During former President Joe Biden’s chaotic, hopelessly inadequate evacuation effort in Kabul, I was bombarded day and night by messages from many Afghans who served with our military or with the elected Afghan government. Could I get them on one of those planes? Could I help to arrange asylum? Would I at least help evacuate their children who became special targets of the Taliban?
Finding help for these people became my full-time job. However, I soon realized the horrible truth. No help was coming from Biden’s White House or State Department. Our interpreters, guards, and other Afghan allies who served with us were trapped. One by one, the desperate Afghans messaging me fell silent.
May of 2021 saw the publication of Enduring Freedom, a novel I co-wrote with Jawad Arash, my Afghan friend. Arash and his family were forced into hiding by the way Biden betrayed Afghanistan and our allies who worked with U.S. soldiers there, who we swore to help. If the Taliban found them … well, some of my fellow soldiers and I used to keep one final round in our pocket in case capture by the Taliban was unavoidable. There are worse fates than death.
I was among the more fortunate veterans who didn’t suffer from PTSD or similar challenges. What I came to call the “Biden Betrayal” changed that. Constant worry made sleep difficult. And when I slept, I was bothered by nightmares. I drank too much. I stopped working out. Lord, please forgive my lack of faith. I didn’t think we’d succeed in saving Arash and his family.
Likewise, I didn’t believe President Donald Trump could defeat Biden or his selected replacement. Defeat in a presidential election is almost always the permanent end of presidential hopes. In over two centuries, only former President Grover Cleveland was beaten in his reelection bid and returned to win four years later. Yet, despite many obstacles, Trump somehow won.
I remember a scene in George Crile’s book Charlie Wilson’s War about Texas congressman Charlie Wilson (later made into an excellent movie), who was instrumental in moving the United States to help the Afghans defeat the Soviet invasion. Wilson, a good and important man, if a foul-mouthed one, watched on TV while the last Soviet left Afghanistan, raised a glass of champagne, and said, “Here’s to you, you motherf***ers.”
Late on Inauguration Day, as the sun set on an America that’s done with Biden, I met my friend and neighbor Rick Brown, a retired Marine officer and Afghanistan veteran. We raised a glass of Scotch whisky, and I was tempted to adapt Wilson’s toast toward Biden. However, the time of desperation and hopeless bitterness is over. Now is a time of hope. I’ve cut back on drinking. I’ve lost 40 pounds. Arash and his family are, finally, now safe in the U.S. A new presidency brings me hope that my Afghan allies left hiding in Afghanistan may secure visas and at last also reach safety. I’ve realized part of helping to make America great again is to work to improve myself and, if possible, to help others do the same.
So, I raised a glass with my friend and fellow veteran and offered a toast that I now extend to all of you and to freedom-loving people across America and around the world: Here’s to all of you wonderful people and to a new gift of hope for all of us.
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Trent Reedy, author of several books, including Enduring Freedom, served as a combat engineer in the Iowa National Guard from 1999 to 2005, including a tour of duty in Afghanistan.
*Some names and call signs in this story may have been changed due to operational security or privacy concerns.