Aug. 16: The text message from his former Afghan interpreter, a man he considers a brother, popped up on Sayre Payne’s smartphone at 2:43 p.m. ET, the day after Kabul, Afghanistan, fell to the Taliban.
“I am about to die please help.”
Seven thousand miles away, Payne, a former ranger with the U.S. Army’s 101st Airborne Division, replied with a text.
“My spirit is with you right now. I cannot help you with my body. Only my soul.”
For more than a month, the former Clarksville resident has been holed up in his dimly lit home office in the Cincinnati area, working as many as 20 hours a day to rescue stranded interpreters as the U.S. military hastily exited Afghanistan.
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“We’re their only hope,” said Payne, 35, citing a line of the Army Ranger creed as his motivation.
“I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy.”
His efforts, and the efforts of hundreds of loosely-organized, pro-Afghan National Army groups across the globe, are tied to the social media-led campaign dubbed “Digital Dunkirk,” a nod to a famous World War II evacuation reintroduced to modern audiences through Hollywood.
The Biden administration said it evacuated more than 123,000 people out of this crumbling country before the U.S. withdrawal, including 5,500 Americans.
Only a fraction of interpreters escaped. Thousands remain. Their lives, and the lives of family members, are in danger for working side-by-side with the former U.S.-led coalition.
Interpreters were promised special immigrant visas to the U.S. under the Afghan Allies Protection Act. Men like Payne’s friend who escorted him through treacherous terrain (U.S. soldiers were not allowed off base without escorts), helped soldiers give rice to hungry villagers, hand out kits to repair damaged mosques and deliver American smiles that countered Taliban propaganda that demonized U.S. troops.
Payne’s interpreter accomplished this, and more, while wearing an Army uniform and donning Screaming Eagle insignia on his sleeves.
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The visa commitments now seem unattainable.
The State Department estimates as many as 60,000 Afghans may be eligible for visas. Payne believes it’s closer to 80,000, a number that includes family members. (The Daily News Journal is not naming interpreters who worked with Payne because of security reasons.)
No wonder Payne’s sleep is erratic, at best.
A network of rescuers called to action
Since this summer, veterans like Payne with global connections and resources put aside civilian jobs, even family obligations, to return to duty — even if it’s not official. Payne, a father of three who was deployed to Afghanistan from 2011-12, has taken time off as a litigation attorney. His wife is shouldering parenting duties.
The glow of computer and phone screens tires Payne’s eyes. During waking hours, he combs through thousands of texts in a growing web of veterans networking behind keyboards.
Payne contacted a high school friend, now a pilot with Fed-Ex — he monitors flight traffic in and out of the Afghanistan. He’s called the U.S. State Department and reached out to Ohio senators. He’s emailed any and every colleague he thought could help.
“They faithfully earned (the right) to become a U.S. citizen,” Payne said. “They truly fought for it. They are comrades in arms, and now they are being left to the wolves.”
So Payne types on. His wife fuels him with anything palatable and helps with spreadsheets to log information. “I hate spreadsheets,” Payne quipped.
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The veteran infantryman has fallen back into his role as captain of a mission that cannot fail, spearheading a Cincinnati collective of former 101st Airborne members who range in age from 35 to 100. His group created a 501c3, American Ally Rescue and Relief Fund, with a web portal, to raise money to continue their digital mission.
“All the veteran groups are coming together,” said Vietnam veteran Bob Leibecke, one of the group’s old timers.
So far, Payne has spent at least $15,000 of his own money.
Almost daily, Payne has monitored the whereabouts of the interpreter he was closest to. He remains in hiding with his wife and 2-year-old daughter. Like thousands of interpreters, he is desperate to flee a government whose true intentions for U.S. sympathizers is unknown.
Promises made but not fulfilled
Over the years, Payne has kept up with a handful of interpreters he worked with during his decade away from Afghanistan. One settled five years ago in the U.S. and assimilated successfully.
Back in Afghanistan, others are still in danger.
Payne’s small group is working with a handful of interpreters. All have filed paperwork in accordance with the U.S. Government Interagency Counterinsurgency Initiative, put in place in 2009, recognizing the sacrifice interpreters make and the high retribution rate of the Taliban.
Meanwhile, the visa program has become a tidal wave of paperwork, a problem Payne said originated years before America’s exit. Barriers with written English have also proven troublesome.
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Payne said little progress has been made for interpreters he worked with, colleagues that were essential to U.S. military missions.
Leibecke likens the chaos in Afghanistan to the fall of Saigon in 1975, but on a larger scale.
“There was an incredible sadness and disbelief of what was happening,” said Leibecke, who served during the Vietnam War. He plans to assist in resettling Afghan interpreters and their families when they arrive in America.
“To see it unfolding now is bringing back all those sickening moments back again.”
Group giving all they’ve got; waiting is hardest
From continents away, Payne worries about his virtual mission.
Some progress has been made. Two in his group of interpreters have fled the country.
One endured beatings in front of his family at Taliban checkpoints. During one of several attempts to exit a gate, the interpreter and his family stood for 12 hours before he was told to come back another day.
Two hours after they were allowed to leave, a bomb exploded at an airport gate in Kabul, killing 60 Afghans and 13 U.S. troops, including soldier Ryan Knauss, 23, a graduate of Gibbs High School in Corryton, near Knoxville. All gates were closed, precious time lost before the last U.S. plane left Afghanistan on Aug. 30.
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Now the Taliban is in full control, borders are closed and information is even harder to disseminate.
“We can’t really help, especially now (that) America’s presence has left. It really changed a lot of our focus,” Payne said.
“We as veterans made those promises ourselves; personally. We have skin in the game and the government is making us into liars, and I will not let them do that. We will not let people die. They are real people, people we know.”
The interpreter that sent Payne the chilling text message responded 19 hours later, his update accompanied by a photo of a beheaded interpreter. The Taliban flood social media with graphic images, Payne’s friend told him.
“Please if it’s possible come with the troops and rescue me.”
Reach reporter Nancy DeGennaro at [email protected]. Freelance author Marcia Treadway contributed to this article.
