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Knee-deep in Baghdad

As the weather changes leaving the hot, uncomfortable and always annoying weather to fade into seasonal transition, the gloomy dark clouds bring a cool and refreshing feeling that is only temporary. Having been through one Iraqi winter, I know that when the clouds begin to dance with thunder and lightning zaps across the dark sky the temperature soon will drop. What was once a refreshing, cool breeze and slight drizzle bouncing delightfully across my undignified face will transition quickly into numbingly cold desert weather that pierces the skin and quickly makes every movement more calculated. There are two things that I despise: cold weather and rain. This is going to be an irritating season for me again.

As Ray and I prep the truck for the patrol, the most infuriating part is trying your hardest not to engulf the truck’s floor in the thick, clumpy wet mud all while coming in and attempting to get things ready. Just walking from the barracks to the link up point you almost need a pre-planned route. Picking the wrong route will have you walking with so much mud every step will feel like you have a cement foot.

As the clouds quickly eclipse the already evading sun, the slight breeze picks up and a luminosity of drizzle comes falling to the earth. We jump in the truck and start vogue into our sector. For the past couple of weeks things have been rather uneventful, leaving every hour that we sit in the metal box continuously aggravating. I will say, though, that some of the best bonding occurs while in the tight quarters of the troop compartment. On this day the topic of the day would be: What would happen if we did not patrol the city for a whole week? I gave my forecast first, trying to set up the direction of this interesting topic.

“Well, leaving my overall knowledge of Iraqi politics and history out of it, and strictly sticking to what we have experienced, my forecast is simply … ,” I said, taking my faithful waterproof pad and paper out of my jacket so I could write down some of our thoughts.

“OK, the first day of our leaving the AO, the Iraqi nationals might be a little suspicious of the whole change and think the coalition forces were up to something. The insurgents would have their minions begin their investigation of the new situation. The second day and third day would perhaps be filled with normal activities, but some would still be suspicious and uneasy to perform regular routine errands in the city without our presence. On the insurgents’ side, the minions will have come back with the intelligence. The rest of week would be a dominance period. At the end of the week if the city was not on fire and everyone fleeing for their lives, there’s a possibility that the weak and the strong will have come together to take their city over from the local insurgents and proclaim real freedom,” I said.

As I finished, I looked around, and everyone started nodding in agreement. After an hour of talking and debating about the whole subject, the conclusion was simple — These people need us, because without us here, it could get ugly fast.

Without being too political and getting myself in trouble, I wonder what it’s going to take to bring us home. I know we cannot stay here forever and continue to assist these people. I would be naive to believe that we will be successful at eliminating all of the insurgents and everything will be good. I believe in the mission and what we are doing. I just hope that these good Iraqi nationals try harder and harder to depend on their own government, because sooner or later — and I hope sooner — the sons and daughters of the United States military will pack their bags, having finished what we have set out to do. We will board the bird and fly away into the blue sky, hopefully forever, leaving the country to police itself.

As the hours went by and nothing on the outside happened, I was convinced that the insurgents had taken a month vacation, leaving us to go crazy with boredom. I took a glance at my watch. It was an hour until we RTB — or return to base. I looked at Ray, and he looked like he was just about to lose it. The metal seats are covered by a green thin pad that does nothing for our numb asses. I cannot count how many times I have had to change cheeks while on a long ass patrol.

As we started the final drive through our AO, the only thing I could think of was getting home in time for chow. Suddenly the trucks began to rumble and then sway as if we had hit a muddy area, and then abruptly the truck started to sink like a rock in the mud. I could hear Spc. Turnage, our driver, revving the engine, trying his hardest to get out of the sinking mud, but we were stuck, and we were not going anywhere. I looked at Ray and said with confidence, “Dude, we have like one hour and some change to get out of here so we will be good.” Ray quickly looked at his watch and then shook his head. “We have plenty of time; I am not worried about it.”

As we waited, we could hear the other trucks getting in position so that they could help. There’s not much you can do when you are in a mud sinkhole except await rescue. It seemed like it was taking a little longer than usual. Having had this happen before, all of us had this pulling out of the mud thing down to an art. This time it was pitch dark, though, adding a little flavor to the already messy situation.

As Reaper 1 and Reaper 2 drove into position to get us out, the bad news came over the radio that Reaper 1 was now also stuck. I looked at my watch again, and it seemed like time was racing. The thing about being stuck in an open field in combat is the chances of getting mortar go up a little. Staff Sgt. Yessie tells us, over the roar of the idling truck, “OK, we need to try to get off.” We gathered our stuff, and the ramp started coming down. It stopped halfway to the mud. It was like a diving board of sorts but into the mud. We all successfully jumped off the truck and then turned around out of curiosity to see how stuck we were. It was bad. I knew dinner was out of the picture. Sgt. Lawrence and Sgt. Murrilo started to get the plan together when all of a sudden about 300 meters away all hell broke out. AK-47 and BKC fire started lighting up the night with tracers, and then a huge a boom sounded, which we think came from an RPG or grenade. It does not matter how many times you hear gunfire; it still gets your adrenaline going. The squad, not including Staff Sgt. Yessie, made our way behind this little stone house. After getting a better look at the firefight that was going on behind us, I realized that it was in our sector. It just so happened we could not do anything about it. I heard someone in one of our trucks say in the dark, “Shit, the one time something happens in our AO we are stuck in the freaking mud.” I turned around, and that’s when the snap of a round went flying over our heads. We all were familiar with that sound and what it meant, so we started to get a little more concerned with the ongoing situation. To make things worse, while Staff Sgt. Yessie and the other truck were trying to get us out, one of the other trucks happened to get in the mud as well.

Two trucks down, sinking, and two to go. After realizing that the firefight that was happening in our sector was not dying down and tracers were flying everywhere, we knew we had to get out of the open area and to high ground. Sgt. Lawrence gave us the word to make way across the field and over to the neighborhood. As we made our way to one of the houses, I noticed that 1st Squad had gotten out of their sinking truck and were making their way through the dark night to get attached to us.

In Iraq, it is common to have coalition forces use the locals’ roofs, but sometimes you will run into people who are afraid that the insurgents will find out that we were there and come back and kill them. At that point you just respect it and find another one. This time we had approval of the family to enter the house, even though Staff Sgt. Reeves got a little mad when the man of the house would not turn off the generator that gave light to the house. After some good stern talking to he turned off the lights, knowing that we had a better idea of what was going on out there.

After awhile, things calmed down and the tracer light show was no longer seen zipping through the night. It might have been because two other Reaper trucks went to see from a distance what was going on. The report was that there was a group of men carrying weapons and possibly an RPG. In certain areas there are neighborhood watch groups. Unlike ours at home, they come out and kick ass on the spot with guns and everything. You have to respect that a little. I was surprised that our guys didn’t lay waste to what they saw. Sgt. 1st Class Evens, with wisdom and great patience, withheld fire. I was not in the truck, but I am sure he said that favorite war line that only a smart leader can say to his men: “It’s not our fight, no point getting killed over nothing.” I agree with that. It would be terrible to lose someone over something so minute.

After things calmed down a little, we all came down from the house and made our way back to the trucks. For some odd reason, I thought that the truck was unstuck, but it was not. Meanwhile, Staff Sgt. Yessie had been digging relentlessly the whole time. To me, that just tells you how courageous and brave one man can be knowing that he had been informed that a sniper was seen scurrying around nearby. That night I had a new respect for him.

Now on the scene was another element that was there to replace us. They went to work trying to get us out. Meanwhile the two trucks that went to investigate the firefight were on the way back. Just when you do not think things can’t get any worse, one of the trucks on the way back found itself stuck knee-deep.

Three down, one left. After the gunfire had stopped and it was good to get back to work, Staff Sgt. Yessie instructed us to grab rocks and put them under the tires. The hope was that the tires would catch. After some time and a lot of rocks, the time was ready to see if it would work. The truck revved up, and the wells started moving and kicking mud everywhere — nothing. The replacing element hooked up their towing gear, and with a little push and shove, we started making our way out one and a half hours later.

The rest of the night the events just seemed to be a big nightmare. To sum the never ending, miserable night up, Reaper 3, 1, 2, 4, and 3 again all got stuck. Just when you think you’re out, over the radio you hear a frustrated, sarcastic platoon sergeant say, “Hey, we just lost our tire, and it is caked in the mud. Hold on, we need to get it.”
Sgt. 1st Class Evens responded, “Can there be anything else that could happen tonight?” After the squad retrieved the muddy, wet tire, we started making our way home after almost three hours or more.

We were almost to the road when our truck just came to a recognizable arrest. The recognizable stuck halt. Staff Sgt. Yessie jumped out of the truck as if he had done it before. He walked to the front of the truck and grabbed the tow rope while another reaper pulled in front. He made his way through the swamp and put the rope on, and after 10 minutes, we were once again on our way.

We finally made our way back to base. Everyone in the truck was at the end of their wire, but after awhile all we could do is laugh and realize that this ugly event would give us more stories when things could possibly not be so good. In Iraq not every day do we fight the insurgents. Some days we fight Mother Earth, and sometimes she whips our ass.

The next week would bring some interesting events. The verdict delivered on Saddam — “Guilty by hanging.” The celebratory gunfire rocks the air as I write. We are instructed to stay in, due to the rounds coming down. Some will be happy; others will rage to kill. We will see what happens in this unpredictable, godforsaken country called Iraq.

Comments

[bradley d fort]

hello hardt, can you give a message to sgt. murrilo and ssg. reeves? this is sgt. fort we went to iraq together in 03 and i would like to hear from them, find out how they are doing.. my e-mail is tangoyido@yahoo.com thanks...

[BigSis]

David. I follow your blogs, and I just want you to know that I really appreciate you sharing your experiences with us. Please know that we back here at home are thinking and praying for you.

[strykermom]

I read your blogs quite often. They keep me on the edge of my seat while I read them. You guys are doing a helluva job. I pray for each of you every day (usually more than once a day). Thanks for keeping us updated.

Richard's Stryker Mom