we are currently restructuring in my office, and as a result, i am working fewer hours. what a deal. usually the boss is always looking for more ways to get a few more hours out of you, but in this case, the boss is trying to send me home early-Nice!!
I have heard the latest report from my mother-my nephews are doing great, cody is gaining weight and looking downright pudgy. Noah is exploring more and more-leah please send more pictures...
things are busy and uncertain here in iraq-we are all trying to complete our mission-all we need now is the cooperation of a congress seeking to prove itself. politics are a part of daily life out here, and yet they seem so distant. Washington has never seemed so far away.
Anyway-i have to go get ready to go to work and fight the good fight.
Andrew
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
I'm an Infantryman trapped in a Fueler's body...
Sorry its been so long, i have been having some difficulty accessing this site. its strange to me sometimes when i sit back and realize that i am still in the third world.
a lot of stress lately. i am finally back to normal hours. i dont think that i should have taken R&R so early in the rotation. now i have nothing to look forward to. watched a few movies today. i was really irritated by a movie about iraq. sometimes its the small details that really get to me. like how the soldiers were wearing their uniforms, the names of cities mispronounced, the way that they talked about war.
I dont think ill ever be able to forget the first time that i saw a dead body, or the first time that i smelled burning flesh, or the first time that i heard incoming fire, but i do know that i dont want someone to pretend that they know the emotions that are attached to such events. I always used to watch war movies and think that it was cool. Sometimes i wish that i could go back to january 2003 and talk myself out of joining the army, and then other times i think that i should reenlist-sometimes it seems like there is no other job out there that i want to do.
theres been a knot in my stomach for about 2 weeks now. this is how i always felt before something bad happened, but i know that my senses arent as keen as they were the last time i was out here. i need to get back out on the road. that is where i belong, not trapped here on the FOB turning into a pog and looking and sounding more like a fobbit as the days pass.
andrew
a lot of stress lately. i am finally back to normal hours. i dont think that i should have taken R&R so early in the rotation. now i have nothing to look forward to. watched a few movies today. i was really irritated by a movie about iraq. sometimes its the small details that really get to me. like how the soldiers were wearing their uniforms, the names of cities mispronounced, the way that they talked about war.
I dont think ill ever be able to forget the first time that i saw a dead body, or the first time that i smelled burning flesh, or the first time that i heard incoming fire, but i do know that i dont want someone to pretend that they know the emotions that are attached to such events. I always used to watch war movies and think that it was cool. Sometimes i wish that i could go back to january 2003 and talk myself out of joining the army, and then other times i think that i should reenlist-sometimes it seems like there is no other job out there that i want to do.
theres been a knot in my stomach for about 2 weeks now. this is how i always felt before something bad happened, but i know that my senses arent as keen as they were the last time i was out here. i need to get back out on the road. that is where i belong, not trapped here on the FOB turning into a pog and looking and sounding more like a fobbit as the days pass.
andrew
Thursday, January 18, 2007
sometimes the weekend never comes.
so, have you ever had co-workers complain so much that your boss took away your weekends? just let me tell you how horrible it is to have that happen. I am now working about 80 hour weeks, so if my posts are a little sparce it is because i am exhausted.
the good news is that-well i dont really think that i have any good news.
i do have news, but not good new. speaking of news, i was watching Lou Dobbs on CNN-i know, but i have no other options-and it was so plainly obvious that CNN has gone to the far left, i dont know if they will ever be able to pull out of their dive into liberal bias. ever. He was blatantly criticizing President Bush, in many cases for things that he doesnt even control, and was trying to get the people that were on his show to change their opinions to mirror his-clearly goading them into his liberal cesspool. Unbelievable.
foxnews upsets me lately too. ok we get it. fair and balanced-do you have to tell us ever time you speak????
at least bill o'reily can still be depended on, but i never get to watch because i am at work.
ill keep you posted.
andrew
the good news is that-well i dont really think that i have any good news.
i do have news, but not good new. speaking of news, i was watching Lou Dobbs on CNN-i know, but i have no other options-and it was so plainly obvious that CNN has gone to the far left, i dont know if they will ever be able to pull out of their dive into liberal bias. ever. He was blatantly criticizing President Bush, in many cases for things that he doesnt even control, and was trying to get the people that were on his show to change their opinions to mirror his-clearly goading them into his liberal cesspool. Unbelievable.
foxnews upsets me lately too. ok we get it. fair and balanced-do you have to tell us ever time you speak????
at least bill o'reily can still be depended on, but i never get to watch because i am at work.
ill keep you posted.
andrew
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
The more things change the more they stay the same. Job stress is at an all time high-for no reason. lots of in-fighting, complaining, and lack of communication. it is really stressing me out, and starting to affect my sleep patterns. I am not sleeping through the night and usually wake up 2 or 3 times. this job is not that difficult, why do we need to find things to stress over?
otherwise things are well-still no mail...but the connex should arrive soon. I look forward to recieving my package MO.
ILYIMYSWAK
Andrew
otherwise things are well-still no mail...but the connex should arrive soon. I look forward to recieving my package MO.
ILYIMYSWAK
Andrew
Saturday, January 06, 2007
The School of Rock...
I think that rock is...predictable. I think that unlike any other form of communication, the ability of rock to react to stimulus and produce the desired result of "sticking it to the man" is unmatched in a world so unbelievably connected. When the "man" reaches a point where the world of rock can no longer tolerate his infringment on their daily life, they respond in suit with music designed to "bring it all down."
Take Green day for example. Self-proclaimed bush haters. Social and political liberals to the core. Individuals? or pre-programed robots of a liberal media?
Green Day was involved in the 924 gillman st punk project until the day they sold out to a major label-sold out or bought in? its a question many fans have asked since Dookie, and one that has renewed its intensity since the huge success of American Idiot. The question that i ask was when did they sell out to political parties and partisan politics? I think that I will eventually find my answer, but until that point i will continue to ponder-I hope you will join me on this adventure.
a small bit of lyrics from the title track of their album American Idiot-
Dont want to be an american idiot,
one nation controlled by the media.
information age of hysteria-
is calling out to idiot america.
controlled by the media? who's controlled by the media? I dont recall Green Day ever making a trip to iraq, but they are sure taking the time to engage in political mud slinging contests against the current administration based on information that they have not collected themselves-information they have gathered from the media. i guess the question that i really have is does it make you an "american idiot", in this "information age of hysteria", to allow yourself to be "controlled by the media" and not formulate your own opinions based on fact instead of assumtions?
I will let you know the details of what is going on with me when i have more time.
Andrew
Take Green day for example. Self-proclaimed bush haters. Social and political liberals to the core. Individuals? or pre-programed robots of a liberal media?
Green Day was involved in the 924 gillman st punk project until the day they sold out to a major label-sold out or bought in? its a question many fans have asked since Dookie, and one that has renewed its intensity since the huge success of American Idiot. The question that i ask was when did they sell out to political parties and partisan politics? I think that I will eventually find my answer, but until that point i will continue to ponder-I hope you will join me on this adventure.
a small bit of lyrics from the title track of their album American Idiot-
Dont want to be an american idiot,
one nation controlled by the media.
information age of hysteria-
is calling out to idiot america.
controlled by the media? who's controlled by the media? I dont recall Green Day ever making a trip to iraq, but they are sure taking the time to engage in political mud slinging contests against the current administration based on information that they have not collected themselves-information they have gathered from the media. i guess the question that i really have is does it make you an "american idiot", in this "information age of hysteria", to allow yourself to be "controlled by the media" and not formulate your own opinions based on fact instead of assumtions?
I will let you know the details of what is going on with me when i have more time.
Andrew
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Boots on the Ground: a soldiers story of Iraq (part 6)
I guess the trip down to An Najaf was when I really fell in love with the army. That trip was when Basic Training ended, and it was when my life became a war movie. "Haji" was in the bushes, helocopters were running constant sorties into the city, and we were building a new camp. FOB Duke may not have been more than a patch of sand at the time, but it was home. I was a PFC (Private First Class-dont forget that there were two rank levels below me now), and I was in charge of all the Class I supplies for the entire company. 150 soldiers depended on me to have water and chow available at every meal, and the company first seargeant was depending on me to maintain a three day supply.
This was a lot of responsibility for a private, but i was first class at it. I was making deals, bartering fuel, and, on some occasions, stealing when necessary, but we never ran out of food or water. I had enough of a stockpile at one point that soldiers were getting 2 MRE's(the army calls them Meals Ready to Eat, but soldiers fondly refer to them as Meals Rejected by Etheopians). This becomes very important after eating MRE's for two or more weeks because the meals, as arranged, become boring. allowing each soldier 2 MRE's, allows the soldier to pick and choose what they want to eat, and, in some cases, build their own meal using what was supplied. This increases the morale of soldiers who are already fed up with the army, and increases in overall mission accomplishment.
The typical day in An Najaf was almost always the same. The sun would wake me up-we did not like sleeping in the tents, too hot and stuffy-and i would slowly climb out of my hammock. I had "Built" quite the living space between two of our trucks, and with the tarp over the top i had an excellent living space. We never wore our body armor, there was no need that prompted such measures. in fact, we never really wore the tops to our uniforms. just a brown t-shirt and sunglasses. I liked that a lot. After i got out of bed and put my pants on, i would walk over to the mechanics trailer and get a cup of coffee. we were only allowed to get coffee after first sergeant got his first cup, and there was only enough for each of us to get one cup. but if you needed more, there was always coffee crystals in the MRE that you ate for breakfast. Nothing like a boneless porkchop, chunked and formed, for breakfast. I usually had a bean and rice burrito for lunch, but that would make for a rough afternoon. You see-when you dont even have laundry service, that means that you dont really have bathrooms either. our "Toilet" was a 2 foot by 4 foot trench that was 4 feet deep. Not exactly luxury, but who really cares. when you can literally scrape the dirt off of any part of your body, it doesnt really matter that you are sitting on a tank road wheel, taking a crap in a trench, and not looking forward to a shower at night, or anytime in the near future. eventually you just let go.
It seemed like the political battle was the war we were really fighting in Najaf. You see, we were sent down to An Najaf with the orders that we were going to destroy the city-something along the lines of the Roman Army vs. Jeruselem. This was the image always conjured in my mind. I would be in Downtown An Najaf, refueling and rearming an Abrams tank, while death and destruction was raining down all around me. this was not quite the case. instead we mostly played spades. not joking. from the time we finished breakfast until the time the sun went down, we played spades. In Fact, I played the hell out of spades. my partner and I were untouchable. people came into our house and thought they could play. They were sent back to their tank with an MRE and the shame of defeat. I love my job.
the downside of Najaf was the fact that there was an army-well a malitia, supporters of Muqtada al Sadr, that wanted us dead. we had more than one run-in with these SOB's. My TC, Sgt Long, almost died one night in a traffic circle. their tank was hit with 6 RPG's(rocket propelled grenades) in rapid succession. the fuel can in the bustle rack caught on fire and spilled down into the engine. the tank commander did not want to extinguish the fire for fear that the engine would not restart, and made a decision to drive balls to the wall trying to put the fire out. the RPG's did not stop coming, and small arms fire joined in. a mission that was started as a raid, turned, rapidly, into a mission to save a tank. Just so you know, an Abrams tank is so fast it can out run fire. 22 or more rpgs hit the tank, and the crew lived to tell the tale. the tank was badly damaged, and the maintenance team quickly recovered, repaired, and returned the tank to the battle. I love my job. i would gladly give my life for the men that I served with in Najaf. They are my hero's.
Col. Dana J. H. Pittard, commander of the 3rd BDE, 1st Infantry Division, had been working with the local national government, the President of the United States, and Muqtada Al Sadr-a rouge terrorist who, i believe to this day, should have been killed in that battle for the hundreds of marines killed at his commands. a truce was reached after Sadr's hideout was hit with a deadly barage of artillery, and he suddenly changed his mind about the war for Najaf. It was a great day as we prepared to leave the camp we built. the Alabama national guard arrived the day we left. they brought showers, phones, laundry, and a world class dining facility with them. Man i love my job.
We pulled out of the gate of FOB Duke and headed for Highway one-Northbound, back to FOB Scunion where my bed, showers, and real toilet waited for me. 45 days of hell-45 days of filth-45 days that I will cherish for the rest of my life.
i love my job.
This was a lot of responsibility for a private, but i was first class at it. I was making deals, bartering fuel, and, on some occasions, stealing when necessary, but we never ran out of food or water. I had enough of a stockpile at one point that soldiers were getting 2 MRE's(the army calls them Meals Ready to Eat, but soldiers fondly refer to them as Meals Rejected by Etheopians). This becomes very important after eating MRE's for two or more weeks because the meals, as arranged, become boring. allowing each soldier 2 MRE's, allows the soldier to pick and choose what they want to eat, and, in some cases, build their own meal using what was supplied. This increases the morale of soldiers who are already fed up with the army, and increases in overall mission accomplishment.
The typical day in An Najaf was almost always the same. The sun would wake me up-we did not like sleeping in the tents, too hot and stuffy-and i would slowly climb out of my hammock. I had "Built" quite the living space between two of our trucks, and with the tarp over the top i had an excellent living space. We never wore our body armor, there was no need that prompted such measures. in fact, we never really wore the tops to our uniforms. just a brown t-shirt and sunglasses. I liked that a lot. After i got out of bed and put my pants on, i would walk over to the mechanics trailer and get a cup of coffee. we were only allowed to get coffee after first sergeant got his first cup, and there was only enough for each of us to get one cup. but if you needed more, there was always coffee crystals in the MRE that you ate for breakfast. Nothing like a boneless porkchop, chunked and formed, for breakfast. I usually had a bean and rice burrito for lunch, but that would make for a rough afternoon. You see-when you dont even have laundry service, that means that you dont really have bathrooms either. our "Toilet" was a 2 foot by 4 foot trench that was 4 feet deep. Not exactly luxury, but who really cares. when you can literally scrape the dirt off of any part of your body, it doesnt really matter that you are sitting on a tank road wheel, taking a crap in a trench, and not looking forward to a shower at night, or anytime in the near future. eventually you just let go.
It seemed like the political battle was the war we were really fighting in Najaf. You see, we were sent down to An Najaf with the orders that we were going to destroy the city-something along the lines of the Roman Army vs. Jeruselem. This was the image always conjured in my mind. I would be in Downtown An Najaf, refueling and rearming an Abrams tank, while death and destruction was raining down all around me. this was not quite the case. instead we mostly played spades. not joking. from the time we finished breakfast until the time the sun went down, we played spades. In Fact, I played the hell out of spades. my partner and I were untouchable. people came into our house and thought they could play. They were sent back to their tank with an MRE and the shame of defeat. I love my job.
the downside of Najaf was the fact that there was an army-well a malitia, supporters of Muqtada al Sadr, that wanted us dead. we had more than one run-in with these SOB's. My TC, Sgt Long, almost died one night in a traffic circle. their tank was hit with 6 RPG's(rocket propelled grenades) in rapid succession. the fuel can in the bustle rack caught on fire and spilled down into the engine. the tank commander did not want to extinguish the fire for fear that the engine would not restart, and made a decision to drive balls to the wall trying to put the fire out. the RPG's did not stop coming, and small arms fire joined in. a mission that was started as a raid, turned, rapidly, into a mission to save a tank. Just so you know, an Abrams tank is so fast it can out run fire. 22 or more rpgs hit the tank, and the crew lived to tell the tale. the tank was badly damaged, and the maintenance team quickly recovered, repaired, and returned the tank to the battle. I love my job. i would gladly give my life for the men that I served with in Najaf. They are my hero's.
Col. Dana J. H. Pittard, commander of the 3rd BDE, 1st Infantry Division, had been working with the local national government, the President of the United States, and Muqtada Al Sadr-a rouge terrorist who, i believe to this day, should have been killed in that battle for the hundreds of marines killed at his commands. a truce was reached after Sadr's hideout was hit with a deadly barage of artillery, and he suddenly changed his mind about the war for Najaf. It was a great day as we prepared to leave the camp we built. the Alabama national guard arrived the day we left. they brought showers, phones, laundry, and a world class dining facility with them. Man i love my job.
We pulled out of the gate of FOB Duke and headed for Highway one-Northbound, back to FOB Scunion where my bed, showers, and real toilet waited for me. 45 days of hell-45 days of filth-45 days that I will cherish for the rest of my life.
i love my job.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Work Sucks, i think ill retire early-
I just thought that it was a waste of my better years in life to be trapped in a job, and i dont think that i am really using my time as good as i could if i were retired.
I hereby tender my resignation, pending approval by the pentagon, which could take years-you know how the military is with paperwork-and effective, upon approval of my resignation, i will assume duties sipping margarita's and other cocktails out of coconut halves on some warm sandy beach in some foreign country in the south pacific, or gulf region, until i reach an age where i feel like i am too old to sit on a beach. at which point i will then get a job.
sincerely
andrew
I hereby tender my resignation, pending approval by the pentagon, which could take years-you know how the military is with paperwork-and effective, upon approval of my resignation, i will assume duties sipping margarita's and other cocktails out of coconut halves on some warm sandy beach in some foreign country in the south pacific, or gulf region, until i reach an age where i feel like i am too old to sit on a beach. at which point i will then get a job.
sincerely
andrew
Monday, January 01, 2007
Things are more of the same...
yeah-thats not photoshoped! thats the real deal...miss you already.
andrew
it is good to be back here in iraq. I missed the stress, and the friends that i have out here. the execution of sadam went largely unnoticed. no suprise there. life as usual. we are eager for the coming new year and another year of work towards peace. my mother just sent me this picture of me in pakistan meeting Pres. Bush. just thought i would share it with you.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
The never ending flight...
the flight here is now over...i have arrived safely, although i was trapped in the center section of the plane the whole flight. i was still on an aisle seat but the fact of the matter remains, my size requires an exit row. international flights are not fun. at least not in coach. i will call you as soon as i get back to the base mom.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Stuck in Dallas
somehow it always seems that the breaks always come at precisely the wrong moment. I was praying for a delay in kuwait so that i would be able to be home on christmas day, but no delay. I prayed for snow to close the airport, and it did...three days early. I got to dallas, and i was hoping for a quick flight out of here, and what happens...delay. Clearly i am not capable of getting the good stuff.
Anyways-I am taking the time to finally get some sleep. Noah and Cody have seriously interrupted my sleep schedule. Noah likes to get up at 0430 Colorado time, and as i was a good uncle, i had to get up and play with him (actually, i could not resist-he is too cute to not hang out with). Cody on the other hand is a lot more low maintenence. he eats, poops, and sleeps (there is a lot of work that has to be done just for these three activities, but love's labor is worth it in the end). My time spent in CO was well worth it. I met Joanna (leah's Au Pair). She was charming and easy to entertain-I hope that i was not too boring :)
Activities around the Haberer house are never boring. we had plenty of projects to complete (walls to paint, cabinets to build, rooms to babyproof, etc...) in the beginning of my leave, and then we had so much going on that i am truly worn out. I think that i will be glad to get to Iraq so that i can finally get some sleep ;)
thats all for now. I will write more later.
Andrew
Anyways-I am taking the time to finally get some sleep. Noah and Cody have seriously interrupted my sleep schedule. Noah likes to get up at 0430 Colorado time, and as i was a good uncle, i had to get up and play with him (actually, i could not resist-he is too cute to not hang out with). Cody on the other hand is a lot more low maintenence. he eats, poops, and sleeps (there is a lot of work that has to be done just for these three activities, but love's labor is worth it in the end). My time spent in CO was well worth it. I met Joanna (leah's Au Pair). She was charming and easy to entertain-I hope that i was not too boring :)
Activities around the Haberer house are never boring. we had plenty of projects to complete (walls to paint, cabinets to build, rooms to babyproof, etc...) in the beginning of my leave, and then we had so much going on that i am truly worn out. I think that i will be glad to get to Iraq so that i can finally get some sleep ;)
thats all for now. I will write more later.
Andrew
Thursday, December 21, 2006
who needs to dream of a white christmas...
Well, today is the first day after the Storm and I was outside all day digging a path to the main road. as you can see from the collection of snow next to the driveway, there was considerable snowfall overnight. the total snowfall from the center of the Cul de Sac was 22 inches. What a treat this was-just think a week ago i was in iraq!! My back and arms are really sore from the workout recieved by moving all the snow. there is a lot of snow. patricia reported 6 foot drifts in her back yard...leah is almost here-she was one of the many cancelled flights coming into denver-she opted to rent a car, and she is now on here way.
I am dreading the return to iraq, and up until this storm i have really not had a chance to put it from my mind. maybe there will be more storms-for like 6-9 months...guess not. well, whether the weather cooperates or not, i will continue to keep you posted on the goings on. i think that i have enough inspiration now to write the next installment to my story, part six right?
anywho-much love from the snow burried colorado. althogh entrenched in the drifts i still think about all of you-
Andrew
Monday, December 04, 2006
the trouble with shift work...
I am really excited to come home. I kind of feel like i am in a rut...have you ever seen the movie with Bill Murray in it-Ground hogs day? Everyday i wake up and it is the same as the day before. no new stories, no new activities, its just the same. I thought life as a soldier was supposed to be exciting...oh well.
ill write more later...
andrew
ill write more later...
andrew
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
the CDC is right-vaccinate early!
Thanks for the comments, i am working on the next installment but have been really busy. things here in Iraq are rather normal-as normal as this country can be...I am really excited for the trip home, the new pictures of my nephews make me a little homesick in a good way. I cannot wait to have the opportunity to hold them and play with them. Flu shots stink. I am suprised that i did not get sick this year. I guess that my body is already fighting enough disease that it is ready for whatever comes its way. Go Immune System!!
I miss you all-
I will try to get some more work done on the next installment.
Andrew
I miss you all-
I will try to get some more work done on the next installment.
Andrew
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Boots on the Ground: a Soldiers story of the War In Iraq
We were staged at FOB Warhorse waiting from the word from higher command as to when we would be departing. I knew that it would be an early morning, and that it would be at the most inconvenient time for me-thats just the way the army works. I took my time to pray and think through my actions before we departed to one of the worst areas of iraq. I knew that things were going to be different on this operation than anything i had been through so far. i took time to clean my M16 thoroughly, I knew that i was going to need it. every time that something bad happened to me, i would have a gut feeling that something was wrong before it happened. ever since i had arrived in Iraq, this sense was stronger than ever. I knew that something was going to go horribly wrong. we got word that we were going to leave in the early morning, just before sunrise. the chaplain came over from FOB Scunion and prayed with us. we prayed for safe travel and return, we prayed that God's hand would work through us in this mission, and I prayed that i would feel his presense. I had seen enough action already (i.e. the usual improvised explosive device), that i was ready for this convoy, but nothing could have prepared me for the journey ahead.
We rolled out of the north gate of FOB Warhorse just after sunrise and began the long journey south to An Najaf. We had to go out of the way of most of the cities along the quick route because unfriendly personnel were prepared for our march south. Thank you CNN. Our operation had been headline news for days. Have you ever felt like complete strangers knew more about what you were doing than you did? I was just a private. they tell me to drive, i do it. they tell me to shoot, i do it. Why do i need to know any more than that? My vehicle commander was a combat veteran. he had been a member of a tank crew, and he had seen enough action already. he knew what to do. SGT Long would be manning the only 50 caliber weapon among the support vehicles. support had sent 2 cargo HEMTT's and 2 Fuel HEMTT's. i was driving one of the cargo HEMTT's with a battle load of tank rounds and enough food and water for three days. i would have rather been on a rolling bomb than what i was carrying-hello private, i have no say in what happens to me. The ride was mostly uneventful for the first 12 hours...did i tell you that it was only supposed to take 12 hours. we were in the middle of a hostile area, and our commander was lost. thank you West Point. we had been lost for about 4 hours, switch-backed across lord only knows how many miles of iraq, and we were still no closer to An Najaf. the convoy commander had led us down the wrong road not once, not 3 times, but 4 times. did the lead vehicle have a team of monkeys working around the clock to make sure that we never got there or what?
Things progressively went downhill. by midnight, we were lost in Downtown Al Hillah. A little history lesson on Al Hillah. This city was an insurgent stronghold since the outset of the war. the people of the city had not seen an american in months. Al Hillah had been blacklisted and american troops were not to enter the city. here we are downtown in a city, at night, and we were lost. great. I saw hate in the eyes of the people on the street. if you looked long enough into their eyes, you could just picture that same individual holding a handsaw and cutting your head of for the nightly news. my gut was doing summersaults. i was going to die, and my mother was going to have to learn from CNN. I dont think i have ever felt such a suffocating feeling as i did looking into the eyes of these people on the streets of this unfriendly neighborhood. where was mr rogers when you needed him? we made it through downtown without incident, and I began to relax as we reached the outskirts of town. that's when i saw it. a white phosphorus parachute flare. this put both my TC (truck commander) and myself back on edge. we continued to drive down the road and made a left turn. there was a canal on the left side of the road and dense shubs on the right side of the road. this was not a good development. then i saw it again, another flare. we passed a marine convoy going the other direction, and that put my mind at ease. they were the ones who fired off the flares, i knew it. we made it about a mile down the road and that is when all hell broke loose. I saw the third and final flare.
boom
The Heavy Equipment Transport (HET) 4 vehicles in front of mine was hit. time stood still. you know how in the movies, when the battle starts, everything goes into slow motion? they arent bullshiting. it felt like an eternity we were sitting there staring at the site of the explosion and wondering why the HET wouldnt move. then we started to see movement all around us. people were pouring out of a house just to the right of the site of the explosion. the track vehicles on the trailer of the HET started to fire on the people running up towards us. SGT Long fired off a string of expletives and then matched fire with his 50 cal. I was in a dream. this couldnt be happening. what was i doing here? I started to see tracer rounds coming between the vehicles from the left. I had been driving for 22 hours and i was not ready for this. I saw the vehicle in front of me start to fire in the direction of the fire, and i matched fire. Its funny that people say you never know what you will do when the rounds start coming back at you. its true. you just shut down, and, if you are lucky, you recieved good training that just takes over. the vehicle in front of me remained as motionless as it did the last time i checked, and the people coming out of the house were moving closer and closer to the vehicles in the convoy. one insurgent got about five feet from the passenger door of the truck in front of me. the medic in the passenger seat swung his shotgun out of the window and laid down great vengence and furious anger upon the man who was hell bent on killing him. the gun fire did not stop and my TC had gone through 3 ammo cans before the HET driver snapped back into reality. he pressed the pedal to the metal and we followed suit. we met up with the front part of the convoy about 3 miles down the road. we knew someone in the HET was hurt, and we were ready to provide as much aid as possible. Unfortunately, the civilian driving the truck had waited too long. A Staff Sergeant had been hit by a piece of shrapnel about the size of a California peach in his midsection. our first rate body armor is no match for a piece of metal moving that fast, and the staff was dead before the HET started moving again. we called for a medevac and a bird was enroute. 6 feet from the ground is a long way when you are moving deadweight. SGT Chase was a 5 foot something medic. Along with about 5 other medics, he stood at the base of the truck trying to figure out how to get this body out of the cab. Remember that trust that i mentioned earlier, he climbed into the cab, looped his arms under the staff's shoulders, looked back, and said catch me. he took a leap of faith, knowing that his fellow soldiers would be there to catch him. they prepared the body for pickup, and treated the driver for minor wounds.
The helicopter arrived about fifteen minutes after the call, and the casualty was loaded into the chopper. this ugly phase of our journey was over, but the night was still young. the HET platoon commander brought another person up to replace the TC and we were ready to roll. Unfortunately, no one had seen the driver. He had pulled a Keyser Soze' and he was gone. we could not leave an american in this hostile territory, even if he had run off. A group of soldiers were sent to search the surrounding area, outbuildings, and homes in an area where we were just attacked looking for this guy. 3 hours spent looking for him brought no fruit. the convoy commander callled back to the dust off and asked them to check the bird. The medic assured him that he was not in the chopper, but agreed to check just in case. When he came back on the radio, he informed us that the civilian driver had been found, curled up in the fetal possition in the back of the chopper. 6 medics, 2 pilots, and a convoy full of men had all missed him sneaking on to the chopper. that civilian punched his time card, and i am sure he was on the next flight home. 27 hours since i last slept. he wasted three hours of my time. I was mad, tired, and wanted to take a shower and wash the pain away. i would never be able to forget what i had just been through, but right now i wanted to wash all of the images out of my mind. ever since i joined the army, i wanted my chance to fight in this war, and now all i wanted was to be a little kid curled up on my mothers lap. safe from all danger. God i wish i could cry-why do i have to be a man at times like this.
we were still eight hours from our destination, we had just lost a soldier, and we all needed some rest. the convoy commander decided we would drive out as far into the desert as we could, the drivers would sleep while others took shifts on guard, and we would move out at first light. I dont know how i slept, but i found comfort in the cab of that HEMTT and i slept the best four hours of my life. when we got back on the road the next morning, we found that we were on the right track for an arrival at FOB Duke before lunch time. Insurgents had blown up every bridge leading into An Najaf the day previous-every one except the one we were headed for. I felt something jump inside me. A shower was calling my name...we continued to drive faster and faster towards our destination.
we made the last turn heading into the Marine base, and the Entry Control Point(ECP) was visible. I was so excited, we were almost there. Just before we arrived at the gate, the convoy commander made a left turn into a patch of sand. i thought this was normal. we were just going to get accountability before we rolled in the gate. boy was i wrong.
COL Dana J. H. Pittard, our Brigade Commander, wanted to name a FOB. In our brigade we were the Iron Dukes. Hence, FOB Duke. Instead of going to the Marine base-the one the had phones, showers, internet, a Dining facility, and a Post Exchange we were going to "rough it." I had not, nor had any of the other members of the team, on not having laundry facilities. this was about to get ugly.
Why is it when you are a kid all you want is to be dirty, but when you're an adult the prospect of being dirty is horrifying?
I felt like Pigpen-the cloud of dust and all...
We rolled out of the north gate of FOB Warhorse just after sunrise and began the long journey south to An Najaf. We had to go out of the way of most of the cities along the quick route because unfriendly personnel were prepared for our march south. Thank you CNN. Our operation had been headline news for days. Have you ever felt like complete strangers knew more about what you were doing than you did? I was just a private. they tell me to drive, i do it. they tell me to shoot, i do it. Why do i need to know any more than that? My vehicle commander was a combat veteran. he had been a member of a tank crew, and he had seen enough action already. he knew what to do. SGT Long would be manning the only 50 caliber weapon among the support vehicles. support had sent 2 cargo HEMTT's and 2 Fuel HEMTT's. i was driving one of the cargo HEMTT's with a battle load of tank rounds and enough food and water for three days. i would have rather been on a rolling bomb than what i was carrying-hello private, i have no say in what happens to me. The ride was mostly uneventful for the first 12 hours...did i tell you that it was only supposed to take 12 hours. we were in the middle of a hostile area, and our commander was lost. thank you West Point. we had been lost for about 4 hours, switch-backed across lord only knows how many miles of iraq, and we were still no closer to An Najaf. the convoy commander had led us down the wrong road not once, not 3 times, but 4 times. did the lead vehicle have a team of monkeys working around the clock to make sure that we never got there or what?
Things progressively went downhill. by midnight, we were lost in Downtown Al Hillah. A little history lesson on Al Hillah. This city was an insurgent stronghold since the outset of the war. the people of the city had not seen an american in months. Al Hillah had been blacklisted and american troops were not to enter the city. here we are downtown in a city, at night, and we were lost. great. I saw hate in the eyes of the people on the street. if you looked long enough into their eyes, you could just picture that same individual holding a handsaw and cutting your head of for the nightly news. my gut was doing summersaults. i was going to die, and my mother was going to have to learn from CNN. I dont think i have ever felt such a suffocating feeling as i did looking into the eyes of these people on the streets of this unfriendly neighborhood. where was mr rogers when you needed him? we made it through downtown without incident, and I began to relax as we reached the outskirts of town. that's when i saw it. a white phosphorus parachute flare. this put both my TC (truck commander) and myself back on edge. we continued to drive down the road and made a left turn. there was a canal on the left side of the road and dense shubs on the right side of the road. this was not a good development. then i saw it again, another flare. we passed a marine convoy going the other direction, and that put my mind at ease. they were the ones who fired off the flares, i knew it. we made it about a mile down the road and that is when all hell broke loose. I saw the third and final flare.
boom
The Heavy Equipment Transport (HET) 4 vehicles in front of mine was hit. time stood still. you know how in the movies, when the battle starts, everything goes into slow motion? they arent bullshiting. it felt like an eternity we were sitting there staring at the site of the explosion and wondering why the HET wouldnt move. then we started to see movement all around us. people were pouring out of a house just to the right of the site of the explosion. the track vehicles on the trailer of the HET started to fire on the people running up towards us. SGT Long fired off a string of expletives and then matched fire with his 50 cal. I was in a dream. this couldnt be happening. what was i doing here? I started to see tracer rounds coming between the vehicles from the left. I had been driving for 22 hours and i was not ready for this. I saw the vehicle in front of me start to fire in the direction of the fire, and i matched fire. Its funny that people say you never know what you will do when the rounds start coming back at you. its true. you just shut down, and, if you are lucky, you recieved good training that just takes over. the vehicle in front of me remained as motionless as it did the last time i checked, and the people coming out of the house were moving closer and closer to the vehicles in the convoy. one insurgent got about five feet from the passenger door of the truck in front of me. the medic in the passenger seat swung his shotgun out of the window and laid down great vengence and furious anger upon the man who was hell bent on killing him. the gun fire did not stop and my TC had gone through 3 ammo cans before the HET driver snapped back into reality. he pressed the pedal to the metal and we followed suit. we met up with the front part of the convoy about 3 miles down the road. we knew someone in the HET was hurt, and we were ready to provide as much aid as possible. Unfortunately, the civilian driving the truck had waited too long. A Staff Sergeant had been hit by a piece of shrapnel about the size of a California peach in his midsection. our first rate body armor is no match for a piece of metal moving that fast, and the staff was dead before the HET started moving again. we called for a medevac and a bird was enroute. 6 feet from the ground is a long way when you are moving deadweight. SGT Chase was a 5 foot something medic. Along with about 5 other medics, he stood at the base of the truck trying to figure out how to get this body out of the cab. Remember that trust that i mentioned earlier, he climbed into the cab, looped his arms under the staff's shoulders, looked back, and said catch me. he took a leap of faith, knowing that his fellow soldiers would be there to catch him. they prepared the body for pickup, and treated the driver for minor wounds.
The helicopter arrived about fifteen minutes after the call, and the casualty was loaded into the chopper. this ugly phase of our journey was over, but the night was still young. the HET platoon commander brought another person up to replace the TC and we were ready to roll. Unfortunately, no one had seen the driver. He had pulled a Keyser Soze' and he was gone. we could not leave an american in this hostile territory, even if he had run off. A group of soldiers were sent to search the surrounding area, outbuildings, and homes in an area where we were just attacked looking for this guy. 3 hours spent looking for him brought no fruit. the convoy commander callled back to the dust off and asked them to check the bird. The medic assured him that he was not in the chopper, but agreed to check just in case. When he came back on the radio, he informed us that the civilian driver had been found, curled up in the fetal possition in the back of the chopper. 6 medics, 2 pilots, and a convoy full of men had all missed him sneaking on to the chopper. that civilian punched his time card, and i am sure he was on the next flight home. 27 hours since i last slept. he wasted three hours of my time. I was mad, tired, and wanted to take a shower and wash the pain away. i would never be able to forget what i had just been through, but right now i wanted to wash all of the images out of my mind. ever since i joined the army, i wanted my chance to fight in this war, and now all i wanted was to be a little kid curled up on my mothers lap. safe from all danger. God i wish i could cry-why do i have to be a man at times like this.
we were still eight hours from our destination, we had just lost a soldier, and we all needed some rest. the convoy commander decided we would drive out as far into the desert as we could, the drivers would sleep while others took shifts on guard, and we would move out at first light. I dont know how i slept, but i found comfort in the cab of that HEMTT and i slept the best four hours of my life. when we got back on the road the next morning, we found that we were on the right track for an arrival at FOB Duke before lunch time. Insurgents had blown up every bridge leading into An Najaf the day previous-every one except the one we were headed for. I felt something jump inside me. A shower was calling my name...we continued to drive faster and faster towards our destination.
we made the last turn heading into the Marine base, and the Entry Control Point(ECP) was visible. I was so excited, we were almost there. Just before we arrived at the gate, the convoy commander made a left turn into a patch of sand. i thought this was normal. we were just going to get accountability before we rolled in the gate. boy was i wrong.
COL Dana J. H. Pittard, our Brigade Commander, wanted to name a FOB. In our brigade we were the Iron Dukes. Hence, FOB Duke. Instead of going to the Marine base-the one the had phones, showers, internet, a Dining facility, and a Post Exchange we were going to "rough it." I had not, nor had any of the other members of the team, on not having laundry facilities. this was about to get ugly.
Why is it when you are a kid all you want is to be dirty, but when you're an adult the prospect of being dirty is horrifying?
I felt like Pigpen-the cloud of dust and all...
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
technical difficulties
sorry that i have not posted in a while. i have been unable to access the website to put my posts on, but you have been rewarded for your patience. here are the next two installments on the story-well worth the wait i hope. things here are much of the same. i am really excited to go home for leave. thank you leah for the package that you sent with the christmas decorations. its beginning to feel a lot like christmas, and even though you arent supposed to put up christmas decorations before thanksgiving is over i say poo-poo to that.
I miss you all very much and hope you enjoy the story half as much as i am enjoying writing it.
andrew
I miss you all very much and hope you enjoy the story half as much as i am enjoying writing it.
andrew
Boots on the Ground: A Soldiers story of the war in Iraq (part 4)
When we arrived at FOB Scunion, this alien world that I was in felt a little more like a home...it was nothing like the home I had just left, but it was getting better. I was able to call home after the first few days had passed, and I let my family know that I had arrived safely. We moved into our transient housing, which we affectionately referred to as the "chicken coops" because the windows were chicken wire and the rafters were full of pigeons. The chicken coops were home, but left much to be desired. There was no climate control, it was winter in Iraq, and I was a dumb private who packed his sleeping bag in the connex-real smart...
Scunion was a small camp; you had to run twice around the wire just to make two miles. We had names for some of the buildings; the headquarters building was called the Taj Mahal because it was a tiered building that the leadership thought looked like a temple. We had the North Forty, which was a wide open space north of the North gate but still inside the wire. then there was the trash pile. There was literally a half-football field full of scrap metal, concrete, and trash that was piled up in the center of the camp. 4th Infantry division had done the impossible by making the other buildings on the FOB livable, but it was at the cost of a gigantic trash pile that now belonged to us. The battalion Sergeant Major did not like trash. I did not like the prospect of having to clean up the trash...but there were still a few aces up the sleeves. The hearts and minds campaign was about to begin and all of our lives were about to change.
The first week in Iraq was spent in a RIP (relief in place). This meant that our leadership was sitting in the right seat while the people we were replacing were driving...this is a way the army uses to actively train the newbie’s. I spent the first week mostly doing nothing. as I was a private, I had no responsibility and, until my leaders were finished training, I was without a job. So I did what I do best-I went trash digging. The saying is right-one mans trash is another mans treasure. I found so much stuff in the junk yard that I was ready to move into my quarters and start living the good life. There were wood boxes to stack as a dresser, ammo cans to store my personal hygiene items, wood to make a permanent bed-I hate sleeping on cots, paint, and many other smaller more useless items that I felt like I absolutely needed them.
As soon as the RIP was complete, the day came to bring the trail party of 4th ID to Balad Airbase. This would be my first time driving in our sector, and, although I did not know the route yet, in the coming months I would become very familiar with the trip to Balad. I was the driver of a 5 ton truck, loaded to the max with soldiers ready to go home. I was terrified of what was out there, and this fear was beginning to affect my better judgment. The road to Balad was a dangerous route, but I was more dangerous to the soldiers in back than the route could have ever been. This trip was where it stopped being a game and started to get real. The road up to Balad is full of potholes and dips. If you have ever traveled by 5 ton you would understand how this is not a good way to travel. The suspension is very stiff, and the vehicles don’t handle bumps and dips very well. I was too scared to fall back from the vehicle in front of me, I was not making wise decisions, and I almost launched a soldier out of the vehicle because I was taking the dips too fast. I almost killed another soldier because I was too scared to risk my own for their safety.
This attitude would change, but experience was all that I needed to change. During the first few weeks in Iraq, the chaplain passed out ID tags that had a bible verse on them that quickly became my favorite. Joshua 1:9, “I will be strong and courageous, I will not be terrified or discouraged for the Lord my God is with me wherever I go.” I would always say a quiet prayer before we rolled out the gate, and this particular verse was incredibly reassuring to me. The more that I prayed, the more I accepted the fact that I had no control over my fate, and this led to the calm resulting from accepting your death. I was ready to die each time that I left FOB Scunion, and I was thankful for each day that I came back. Every day was my last. I would call home infrequently. Each time I talked to my family it was painful. I didn’t want to admit that they could lose me at any time. It was easier not to hear their voices; email is much more impersonal. I almost killed a soldier, and now I was ready to die myself.
The trip to Balad became a bi-weekly occurrence. I made the trip so often that it haunted me in my dreams. The first month flew by, and there was so much going on that it was impossible to keep track of the day of the week. An Najaf had become a problem, and we became part of the solution. A team of soldiers from 3rd Brigade, 1ID were sent down to An Najaf to assist the marines in clearing out the city. I was a member of the team.
My supervisor came to me one night in early April and informed me that I would be going to Najaf for sixty to ninety days. This trip was going to change my life. This would be the beginning of a journey that I did not know I was embarking on, and this trip would have far reaching effects to my life and my future. This would be the trip that would make me a combat veteran. This was the day I thought that I was going to die, the day that I first saw death, and the day that I began to have unwavering trust for the soldier to my right and left.
Scunion was a small camp; you had to run twice around the wire just to make two miles. We had names for some of the buildings; the headquarters building was called the Taj Mahal because it was a tiered building that the leadership thought looked like a temple. We had the North Forty, which was a wide open space north of the North gate but still inside the wire. then there was the trash pile. There was literally a half-football field full of scrap metal, concrete, and trash that was piled up in the center of the camp. 4th Infantry division had done the impossible by making the other buildings on the FOB livable, but it was at the cost of a gigantic trash pile that now belonged to us. The battalion Sergeant Major did not like trash. I did not like the prospect of having to clean up the trash...but there were still a few aces up the sleeves. The hearts and minds campaign was about to begin and all of our lives were about to change.
The first week in Iraq was spent in a RIP (relief in place). This meant that our leadership was sitting in the right seat while the people we were replacing were driving...this is a way the army uses to actively train the newbie’s. I spent the first week mostly doing nothing. as I was a private, I had no responsibility and, until my leaders were finished training, I was without a job. So I did what I do best-I went trash digging. The saying is right-one mans trash is another mans treasure. I found so much stuff in the junk yard that I was ready to move into my quarters and start living the good life. There were wood boxes to stack as a dresser, ammo cans to store my personal hygiene items, wood to make a permanent bed-I hate sleeping on cots, paint, and many other smaller more useless items that I felt like I absolutely needed them.
As soon as the RIP was complete, the day came to bring the trail party of 4th ID to Balad Airbase. This would be my first time driving in our sector, and, although I did not know the route yet, in the coming months I would become very familiar with the trip to Balad. I was the driver of a 5 ton truck, loaded to the max with soldiers ready to go home. I was terrified of what was out there, and this fear was beginning to affect my better judgment. The road to Balad was a dangerous route, but I was more dangerous to the soldiers in back than the route could have ever been. This trip was where it stopped being a game and started to get real. The road up to Balad is full of potholes and dips. If you have ever traveled by 5 ton you would understand how this is not a good way to travel. The suspension is very stiff, and the vehicles don’t handle bumps and dips very well. I was too scared to fall back from the vehicle in front of me, I was not making wise decisions, and I almost launched a soldier out of the vehicle because I was taking the dips too fast. I almost killed another soldier because I was too scared to risk my own for their safety.
This attitude would change, but experience was all that I needed to change. During the first few weeks in Iraq, the chaplain passed out ID tags that had a bible verse on them that quickly became my favorite. Joshua 1:9, “I will be strong and courageous, I will not be terrified or discouraged for the Lord my God is with me wherever I go.” I would always say a quiet prayer before we rolled out the gate, and this particular verse was incredibly reassuring to me. The more that I prayed, the more I accepted the fact that I had no control over my fate, and this led to the calm resulting from accepting your death. I was ready to die each time that I left FOB Scunion, and I was thankful for each day that I came back. Every day was my last. I would call home infrequently. Each time I talked to my family it was painful. I didn’t want to admit that they could lose me at any time. It was easier not to hear their voices; email is much more impersonal. I almost killed a soldier, and now I was ready to die myself.
The trip to Balad became a bi-weekly occurrence. I made the trip so often that it haunted me in my dreams. The first month flew by, and there was so much going on that it was impossible to keep track of the day of the week. An Najaf had become a problem, and we became part of the solution. A team of soldiers from 3rd Brigade, 1ID were sent down to An Najaf to assist the marines in clearing out the city. I was a member of the team.
My supervisor came to me one night in early April and informed me that I would be going to Najaf for sixty to ninety days. This trip was going to change my life. This would be the beginning of a journey that I did not know I was embarking on, and this trip would have far reaching effects to my life and my future. This would be the trip that would make me a combat veteran. This was the day I thought that I was going to die, the day that I first saw death, and the day that I began to have unwavering trust for the soldier to my right and left.
Boots on the Ground: A Soldiers story of the war in Iraq (part 3)
Kuwait was full of broken promises for the 1st Infantry Division. While we awaited our turn to depart north and join the battle, we were assured that none of our vehicles would go north of Kuwait without armor. At this point in the war, the insurgency was begining to use roadside bombs in their efforts to oppose the new order establishing itself in the Arab world. This was a deadly weapon, and this concerned a lot of troops and their families. Hearing the division commander assure us that we would not roll north without armor was calming but disconcerting. in the short amount of time that i had been in the army, i knew that this was just too good to be true. This convoy was perhaps the most frightened i had ever been for any trip in my life. I was headed into the valley of the shadow of death. I took a lot of time to pray. i was scared. its not like the kind of fear that you experience when watching a scary movie, this kind of fear is deep within your soul. it is almost painful where it touches you. i was scared for my life.
time passed, our training at the Udari Range Complex was completed and it was time. Our maintenance team had been working around the clock to fix as many of the problems with our vehicles before we hit the road. there were five serials in our convoy as we were trying to reduce the size of our convoy to a manageable amount. there were still more than forty vehicles per convoy and this is dangerous because you move too slow. I was in the last serial. we were the recovery group. if any vehicle broke down we were the ones that would pick them up. the first serials would not stop for any reason. we were briefed on the convoy two days before we rolled out. it was at this point in time that we were informed that there were not enough armor kits to accommodate all of our vehicles. we were instructed to put sandbags on the floorboards of our vehicles. all of these promises of world class equipment for our protection boiled down to a twenty-five cent sandbag. thanks a lot uncle sam...
0400 9 March 2004, we were awakened at an early hour to make the final preparations for our departure at 0700. This was it. months of preparation and training, classes, and exersizes and now we were actually going to cross the border into a combat zone. the chaplain gave us a prayer at 0600. it was still dark, so no one could see the fear on each others face. it was so palpable that you could taste it. no one was talking. we all had so much to say but no one was saying a thing. I climbed into my truck and waited. there would be a separation between each convoy, enough time for each convoy not to run up on the other. we weren't scheduled to leave until 0900, but we waited with engines running. the time flew by and we were on the road before too long. it was my first opportunity to see camels up close and not in a cage. it was like driving in america, but instead of cows you would see herds of camels. it was wierd, almost unnatural. we stopped at Norstar Convoy Support Center and fueled up two miles before the border crossing. this was the last chance to file for conscientious objector status. next stop, War.
There are signs painted on a concrete barriers just before the border, "Approaching the Iraqi border, Speedlimit, Drive it like you stole it!" This became our motto and practice, but not on this convoy. I think the fastest that we went on this trip was 35 miles per hour. the convoy was scheduled to take fourteen hours...but nothing in the army works quite as well as planned. Many of our vehicles were not as "battle ready" as they could have been and nearly forty vehicles in our battalion broke down along the trip. since we were the recovery element it was our job to pick them up. I was in a Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Truck (or HEMTT, said hemit). The truck had just come back from a rebuild and was a "new" truck. all this meant was that it was not battle tested. any time i come to a military vehicle and it does not have at least two to three leaks on the underside, that is not a truck i will drive. this time i did not have that option. besides the fact that i was a private, i was just as much of a "cherry" as this vehicle. my vehicle broke down approximately eight miles into Iraq. Bad fuel was the cause, and the effect was having to stop in hostile territory and drain the 154 gallon fuel tank. we did not have the luxury of environmental friendly disposal, and all of us were nervous about being stopped on the side of an iraqi highway. i opened the drain plug on the tank and let it pour onto the highway. in a twisted way, i was just returning the fuel to the source...the whole operation took about 20 minutes, and then we were back on the road. this would be the last time my truck would be the cause of a stop, but this would not be the end of the nightmare on our hands.
by the time we reached the Scania CSC (convoy support center), half of the vehicles in our convoy were towing another vehicle behind them. we thought that this was the end of the breakdowns, but once again we were wrong. Scania was everything i thought a movie about a war should be. there were hundreds of trucks parked in the staging area and the living area looked like something off of the TV show MASH. there were helicopter overflights constantly and I thought any minute "charlie" was going to come out of the palm groves and ambush us. i felt like an actor in some great movie about modern warfare, but this was not a hollywood movie set, and there was an enemy out there observing me right now. sometimes i wonder what he saw. what i looked like in those early days. I must have looked like a young, scared, sub-urban kid who somehow got lost on his way to college and now was fighting a war in some country half a world away...at least that is how I felt. we took some time to fuel up, rest up, and get ready for the next leg of the trip we were only halfway to our destination, and we were already hours behind schedule. This was turning into a fiasco, and the sun was getting ready to set.
as darkness crept up, I found myself pulling security as we recovered yet another broken down vehicle. as I gazed out on the landscape, everything looked so foreign. there were palm groves all over the place, and each town that we passed looked just like the drawings of villiges in bible stories of my youth...that is except for the occasional antennae for television or radio. i never thought that i would ever have been in the middle east as a tourist let alone as a member of a liberation army. what was i doing here? what did i do in my life that ended up with me in the driver seat of a fuel truck in the middle of a combat zone? what was i thinking? these questions haunted me as i sat there staring into the wide open spaces of this foreign land, and they would continue to haunt me for most of my tour. I was looking for answers, i was looking for direction, i was looking for the person who wanted me dead.
twenty-two hours after we left kuwait, we arrived at our designated rally point. we would sleep here for the night, and in the morning our comrades would pick us up and escort us to FOB Scunion. I dont think i have ever slept so rough in my life. it is impossible to fall asleep and be comfortable inside the cab of a HEMTT. somehow i got enough rest to function come wakeup, and i was never more alert than i was on the ride to Scunion. this would be my first experience driving in traffic. the escort told us that the only way you stay alive in this country is to "drive it like you stole it." he brifed us on the route, and told us to keep up-he had no intention of stopping. it is an incredible experience driving in rush hour traffic at 55 mph...especially when you dont have to pay for the damages you cause. I took my 10 ton truck over bombed out replacement bridges, through wall to wall traffic, and finally through the gate at FOB Scunion. I never felt so alive in my life. I was hooked. Adrenaline was my new drug, and I wanted more. My oportunity would come soon, but not soon enough. For now we rested.
Welcome to hell boys...
time passed, our training at the Udari Range Complex was completed and it was time. Our maintenance team had been working around the clock to fix as many of the problems with our vehicles before we hit the road. there were five serials in our convoy as we were trying to reduce the size of our convoy to a manageable amount. there were still more than forty vehicles per convoy and this is dangerous because you move too slow. I was in the last serial. we were the recovery group. if any vehicle broke down we were the ones that would pick them up. the first serials would not stop for any reason. we were briefed on the convoy two days before we rolled out. it was at this point in time that we were informed that there were not enough armor kits to accommodate all of our vehicles. we were instructed to put sandbags on the floorboards of our vehicles. all of these promises of world class equipment for our protection boiled down to a twenty-five cent sandbag. thanks a lot uncle sam...
0400 9 March 2004, we were awakened at an early hour to make the final preparations for our departure at 0700. This was it. months of preparation and training, classes, and exersizes and now we were actually going to cross the border into a combat zone. the chaplain gave us a prayer at 0600. it was still dark, so no one could see the fear on each others face. it was so palpable that you could taste it. no one was talking. we all had so much to say but no one was saying a thing. I climbed into my truck and waited. there would be a separation between each convoy, enough time for each convoy not to run up on the other. we weren't scheduled to leave until 0900, but we waited with engines running. the time flew by and we were on the road before too long. it was my first opportunity to see camels up close and not in a cage. it was like driving in america, but instead of cows you would see herds of camels. it was wierd, almost unnatural. we stopped at Norstar Convoy Support Center and fueled up two miles before the border crossing. this was the last chance to file for conscientious objector status. next stop, War.
There are signs painted on a concrete barriers just before the border, "Approaching the Iraqi border, Speedlimit, Drive it like you stole it!" This became our motto and practice, but not on this convoy. I think the fastest that we went on this trip was 35 miles per hour. the convoy was scheduled to take fourteen hours...but nothing in the army works quite as well as planned. Many of our vehicles were not as "battle ready" as they could have been and nearly forty vehicles in our battalion broke down along the trip. since we were the recovery element it was our job to pick them up. I was in a Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Truck (or HEMTT, said hemit). The truck had just come back from a rebuild and was a "new" truck. all this meant was that it was not battle tested. any time i come to a military vehicle and it does not have at least two to three leaks on the underside, that is not a truck i will drive. this time i did not have that option. besides the fact that i was a private, i was just as much of a "cherry" as this vehicle. my vehicle broke down approximately eight miles into Iraq. Bad fuel was the cause, and the effect was having to stop in hostile territory and drain the 154 gallon fuel tank. we did not have the luxury of environmental friendly disposal, and all of us were nervous about being stopped on the side of an iraqi highway. i opened the drain plug on the tank and let it pour onto the highway. in a twisted way, i was just returning the fuel to the source...the whole operation took about 20 minutes, and then we were back on the road. this would be the last time my truck would be the cause of a stop, but this would not be the end of the nightmare on our hands.
by the time we reached the Scania CSC (convoy support center), half of the vehicles in our convoy were towing another vehicle behind them. we thought that this was the end of the breakdowns, but once again we were wrong. Scania was everything i thought a movie about a war should be. there were hundreds of trucks parked in the staging area and the living area looked like something off of the TV show MASH. there were helicopter overflights constantly and I thought any minute "charlie" was going to come out of the palm groves and ambush us. i felt like an actor in some great movie about modern warfare, but this was not a hollywood movie set, and there was an enemy out there observing me right now. sometimes i wonder what he saw. what i looked like in those early days. I must have looked like a young, scared, sub-urban kid who somehow got lost on his way to college and now was fighting a war in some country half a world away...at least that is how I felt. we took some time to fuel up, rest up, and get ready for the next leg of the trip we were only halfway to our destination, and we were already hours behind schedule. This was turning into a fiasco, and the sun was getting ready to set.
as darkness crept up, I found myself pulling security as we recovered yet another broken down vehicle. as I gazed out on the landscape, everything looked so foreign. there were palm groves all over the place, and each town that we passed looked just like the drawings of villiges in bible stories of my youth...that is except for the occasional antennae for television or radio. i never thought that i would ever have been in the middle east as a tourist let alone as a member of a liberation army. what was i doing here? what did i do in my life that ended up with me in the driver seat of a fuel truck in the middle of a combat zone? what was i thinking? these questions haunted me as i sat there staring into the wide open spaces of this foreign land, and they would continue to haunt me for most of my tour. I was looking for answers, i was looking for direction, i was looking for the person who wanted me dead.
twenty-two hours after we left kuwait, we arrived at our designated rally point. we would sleep here for the night, and in the morning our comrades would pick us up and escort us to FOB Scunion. I dont think i have ever slept so rough in my life. it is impossible to fall asleep and be comfortable inside the cab of a HEMTT. somehow i got enough rest to function come wakeup, and i was never more alert than i was on the ride to Scunion. this would be my first experience driving in traffic. the escort told us that the only way you stay alive in this country is to "drive it like you stole it." he brifed us on the route, and told us to keep up-he had no intention of stopping. it is an incredible experience driving in rush hour traffic at 55 mph...especially when you dont have to pay for the damages you cause. I took my 10 ton truck over bombed out replacement bridges, through wall to wall traffic, and finally through the gate at FOB Scunion. I never felt so alive in my life. I was hooked. Adrenaline was my new drug, and I wanted more. My oportunity would come soon, but not soon enough. For now we rested.
Welcome to hell boys...
Thursday, November 16, 2006
and the beat goes on...
things are more of the same, my leave is soon, so i am excited. I really just want to see my nephews, but i guess others can be scheduled in during nap time...jk. MO you are right, but dont put anything on the web about it BBIW...B and L and N thanks for the birthday pics, he is adorable, but i am sure that cake was everywhere...cant wait to see you all.
Andrew
Andrew
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
The fun of story telling...
Thank you all for reading my story and giving me your kind comments, I have enjoyed writing it so much that i dont think i will stop at three-why put a number out there, ill just keep on writing until i get put in jail ;)
I have been busy, but not so much that i am getting worn out. R&R is coming soon, and i am keeping my eyes on the prize. I have a headache, so there wont be a long post today. I am still working on the next installment of "boots on the ground." I will post when i have enough to put up.
MO start thinking of a day which will live in infamy! ILYIMY ill see you soon.
andrew
I have been busy, but not so much that i am getting worn out. R&R is coming soon, and i am keeping my eyes on the prize. I have a headache, so there wont be a long post today. I am still working on the next installment of "boots on the ground." I will post when i have enough to put up.
MO start thinking of a day which will live in infamy! ILYIMY ill see you soon.
andrew
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