Home Forums Miscellaneous Topics Military Made it to Iraq

Gents,
I am fine and things are as well as can be expected in "The Triangle of Death", or so I'm told this place is called. As you can see we've taken some casualties, and a few since that was written, but the Marines continue to amaze me with their drive to push the mission and get the enemy whenever we can. I'm going to try and post a number of stories whenever I get to where we have internet. Where I live most of the time connections just don't exist. Heck, heat doesn't exist, it went from 85 to 40 in 2 days. The past 3 nights we have had wind chills below freezing. Although we have our cold weather gear when your body is acclimatized to 80+ degrees 40 is really cold.

Thanks for all your prayers and offers of items. To be entirely honest I can't use the stuff I am getting, and our unit is pretty well stocked. Some of the families in Madison did a collection at Wal Mart and ended up spending $5000 in postage to get us a pile of boxes. I can't begin to describe how much stuff we got.

Yours in service,
Bob

Good to hear from you Gunny. You and your men are in our thoughts. You make us all proud.

Semper Fidelis

DITTO

Thank You Gunny Bob!

I share all your post with my family as they come in and we
are very proud of you.

Awesome posts Gunny. Please keep them coming as time permits. Folks back home are hungry for real stories. Watch your azz.
SD

God bless and protect you and your/our Marines, Gunny.
The job you are doing is so important. Tell those young warriors we are incredibly proud of them and support them 110%.

Semper Fidelis,
Bigiron (3rd MAW 1974-1977)

Gunny Bob,
Thanks to you and your men for all you are doing! We are so proud of you guys, what an inspiration you all are! If there is something you or your men need please feel free to let me know!

All the best,

Huntr

Gunny, it will get even colder, just wait till Jan-Feb. 40 degrees is even worse when you are used to 125. Next time an ING pulls some dumb-ass stunt, tell him Magnoon, it means crazy. Hang in there, they cant stop time.

Gunny- great posts! Keep your head down, and get home soon. Good luck and Godspeed.

Guys I'm still alive. I was hoping to send a couple more stories, but this computer isn't reading my flash drive. Maybe next time.

I am fine on snacks or anything else, I am amazed at how much more support we have than in 91, we are getting an average of 4 boxes per Marine every time we get mail (about once every 5 days or so).

God Bless you all,
Bob

Gunny,

Hang in there and thanks for being over there! Keep the kids safe, and always "check six".

Blaine

That's good to hear, but you gotta remember Gunny in 91 we knew it was going to be an overnighter! <img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/grin.gif" alt="" />
Semper Fi

Gunny Bob,
I've been reading your "writes" with great interest. It sounds pretty hairy at times, I've got you and your guys in my prayers. Flying the Dragon Eye sounds pretty interesting, retrival must be something else.

Curiosu about what it looks like, came up with this-



If any of your guys want Eastman's Hunting Journal, Mike Eastman is offering annual subscriptions free to Service men. They just need an address to ship it to.

Mike said here remembers what Vietman was like (he served on the ground) and wanted to do his part for today's soldiers.

Good of you to take the time to post Gunny. I thank you for your stories. I just stumbled on to this post today. I fear for you guys every day. I'm so fortunate to be able to experience my life today as a father of a young Family back home. I have every thing I hoped I would someday have when I laid in my rack awake at night during the first Gulf conflict in 90-91. A boy thrown into a man�s job, responsible for several other boys in somewhat undefined rolls as young Marine armorers (2111's).
We all grew up fast that year, we feared scuds, mortars, mines, gas, drive by shootings etc. Khobar towers was hit just shortly before or after we arrived & stayed there, can't remember exactly. Everything was on fire, the sky stayed gray with a haze for 6 months after the fires were out, probably longer. We lived on red cross care packages from back home for about a month because for some reason we just couldn't get real food. Kuwait City was a mess, horrible crimes occurred there. The �highway to hell� was insufficient payback for the crimes that occurred there. I used to lay awake at night long after I could hear that all my buddies were sleeping (if we had that luxury) and that is the time at which I released my fear from an earlier event in the day for which I could not afford to show fear or emotion. I remember that, I actually wouldn't be afraid until I knew the guys were asleep. It aint like I laid there crying or anything but I just remember the emotion being delayed until that time, any panic or fear had to wait until I could hear the guys sleeping. It was important to me, I felt it was necessary to not have or show fear at those times in front of the other guys. My thought or hope was that it could help them remain calm. Then I'd lay awake & smooth over that fear with hope for our safe return back home & I'd comfort myself with future plans of family & such. I saw myself married to my then fianc� & having a few children, a boy or two & hopefully a daughter. Well that�s exactly what I�ve got & I cherish it all along with my freedoms & my country. I�m red white & blue straight through & you guys are my heroes, I�m very proud & thankful for your work there.
14 year have passed for me since I experienced dessert winter? It doesn't seem like it. One thing remains the same from time to time. I lay awake in my bed at night & fear for you & our fine young men & hope for all to be afforded the safe return I experienced years ago. For you all I hope for that & so much more.
Stay warm, stay safe.

Semper Fi Gunny

USMC Cpl 90-94

Thanksgiving in Iraq

Thanksgiving started out in a sort of comical way in 2004, the weather had become very cold over the weeks, it went right from summer-like temperatures in the mid 80�s to winter temps in the mid 40�s within a few days. On the Saturday before Thanksgiving we were informed we wouldn�t be getting our hot meal on Wednesday, rather it would come on the Saturday after.

Operation Big Dig II was occurring just to our north at IED Bridge, so called because it attracts IED like flies to honey. MEU was in the process of rebuilding the northbound lane after the latest IED strike, battalion had a presence up at the bridge providing security, and our 1st Platoon was tasked with setting up an OP (Observation Post) on a house to the west between our FOB and the bridge. I went out with a squad and we found a position that would fill the bill. We left FOB ROW at 0600 for the 3 klick or so walk to a house we had scouted on the map. I was carrying my PRC-113 for talking to aircraft, a PRC-148 for talking to our mortars, my fleece, gore-tex, hat, gloves, and 2 spare batteries for each radio. All of this was stuffed into an old ALICE pack without the frame. War is definitely a young man�s game; after only the short walk to the house I was feeling the weight. Once we got into the area we found a much better house to use and began to secure the area.

As we approached the house we saw that the father was getting ready to leave for work, we approached him and made it clear that he could not leave and that we were going to use his roof as an OP. Obviously he wasn�t too happy, but given that there was 12 of us with guns he wasn�t going to argue. A quick search of his home turned up an AK-47 but no ammunition; we confiscated the rifle and set up our OP. We had one team on the roof, one team roving the area around the house, and the third team watching the family. We let them go about their business, but made it clear none of them were allowed to leave the area.

Iraqi houses are very different from what we are used to; most are of brick or cinderblock, they don�t have frame houses here, the floors are dirt or concrete, and furnishings are an afterthought. I�ve been in a number of homes here and only the wealthy have anything better than some mats or small rugs to lay on the floor for chairs and beds, and this house was no different. I sat on the roof for about an hour and had to go in to put on my gore-tex and fleece, I was chilled to the bone. As I went down the stairs to the main room I saw the security team sitting on mats drinking chai (a local hot tea) and eating cookies. This is one of the things that always surprises me about the Iraqis, we will go into their houses and occupy them for hours and they will serve us chai. The squad leader offered to take over my radio and observation while I warmed up, so I let him. I stripped off my LBV, flak, and blouse and put on layers. The man of the house made it obvious I was to sit down and have some chai, so I did. Hot chai is delicious, and with the amount of sugar they put in it will keep you awake for hours, we call it �liquid crack�.

The house was busy; the family was large, even by Iraqi standards. They had a husband and wife, a young woman who lived there whose relationship I couldn�t determine and five children from about three years old to about fifteen. The surprising thing was the way they were all dressed; the youngest child had on a fleece shirt, sweat pants and no shoes, yet he was running all over the yard. At the same time I was wearing my long underwear, fleece shirt, uniform blouse and trousers, flak (these do help hold heat in), and gore-tex top, for a scarf I wear a green and black shemagh. There were Marines wearing more layers than I was!

I could tell that the wife was rather unhappy with our presence; she scowled at us whenever she had to pass through the main room. The husband hovered over us hoping we would leave if he was nice, we invited him to join us and after a few minutes he did, with a look of disapproval from his wife. We took out pictures of our children and passed them around, Iraqis are very interested in family and this is always a good way to break through. It worked; the wife was soon in the main room asking questions about our various children. After about 20 minutes I went back up to the roof and took my post back. All was quiet in the area.

Being that we were in a rural area the family had livestock and farm fowl; a couple of cows, some chickens, and, believe it or not, three turkeys. I was standing on the roof and I heard yelping, turkey yelping, at first I thought I was imagining it. As I looked around the house, my attention had been out much further so far; I saw two hens and a tom walking around the yard. These weren�t domestic turkeys; they were identical to the wild turkeys I hunt at home. The thought of shooting one and taking it back for dinner raced through my mind, but I didn�t know how much we would have to pay the guy. The tom followed the hens around the yard, strutting and gobbling at the various farm dogs and roosters.

We occupied the house from about 0700 to 1100 that day, an hour past our scheduled time to support the operation at IED Bridge, without incident. We did not see or hear any enemy activity in our area and packed up to leave. After the Marines had stripped down for the walk back, we thanked the owner for his hospitality, and I gave him two dollars. We walked back to FOB ROW the way we had come, dealing with farm traffic along the way, but not overly concerned about it. By the time I had reached the FOB the pack was really starting to get heavy.

So Thanksgiving was just another workday for us, except that we had to face the loss of another Marine and the wounding of three others.

Our 3rd Platoon was still out on Tampa at Checkpoint 22A helping to secure the route. On the evening of the 25th they ghosted a convoy from 22A north to 26A, where Echo Company had replaced our 2nd Platoon freeing them to move to Lutayfiyah. When 3rd Platoon�s patrol reached 26A they turned around and began driving back south. Not far along they hit a tripwire activated IED in the southbound lane. Four Marines were in the hummer, Sgt Ganem (driving), Sgt Hazel (front passenger), LCpl Skaar (flank security), and PFC Cantafio (machinegunner). The IED was placed on a guardrail stump and angled up to direct the blast toward a Marine riding in the top hatch of an up-armored hummer. Of course our hummers aren�t up-armored, we mainly have old high-back hummers with armor plating bolted on the bed. This IED was one of the smaller ones encountered, but the tripwire and angling to target specific positions was new to us.

Unlike the IED that killed three of our Marines in Lutayfiyah we were less involved than I would have liked to be. All we could do was relay messages from 3rd Platoon to battalion and back. A QRF (Quick Reaction Force) was dispatched to the scene by Echo and we got the medevac request going up the chain. By the time things started to settle out and accurate reporting was going both ways we had four wounded Marines, one needing immediate evacuation; he had succumb once to his wounds and was brought back to life and breathing on his own. Just like on November 8th the CP was quiet but packed. The only sound was message traffic on the radios or messages between primaries; I manned the battalion net, Maj Holton manned the company net, and Capt Murphy manned the computer. As we continued to wrangle with battalion, and battalion with the medevac squadron, on the air support for evacuation PFC Cantafio died. It is doubtful that Ryan Cantafio would have lived even if the bird had been airborne and heading his way before they struck the IED, he had a piece of shrapnel pass under the neck guard on his body armor and cut the left side of his neck.

Shrapnel in the right elbow wounded LCpl Skaar, Sgt Ganem had shrapnel wounds to his foot, and Sgt Hazel minor shrapnel wounds to his arm. Sgt Hazel returned to duty the next day, Sgt Ganem and LCpl Skaar were evacuated to Baghdad and then to Germany. I had the displeasure of writing to Cantafio�s young wife that night. I wish I knew what to say to the families, I feel so inadequate when I write them. I try to tell them how proud I am of their loved ones, how much I admire them, and how much they meant to the platoon, but it never seems to come out that way. I honestly don�t know if I will be able to look them in the eye when I get home, I feel ashamed that their loved ones are dead and I get to live. I spent time that evening coordinating leaving Lutayfiyah and going up to Mahmudiyah the next day to take care of Cantafio�s personal effects.

Cantafio�s death hit me harder than Ramey and Warns�s, I don�t know why. The feeling of helplessness that hit was like a hammer. The CO took me into his room to talk and offer his condolences, I cried like I haven�t in years. I wish it was some comfort to the families and me that we are doing good here, that we are finding the insurgents and getting them off the street, but it comforts me very little. I had become sick of this place, sick of the insurgency, and sick of trading young lives for a people that won�t know what to do with the opportunity we are providing them. I have sent three of my Marines home to their families in flag draped coffins, and I wouldn�t trade a single one of them for all of Iraq. Perhaps if the people of Iraq acted as if they were going to try and run their own nation, as if they wanted to create a society of free enterprise and commerce, as if they wanted to help us find and capture the insurgents, perhaps then I would feel different, but I see very little that is positive today.

Capt Murphy woke me early to jump on a ride up to IED Bridge, I met up with the unit I was to ride to Al-Mahmudiyah with and started chatting with some friends, 1stSgt Scheerer and Maj Porter from Weapons Co., and Maj McGinnis (Gramps) the Battalion Air Officer. My original ride to FOB St. Michael couldn�t take me as somebody else now occupied the seat, I would just have to wait. Work continued on the bridge and soon enough it was as done as MSSG was going to make it that day. The Engineers from our battalion and MSSG packed up and started up the road toward St. Mike.

�Hey Gunny,� Maj Porter said, �there goes your ride. Sorry, I forgot to tell you.� I had missed my second ride up to Al-Mahmudiyah in less than three hours. I would have to wait at least another four hours for the last of the battalion level security to move back north for my chance to get up to St. Mike and start working on Cantafio�s gear.

Gramps had some helos do some practice fire missions to keep their skills sharp. After that was done we looked around for something else to keep us occupied. Gramps sent his radio operators off to find a pole, �about 10 feet tall and not too big around,� he had an idea. The Marines returned several times with some very sorry excuses for a flagpole.

�Gents,� Gramps told them, �it�s sad that Marines could find a better pole on the top of a volcano on Iwo Jima and you can�t find a decent pole here on the edge of a town where a bridge is being built.� The Marines took this kind of hard and redoubled their efforts.

Finally the Marines brought in a suitable flagpole; it was piece of galvanized water pipe about 14 feet long and an inch in diameter, it was even pretty straight. Maj McGinnis went to his pack and pulled out a Marine Corps flag. We tied the flag on to the pole using 550 cord, found a couple of cinderblocks laying around and went to the center of the bridge. As soon as the flag went up the Iraqis crossing the bridge started to honk and wave, a number of men slowed to shake our hands as they passed. I�m not really sure why the sudden change of heart, all morning we had been getting sullen looks, perhaps the locals recognized the flag and knew we weren�t the Army, perhaps they were finally aware of us (the ING were running the checkpoint), I really don�t know. We had our pictures taken and moved back to the staging area.

Gramps had his Marines find another pole and pulled out an American Flag. Had we been able to find an Iraqi flag we would have put them up alongside our colors. But events transpired against us and nobody seemed to have an Iraqi flag, not surprising.

I moved down to a machinegun position that was covering the canal to the east of the bridge, �You boys see that flag?� I asked the two Marines, LCpl Jarlsberg and PFC McVay. �Yes Gunny.� They replied. �As long as that flag stands I want every Marine from Weapons to take the time and get their picture taken in front of it, do you understand?� I said, tears welling up in my eyes. �Yes Gunny.� They replied again.

A little later we started seeing some issues with our flag; traffic seemed very concerned that we would react violently if it was knocked over and cars were weaving toward the edge of the bridge to avoid getting close enough to impact the flagpole. This, combined with the fact that the bridge repair was just a pile of dirt over two large culverts in the canal and hadn�t been tamped or had plates lain on top, was creating a series of ruts in the surface. Cars were beginning to get stuck and to avoid the ruts had to get closer to the edge of the bridge. Eventually somebody was going to slip into the canal. After some deliberation we decided that in the interest of safety we would take our flag down. I didn�t care about sensitivity at that point, or being politically correct, I was sending another kid home to his family in a box. [bleep] the Iraqis and how they felt about us. But I also wasn�t going to drop a family into the canal and risk killing a child. Gramps and I talked and we took the flag down.

We finally got loaded up and headed north to Al-Mahmudiyah. I arrived at FOB St. Mike about 1400 that day and went immediately to the Company Office to check in with the 1stSgt. He wasn�t ready to start sorting gear so I hung around a little while and checked emails, talked with some of the guys coming in and out and tried to fix the satellite TV so that it would receive a signal again. While I was waiting Sgt Mathison and LCpl Hueramo, two of the Marines in Cantafio�s squad showed up with his gear. I shook their hands, expressed my regrets and spent some time talking to SSgt Mallow. A little while later 1stSgt Eastwood came in and said he had meetings to go to until much later and that I should get anything done I need to. I went to take a shower, drop off my laundry, hit the PX, and call my wife, in that order.

Later that evening the 1stSgt and I spent some time sorting Cantafio�s gear. This time it didn�t seem as therapeutic for me. From talking to the 1stSgt I understood that although Cpl Navarro was a huge help previously much of what was done last time I inventoried a dead Marine�s gear was incorrect. Again, had a SNCO or Officer been the one to make the liaison, not a junior NCO, it may have been done correctly. Sorting the gear took some time again, a lot of personal stuff that had been sanitized by the Marines last time did not get done this time, and with four wounded and one dead there was a lot of gear piled in a small area. Last time we had piled each Marine�s gear in a separate pile outside Supply, now the 1stSgt wanted to be more discreet and do the work in the Company Office. In retrospect I don�t agree with this; working around stacks of mail scheduled to go out with the next run, and having to dig through piles of gear made the job harder than it needed to be. I don�t believe there was enough traffic

We finished late and went to bed. I had packed all the gear I expected to take back to FOB ROW and brought it up to the Company Office, I didn�t want to sleep in the tent alone and risk missing my ride back to Lutayfiyah. We left a wake up call with the Echo Co duty and hit the rack.



Nevada, that sure looks like a Dragon Eye. The tail is a little different and it looks a little slimmer. Must have been a prototype, but I think your photo really helps. You don't catch the plane, you just let it do a belly flop onto the ground. Hopefully it's close enough that you don't have to go chasing all over.

I'm very behind in my writing.... a lot has happened and I need to get it down soon or I risk losing some information.

Hoping to be home for turkey season,
Bob

Badger Christmas

Capt Murphy, the XO, was called back home to testify in a court case involving his FBI section and some informant about the Sept 11, 2001 World Trade Center bombing, so we unfortunately lost his expertise. I was glad he taught us as much as he did, the only thing I wish I had done was watch him interview somebody, it just seemed that if he was able to conduct an interview I had to be on duty. I was sad to see him go, but glad for him at the same time, he would be able to see his family for the Christmas season, something the rest of us could only dream about. I thought I would be envious, but I wasn�t; I couldn�t change where I was, and if I couldn�t spend Christmas with my family I was happy to spend it with the 150 or so brothers I had here in Iraq.

The final large scale round up of 2004, Operation Badger Christmas, saw us cordoning off South Lutayfiyah by 0500 on Christmas morning and pulling every MAM in to the FOB. We ended up with 584 guests for Christmas that day, all of whom had to sit in our LZ while a cold drizzle fell. We sorted through the men, asking for information, checking names, looking for inconsistencies in their responses, and generally trying to winnow the wheat from the chaff. Probably the only real issue we have is the continued language barrier, we can figure out how to tell the Iraqis we are taking them in for questioning, we can figure out how to tell them to bring a blanket to stay warm, how to ask where their weapons are, what their name is, and how to tell the women of the house that the men are not necessarily going away forever. What we always fail to tell them is to bring any medications they need for the day. On Christmas this almost had disastrous effect.

One of the first men in complained that he had heart trouble and needed his medication, we don�t treat these claims with much seriousness, the men are going to stay where they are until we are done, and such claims could easily be a way to simply get out of having to be questioned. We do however point the claimant out to our senior corpsman so he can keep an eye on the individual, and sometimes even place a doctor, if we find one in our pens, near him for assurance.

Late in the morning the man started to have a heart attack, he suddenly fell over on his back and started to shake, foamy spittle was leaking from the corners of his mouth and he was moaning loudly. We called for the company corpsman and started to look for a doctor in the crowd of men we had in custody. There wasn�t much we could do for the man, the corpsman had asked for heart medications, but it had been refused because the age group of the Marines didn�t warrant it. It wasn�t the age group of the Marines the corpsman were concerned about; it was just this kind of scenario. Now we had an Iraqi citizen who was going to die in our custody because the Battalion Surgeon had refused to issue heart meds based on a fear they would be used by the Marines.

The doctor asked around and found another Iraqi who had a glycerin pill in his pocket, but he refused to give it up. We finally had to hold him down and pull the glycerin pill from his pocket by force. The doctor told us to sit the man up and rub his back, it didn�t seem to me that was going to do much good, but we did it anyway. While this was going in all other work stopped; we stopped processing detainees, we stopped worrying about their blindfolds, and we even stopped worrying about basic security. All eyes, American and Iraqi, were on the man who was lying there about to die in our hands. Capt Hoffmann had contacted Maj Holton and filled him in on the situation. Maj Holton had called battalion and they said they were trying to contact the ING to get them to take him to the hospital in al-Mahmudiyah.

We put together a casualty report and sent it in over the radio of the MRC-145 (communications HUMMWV) in the LZ. I asked Maj Holton for an update on the ETA for the ING. � A half hour, at least,� was the reply.

�A half hour!� I said, incredulous, �this guys gonna be dead in fifteen minutes if we don�t get him out of here.�

�I know, but they are saying they want the ING to transport him.� Maj Holton replied.

�Roger,� was the best I could come up with.

Doc Hill came up to Capt Hoffmann, Capt Wagner, and I standing by the MRC-145. �We need to move him to decent care in the next fifteen to twenty minutes, or he�s not going to survive,� he said.

By this time Sgt Paquin had joined us; �We are almost twenty minutes into the magic hour,� he said in agreement.

�Badger Six, this is Badger One,� Capt Hoffmann called over the radio, �we need to get Medicine Man airborne for this evac, now.�

�Roger, One,� came the reply, �I will put in the request, but Mayhem is telling me they still want the ING to pick this guy up.�

I switched the battalion net radio over to the Medevac frequency and clipped the handset on the door where I would be able to hear once the helo checked in with me. I got out my colored smoke grenade to mark the LZ and started directing some traffic to ensure the LZ would be clear.

�Badger Four, this is Badger Six, over,� the CO was calling me on my ISR.

�Go ahead, Six, this is Four,� I replied.

�Mayhem says an ING patrol has left the compound in Mahmudiyah and is inbound our pos now.�

�Roger, do we have an ETA?�

�Negative, shouldn�t be long. Suggest you get a guide over to Packer to bring them right in to the casualty.�

�Roger.�

I grabbed Sgt J.B. Moore, the Machinegun Section Leader, and had him send a Marine to the vehicle entrance to our FOB. Doc Hill prepped the casualty for transport, we knew the best the ING would bring was a bongo truck and maybe just perhaps a little Nissan 4-door pickup.

About five minutes later I saw my Marine walking back with a little tan and white Nissan behind him. �That was fast,� I thought. The ING Captain got out of his truck and came over to shake hands. Through an interpreter Doc and I told him what was wrong with the man and that we wanted him taken to the Al-Mahmudiyah hospital. The Captain told us he couldn�t do that, that he had just come down to drop off food for his soldiers and that going back up to Al-Mahmudiyah the way they came was too dangerous, even though I knew he was going to go that way regardless. He simply didn�t want to be responsible for taking the man to the hospital. This is one of the few things that really bothered me about Iraq; the Americans tended to show a lot more compassion for the people than the ING. Here we had a guy who was about to die and the ING didn�t want to be bothered with him, even though they had to go past the hospital on their way to their base, because they said it was just too dangerous.

Doc Hill and I argued with the Captain for a few minutes, �Get him out of my sight, before I [bleep] shoot him,� I finally said, �I can�t believe these [bleep].� I�m sure the ING Captain had no idea what I had said, but it was obvious from my tone and utter disregard for his rank that I was unhappy with him.

�Medicine Man, Medicine Man, this is Badger Four in Lutayfiyah, over.� I called into the radio. There was no reply. I called again and again, still with no reply.

�Badger Six, this is Badger Four,� I called into my ISR.

�Go ahead, Four.�

�Any word on Medicine Man?�

�They are lifting off now.�

�Roger.�

�How are you going to mark the LZ?�

�Colored smoke�

�Roger, what color?�

Colors aren�t normally given over the radio, instead the unit on the ground says it will mark with colored smoke and the inbound bird calls the color they see, if it is correct the unit confirms it and the bird comes in. This is for security reasons to ensure the enemy doesn�t try to bring the bird in to an unsafe LZ by using the same colored smoke.

�Purple,� I muttered under my breath. Capt Wagner looked at me like I was insane for giving the color. At this time I wasn�t going to argue, if announcing the color was going to help out I was going to break the rules.

I tried to contact them again, with no luck. Finally a station, call sign �Handcuff 20�, the control station for all Medevac birds came up on the net. He relayed my transmissions to �Eagle Dustoff� the bird that was coming in to get our casualty. That it was a different unit than I had told wasn�t an issue, but I still couldn�t talk to the birds directly. Through Handcuff 20 I made sure the bird knew where we were located and that we were marking with colored smoke and got an ETA. I had given my smoke grenade to Sgt Harris and when the bird was four minutes out I still couldn�t read any traffic. I called four minutes and Sgt Harris took that as the signal to throw the grenade, I immediately started digging for a new grenade, the smoke wasn�t going to last long enough for the bird to see it at the low altitude the Black Hawks always fly at. I gave Sgt Harris another purple smoke grenade and told him to wait until I announced that the bird was one minute out. Doc Hill had some Marines move the patient over to a Scud Bunker we use for

At two minutes out I finally got in touch with Eagle Dustoff, he was coming in from the north and could see the FOB, I still could not see or hear him, but I had comm.

�Badger Zero Four this is Eagle Dustoff, we have you in sight. What is the nature of injury? Over,�

�Eagle Dustoff, heart attack. Over.� I knew that even though this was part of the casualty report we had sent to battalion to get the helo airborne it did not get passed.

�Badger Zero Four, we are one minute out, pop smoke.�

I had Sgt Harris pop the smoke and the bird appeared out of the mist coming in like all the Army pilots seem to fly, �low, fast, and unafraid� as the saying goes. He had good comm with me and circled the LZ once, making his final approach from the north. As he came in I could swear he was going to cut the MRC-145 with his tail rotor, I ducked down and kept my eyes up just in case. Cpl Henry, our Engineer Team Leader, could see that he was trying to land too far north; he got the pilot�s attention and directed him to the Scud Bunker. The prop wash was intense; papers, documents, tables and chairs started flying all over the place. One detainee was hit by a piece of plywood, another fell into the concertina wire, an interpreter was hit by a chair, and my rifle got covered in wet sand.

The casualty was loaded up and sent on his way. �Eagle Dustoff this is Badger Four, you are clear of the LZ, have a safe flight home.�

�Badger, sorry about the mess, didn�t see all the people in your LZ. Eagle Dustoff out.�

�Bullshit,� I thought, there was no way he didn�t see all the people or the vehicles in the LZ on his pass, he was showing off. �Oh well, nobody was seriously hurt. And it�s time to get back to work.� I said to Capt Wagner.

It had drizzled all day and the ground was the normal mixture of sticky mud and sand. My rifle was completely covered in mud, my chair had been blown into the concertina wire and was also covered with sand, the documents of some of the prisoners had blown into a moat that had formed just inside our berm from the high water table, and my detainee log book was soaked. A few of the Marines started to head toward the moat to get papers when we reminded them that we had been letting the detainees urinate in there, so much for that idea. I asked for a new AAL and started sorting my work area out again. By the time I had everything ready for another Iraqi the new list made it out and we started work.

The remainder of the day was rather uneventful; we sorted the detainees out, deciding which would go to Al-Mahmudiyah and which would return home. We had to skip pages in our detainee logs and request additional copies of the AAL due to the constant drizzle, and finally finished about 2100 that night. In all it had been a long day, we worked from 0500 to about 2100 that day, with only breaks to use the head or smoke a quick cigarette, there were no meals although we did grab a snack in the middle of the day, but we had to eat while working. I waited until the next day to clean my chair; it took almost eighteen hours for the sand to dry enough to be easily brushed off. I did force myself to clean my rifle immediately though, as unpleasant as it was I couldn�t imagine leaving it covered in sand and inoperable, just in case.

If any of you had an opportunity to see the Jan 26th airing of 60 Minutes II you would have seen a number of Marines from my company. They were in our little FOB for about four hours, all of which I spent avoiding being seen. All in all though I thought getting the pictures out of the real conditions in places other than Baghdad and Basra was a good thing.

Bob

Thanks for the update Gunny, keep yer head down.
Semper Fi

Good to hear from you Gunny. I think of you often, and it is good to know you are still among the living. We are proud as hell of you guys, your courage, and we honor your sacrifices and losses.

Semper Fidelis

Gunny:

Thanks for the continuing updates. They are mucho appreciado. Your personal time is obviously valuable, and I am grateful to you for spending some of it to compose these chronicles.

Semper Fi.

RSY