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Hello all, thank you for the emails and for your concern. I am alive and I am well. recent events have left me with no words to describe them, and no desire to. A step back from my own mind, a vacation from recollection. Sleep my only escape, so off to bed, not to forget things, just to take a break from them, because for 4 months, and 11 days more they will be there waiting for me the second I wake up.
RDC
First, every officer is a leader, however I am not a platoon, patrol,or company leader. I am the Assistant S2. I was on a patrol to go to a place where I needed to look to facilitate doing my job. As for the "cool weapon" as you put it, I am trained on distance marksmanship from prior enlisted time. For the record, when you come upon an IED the leaders lead and everyone else follows. You sound remotely in-tune to the military so you, I am sure can appreciate how that works. Demon 6, was in charge on scene, I, at that point was 3rd man 3rd squad. Yes, I am an officer, no I was not in charge, I was told to go up to observe the area and provide if need be precision fire if we came under attack. Surely you can understand when a CPT tells a LT to do something, heels click, followed by YES SIR!
As for dehydrated, well. It was pretty hot, and despite the 2 bottles of water I drank prior to being detoured by the insidious little IED, we did err, in not bringing up more than one bottle between us. So, I'll give you that little victory. As you are a small person for not leaving your name to your snide little comments, I am sure the small victory I'll allow you is more than enough for you to handle.
As for me being under investigation, well either you are lying, or you know something I don't. So, why don't we just call it a day, and I'll let you slither back to your hole. You made some assumptions...I'll let that linger. If you comment (especially in the negative), have to stones to leave your name.
Everyone else, I apologize for that...today was one of those days, and Mr. IP 192.156.52.34 quite frankly annoyed the hell out of me.
RDC
This is an image from the Observation Post I mentioned in yesterdays post. No, the scope isn't on a target, if it were I would not post a picture of it, that would be in poor taste. And no I wasn't wasting time taking happy snaps. I documented distances to known points, in case the need arrives to use this roof again as an op.
This second photo, is a happy snap. The all clear had been given, and I stepped down from the box I had to stand on to get a clear sight of my assigned sector. The AC duct behind me got to hot to lie on. I was stepping down from the box, to leave when my partner snapped the shot. It appears after closer examination of the pic, I was not amused. Actually we had been singing a song, a rather crude rendition of an infantry diddy. We are infantry troopers, we're soldiers of the night, we're dirty....well it degenerates from there. I kept stepping up on the box scanning the windows for 2 or 3 minutes (probably too long), then I'd step down (like step classes) duck beneath the wall, move around then step back up in a new location. This was done as to not establish too much of a pattern. Just in case there were any other men out there with scoped weapons. The number one target of a sniper/precision marksman/ or designated marksman is another sniper/precision marksman/ or designated marksman, basically people who have scoped weapons, try to shoot other people with scoped weapons first. It's an odd way to make a living, but to the long rifles out there in the still of the night (ours that is) gentleman, my hat is off to you. Stay hidden, stay in the bubble, and shoot true. I'd trade all the tanks in the world for a Brigade of snipers. Sorry tread-heads no offense, cause I do love the felling of security we have on the road here when we are covered by your guns!
RDC
Shukran…
Words are power, more powerful than steel, more powerful than war. Words, define us, words travel with us each and every day.
Yesterday I finally came face to face with an IED. The soldiers…no men of Delta Company 1-184, and Rogue platoon recognized the threat. As we passed by the device, the driver became hyper aware, he saw what most of us did not, a glint of metal amongst the trash strewn road. As we passed by it, it lay there barely visible, yet it was the only thing I could see, it became what could have been our end. Life does not flash before your eyes when you come face to face with mortality, but a resignation that this could be the last moment, then sadness. Yet oddly, it didn’t take us. We cordoned off the area and kept the civilians away, spectators began to gather, and the danger became three dimensional. Moments before we passed our IED, another of our patrols was struck by an IED of similar design, there were no injuries, within moments of that report we seemed years away surrounded by onlookers, and trapped within our own cordon. The walls we had built to keep people away had also trapped us within.
I felt as if we were on a stage,
and everyone from everywhere was looking at us. Demon 6, the on scene commander called up the report and help was on the
way. Until then we were to wait
literally on top of the weapon. Uncertain if the man who was to detonate it was amongst the on lookers,
uncertain if an attack was to come at us. As the temperature rose so did the tension. Everyone was visibly on edge. We were each assigned sectors to scan for
threats, yet the uneasy feeling that you were in someone’s sights was never far
from our thoughts. It is that uneasy
feeling you get when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and your
spine tingles because you know you are not alone. The urge leave had to be overcome; each man there
knew his duty and his job. Yet, each and
every one of us knew that innocent lives were on the line, it sounds cliché but
as we looked at the crowds gathering, the people getting out of their cars, we
knew that the real danger didn’t lie with the IED itself, the real danger was
us… We were the bait, if we were blown
up, the crowds could easily swell to hundreds of onlookers. There is an old Arab saying; “It is foolish
to hunt a tiger when there are plenty of sheep to be had.” If we were blown up, our enemies know that
the civilians would converge upon the scene providing a much more lucrative target.
I was trying to control my breathing;
I could not calm myself to get a steady picture in the scope. I cursed myself and bit hard into my lip, I
needed to focus on anything other then the burning in my eyes, and the pain
from cramps. I bit harder, drawing
blood. I was certain I had seen a weapon
in the window; I clicked off safe and prepared to engage the threat. Blinking rapidly I got the sweat from my eye,
and the stinging stopped, just as I was exhaling I got a clear picture of the
room it was a woman nursing a child looking out to see what we were doing. I put the weapon back on safe, and stepped
off the gun. I slumped in a corner of
the rooftop telling my partner to cover my sector, I needed a break; two
minutes later, the break was over. I was
drenched in sweat, and shaking from cramps. Our water bottles empty, and Power Bars gone, we resigned ourselves
to our stupidity, laughed it off and got back into position. 35 minutes had elapsed since we got on the
roof.
When the signal came; “FIRE IN THE HOLE, FIRE IN THE HOLE, FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!” The explosion was far louder than I anticipated, thunderous is not an accurate enough word, it was louder than anything I have heard since I have been in Iraq.
We were less than a football field away from it, and windows broke, dishes fell, and a child that was in the house that I was not aware of began to cry. Slowly I picked myself up from the floor and again we went to the roof. The silence there was surpassed only by the ringing in my ears, as we got back into position slowly the people began to reemerge from around corners, from behind cars, and from locked doors. As the moments passed us by, it became evident that we would not be attacked; our mood became no less tense. Finally after being there for several hours, we were given the all clear, and we once again descended the stairs of the Iraqi home. As we came down, I was struck at just how ordinary the home was. Pictures on the walls, fine china (albeit cracked and dusty) was stacked on shelves. Coffee cups on the kitchen counter. A throw, hung on the back of a couch. The smell of cooking clung in the air, and the people in the home who let us in, looked ordinary, scared but ordinary nonetheless.
The man in the house was holding his daughter Mina, a beautiful little girl who for some reason smiled at the two soldiers standing before her. I took off my helmet and goggles, and smiled back at her. Again, I was reminded why I am here. And again that reminder came in the form of a smile from a child. We exchanged thanks back and forth, and shook hands, the women in the house (his mother and wife) smiled at us the man of the house said “Assalamu alaikum.” As we put our kit back on I clasped hands with him and patted him on the shoulder “Walaikum assalam.” (Peace be upon you too) I patted my partner in the helmet, and staggered we moved to the gate. “Friendly coming out!” We shouted, and rejoined our patrol. As we rolled out, I was looking at the spot where the IED had been. The metal, contorted and charred a shadow of what it once had been, a reminder to me to what could have been. Shaking it off, I drank cold water, and drank and drank and drank.
They thanked us…
The power of words…
My friends you are very welcome…
SGT Monkey, as always thanks for having my back.
RDC
OK, GAB, to be fair, the Green (international) Zone takes a beating like the rest of the greater B'dad area, no doubt; mortars fall there, IEDs detonate taking life just like everywhere else in Iraq. Gunshots are heard throughout, night and day. Arhabi, live, work, and kill their. They murder innocents and target them because they are easy prey. They target Marines, Soldiers, Sailors and Airman alike. They do not discriminate. They hate us whether we live in the "worlds largest gated community" or in various FOBs in the greater B'dad area.
Yet, if words (mine or anyone elses) make you feel like any less of a soldier. The problem rests with you not with me. I stand here with nearly 150,000 other men and women in this uniform taking what ever beatings come. From inside the wire or out. I damn sure know who and what I am. I stand with the men of my battalion whether we are embarrassing to you or not. They are my family here. I count on the fact that no matter how many articles are written about what has been done, I know that tomorrow they will go back to work and ride this storm out. If I may;
Two words... Luke Stricklin.
He is a Soldier, a patriot and his service in Iraq got him this far. God's speed Luke. Good luck brother!
RDC
I am not alive... enough, I am not dead. I exist here in a waking, walking, sleeping coma. My dreams give me strength, my strength not reality. Today I slept for 15 hours, the result of a migraine ongoing for 3 days. The pain of it, giving me a reality that I could taste, metallic in my mouth. Tangible to me, pressure building in my head, punishing me for each of the things I look upon, for each thought in my head, for standing, sitting, moving, existing. Sleeping induced by prescribed medication my only escape from everything. As I lay in the infirmary watching the IV drip into my arm I could feel almost instantly the effects of the medicine as it entered my vein. For the 6 hours I lay there on that hospital bed, I cared not, for those 6 hours I lingered in and out of consciousness I wasn't afraid, I had no concept of responsibility. For 6 hours I was free (granted I could have been on a yellow submarine for all I cared).
I recall laying there between unconsciousness and consciousness, I remember talking to a JAG lawyer filling out a sworn statement about a photograph that hung on the wall in my office. He wasn't a bad guy, he was just a lawyer who happened to say to me that one, there are too many lawyers in the world (I concur), and two he wouldn't advise law school to anyone. Odd to hear that from an attorney. I also remember thinking this; if this is a different kind of war, then is it logical to assume the same rules that applied to conventional war apply here?
The articles in the LA times are what they are. A view of one possible reality, Scott Gold is a journalist his job is to write a story that is palatable for his audience. His audience is Los Angeles, and there they want to read of scandal to fuel the perception that “this war” is evil, and motivated by greed. I do not subscribe to the perception that Mr. Gold attempts to establish. From what I understand Mr. Gold has declined to accept our invitation to join us for a few weeks in the real war...figures. The base we are on is way outside of the comfort zone of the Green Zone, so we are rarely “blessed” with MSM.
I was talking to my wife the other night, she could hear the fatigue in my voice. 90+ days 12 hours + per day, not that it is physically demanding, but the strain on the eyes staring at the same data over and over. I think I just burnt out. I haven't had a migraine since 1999. I got one 3 days ago, it got worse by the hour and it felt like my left eye was going to pop out. Stubbornly I kept feeding the brain baby (Tic's nickname for headache) Aspirin, Tylenol, Excedrin etc. I was eating it like candy, yet the pain and the pressure kept getting worse. I finally went to the medical clinic on the morning of the 3rd day. I was given a few Ivs and some vitamin (S)leep, I was down for about 6 hours and given 24 hours SIQ (sick in quarters), first day off in 93 days. I have slept so much I am numb, after I finish this I plan on taking a nap. I feel guilty, I am resting while there is work to be done. I'll take this little vacation and keep my eyes closed as much as I can. Tomorrow is another day, one less day.
There have been as many changes here, at first they were all a shock to the system, now just more to deal with. In a lot of cases here the change has been good, in others I am indifferent. Indifference seems to be like armor to me here. I care about few things, and am bothered by even fewer; especially that which I cannot control. I cannot control much here. MAJ K, Thunder6, and I are all on different missions now, seperated by rank, title, and space. All of us lost something 2 weeks ago. This place seems darker now, not in any more danger than normal, yet I feel the loss. LT Irish leaves in 3 days for his vacation, I can't wait to hear of his tales of home. Each time someone leaves to go back "to the world" and I see them again I know that 3 weeks have elapsed, I look forward to seeing him in 3 weeks. 5 months 7 days...
“That which does not destroy us, makes us stronger.”
Nietzsche
RDC
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