JUNE
BACKGROUND
As June progressed, coalition forces adapted to the unwelcome prospect of continuing operations in Iraq. This involved a shuffling of forces, the development of military infrastructure, and the continuing evolution of tactics and techniques.
In the case of the 4th Infantry Division (Mechanized), units quartered among the Kurds or within pockets of northern Shia found the people generally friendly; the Sunni were far less likely to be. Captain Brown's narrative describes the migration of his brigade from its original objective areas southward into what came to be known as the Sunni Triangle. For combat troops, this was increasingly where the action was. By fits and starts, troops policing the relatively benign areas found themselves drawn into the
restive ones instead.
Reinforcing and complicating this migration was the development of military infrastructure: logistical support
areas (LSAs), supply routes, headquarters, maintenance facilities, airfields, and so on. Brown's comments about rear-echelon amenities and who had air conditioning and when-grousing in the finest tradition of the combat infantryman-reflected the emergence
of semipermanent facilities. Over time, these would be supported by a predictably steady flow of ground convoys, but convoys and facilities alike would provide the embattled U.S. soldiers with that much more to defend.
The Army's senior leadership, aware of Iraq's logistical vulnerabilities, actively sought to generate as much support as possible from bases outside Iraq. This accorded with larger transformational initiatives to reduce logistical "footprints" within active theaters through such concepts as just-in-time logistics, split basing, and Intermediate Support Bases (ISBs). In Brown's narrative, the trend manifests itself in his surreal sojourn through Germany to obtain testimony relating to a friendly fire incident.
Brown comments that simply driving in Iraq's traffic was dangerous in its own right, borne out by the fact that a major fraction of coalition casualties would come from accidents alone. Interestingly enough, the spectacular accident Brown was involved in during this month suggested yet another hazard, organized crime. The money at the accident scene could as easily have come from robbery, smuggling, counterfeiting, or a host of other illicit activities. All that Brown and his soldiers
encounter should be understood in the context of the lawlessness of much of Iraqi society. The country as a whole demonstrated a murder rate several times that of America's most dangerous urban centers, and deaths due to apolitical crimes
of violence would dwarf those politically motivated throughout the 4th Infantry Division's tenure in Iraq.
In this dysfunctional country plagued by lawlessness, the collapse of the previous regime, and continuing attacks on coalition soldiers, U.S. forces groped to acquire an appropriate touch. Some argued for coming down hard in the recalcitrant areas, incarcerating thousands from the outset and relaxing gradually only as the security situation improved. Others favored a gentler, more negotiated approach. Whatever their philosophical preferences, the absolute deficiency in language skills at the unit level virtually forced the soldiers into heavy-handed solutions. It was better to be safe than sorry; the guilty and innocent could be sorted out only by those qualified to do so. Initially, too much reliance was placed on the bilingual Iraqis and informants who pursued their own agendas. Indeed, a truly reliable interpreter proved an invaluable asset.
Also, relatively large-scale operations could be forced on the scattered units with short notice. Brown describes one called Peninsula Strike; another labeled Desert Scorpion occurred in about the same timeframe. U.S. commanders quickly mustered bits and pieces from their wildly dispersed
units into an operational mass while nevertheless leaving local security intact. It is a comment on professionalism and training at every level that they performed so well while doing so. It is a comment on the paucity of forces in theater that they had to.
2 June: Spent the past few days in the groundhog-day zone. The living conditions here at the TOC have not improved ... we are idiots. I continue to get good PT daily and am currently at twenty-six of fifty-four. I finished Moby Dick. Made my top five list. Sheer genius. I went to Brian Faunce's and Pat Stobbe's change of command yesterday. 1-12 IN shacked up in one of Chemical Ali's old houses. Very nice, although they do not have the swimming pool filled yet. I ran into Jack Senneff and all the 1-12 IN guys. We discussed all the things going on in their sector.
The battle right now remains heavily civil-affairs oriented, but we don't want to admit this or place our efforts in that direction. We need to get the banks open, regulate the black-market gas, and get the police involved. Unfortunately, we continue to expend inordinate amounts of energy chasing
phantom regime officials based on unactionable information. The blacklist, essentially a codified body count, represents our gauge for progress. The regime "ist kaput"-move on. However, the new government won't stabilize until we provide them the means to restore civil infrastructure and empower their police force ... Civil Affairs. Jack and I talked about this for awhile. It's a total Catch 22. I do believe that ex-regime officials will surface the more stabilized we get the government.
After the 1-12 IN change of command, we headed down to D-Main at Tikrit. They are living at one of the bombed-out palaces. We rocked that building with a 500-pound bomb. We also dropped the bridge into the river, so they had to jerry-rig some crossing sites. D-Main had AC and a movie schedule. It's just a field version of Camp Doha. I envied them for about ten minutes. We got the
plan for a new, improved giant operation with no real actionable information. We really need to work our HUMINT [human intelligence] a lot better across the board. Our ability to capture/neutralize targets is quite awesome; however, we have zero capacity to find these targets. I don't really know the answer, but do know that we do a pretty poor job of tapping into the local
leaders. I think it's mostly language barrier and confusion of responsibilities. On the way back from Tikrit, we stopped at the 1-8 IN TOC. They are doing pretty good. I actually got excited to see them. The changing of the guard down there is ongoing. We have some really good guys going down there; I just need to knock out the COC inventories. All in all, it was a good, fast day. Did some PT today and have to pack up our gear. We move from "Andersonville" [named after a Civil War POW camp in Georgia] (minus the creek) tomorrow.
4 June: Packed up all my gear and launched the TAC back down to Samarra Airfield East ... the full circle in forty-five days. I don't want to go south again ... too hot. We used HETs since our tracks are running totally on metal [i.e., their track pads were worn out]. I stayed behind to attend Lieutenant Colonel Park's change of command tomorrow morning, and then we will launch down to link up with the TAC.
5 June: The change of command went well. I ran into all the fellas. The 1-12 IN is a great battalion, and they have done an outstanding job. I think Parks left with a real sense of accomplishment, and he caught his white whale commanding a battalion in combat. He flew out of Kirkuk right after the change of command. What a wonderful feeling that must have
been. I thought we would leave right from the change of command, but
we got caught up in all the briefings and aerial recons. I did not receive an invitation to any of those, so we watched some movies and hid from the sun at Andersonville. I almost finished reading Solzhenitsyn's The First Circle. I have nothing to do since I am separated from the TAC. I do good PT and hide from the sun. We have also developed the movie night routine. It helps the time go by.
6 June: Lieutenant Colonel Sassaman landed at the TOC. It was good to see him again. I guess he will shadow the colonel for this operation. We didn't leave for the TAC again today. I hate being separated from all my bags, although I did have the foresight to pack my throw bag accordingly. Now we are planning to leave on 7 June, after the 1-68 AR change of command. I broke through the halfway mark with PT yesterday. I am currently thirty-one out of fifty-nine.
7 June: The day goes pretty fast at Andersonville since so much of the time is simply spent on sustaining operations. Staff Sergeant Winters has labeled the one building on the compound the plantation house; one of the battle
captains described the XO's behavior accordingly: "Never have so few taken so much from so many." I have never seen anything quite
like it. I made it to the 1-68 AR change of command. Lieutenant Colonel Piscal did a great job. Talk about a guy that poured his heart and soul into an organization. Very nice event. He too flew back to the States. Both Parks and Piscal are going back to Fort
Carson, and neither has a job. That must be nice. They deserve to freeload for a little while. I ran into my classmate Chad Giaccomozzi. Talk about a good deal. He will change command in July and head off to Stanford University for physics. He'll pull that gig for two years and then teach at West Point ... and I am not even in command yet. It's funny how I have fallen behind. I guess it's a function of the two years I spent stagnating on brigade staff. Oh well, that will pass here soon as well. It feels like all my classmates have these wonderful opportunities that I will miss ... two years in the brigade S-3 shop versus two years at Stanford-you choose.
8 June: After the change of command, we finally left for the TAC-seventy-two hours late. The drive took
forever, and the associated comfort of the backseat of the S-3 Humvee did not shorten the experience. Everything started zinging once we showed up. Chaos and pinging ... or is it pinging to produce chaos. Whatever it is, it does not make things better or easier. I have never seen an operation as complex or with as screwed up a task organization as this one ... and I have seen a lot of confusion and messed up
task organizations. We'll see how this pans out, but we have boats, helos, tracks, dismounts, MPs, CI [counter intelligence], THTs [tactical HUMINT teams], 101st ABN, 173d ABN, V Corps, etc. Craziness. Of course, we are operating 160 miles from our assigned sector in someone else's AO.
These plans take on lives of their own. I just can't believe that we committed all these assets off the intelligence tips we received. We definitely need to develop the situation more and commit the appropriate force-i.e., a company, not a brigade plus. Well, I have been pulling the morning shift since 0345 ... not fun, but it provides a chance to catch up. I heard on the radio that the HET escort detail received some RPG/small-arms fire. I can't figure out why this keeps happening in this area. Forty-five
days ago we could not find anything down here. Now chaos reigns. They just don't have enough infantry guys here. We'll see how this all works out. I do know that it will prove a lot hotter down here. It's bad hot.
9 June: 127 degrees-that was how hot it got yesterday. Peninsula Strike came and went pretty much according to plan. We did the combined arms rehearsal [CAR] at 0900 and then hid from
the sun, conducting final precombat checks/inspections. Keven Beattie will take my place in the Bradley, and I'll stay back at the
bunker with all the other assets. Major Barnett wanted me to go forward but decided to train up my replacement instead. It proved a good one to miss as the temperature hovered around 125 degrees all day and a Bradley and flak vest do not cool you down. The operation kicked off at 0100, but the initial flurry of activity began at 2300-launching birds, boats, UAV, etc. The air assault went smoothly, and the ground convoy and blocking positions all went over well.
In fact, everything went as planned until the MP battalion shot up a truck running one of their checkpoints. The truck was full of
2-503 PIR [Parachute Infantry Regiment] soldiers. No military in civilian vehicles was the rule for this operation, and they ran the checkpoint. We launched the medevac bird, and thankfully they took only superficial injuries. Everyone reported receiving small-arms fire and RPGs but no effects. I think we are still seeing the random shoot-up-the-sky-in-your-vicinity deal.
We secured all the high-value target [HVT] houses and detained 377 people in our holding facility. The THT teams are pumping them for information, but no big fish in the AO, it looks like. The informants all use us to settle personal vendettas from bygone years, and we always play along. The
interpreters are working to gather all the information, but it seems all these detainees just worked for the Iraqi
Intelligence Service and didn't play major roles in government decisions. The only action we did have occurred when a 1-8 IN soldier got shot with a shotgun at pointblank range. His RBA stopped the entire round, and he stood up and kept on going. I guess this body armor really works. They grabbed the guy and put him in the holding pen. The THT team leader told him that he killed the
soldier and that it was his brother. The guy started crying ... psyops [psychological operations]. He claims that he thought the soldier was a burglar. They are working him for information, but it sounds like he just got spooked and shot the guy coming into his house. We had to evacuate two Iraqi civilians that died of heart attacks during the mission. I guess the lead squads were moving down the street and the Iraqis came out on the porch and dropped dead. Their relatives had glycerin for them but to no avail. Obviously they had previous heart complications. It made for an interesting leadership-reaction event.
10 June: I finally went to bed about 0400, after everything calmed down. Of course, I woke up at 0730 with the sun beating down on my head and a horde of flies trying to carry me off. I spent the morning consolidating reports and gathering information. I finally broke free about noon for some personal hygiene. I was conducting a search for water when I came across the TAT [to accompany troops] box (a storage box about 3 x 2 x 2 feet) with the leftover melted ice from two days before. I
couldn't resist the "canoe bath"-hilarious. I squeezed into the box full of ice water and just sat in it. It made me feel so much better. Fortunately, I had grabbed a new uniform off my Bradley prior to its departure forward ... quite the moral boost. The rest
of the day proved calm as everyone slept off the previous night's activity. I stayed up during the day but got to bed early. The assault CP came back; they looked awful. Everyone had sweat pouring off their uniforms and salt everywhere. They looked like Ranger School students due to all the water weight loss and bloodshot eyes from dehydration.
11 June: Woke up just before 0500. Nothing real big going on other than one of our boats got shot at on
the river last night. Other than that, we are just working to sustain ourselves 160 miles from our BSA ... what do they teach at SAMS [School of Advanced Military Studies]?
I did a great job avoiding the sun until about noon. The XO called and told me I was the investigation officer for the friendly fire incident two nights ago ... great. I spent the remainder of the day interviewing guys from the 173d
and hanging out at their TOC. Ran into Mike Fenzel and had a good long conversation with him. He hasn't changed much. It was good to see him, and he set me up for success with the interviews. They occupied the houses in the vicinity of Objective Ddaytona, so life proved pretty good for those guys-125 degrees doesn't feel too bad when you are inside. I conducted all the interviews and then drove to the scene of the incident. I consider us extremely lucky to have suffered such minor wounds on this one. The event proved far more confusing then I initially suspected it would. The confusion started with the vehicles the MPs had engaged ... a Humvee and a nontactical vehicle. The angles of fire just do not add up. I think we may have a combination of friendly fire and direct enemy action. Regardless, I have a lot of unanswered questions and a lot of work on this thing still. Unfortunately, my star witness was evacuated to Landstuhl ... makes for a tough investigation. Today is malaria pill day, and I am
tired.
12 June: Well, spent all day yesterday with the MPs. We went back to the scene and re-created the checkpoint. Very interesting. I photographed the entire event, walked the scene, and took all the angles of fire. Felt very much like setting up a nonstandard live-fire range. I reached about the 60 percent solution and briefed the colonel. He wants me to go to Landstuhl to investigate further. I went through all my pictures with the MPs and then
Aerial view of typical urban terrain in Iraq
went to the scout platoon and went through the pictures with them. Each day I get more questions but understand all the dynamics better. I have to assemble each individual's actions and compile each viewpoint. Everyone has his own viewpoint, and they are all right. It's just I have to determine what happened. After interviewing all the 173d guys, I came back to the TAC and found out we had birds leaving in thirty minutes. I scrambled to type a memorandum, pack my bags, and get out to the airfield. It moved quite fast. The helo ride proved uneventful, but I did violate my no-helicopter-in-Iraq rule. Regardless of the violation, much less painful than driving. The TOC has continued to improve ... namely the plantation house. It has gotten really hot all around the country temperature-wise. Right now, I am waiting for some orders and then heading up to Kirkuk to leave for Germany. Planes, trains, and automobiles ... at least I'll be doing something. It's a crazy world. I don't know how high up this briefing will go.
21 June: Thought I would get out of Kirkuk right away. The Air Force told me they had a bird leaving at
0630, which means a 0330 manifest. I couldn't sleep, so I made some phone calls and screwed around on the Internet. Finally went to check in at 0300 and the moron told me the flight was for the next day. He asked me if I thought it was today, so I told him, "No, I normally just walk around Air Force hangars at 0300 in the morning." Yeah, the Air Force is way different. So I had to burn
a day. That's easy in Iraq. Slept in until 0930 and woke up in the scorching heat. The airfield has a lot of amenities but no wind, which makes the nights quite a bit hotter than out in the desert ... and they have a lot more flies-the price of living someplace decent. I finished up my book and then went over to Finance to get some money. They had AC, so I hung out there for awhile. Ate Hot A's with the guys from 173d and then decided to go for a run ... bad idea. The food and running just didn't match up well. I then went through my e-mail and phone call routine and racked out before the flight.
Well, they did manifest and got to number 46 ... guess who had number 47? Me. It's maddening. So funny how nervous you get when they have something they can take from you; I am no longer a bottom feeder with nothing. My chance at a free trip to Germany suddenly turned me into a ravenous, caged animal attempting to escape. Luckily, they had another bird that afternoon. I remained beyond nervous and hid from everyone I knew until that bird showed up. I experienced the horrible feeling that someone would see me and say, "I didn't realize you hadn't left yet; why don't you just stay." I managed to hide out all day and convinced the air load planner
to rearrange some cargo to create seats so I made it onto the plane. The cargo: 10th Special Forces Group redeploying to Fort Carson. Wow, I am jealous. Good for them. I'm jealous. Took a sleeping pill and crashed for the entire flight.
Woke up, and it was cool outside. I went over to the 64th Replacement Company and got a room for the night. It was 2300 Iraq time,
so I just got some food and a beer and crashed on a bed. So comfortable. Of course, the fire alarm blasted off at about 0200. I woke up, looked around, and went back to sleep. The guy I was sharing the room with wanted me to go outside, so I assured him that
if I saw any fire I would jump out the window. Don't worry. Needless to say, no fire. More sleep. Woke up the next morning and had
a large Army breakfast. Nothing in the world like an Army breakfast. Mess halls are the same everywhere you go, great breakfasts-pass on everything else.
After a luxurious breakfast, I walked back over to the airport to see about a rental car. It's Sunday, so everything pretty much remains shut down. I didn't have a hat to wear this entire time, but I figured it's the Air Force-what do they care. Turns out I got lucky with the rental car. I got the very last one ... a silver Mercedes C180. The car just wants to drive itself. Went over to the PX [post exchange] for some civilian clothes. Of course, they have not opened yet, but they have a snotty Air Force specialist out front inquiring about my missing hat. I wasn't really in the mood to play around with him and did not want to wear my Kevlar, so I just ripped off his face instead. I guess he got the unfair brunt of two-and-a-half months in Iraq shoved down his
throat at one time. Someone should have briefed him on choosing his battles wisely. I sent him on his way with his tail between his legs. It was wrong, but it felt good. He did not volunteer to escort me back to pick up my hat, and I assured him I would change into civilian clothes the second he provided me the opportunity to buy some.
I drove out the front gate on A5 heading south. Step into the AM. Total culture shock. The car hit 200 kph before I even got it into sixth gear. I slowed down substantially after that first burst. I think it had to do with Eminem blasting out "Super Mega Dance Party mit Bayern Drei." Got to Landstuhl and linked up with Specialist Johnson for some interviews. Great guy ... so much different than our commo soldiers. I forgot how good I once had it. The hospital pretty much sucks, especially when they have so many war wounded. Thankfully, they can get them to this level of care so quickly. Everyone proved very cooperative and helpful, which made it easy.
I continued to run back and forth to the phone to coordinate with Jenny and Bill [his parents-in-law, then serving
in Paris]. Linkup of two moving parties always proves difficult. Tried to check into guest lodging, but it was full. I had them make arrangements for me ... I thought the Schloss Hotel sounded appropriate. I tried to drive over there, but they had some huge Vikingfest. After cloverleafing the objective, I finally gave up and decided to go for a run-search. The trails and trees of Germany reminded me of Fort Lewis. So awesome. The trails were so soft, and the trees so tall. The smells and woods of Germany brought back distant childhood memories. The timelessness of the German forest felt awesome. I think the fact I could do anything outside at 3:00 p.m. without bursting into flames proved a novelty in itself.
I finally checked in to the hotel. It's up on the mountain right next to the castle with 200-foot trees and paths all around. The Viking contingent sat outside drinking beers and enjoying the afternoon with trashcans on their heads and broad swords at their feet. I went to check in-my outfit: brown t-shirt and gym shorts. It's all I had. I explained to the Frau that I had civilian clothes en route. She accepted my apology and sent me up to my room. I sat out on the balcony drinking mineral wasser and enjoying
the German countryside. I think Granddad's generation chose better in the countries they rebuilt, if not in the wars they had to fight. The clothes, Jenny, Bill, and Max all showed up within the hour. I had a shower with pressure, and we headed down to the front yard for beers and dinner. Sandy Ewers, Joe Ewers' wife, joined us for dinner-they are stationed in Germany. We had a great time ... Jagerschnitzel and all. The meal and dessert knocked me out. I slept like a rock with the big German windows wide open and the cool air blowing in.
I woke up the next morning and ran on the trails with Bill. We went up to the Schloss overlook. I could live in Germany for a good
long time. After running, we went over to the PX at Ramstein to buy random objects from my accumulated list. The flight line was packed with C-5s and C-17s. It looked quite busy. The C-5 looks like a monster. I sat outside eating Baskin Robbins ice cream and talking on the phone. I also bought a pair of shorts to hang out in. The joy of being comfortable does not go unnoticed by the deprived. After doddling around for awhile, I went back to the hospital and spoke with the doctors. Nothing real eventful, but I did refine some of my slides. I left Johnson with some phone numbers and headed back to the Schloss Hotel for Jagerschnitzel round
two. The meal proved just as good as the night before.
I finally bid adieu and headed back to Rhein-Main to await transportation to Kirkuk ... sad face. Needless to say,
I did not peg my anxiety over getting a flight out. I checked into guest housing at Rhein-Main; unfortunately, the only room they had available was for colonels and above ... so I encouraged them to pretend I was a captain in the Navy. They saw my orders and took pity. The next morning I did laundry, Internet, PX, and the gas coupon extravaganza. I followed the signs to the Esso station
and ran into the beach for Ironman Europe in two weeks. I had to stop and take some pictures. Of course the beach was packed, and I joined in the melee. Swam for thirty minutes along the Ironman route and then just sat on a park bench enjoying the lake. Typical German beach with the Speedo brigade and scantily clad, saggy women named Helga. I have very distinct memories of countless summer days at the German Schwimmbad with all the associated pommes-frites, bratwursts, and soda without ice.
I stayed there until my desire for food outweighed my level of comfort and my clothes had completely dried. I then walked around downtown looking for a restaurant. Found a Greek restaurant ... bingo. I had a huge plate of gyro meat and lamb chops. I forgot how much I love German-Greek food. I stuffed my face, and then went to gelativille for some ice cream. I then headed back to turn in the rental car. Of course their computer broke down, so I kept the car for another night. I checked on flights out and then headed back to the O-6 billeting. I couldn't go to sleep just yet, so I went down to the Amigo and drank some Jack and cokes while
eating chips and salsa. There was a bunch of National Guard finance guys talking about the toughness of their summer assignment to
Germany and how they weren't authorized rental cars. Pretty funny the disparity of wants, needs, and desires. I talked to them for
awhile and then went to rack out.
Got an e-mail saying to try to come back through Baghdad if I couldn't get Kirkuk in the next twenty-four hours. Baghdad would prove a nightmare. Thankfully, a Kirkuk-bound C-17 had diverted into Rhein-Main for computer problems. I managed to get manifested
on that one ... as the only passenger. I then turned in the Mercedes with a tear in my eye, ate some Brotchen, drank a cappuccino,
and bid civilization farewell. Kirkuk Airfield proved depressing. I couldn't sleep due to all the flies and mosquitoes that somehow figured out my mosquito net. I got up the next morning early and went for a run. After cleaning up, I went over to the ALOC and waited for transportation to the TOC. Mission complete, morale crushed.
Leaving is always the double-edged sword ... so hard to come back. It feels like Christmas break at Ranger School,
or Plebe Christmas at West Point. It's so hard to return to the gloom period. Instead of returning to the gloom period, I returned
to the summer solstice. Redeployment to America seems so far away. Found out upon return that we were moving south in the next couple of days. Not good. We need to go north. Fortunately, I received numerous packages. I am thinking of selling baby wipes to the Iraqis now. If we could teach them about personal hygiene, we could make a killing. The TAC had not changed at all; they were all filthy and sleeping right next to the wall urinal because it had the most shade. Wow. I am back to the world of thinking for 35-year-old men. I made the NCOs move them away from the latrine. I don't know if I really care whether or not they get dysentery,
I just don't want them giving it to me-Realpolitik on the microscopic level. You just get beat down by stupidity here, and these guys know better. I guess stupid hurts ... really bad. I finished the briefing and am waiting to get on the division commander's calendar. Once complete, I'll start COC inventories. The one thing that I learned from my travels: we are living worse than anyone
else ... and it is our own fault. Oh well, we are moving. The plantation house screamed in agony. Ha, small victories.
22 June: Spent the day working on some slides and hiding from the sun in the Plans van. The HETs were supposed to show up to take us south; but they proved late, of course. It got too late to ride around on HETs, so we spent the night and the TAC left in the morning. The CG is supposedly coming today, so I can brief this investigation and move on. It's my last official act as a brigade staffer ... unless Keven goes on emergency leave and then I have to stay in the TAC. I just can't break free. I was doing a great job of being expendable but not quite worthless up here at brigade ... sage advice for aspiring company commanders. This investigation wouldn't seem so bad if it wasn't backing me up against a change of command.
23 June: The CG came for the briefing, and it went smoothly. He wants me to brief all the brigade commanders now. I guess the final stretch to command is going to prove a long one. I hit up the brigade commander about my status,
and he said not until the completion of this operation. I guess no one feels the ticking of the clock except for me. On a good note, Hancher got the new "NOFX" CD. It's really funny. The weather proved a little bit cooler today. I guess we passed the summer
solstice, but it will continue to get hotter. Speaking of the solstice, I have developed a new primitive holiday centering on 21 June. When I returned from Germany, I had a bunch of boxes and mail.
I decided to open one each night as the sun went down. It's my version of an Iraqi Hanukkah. I tried to explain it
to Abbas, our interpreter, but he didn't seem to get it. He couldn't get me a menorah either. What kind of Islamic fundamentalist nation is this?
26 June: The most dangerous thing we do here in Iraq is drive. We had a very cogent reminder of this coming down the Jabal Hamrin Ridge with the command group (two BRT gun jeeps, the CSM, colonel, and S-3). Four Arabs in a car came
screaming past our little convoy. About three minutes later they slammed into an Arab truck coming up the ridge ... total chaos. As we pulled up, we established security and assessed the situation. The driver of the truck crawled out the windshield uninjured,
but his load of fruit scattered to the four winds. The entire engine compartment of the car collapsed into the front seat. Not good. The trunk blew open, and millions of Iraqi dollars went everywhere. A guy in the chase car was wailing, but somehow through his sorrow he managed to collect up all the money. I don't know what these guys were up to. Oh well.
I moved with Staff Sergeant Harrison to the car with our CLS bags. We put on some gloves as the other Arabs started dragging a guy
out of the back left seat-completely disregarding the idea of neck and spine stability, but we really couldn't communicate that fast enough. As they got him out I moved to assess the other guys. The driver had a broken neck and no face-real dead. The guy riding shotgun had a smashed face and spinal fluid leaking everywhere. The guy sitting in the back right had no pulse. Three guys real dead on impact. About the same time, the Arabs had sprung the back right guy free. He was a really big dude. We went to work on him in the messy scene of gas, oil, and blood. I had the Humvee drivers and other BRT establish security and stop traffic around us as we worked. The guy had a pulse of 60 and was snoring-totally unconscious. Told the colonel to start working an aerial
medevac if we wanted this guy to live. Sergeant First Class Barreto took the 9 Line and started trying to get FM while Schwartz worked the TACSAT. This all happened incredibly fast. Everyone seemed to know what they needed to do-made it very nice.
Harrison kept the guy on his side while I cleared his airway with an MRE spoon-I don't know why, but that morning I stuck my brand
new MRE spoon in my pocket. We thought his teeth were all busted, but I think he just had bad teeth. His face was pretty messy-broken nose and shattered jaw. Blood drained all out his mouth. About this time, a senior medic showed
up with more gear. I told her I would work the airway and cardio while she continued with the secondary survey and
started the IV. Harrison and I rolled the guy onto his back and I measured him for a J tube. Harrison got the J tube and started jamming it down his throat. I quickly reminded him of the roof of the mouth flip technique. The tube then went right in, but totally filled with blood. Sh-. We rolled him back on his side and drained him again. Of course, we ripped the IV out when we did this-oh well, we're the JV team. Once we drained him and got the IV back in, I went to check on the medevac status ... nothing on either radio or iridium cell phone-we were in a commo black hole.
I made the decision to move east and continue calling the medevac bird. At this point, one of the Arabs started yelling at me-"Alive! Alive! Breath!" I went over to the passenger side of the car and straightened out the guy's really crooked head where the Iraqi pointed. As I got his airway straight, he started agonal respirations as his lungs collapsed. Totally freaked me out. Nasty. I now had his blood, sweat, and brains all over my hands and a demonstration of agonal breathing reminiscent of a scene from a horror movie that I won't soon forget. I told the Iraqi that he was dead and went back to the only guy we could really help.
We still didn't have communication with anyone outside our convoy, so I had the medics clear out the back of their 5-ton and get a
sheet of plywood out-our new stretcher. We loaded the guy onto the board. I took his pulse-80 and he still had good respirations when we loaded him. I taped the IV bag to the top of the 5-ton and then helped the medics in. I told them they were in charge of the patient now as we got everyone turned around and headed toward Tikrit. I gave their captain instructions to drive east until he could get a hold of the medevac bird on 3355 plain text and then talk the pilot in. I then got in with the rest of the convoy after policing the scene and collapsing our perimeter. We got through to the TAC and had them relay the information up to the main
in order to get police out to the gruesome scene. I wonder why they had all that money? Major Barnett thought they were up to no good ... makes you wonder.
We finally made it to LSA Anaconda and linked up with the TAC-not a bad location-they have a chow hall here. This place reminds you of the "haves and have-nots" of war. It's run by III COSCOM [Corps Support Command]. They have lots of AC, hot chow, and luxuries; they have a soldiers' club here with weekly dances. Crazy. I call it Cam Ranh Bay, Iraq. We are now
allowed to run in shorts along the airfield. They say this is our final set. No one is falling for that one again.
I linked up with 1-8 IN. They are in the process of doing a 180 with regard to the leadership and capabilities of that battalion. They just sound confident now. I am in the midst of right-seat rides for this mission, after which I start COC inventories. Lieutenant Colonel Sassaman set the date for 10 July-actually works out nice. Sassaman has that battalion chasing bad guys. He's very aggressive, which is what this AO needs. It's the worst section of Iraq right now, and they had zero infantry here. Well now,
these jackasses are getting knees in their backs and the screws turned tight on them instead of having free rein to lob RPGs at medevac vehicles. Big-stick diplomacy after nightfall. Hopefully, the area clears up with all these dismounted patrols. The 3-7 CAV just doesn't have the MTOE [modified table of organization and equipment, alluding to their lack of manpower, supplies, and equipment] to get this region under control. I guess that is why we had to move so far south. Tactically, we are just hunting bad guys. Our DIVARTY lost two soldiers the other day ... kidnapped from a checkpoint they set up for demolitions. TF 20 sounds like they got a tip and are launching this morning. We'll see how it goes.
30 June: It's been a crazy few days. I managed to escape the clutches of brigade. The TAC jumped from 1-8 IN's location, and I just stayed ... fait accompli is the only way to get things done here. Had a good conversation with Sassaman ... three-hour counseling session with an A CO PL [Company A platoon leader] and myself. He takes so much time to get guys on the team. He has really established the command climate for this battalion.
After that, I finished my book Appointment in Samarra [by John O'Hara] and racked out for a couple hours before commencing Operation Sidewinder. We went with the engineer company on Objective Ohio. Good learning experience ... we are winning the "hearts and minds" over here. We rolled up a farmhouse full of women and children. They had three guys of age but nothing else significant. We had 100 guys roll into the objective area at 0100 in the morning with helicopters and APCs [armored personnel carriers] all over the place. We found a scythe. Can you say "busted raid?" We flex-cuffed all the men and placed them outside on the front lawn with sandbags over their heads. The women freaked out. I grabbed the translator and had him go talk to them. The THT teams are very unaggressive. You have to jumpstart them on every single question. I am just going to give them a list
and yell out numbers for them to ask on the objective ... too easy, and how long have we been doing this?
We got back real late, and I just crashed in the hangar. Slept in until 1000, but it got crazy hot. Went to shave and clean up and
got a call saying I needed to report to the brigade TOC. Great. Turns out I had to brief all the brigade commanders on my investigation. We flew up to Tikrit. Division is fighting a different war-living in the palace complex with central AC, satellite TV, etc.
The briefing went well. Kinda funny-battalion commanders were standing along the back wall and the CG and I did all the talking. [Maj. Gen. Raymond T.] Odierno is a phenomenal commander, and the briefing went well. All the advantages I gained from the AC at D-Main got quickly erased as I entered the sauna box of the Black Hawk. They fly doors closed here because of the dust, so you just suffer from the heat in the back. Got back to the airfield and talked to the medevac guys. Turns out the Iraqi we treated the
other night is still alive. I don't think he is doing so well, but he lives. Minor victories. Of course, they will probably blame the Americans for the whole incident, even though all we did was help. Not much else to report. We are jumping over to 1-8 IN TOC today. Hopefully, living conditions improve. I know that they are at brigade. I can honestly say you never really worried about the living conditions at brigade because you had so many other folks more worried than you. Battalion is a different story. These guys don't even have cots. Going on three months now and they are living like total animals ... the disparity of this war.