Two Notes From Iraq

The first, from an Army friend of mine in Baghdad, edited for content.

“Saturday, our convoy platoon had to go back to the area where they got hit so hard a month or so ago and lost one soldier and three others wounded. Here’s the story.

“The convoy platoon went back to the same area on Saturday on another mission. They have been hit every single time they have traveled that stretch of road, most times within one five mile stretch. It is a significant event when they have to go down there, and you can feel the apprehension in the air around our HQ the day or so before they roll out.

“Imagine – it is almost a certainty you are going to get hit, one of your friends was killed here a month ago, but you’re going anyway… I spoke with one of the gunners and he said that it was just quiet on the radio as they came into the area. He said “they hate us down there – little kids flip you the bird and throw rocks at the vehicles, little old ladies yell at you, blown up buildings everywhere.” Then the people aren’t around anymore, and they got a “pop” as the primer on an IED went off, but the IED itself failed to blow. So they drive like hell. A few small arms rounds ping their vehicles. Gunners are spinning their turrets looking for any targets. Then boom, a small IED blows and the vehicle commanders are yelling Go Go Go! And then the insurgents start steady machine gun fire. Lead vehicle gunner yells “Where the f**k are they??” The second vehicle yells “contact left!” and opens up with his 50 cal. All of this is happening at 70 mph, literally, as the drivers try to maintain control and get out of the kill zone. The lead gunner swings his turret and lets loose with a 70 round burst as the Colonel in the back seat (the “package” and one of the reasons for this convoy) is sweeping the piles of hot brass out from under the gunner’s feet with his bare hands. The gunner screams “Die m-f’ers!!!” They watch an insurgent standing on an old railroad bed go down and then the trail vehicle pumps the body with more rounds. A dirt berm 75 yards out that might have a bad guy behind it is filled with rounds. Gunners spinning turrets, vehicle commanders shouting out “contacts” and urging fire discipline (short bursts), but the hyped and angry gunners are rocking and rolling. And then it’s over. They come out of the kill zone, drop their speed back to a more manageable 40 mph or so, a collective sigh, radio and guns quiet for a short minute, then the radio crackles with requests for sitreps and the troops start whooping and high-fiving and rehashing the battle as the last bits of adrenaline are released. Three dead bad guys dead, no Coalition hurt. A little payback.

“…This type of action happens every day over here. Don’t ever forget that we are still losing several Americans every single day, and 70% of them are to IEDs and convoy ambushes.”

And the second one, on a lighter note, from a young Marine reserve sergeant, part of an artillery battery deployed over there as provisional MPs, and based at Fallujah:

“A few of us are kinda jealous because we’re living right next to an arty battery. Hearing them kinda makes us feel at home. Speaking of home, I miss it, but staying busy keeps my mind in the game… Fallujah has different smells in different places. One part smells like sulfur, another smells like sewage, but every night you can count on the lovely smell of trash burning.”