Ch 2
Necessity pt 2
A few months away from our deployment being over I considered myself a seasoned soldier. I struggled to keep myself away from the promotion board (in a field promotion the standards can be significantly lower). Cheating myself would not only have been regretful on my part but disrespectful to my brothers killed in action. I did though take a higher ranking position on the crew though as a gunner, even got to command vehicles from time to time. All the responsibility and extra work of a Non-Commissioned Officer, non of the pay or respect, I loved it. I knew every breath I took was hard earned and yet still a gift.
We had suffered five KIA and several incapacitating injuries by then making us the hardest hit platoon out of the hardest hit company in our battalion. Even with our losses, shorthanded we pulled our weight, tallying more missions than many larger platoons. I became the type that would come off a long mission and instead of heading to bed for the few hours we may get would go to the gym. Some people would sleep it off, I chose to work it off (I even got many textbooks and study guides so if my body was not at work my mind would be).
The platoon was midway thru a week long stay at a patrol base adjoined to an Iraqi Police station and it was early morning. Our patrol had ended in the late am and we were bedded down till our next mission when the all to familiar sound of gunfire awoke us. As we started to get dressed it was apparent this was not typical. It was the enemies tactic to hit and run. Granted there were many times that were written as battles later, with up to dozens of enemy casualties per battle, but this was not that.
For the first time ever we were out gunned. Furthermore after many weeks of this rotation we had become complacent, from leadership down to individual. I was one who considered my weapons glued to myself but left my body armor on my tank. We took daily attacks on our patrol base but it was usually a bad sniper, a few mortars or some random RPG’s. Right before leaving the container to start up the tank and get in the thick of it I thought for a moment, this is what it must have felt like on the beaches of Normandy.
(Sorry, I should expand on that a moment, respect dictates that term not just be thrown out there. There is a certain, indescribable sensation when you look death in the eyes and charge anyways. Many men and women have shared in this. Outgunned, outmanned, pinned down and the direction you choose is the hail of fire that you do not see yourself can not guarantee you can make it thru, but you can guarantee that you meet your maker proud of how you hit the ground.)
Before making it out the door a concussion flung me against the wall like a one would a strand of spaghetti to see if it is done. Like a cartoon character though I hit the ground running. It was only a few feet out to the bunker where most everyone from their slumber had gathered and assessing the situation. It was raining death outside the bunkers even after the larger explosion with a barrage of bullets and debris.
My Driver was on a concrete rock holding his leg in pain. With no bleeding or apparent breaks all I could do was tie my shirt around it. I still had to make it thru the open to our tank. The enemy had brought everything to the table, weapons of every caliber and an ample artillery to match. Looking into the hailstorm of violence separating me from my goal the word run dose not adequately describe what happened next.
Once on my mobile fortress and fully geared up I realized my Tank Commander was just manning the radios. We were already shorthanded, only had a crew of three and with our driver still under the bunker injured a crew of two can operate even less effectively. On top of that a Bradley had been incapacitated at the gate and our tank was trapped within our high perimeter wall. We were useless.
Doing the only thing that seemed rational at the time I took one of the machine guns off the tank with a belt of ammo around my neck and made my way to the front guard tower. I made it past the Bradley when I had my life saved. I saw one of our guys yell stop in my direction and the next foot that landed was planted. My brain catching up to my reaction, I looked down to see a mortar that had not gone off yet. I looked up, smiled at my savor and cautiously made my way to my destination.
In the wrecked tower it was quiet.
A look back inside the base showed why. They had accomplished their goal. We were pinned down long enough for a dump truck filled with explosives to force it’s way in the compound and detonate, leaving every structure damaged, the police station completely destroyed for a second time and dozens of casualties. None dead in our squad but many Iraqi police, our friends and coworkers there, gone.
The story didn’t exactly end there, but for our purposes now going on would get us a bit off topic. We gave up on that patrol base we had strived so hard to guard, along with more hard earned territory before our unit returned to the states.
