War Stories with John: When the Plan Works…Too Well

Some lessons are learned under fire. Others are learned when the dust settles, and you realize you just blew a hole in a perfectly good wall. Welcome back to War Stories with John. This is one of those stories.

The Setup: Riding to War in a Steel Coffin

This happened in Afghanistan. We were tasked to raid a prison that intelligence said had been taken over by Taliban or Al-Qaeda, I can’t remember which now. The plan was aggressive, direct, and—like many plans—looked great on paper.

We were inserting using tanks.

But Rangers hate tanks.

Not because they’re ineffective, but because I don’t like feeling like cargo. You’re sealed inside this big steel coffin, blind to the outside world, cut off from situational awareness, and completely dependent on timing and coordination. When those hatches open, you step out into chaos with zero context and very little margin for error, the sun is blinding you and you’re just in the thick of it. Whereas I prefer to infiltrate on foot or a more open vehicle to maintain situational awareness all the way to the target.

Still, that was the mission.

The idea was simple: the tank would drop us right in front of a massive prison gate. We’d spill out, flood through the opening, and clear the compound. And just in case that gate wasn’t open, we had a backup plan.

The Backup Plan: Enough C4 to Rearrange Geography

If the gate wasn’t accessible, we were prepared to execute an alternate breach using a wall charge.

A big one.

The kind of charge that could blow a hole in the world.

Execution: When Momentum Takes Over

The tank stopped.

The hatch opened.

We poured out into blinding sun, dust everywhere, adrenaline spiking. Visibility was trash. Everyone was moving fast, trying to orient, trying to find the gate.

We didn’t see it.

So, we called it.

Alternate breach.

The wall charge went up. We backed off. The blast hit, and a massive hole appeared exactly where it was supposed to.

Textbook execution.

We flowed through the breach, rifles up, flooding into the compound—ready to meet the enemy head on, guns blazing!

But there was nobody there…well almost nobody. The 200 fighters we expected were gone, and there was just one very confused guy inside the compound, watching an entire platoon of Rangers materialize through a hole that absolutely did not need to exist.

The Reveal: The Gate Was Right There

As we took our dominate positions inside, that lone guy started pointing.

Not at us, but just to our left. And when we looked over, there it was.

The gate.

Wide open.

Massive.

About fifty feet from where we’d just detonated enough explosives to remodel the prison wall.

We hadn’t missed it because it was hidden. We missed it because momentum is a powerful thing. Once a decision is made under stress, everything else can disappear if you’re not disciplined enough to slow down and verify.

The Takeaway: Competence Isn’t the Same as Awareness

We did everything right—procedurally.

The explosives were placed correctly. The breach was executed cleanly. The entry was fast and aggressive. But competence without awareness can still make you look foolish.

This story isn’t about failure under fire. Though it’s a funny story that I laugh about, it’s a reminder about the danger of tunnel vision, even among highly trained professionals. Stress compresses time, it narrows perception, and if you’re not careful, you’ll solve a problem that never existed—loudly.

Why These Stories Matter

War stories aren’t just about heroism or chaos. Sometimes they’re about humility. They remind us that no amount of training exempts you from human error. They reinforce the need for clarity, communication, and constant reassessment—even when adrenaline is high, and the clock is ticking. Because in real life, not every explosion needs to happen.

Remember, Train Hard. Train Smart. And slow down enough to see the open door before you blow a hole through the wall.