and retrieving American soldiers from behind enemy lines, securing himself a formidable reputation as both a leader and a team player. But Anderson refused to do the job on his own: Only if I can take my commando brothers with me, he told the commanders at Bagram Air Base. Only with Thomas and Tim. OK, Marc, agreed. The Seals know full well what Band of Brothers means. Elite soldiers throughout all the Special Armed Forces are not just comrades, they are brothers. On this mission - the search for a U.S. fighter jet gone missing along with its crew - the Seals have three German brothers. Nationalities play no role, however, only professionalism and unconditional trust. Marc also agreed to the mission since he and George have worked well together on previous missions. Echo Force, made up of U.S. Seals One, Two, Three, and the German KSK soldiers Marc, Thomas, and Tim, had parachuted in during night. They chose a landing site six and a half miles from the F-15E Strike Eagles last known position in the hope of not being discovered by the Taliban. There were no exact coordinates of the crash site. Whats worse, they werent able to receive any location transmission from the crew. The pilot had only managed to transmit No engine - Mayday - Mayday - Bailing out! at the last minute as they lost altitude. A hasty final message, nothing more. Everything seems to have happened very quickly. The crew must have needed to abandon the aircraft immediately, there would have been no time for discussion. After a successful landing, they spent the next five hours systematically scouring the possible search site of twelve square miles at almost ten thousand feet altitude. Marc was a true pathfinder in this unwieldy and perilous terrain. The Americans trusted him whole-heartedly, and with good reason, as he proved once again. He immediately found the wreckage of the F-15 in the pitch-dark of night and undetected in this hostile territory. They operate meticulously together, as though they have done this a million times before: Marc out in front, checking the terrain, giving signals, the other five men following, step for step, crouched down, secure, silent. The stillness of the dark magnifies every word and any misstep on the gravel is a potential giveaway for the Taliban. While George now relays the coordinates to the American intervention force standing by, Marc scans the crash site with his telescope. The F-15 was not shot down but crashed due to technical problems. That seemed clear. However, the crash would have been heard all throughout the Hindu Kush Mountains. It was very possible that the Taliban has already taken the crew captive and were now waiting for the Navy Seals. Thats how it typically happened at least. Thomas, please report. Left is clear. Tim? Right is clear. Slowly, and securing all sides, the spotter team moves toward the crash site. Ill take it from here, Marc. Okay, George, youre in command. George leads the troop within 300 yards of the wreckage. The aircrafts nose and cockpit are stuck in the ground like a giant arrow. Bent, but incredibly, still intact. And exactly right there where theres that tiny patch of earth, he thinks to himself. Can you see anyone in the cockpit? asks Marc. Negative, cant see anything through the glass, but the canopy is missing. Thomas and Tim - the two of you to the wreckage and report back. The rest of you wait here, whispers George into his throat mic. The two Germans start to move. Just like the old comedians Ole and Axel, or like Laurel and Hardy, Marc thinks. Thomas, a tall, strapping blonde, built like the Hulk. Next to him, Tim, also in excellent physical shape, only considerably shorter and, who with his signature black goatee, looks like an Afghan. They cautiously approach the front section of the wreckage on both sides. The rest of the group tensely watches every move their two German brothers make. It is absolutely silent, save for that wolf. The cold wind that tirelessly blows in this region goes completely unnoticed as they all lie on the ground and watch. The night is not just dark, it is black. Pitch-black. No stars shine, no light reflects off the ground. Barren cliffs, a few shrubs, no trees at this altitude. They see only whatever appears in their night vision devices. The little bit of light available is electronically magnified as a green image of the area. They are used to this artificial picture. Option one: says George, they are still strapped to their seats and then itll be a mess. Option two: one of them is still there and the other managed to get out. Or option three: they both made it out. The only question is, why they arent answering, Marc whispers in Georges direction. George whispers back, which means option one. Thomas and Tim reach the nose. Thomas on Seal One: no one in the cockpit, ejector seats missing, the crew ejected. Understood, good news, do you see their papers? They shine a light inside. From the distance, the three Navy Seals and Marc are blinded as the light from the two KSK soldiers flash in their goggles like bright strike of lightening. Maps and a kneeboard, reports Tim. Okay, take that with you. Thomas, you prepare an explosive. First Sergeant Thomas Heinrich, a six-foot tall ball of muscle and the explosives expert takes off his 80-pound knapsack which belongs to his profile as though it has grown attached to his back. His comrades have only ever seen him with either a heavy bag or on a bench press. And always with a combat knife under his pillow. While he lays the explosive, his shorter friend Tim secures the immediate area surrounding the jet. Neither of them speaks a word to the other. They dont need to. They know each other better than any old married couple. Thats also the reason George sent them to the wreckage site. In less than four minutes, Thomas prepares the cockpit with explosives for remote ignition. Finished, George. OK men, now slowly retreat. A few minutes later, the group is complete again. Six men, two nations, one team. They hide between some boulders and use their night vision devices to establish any other possible reference points. Cliffs, ridges, gaps. Where could the parachutes be? And the ejector seats? At least the seats are big enough to spot, if they are here. George waves to Marc to come over. What do you suggest? According to the radar, the F-15 was flying on an easterly course. That means we need to look for the men to the west....