Home Forums Miscellaneous Topics Military Made it to Iraq

Well Gents, I've made it to Iraq and have settled in to my digs for the next few months. Barring any change in mission I should be able to check in about every week.

I can't discuss where I am or exactly what I'm doing until I check with the S-2 to see what is cleared and what isn't, but things aren't as bad here as many think from whatching the news. Of course the people aren't exactly enamored with our presence, but hey would you be if an occupying military was blocking traffic all the time and arresting you almost daily?

The other day we did a cordon and knock on a house, one of the men had a weapons custody card but no AK. The Marines we are relieving were hollering at him to produce the rifle but he said they had taken it on the last raid, sure enough when we got back there was the paperwork. Heck, all 3 men in the house still had their detainee cards from the last raid on the house, guess they wanted to save us the time filling out more paperwork.

Gotta run, need to get my gear ready to outside the wire tomorrow. Check in when I can.

Semper Gumby (Stay Green and Stay Flexible)!!

Bob

Semper Fi, brother. Good hunting and godspeed.

Shane

Gunny_ Bob

GODSPEED

THANK YOU

If you need anything e-mail me your APO.

I PM'ed you my e-mail

Jeff

Gunny Bob:

Thank you for serving this great country.

We will pray for you.

God Bless,

BMT

Do you need anything that I could get and send to you?

Jeff

Bob,

Do good and come home safely.

John

Thanks for all the prayers and offers. Right now we are fine, living under a bridge along a major highway is getting old, but the PX is stocked well enough and we get one hot meal a day. The only big issue we have is that we can't get money from disbursing because our S-1 lost the split pay roster for the entire Bn and it will take at least one more payday to the accounts to open.

Other than that things are fine. Our company has been extended in it's mission on the highways twice so far and we are making regular runs into the base to allow Marines to change uniforms, take a shower, and get to the PX (like they have any money). I will have a couple of "adventures" to pass one once we get back to the base on a rotation, but that could be more than 2 weeks down the road. If we get the next mission I think we will I will start telling tall tales next time I'm in for a day.

Take care all,
Bob

During our stay at Camp Pendleton I was sent up to 29 Palms to learn about a new UAV the Marine Corps has called Dragon Eye. The Dragon Eye is a small airplane, about a 45" wingspan, comes in sections that are assembled just prior to a mission, is programmed to fly a route, can be retasked during flight, has a real-time video downlink (that can be reocorded if you have a video camera and connection cables), and can take pictures in flight. It comes with a number of cameras for different light conditions, launches with a big bungee cord and lands by simply skidding along on it's belly. The bird is designed to come come apart on landing to minimize real damage. The biggest drawbacks are it's limited flight time and the fact that it is easily damaged if the landing isn't really smooth. Often when we fly at night we tape chemlites to the bird so the bad guys can see we are watching them, if we don't want them to know the bird is up we tape IR chemlites on so we can see it coming in for a landing and find it.

About 2 weeks ago we had one of the Gunnys from comm out by our position to get the serial numbers off the radios and such we took possession of from the unit we relieved and to set up a retrans site for the Bn radio net. These guys don't get off the base much so they are always looking for a way to jump in on a patrol or some such "action". That night we were flying a Dragon Eye mission to check out a village to our south and look for anybody trying to place IEDs on the highway. The mission was planned to be under the time limit of the bird, so that shouldn't have been a problem. As I flew the mission the CO tasked me twice to do things that extended the mission by a few minutes, but I was still under the absolute maximum, until I hit a 20mph headwind that is. The bird flys at a set 35mph, head or tailwinds will change the speed accordingly.

Needless to say the bird did not make the landing area we usually set for it. Once I knew the bird had hit the ground I had to find it, there was no way I was going to see the Bn Cmdr and explain that I had lost a bird that the enemy could find, there is nothing sensative in the plane, but it's still not fun doing the carpet dance. The comm Gunny and I started out by asking some of the posts if they had seen it go down, thankfully we had green chemlites on or we would have been really out of luck. We were able to get a sort of resection of the location and the two of us pushed out of the wire. About 150m out we hit a north/south canal. My first concern was the bird went in the canal. About that time the other Gunny asked my how much ammo I had on me.

"The mag in my rifle, one in my pistol, I answered.

Unlike most Marines over here I don't like to carry everything on my flak, I prefer to use the LBV for my battle load, I have a mag pouch for each on my flak, but I only use them in the FOB (Forward Operating Base, our base camp) because we can't carry loaded weapons but must have a mag handy at all times. This suddenly became a big concern for him, not to mention there was only the two of us. So back we went into the platoon position to get more help and ammo.

We picked up 3 mortarmen who were just sitting around, I grabbed my LBV and off we went again. Unfortunately we forgot to cross the main east/west canal via the bridge we are guarding before we left the wire. Now we are on the wrong side of the canal and looking for a way to cross. There are two water pipes and a foot bridge we can see but they are a way off. The locals cross on the water pipes all the time so we figure it shouldn't be an issue and keep pushing, besides we can check out a couple of other fields on the way back. The first water pipe is about 300m out from the wire and I planned to cross there. As we were walking I kept turning my head back to the Gunny and telling him to walk in the quiet part of the road. For some reason he was right on my tail and somehow managed to stomp and drag his feet at the same time. The junior Marines kept a wide berth from him and I could hear them laughing.

"No way," the comm Gunny said when we got to the pipe.

I agreed, the pipe was about 2 feet in diameter and fully rounded on top, not to mention 30 feet above the water and we're wearing about 40 pounds of flak, SAPI plates, and ammo.

"Gunny, there's another pipe 200m down and a foot bridge the same distance further," my radioman tells me.

So we push on. About 400m later we hit the next pipe.

"You need your eyes checked, this is no 200m." I said, "How far is that bridge?"

"Just another 200m," he answered.

"200m like this? This is 400m, easy."

The pipe had flats welded on top and a rail along one side, not a great rail, but a handrail nonetheless. I told the patrol we were crossing here.

"No way," the Gunny whispered to me, "I'm afraid of heights.

"Me too, but I'm not walking another 400m, we'll be almost a klick out with nothing to show for it. We cross here, you don't like it go back."

Needless to say it took a while to get across, the other Gunny took 3minutes to cross a 50m bridge and probably didn't breathe the whole way. Once across he let out such a breath I thought he was going to deflate, which would have made me happy since I couldn't hear a damn thing with him stomping and dragging his feet right behind me. After we were all across we began heading back toward where I thought the bird went down. We covered much of the distance back quickly, stopping every once in a while to listen for the "lost comm" tone from the plane. Twice when I stopped the other Gunny bumped into me. Finally I told him if he couldn't keep his distance I'd intentionally cross the pipe again on the way back. That solved one problem, but not the Frankenstein walk.

As we got to the area we thought the bird went down in I stopped to listen. The next sound I heard was the crump of mortars landing in the area of our platoon position as a convoy rolled through. It's amazing, they really make a crump sound when you are on the receiving end. We dropped to a knee and faced outboard looking for the flash of mortar muzzles and I pulled out my compass. No luck, the lights of the convoy, the Army convoys drive with white lights on at night, destroyed any visibilty I had in the direction the mortars were. One of the Marines thought he saw the green chemlites, but I was being called back in due to the fire.

"I'm not coming back in, I found the bird," I replied

"The watch officer says he needs you to help with the call for fire," the RO called back.

"I'm almost a klick out, even if I run back it'll be too late. Do the call for fire yourself, besides, I'm safer out here; they're shooting at you, not me."

The barrage lasted about a minute, maybe a little more, and only about 5 or 6 rounds landed, none in the area of the convoy, so we picked up and headed off to the chemlites. We had to cut through a farmer's field to get there, the whole area is farm fields. From our platoon position I can count at least 15 houses, most in little one or two house clusters. At the end of the first field was another that looked kind of wet, I decided to hug the edge of the dry field, but not the comm Gunny, he waded right into 6" of wet (probably also fertilized) muck. Finally I saw the chemlites clearly, I got to the farmer's driveway, cut toward the house, and had to cut into the next field. We had dropped Marines at each major turn along the way from the road, through the field, and to the driveway so now only the Gunny and I were together. The last field was heavily furrowed but was dry dirt, the bird had crashed hard on landing and parts were all over the place.

Of course we were not alone, I had cut into the field only 20m from the house so the comm Gunny had about 8 dogs barking at him and the lady of the house outside scowling. I looked over and he's aiming in on the dogs, "Put your rifle down!" I yelled, "You're not going to shoot a dog in front of her unless it attacks you."

I picked up my plane, said good evening to the lady in Arabic (even though it was about 1 am by then), said I was sorry and we left. By now the Marines we had dropped off had come up to us and we walked up the driveway. Along the way we had to pass one more house, of course the commotion had waken the man of that house and he stood in his back yard with his arms crossed as we passed. Again we apologized and kept moving.

Some sight we must have been; 5 armed men walking up a driveway in the middle of the night with a toy plane.

Bob

good to see your still sound if not safe
SEMPER FI

Great story Gunny - Keep em' comin'

I don�t want this taken as a dig against our ING (Iraqi National Guard) allies, but working with them can be an adventure in itself. They really don�t do much, but then again it�s tough to allow them to. They�ve had serious security issues so we can�t include them in the planning of any operations. They don�t seem to take soldiering seriously, but we eventually have to turn over much of what we are doing to secure our lines of communication/supply over to them. Also, the local populace needs to see an Iraqi face on much of what we do so they don�t continue to consider our presence here an occupation.

A few days after the Dragon Eye incident above I was sitting outside the company CP reading a magazine. Our ING detachment, a portion of the squad that is assigned to the platoon position, was across the highway sitting on their cots cleaning their rifles. We had finally made it clear that they were expected to clean their weapons daily as our Marines do. Suddenly I heard a muffled bang.

A few of us rushed over to see what had happened and the Iraqis immediately tried to block our way and explain that everything was just fine. One of their soldiers was still sitting on his cot with his back to us. We got through and looked at the soldier, somehow this guy had managed to shoot himself in the hand with a pistol he had acquired somewhere.

Immediately the call of �Corpsman up!� went out. Marines who had just lay down to rest after a patrol jumped up to see what the commotion was and the calls of �Doc, doc!� were getting loud.

�Settle down!� the 1stSgt yelled, �Everything is under control. Stay where you are so we can work.�

The senior corpsman called for his medbag and started working on the wounded Iraqi. All this while the CO is talking to the ING Platoon Sergeant, through our interpreter, about what happened. We don�t see the officers much, just to drop off a new platoon every 4 or 5 days, and they never stay out with their soldiers. We don�t know where the soldier got his pistol, it wasn�t issued to him, so we took it away to turn over to the ING Captain later.

We called Bn and informed them of what happened; they asked us if we could transport the wounded man to the ING compound in Mahmudiya. We started to put together a motorized patrol for the drive in. By now the bandages were on and the Iraqi was asking for something to relieve the pain. The corpsman asked the CO for permission to give him an ampoule of morphine and he agreed. Once this was relayed to the Iraqi he was visibly relieved.

�Tell him he has to have the shot in his dick for it to work,� the CO told the interpreter. Trying to hold back his laughter he complied.

�Laa, laa,� the soldier said emphatically. �Laa� is Arabic for �No�, there was no way he wanted the morphine now.

Trying to hold back our laughter we tried to explain we were just joking. Perhaps our humor at his suffering was a little coarse, he was obviously shaken by the initial comment and our laughter. It didn�t help that about 5 of the Iraqi�s buddies were hanging around laughing by now, I�m sure certain words go beyond most language barriers. I�m also pretty sure his buddies were telling him it would make his penis fall off. Finally we got him to agree to the shot, in the leg, as directed. Unfortunately the first ampoule failed to inject so the doc pulled another out and started to prep it.

�Laa, laa,� the Iraqi said again.

He thought we were trying to kill him by giving him a second shot. More time wasted trying to explain that the first one didn�t work. By this time our patrol is mounted up and waiting for us to get the marksman loaded up. About this time the ING Platoon Commander pulled up with another squad to take the wounded man back to their compound. Our CO had a quick talk with the captain and we let them go. While the wounded man was being loaded up his pals were making crying and sheep-like noises at him. We got a good kick out of that also.

After the situation settled down we took a good look at the area. The bullet had skipped off the asphalt and the skip mark was pointed right at where I had been sitting. We saw our marksman friend a few days ago, he is doing well, but his friends keep on making crying noises around him. I guess that type of humor transcends militaries.

Thanks for the stories gunny - you sure aren't missing anything with the Packers - I would love to send them over there and have Ahman Green learn to run without dropping anything 4 times a game.

Take care and keep your head down.

what hapend to gunny bob ?

Hopin' here that he's still among the living, and has all his parts.

If his unit is in Fallujah, he's probably very busy.

I hope everthing is going well for him just thinking about our fellow marine's helping to protect us 'with the crucification of marine's trying to do thier job . I just wanted to wish him and every marine , as montana marine said "good hunting and god speed "
sean

I hope all is well with him and he lets us know whats going. God Bless and God speed for him.

Lutayfiyah

During our predeployment training we often heard of the other places in our AO besides Al Mahmudiyah. Names like Latifiyah, Yusufiyah, the Elm ASP, Jafr Sukr Bridge, and especially Lutayfiyah. Supposedly all the bad elements in our AO came from Lutayfiyah pass through Latifiyah, below the Elm ASP (that still has not been cleared of all the ammo stored in it), and then over the Euphrates River to the fight in Fallujah. The hotbed of former Saddamists, Sunnis, insurgents, and criminals were all supposed to be in Lutayfiyah. Prior to our company establishing a presence there Fox Company, along with most of the support the Bn could drum up and an under strength Army Stryker company had to take Yusufiyah and control the Jafr Sukr bridge. In addition to all the support listed above Fox went in with a fourth rifle platoon, our 2nd Platoon. Yusufiyah was a fight; it took over a week to settle down for such a small town and Fox ended up with 15 casualties including one KIA. This was a company plus operation in a town that is barely a kilometer square on the map. We were being sent into Lutayfiyah with one platoon and the city is four times the size.

Our mission statement had us occupying three buildings to set up a police station, ING station, and a small FOB for ourselves. The idea was we would conduct joint patrols with the ING/IP and put an Iraqi face on our occupation. We made our initial entry at 0500 on October 25th as stated in the mission from higher and quickly cleared out the squatters living in two of the buildings. Our building was the local telephone exchange, a much larger and more robust structure. It had a nice cinderblock wall surrounding the compound, a flat, tiled roof that had proven almost impervious to mortars in Yusufiyah, and enough space to put in a full platoon plus the HQ and Weapons Platoon attachments. The only thing wrong with the building, and we hadn’t seen this during our leader’s recon, was the 100-foot tower in the back. In all honesty we had seen it, but didn’t really think about it, what a mistake, it was a great aiming point. We immediately set up blocking positions, and started digging in the mortars we had in the back of the compound. The area picked was right off ASR Jackson (Iraqi Highway 8), the main north-south road through Lutayfiyah with a small frontage road between Jackson and the buildings. At about 1030 the ING and IP finally showed up with our Bn Cmdr and the officers of the Bn Staff. The ING/IP detachment brought about 12 vehicles, mainly Nissan four-door pickups (ING) and Toyota SUV’s (IP). Once the vehicles were pulled on to the frontage road the Iraqis got out and started milling around waiting to be told what to do. Within minutes we were under mortar attack, one round landed among a group of ING gravely wounding one soldier; the round removed his left leg. As one of our corpsman put it “If you hired a Hollywood B-Movie special effects guy with no knowledge of anatomy and told him what he wanted, this is what it would look like.” Seven other ING were wounded also. Minutes later we had called in air medevac and had triaged the wounded for the helos. The soldier with the leg missing did not live to see the helicopter take away some of his friends.

FOB Lutayfiyah wasn’t too bad, once you got past the daily shelling from 1000 to 1700. We had plenty of food and water, electricity, some rooms were air conditioned, and log runs came in once every three days. We set up a plan to rotate the platoons through for 10-day cycles and get the HQ and Weapons Platoon Marines here permanently back to FOB St. Michael about once a week. The biggest drawback was getting shot at, really shelled, daily. Most often the shelling came around noon or 1300, and was limited to three or four rounds fired in quick succession, seldom did they hit within 100m of the FOB. The enemy was using old 82mm mortar ammo and he had a few duds, one of which landed in the middle of our parking area. By October 27th we were getting kind of unhappy about being shot at. The rules of engagement don’t allow us to just shoot back; we must identify the point of origin (POO) before we can fire. Three of us; myself, the 81’s FO, and the Arty FO would stand on the roof of the building and try to see smoke or some other indicator of a mortar firing. We got lucky that day; we saw the smoke puff and immediately started the process to return fire. We got the 60’s up, the 81’s up, and requested 155 fires. Battalion cleared our 81 and 155 fires, we could clear our own 60’s, and we let everything fly. One of the MST (Mobile Security Teams, a new form of Combined Anti-Armor Team (CAAT) with the same equipment) happened to also see the target and said they saw a vehicle flee, but it was out of range.

Shooting back at that mortar simply made them move the position for the next day, behind a tree line so we couldn’t see them. We muddled through a day of intermittent attacks, nothing came very close and the engineers and 2nd Platoon continued to improve the positions. On the 29th we got hit again, but this time the gunner kept dropping rounds at us, nine or ten total. Luck was with us again and counter battery radar was covering our little area. The CBR saw the rounds, we called in the point of impact (POI) and Bn immediately called and cleared 155 fires, the first round landing before we heard the shot of the last enemy round. Given a nice grid by the CBR our 60’s and 81’s joined right in with a fire for effect each. We don’t know if we got the guy, a mixed helo section of one Cobra and a Huey flew over that night and reported good effect on the target grid, but aside from a family looking at the car in the driveway near the middle of target area there were no indicators of bad guys. Still we felt good about shooting back and enemy fires from the east shut down for a few days.

We had mitigated one threat and now faced another, the enemy began ranging us with 107mm rockets. Mortars aren’t very accurate, since the rounds fly slow and high there is a lot that can happen to them, but the tend to go where you point them. If one hits and the rounds keep impacting you know the gunner is probably just dropping rounds and not trying to adjust on to you. We would call this Harassing and Interdiction Fires (H&I); personally I think they were just registering us in a very slow way by shooting a group and then making contact with a local to discuss where the rounds landed. Rockets on the other hand are even less accurate, and carry a much bigger punch, so even if the enemy is still trying to register you there is a much greater chance you will be hit. I watched the explosion of one 107 and saw a chunk come flying off, push upwards to about 100 feet, and fall within 30m of me, spinning all the time like a boomerang. That piece was about a foot long and fully four inches wide. All I can remember thinking is; “that’s gonna hurt if it hits me.”

October 31st was especially interesting. I had finally received my two damaged Dragon Eyes back and the 2nd Platoon Commander, Captain Wagner, wanted me to fly the bird over the terrain an ambush patrol would be using that night. We had another mortar attack in the morning, the bad guys were starting to go to work before 1000, one round landed within 25m of our southern post along Jackson. I was up on the roof and because of the light rain and ground haze I had no idea where the fire was coming from. We stood down after five minutes and I got the Dragon Eye ready to fly. 1stSgt Eastwood had helped me fly my Dragon Eye before so I asked for his help again, he was happy to oblige. We went out to the parking lot with the Police Sergeant, Sgt Paquin, for security and set the bird up, we even got it launched with few problems. But about 30 minutes into the mission we heard the bang of RPG’s and then their impacts, on the other side of the building.

“Rocket!” I yelled.

Unknown to me at the time my two FO’s were sitting on the roof discussing the differences between RPG shots, mortar shots, and rocket shots when the rounds streaked mere feet from them and across Jackson to the east. Then small arms fire erupted, the 1stSgt and I hunkered down behind a stack of plywood and looked for the bad guys, no luck as usual. We yelled for Sgt Paquin to see how he was doing in all this and landed the plane without problems. Of course we packed up the gear as fast as possible and headed back into the FOB. Things were still happening, the mortars were waiting for a mission, the machinegunners on a nearby building had seen the enemy but been unable to fire and were calling in the fire, and 2nd Platoon was putting together a cordon and search team. I went up to the lower roof and my two FO’s were laughing like mad.

“Holy [bleep] Gunny, you should have seen it,” the 81’s FO, Cpl Barker, said, “I was sitting there talking and I saw this round fly less than 10 feet from us.”

“Yeah, we were definitely the targets.” The arty FO, Sgt Harris, added.

We got a fix on the building and waited while the cordon and search team got set up. In all the confusion nobody told the mortars what the deal was and they stood down after about 10 minutes. We watched and covered the cordon team as they did their thing, but the enemy was long gone by the time they arrived. During all of this I saw one of our Asian Marines, Chui Lee, who is most likely below 5 feet tall, pull a sandbag from the bunker on the east side of the roof to the western roof wall. He positioned it just so and then knelt down on it to get behind his rifle properly, I started laughing out loud. He looked at me and said; “That’s [bleep] up, Gunny.”

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I just find the situation funny.” I said.

As the cordon and search squads decided to clear the entire block and were about half way through when more mortar rounds started landing. We still could not hear the outgoing rounds; they hunkered down and waited it out. We had been thinking for a few days that the enemy was firing from at least two and a half klicks and that the traffic on Jackson was muffling the sound, but the speed that the enemy could adjust got us thinking that perhaps after getting hit hard on the 29th they had closed the distance. A US M224 60mm mortar has five different charge settings from 0 to 4, indicating the number of increments you leave on the shell. Charge 4 gives a maximum range of 3500m, charge 0 a max range of 400m, but the sound at charge 0 is rather quiet, not much louder than an M203 and at 400m with traffic, other noise, and buildings in the way that sound could easily be lost. Our thought now, somewhat justified by a detainee the search squad brought in, was that the enemy was using the village to block our view and was much closer.

As I was checking my positions a while later the machinegun post that had called in the building the RPG’s had come from told me that the rifle fire was directed at the three of us working the Dragon Eye. They had seen tracers flying from an alley to the south, in front of their position and over our heads. Later that day Capt Wagner tasked me with another Dragon Eye mission. I took just the Sgt Paquin as the 1stSgt had to return to FOB St. Michael. Again we took an incoming RPG or two, but they were not well aimed and we continued with the mission. True to my Dragon Eye experiences I had an interesting flight; my first attempt at landing during the early mission had the bird coming in too far west, so I adjusted the LZ east. I used the same LZ for the evening flight, but the winds had died and now the LZ was too far west, I had the bird come around again while I adjusted the LZ back to the east. All looked well, but the bird was too far east this time, I could adjust it again. I hit the key to abort the landing and the bird powered up, too late, it didn’t gain the altitude it needed, flew about 8 feet over the lower roof of our building and smacked right into one of our OE-254 antennas. I thought I had lost another bird. The Marines on the roof had been taken by surprise to hear a little battery powered plane fly past them and then crash, We did a little looking and found all the parts, a little duct tape and a new propeller blade and I was back in business.

As a last note on October 31st our Company Commander was relieved and moved up to the S-4 shop. Probably a good move in the long run, his original MOS was supply and there were some issues. My take on him was that he was a great peacetime officer, but he was too afraid to risk the lives of his Marines to accomplish the mission. Our XO, Major Holton, took over and Captain Wagner took over as the XO. Our new CO took the time to write an excellent brief that was given to the NCOs of each platoon as they rotated through Lutayfiyah that really drove home the mission. The mission statement read. “Maintain a joint ING/IP/Marine presence in Lutayfiyah and fortify a compound to be handed over to the established Lutayfiyah police force in order to establish the conditions for a return of Iraqi Civil Administration.” During the brief Maj Holton, who loves his Power Point slides, outlined various thoughts on what constituted our mission, steps involved in accomplishing it; like USMC Presence Patrols, Survivability/Counter Mortar, and so on, and showed where we could do those things we controlled and not accomplish the mission. Mission accomplishment hinged very much on gaining and maintaining a working relationship with the Iraqis and getting them out to patrol, both with us and on their own, and creating enough of a relationship with the populace to begin to effect the insurgents in the area.

The Magic Bullet

While on Tampa the platoons make daily runs back to FOB St. Michael (Al Mahmudiyah) to pick up supplies, drop a few Marines off for showers and PX runs and the like. The patrols drive like mad. Once on Tampa, half of which is closed to civilian traffic, speeds reach 70 mph in hummers as long as they don�t shimmy too much. On the way back one day one of our patrols �Golf 3 Mobile� was driving south on Tampa and heard what they thought was gravel being kicked up by the tires as they approached an overpass.

When they arrived at the platoon position they noticed the hummer was beginning to overheat and run rough. Upon inspection of the hood before raising it they found no less than three bullet holes in the hood. One bullet had entered the passenger side front of the hood at a shallow angle, traveled through the coolant reservoir, into the passenger compartment where, due to passing through the metal heater duct, it angled upwards passing within inches of the passenger�s head, struck the metal support for the canvas top, took a 90-degree turn to the left and out the canvas top. The fact that the passenger was missed at all was amazing, but considering the size of Sergeant Gillitzer it was almost impossible. Sgt Gillitzer is big, heavily muscled; the only thing I can compare him to is Arnold Schwartzenegger in Conan The Barbarian.

The patrol continued to check the vehicle and found three more holes or new scratches in the body of the hummer or on the side armor. That seven Marines could come under fire like that and not know it was astounding, but the thing that will stay with me forever is the image of a huge Marine sitting there while a bullet kennedy�s it�s way around him.

Things That Make Me Think

While at Camp Pendleton we received classes on the cultural sensitivities of Muslims and the Iraqis in particular. Our Division Motto �No Better Friend� No Worse Enemy� was driven into our heads, along with Gen. Mattis� theme of �Think as if every Iraqi wants to kill you, but don�t treat them that way.� Once we arrived in country most of this seemed to out the window. Our FOB is small, about 1000m one way and 600m the other. We have two vehicle gates we can enter or exit from and both enter right onto ASR Jackson (Highway 8). Jackson is busy, traffic flows heavily through north Al Mahmudiyah at almost all hours, there are no traffic lights or stop signs, no speed limits, and it�s the main highway from Karbala to Baghdad. Yet when we leave our compound we make no attempt to wait for a break in traffic, instead a hardback hummer with a machinegun pulls out into the near lane, then another vehicle into the far lane (this is a divided highway) forcing all the vehicles on the road to check the current status of their brakes. Any vehicle failing to stop in time gets a burst into the grill; any further advancement gets a burst through the windshield. Many of the gunners signal the vehicles to stop by waving their hand toward the ground from the elbow, like dribbling a basketball, a sign used by the Iraqis only on their dogs, thereby offending them. Once the rest of the convoy/patrol has passed between the hummers the convoy screams along faster than the flow of traffic. This forces the Iraqis to pull over to the shoulder. If a vehicle fails to see the hummers coming they get yelled at as they are passed and rifles or machineguns pointed at them, in extreme cases tires are shot out. How many of us have been cruising through town and didn�t hear the ambulance siren coming up behind us? All of this is done from a force protection standpoint; one of the biggest threats, the first I experienced, is the Suicide Vehicle-borne Improvised Explosive Device (car bomb), so speed and aggression save lives, but I�m sure we make more enemies than friends. Ultimately I wonder if saving lives today won�t cost us lives in the long run.

In addition to firing at vehicles that cross marked trigger lines or approach our convoys we shoot at vehicles that get too close while on patrol. Often we stop during patrol to check out a house or set up a quick checkpoint to search for weapons or explosives. During short stops the Marines pile out, if on a vehicle patrol, and form a defensive perimeter, usually just standing in the road or along a wall. Hummers with machineguns are positioned along the roads leading into the area and Marines establish trigger lines in their heads about 30m out in front of them. Iraqi drivers are terrible; Jackson is a 4-lane divided highway, yet as soon as we stop traffic in one direction we have 5 lanes to deal with; the original lanes, the shoulder, median, and the opposite lane�s shoulder. Just dealing with correcting the traffic flow when we are done is daunting and we�ve simply given up; we let the drivers figure out how not to get killed. When we did our leader�s recon into Lutayfiyah we drove some of the back roads to get the lay of the town. On one stop I was talking to some local teenagers when I heard three shots. I went around the corner to see what had happened and there was one of our sergeants talking to a well-dressed man in the street. The man�s car was listing slightly to the driver�s side and a puddle was growing under the engine. When I came up to them I could hear them talking, the man was apologizing profusely for making a mistake, explaining that he was the local schoolmaster, was preoccupied with his work, and since he lived just around the corner wasn�t paying attention. The CO and I talked to him, made sure he was unhurt and checked his identification. A quick search of the car turned up nothing to significance and the sergeant and I pushed his car around the corner for him. Maj Durham explained that we would report the incident to our Battalion Commander, LtCol Smith, (standard procedure) and that if he took pictures of his car and came to the FOB on Tuesday he might get some compensation to help pay for repairs. Like most Iraqis he was obviously reluctant to come to our base, it might appear as if he was giving us information thereby putting his life and family at risk.

After days of being shelled in Lutayfiyah we finally got two days of good observation on the enemy�s firing positions. In both cases though we were a little too late with our return fires to affect the enemy directly. Still, shooting back relieves a lot of tension. On November 15th we got lucky and the 1st Cavalry Division CBR caught the enemy fire for us. We had rounds going back out in less than five minutes and they were spot on, they were quickly followed by artillery fires from FOB St. Michael. In all we covered a 300m area in fires over the course of 8 minutes, but again we just missed him. A foot patrol in the area heard the rounds being fired at us, saw our impacts and decided to move there to conduct a Battle Damage Assessment (BDA). The BDA was one cow and numerous chickens killed, an unknown number of animals wounded. When they got there the farmer told them he knew who had shot at us, but was afraid they would see him talking to us and asked them to leave and come back later. The patrol went back after dark and picked up the farmer. The farmer gave up a great deal of information, including the fact that he was now more afraid of us because we had proven we would shoot back with a lot of firepower and he couldn�t afford to lose any more livestock or his home. It seemed very odd to me that the locals would allow insurgents to use their land to fire upon us, they refuse to take action for fear they would be hurt. In the end it seems the only way to make them help us is to negatively affect them enough to force them to help us help them.

The First Hard Day

November 8th was the first really hard day for Golf Company. We had one Marine wounded early on by friendly fire, but he was recovering in Camp Pendleton, on the 8th we lost five Marines from our company, three KIA and two wounded. Two of the KIAs were from my platoon, Cpl Robert Warns II and LCpl Brandon Ramey. The other Marines were LCpl O�Donnell (KIA), LCpl Kruchten (WIA), and SSgt Simon (WIA) who was a good friend of mine. The Marines were all part of 1st Platoon (my Marines were attached to them) who had come down from their position on Tampa north of Al Mahmudiyah to patrol the area of northern Lutayfiyah known as Hay (pronounced �aye�) Salam. They had completed the bulk of their patrol and were north of a major east-west canal when the hummer they were in was hit by an IED. I was in the FO post on our main building when I heard the blast over 4 kilometers away and saw the smoke. The calls into the FOB became frantic once the initial blast cleared. Sgt Abbott of 1st Platoon did an outstanding job of keeping calm in the face of the situation; he secured the site, reported the incident and the situation, and kept the CP updated.

As the situation developed we realized that they had two wounded Marines immediately and began to call in a medevac helicopter, but three Marines were still unaccounted for, the initial calls said �There are body parts all over!� There was silence in the CP as we crowded around the radios and listened to the CO continue to gather information. We put together a QRF (quick reaction force) of a reinforced squad to go up to their position and help, they left within five minutes. The squad from 1st had to put up with a little small arms fire directed at them, but it was not aimed fire and ineffective.

The hummer was hit hard, the IED had been detonated under the vehicle just behind the driver�s compartment and the vehicle was torn apart. As the QRF from 3rd Platoon arrived they found a scene of utter carnage, smoke still hung in the area, pieces of vehicle were strewn all over, as well as weapons and equipment, and of course the bodies of the three Marines killed. Items were found as far away as 500 meters. LCpl Peters, who had earlier been responsible for wounding Sgt Cornell in the friendly fire incident, was on the radio with the medevac bird, �Medicine Man�, and given the gravity of the two incidents he was involved in was doing great. I later told him that as he stood by the door of our FOB shaking. With the bird away and 1st continuing to secure the area 3rd had the grisly job of finding what they could of the hummer, gear, and worse of all the bodies. Incredibly the bodies were still intact, not much of a consolation, but a change from what we were expecting given the Iraqi who blew himself and his car up at one of our checkpoints during our first week.

The dirty work done the squad from 3rd escorted the squad from 1st down to our FOB to spend the night. As they entered they were visibly shaken, but certain Marines like Sgt Abbott still had the constitution to debrief the CO. By this time word had gotten to the Marines of Weapons stationed in Lutayfiyah, about two-thirds of the platoon. Warns and Ramey were very popular Marines and their loss was already taking a toll. Once we were sure of whom was killed Sgt Tim Moore, the Machinegun Section Leader, asked if he could break the news to the Marines. I granted him that, but tagged along to see if I could help at all. Marines are a tight knit group, and combat Marines that much more so, but I think Reservists are a step beyond. Many of these young men knew each other long before Boot Camp, they grew up in the same towns, went to school, dated the same girls, and joined up together, a few even live together at college. Most see each other off and on between drills if not at parties, going hunting, or at work. I knew the loss would hit some hard, it was not my place to judge this, but rather to facilitate it. I felt the loss also, I had known Warns and Ramey for six and three years respectively, they were fine men. Nobody felt they were required to hold anything back, one or two cried openly, most of us just let our emotions choke us up. It would be my job over the next few days to finalize things with the rest of the platoon and take care of their personal effects. I could have farmed this job off to my SSgt Bouzek, but I felt I needed to do it first. He was having as hard a time as any realizing the loss, he had opportunity to talk to Warns and Ramey prior to their patrol of Hay Salam, I hadn�t because I was in the FO post.

I spent that night writing personal letters to the parents of both Marines, something I was hoping I wouldn�t have to do. It was hard on me, I had to stop three times and collect my thoughts. There was so much I wanted to say, but the words just wouldn�t make it to the pen. I limited my comments to one page on each Marine, I wanted the parents to know their sons weren�t just Marines to us, they were people; young men who had friends who would miss them.

On November 9th I went to 1st and 2nd Platoon�s positions on Tampa with the Chaplain to talk to the rest of the machinegunners and assaultmen attached to 1st Platoon. They were already coming out of their initial grief, so I thought talking was going to help. Unfortunately Chaplain Manila didn�t help much, I tried to push him in the right direction; telling the Marines they need to get it out now, that holding it in would help keep the pain away now, but eventually it had to come out, and when it comes out later it will come out harder. I suggested that those who were friends take the time to write, it would help them remember the good things and begin the process. The hardest part was reminding them that we still had missions to accomplish, that they were responsible for manning their positions, and that we couldn�t retaliate.

�This is war, and in war the enemy has a will also.� I told them, �You can�t control who gets hurt and who doesn�t, who dies and who doesn�t, that�s just the way it is. 1st Platoon and our Marines did everything right, but sometimes you can do things perfectly and the bad guys still take a few of us. That�s just the way things are.�

On the way back from 22A I was riding in the back of the trail hummer when we say three people crossing overpass 24A. Capt Hoffmann decided to try to stop them and pulled the patrol off the road as if there was an exit ramp to the overpass. The 7-ton in front of me hit a landmine and my driver slammed on the brakes. The 7-ton kept moving out of the blast area to assess the damage. I silenced the other three Marines in the hummer and yelled to the driver, �Breese, listen to me, I�m going to back us out of here. I need you to listen to me as I give you directions and back up slowly, there may be more mines.�

I hung my upper body out over the back of the armor plating on the highback and directed us back onto the highway. The four of us secured the southern approach to the scene and waited for a wrecker and EOD to show up to deal with any other mines that might have been in the area. The mine we hit was a small one, most likely an antipersonnel mine, since the vehicle was repaired and back on the road in only two days. The only injury was to the lone corpsman riding in the back who was lifted about three feet in the air and came back down hard on the seat, he strained his back. I got back to FOB Al Mahmudiyah late on the 9th and spent most of the night talking to other Marines and sailors in the unit about the happenings of the past few days.

I slept in a little later than I wanted to on November 10th; I needed to meet up with Sgt Abbott and Sgt Paquin about inventorying the gear for our dead and wounded. I rushed through breakfast, the first hot meal I�d had in weeks, and went to the rear CP. Sgt Paquin already had a hummer lined up for us to move gear with so all we had to do was go to the tents and collect things up. Sgt Jeff Moore and a couple of other Marines form Machineguns had already started packing up the gear. Part of the process is called �Sanitizing�, we make sure there is nothing that the family wouldn�t want to see; pornography is the main issue, but there can always be others, in this respect it�s a good idea to really know your Marines or have a good friend of the Marine present to help. Once everything was moved over to Supply we released the Marines to some time off so we could finalize the inventory process.

I was told to find GySgt Picazo or MSgt Winiecki, neither of whom was available when I arrived. I asked the young Corporal, Navarro, who we could report to in order to complete the inventory he informed me that he took care of that. I couldn�t believe my ears; I damn young Corporal was being given the responsibility of inventorying the gear of dead Marines. I apologized to him for our battalion not being organized enough to ensure a SNCO or Officer was assigned this duty. I don�t feel Cpl Navarro was incapable, far from it; he was an amazing help and rather knowledgeable, but this kind of duty is for a SNCO or Officer. This was probably the first time I was embarrassed to belong to this battalion. And I mentioned it to everyone who would listen for the rest of the week.

Sgt Abbott and I decided to sort the gear by individual, starting with the Marines who�d been killed. It was very surreal digging through the personal and military items of the dead, but it had to be done. We sorted the equipment from the uniforms from the civilian items and put them in the appropriate boxes or turned them back in to supply as required. There�s a long list of items that can�t be sent home; batteries, food, aerosols, toothpaste, and so on. We are supposed to throw that all away, but instead we collected it up and took it back out to our positions for others to use. The thing that disturbed me the most wasn�t the act, but the situation in Supply.
In the end I think I needed to do this, it provided me with a bit of closure on the Marines. I had considered that I would lose Marines from my platoon, but it is still difficult. Between the letters to the parents and packing the gear to send home I felt I had fulfilled an obligation to the Marines.

We were unable to complete all five sets of gear and our 1stSgt came to tell us that we needed to be ready to leave the FOB by 1400. He said he and Sgt Paquin would finish the last set of gear after we left. We thanked Cpl Navarro for his hospitality, he let us drink his coffee and soda, and in general was always available, and moved the last set of gear into position. We then left, packed our gear for the trip out and met up with the convoy back out.

For those unaware with the Marine Corps November 10th is the birthday of the Corps, and all locations were being given a treat, a hot meal of steak, lobster tails, and crab legs. Our convoy was going to take us down to Lutayfiyah, drop off our chow then move back up Tampa to the FOB stopping at the Marine positions along the way to give them their chow. We packed up the vat cans, organized them so each position got enough food and moved out. The movement back was uneventful and the meal was very welcome, for those of us at Lutayfiyah it was the first hot meal we had received since we occupied our little FOB on October 25th. In the end we renamed the Lutayfiyah position FOB ROW for Ramey, O�Donnell, and Warns.

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

I appreciate your service. You are in my prayers daily. Keep your head down.
Hunter01

Gunny Bob,

Thanks.

Mind the Doggies and the Smurfs.....
The locals are predictable. <img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/wink.gif" alt="" />

Get home safe!
E4E

If ya need anything, make sure you holler!

(Even if I ain't quite comfy dealing with Marines playing with toy airpolanes as an MOS instead of simply using the Bayonette! <img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/wink.gif" alt="" /> )

Got a local Radio Shack, and all sorts of resources I am more than happy to commit to you and my Brothers over there.

Semper Fi.
And get home safe.
E4E