a mobilized year

“Boy, that looks good,” I said to the NCO sitting across from me eating ice cream. We both were taking a breather, enjoying some of the amenities at Anaconda, a very large army installation north of Baghdad. It had been an exciting and stressful last few days on the mission we were on, culminating in running into a small daisy chain of IEDs the night before. Thankfully, none of the vehicles in our convoy had serious damage—the blasts blew by either side of the vehicle I was traveling in causing only some shrapnel damage. The explosions definitely got the blood going.

As I sat there with my own bowl of ice cream, I thought about how the soldiers before me spent their time between missions. In some ways, I concluded, we got it made. We’ve got all these amenities—communications, computers, decent food, music, movies, new technologies, etc. But, I thought, while these amenities are nice, they don’t take away from the essence of war in being an American soldier: risking one’s life and health, suspending one’s own individual freedoms for a while, and being separated from one’s family and loved ones, all for the benefit of others, in furtherance of national interests, and/or in fulfilling the calling of one’s principles and values.

As I finished up my ice cream, my mind shifted to the upcoming task at hand: that night’s mission. We had to move 30 trucks from Anaconda to Forward Operating Base (FOB) Warrior, a base on the outskirts of Kirkuk. For this mission, we had three gun trucks to protect all 30 trucks that we were escorting.

This mission, like most, had an early morning SP time (start time) of 0100. We gathered around midnight to conduct our PCC/PCIs—we checked our NVG’s, weapons, fuel cans, flares, grenades, vehicles, ammunition, combat lifesaver bags, etc. All was ready. We were ready.

As a sign of the "next generation" warriors that we have become, we stopped at a coffee shop on post at Anaconda to get our fix of caffeine just prior to the mission--not the traditional nasty army brew, but lattes, cappuccinos, mint teas, frappes, etc. instead. The notion still makes me smile. Yes, this is today's 11B, the grunts of yesteryear have turned into specialty coffee connoisseurs of today. I (at least) stayed with a traditional large black coffee, but I guess I'm one of the old-timer stalwarts.

We moved to the SP point and crossed the SP at the correct time. About three quarters of the convoy made it through the gate when I heard someone on the radio saying, “we’ve got an issue back here.” A white truck (one driven by a third country national) had a mechanical issue and blocked the serpentine maze at the gate entrance. We couldn’t move the rest of the convoy out or return the convoy in the gate without fixing or moving the white truck. To exacerbate the matter, the area outside of this particular gate was rather dangerous--it had seen several consecutive nights of small arms fire. So, we were stuck there until the truck that broke down could be moved or fixed. Luckily, they were able to fix the truck within an hour or so. We found out later though that AIF forces had struck that stretch of highway about an hour or so after we left.

The routes we travel often vary depending on the most recent intelligence reports we receive. While it was the least dangerous route that evening, the route that was selected for us that night took us through some fairly rough areas, including parts of downtown Tikrit (Sadaam’s hometown).

At about 0330 that morning, we approached Tikrit. On the outskirts of Tikrit, we saw a well-lit bridge that had a significant amount of debris on the right side (northbound) lanes—some type of explosion had apparently occurred there earlier that morning. On the far side of the bridge, we saw an IP (Iraqi police) car.

IPs are tough to deal with. While I know that probably a majority of them are good and at least neutral to the US presence, a very significant percentage of IPs are not trustworthy (at best) and are either corrupt or supportive of the AIF (at worst). As a result, IPs are (generally) viewed very suspiciously by coalition forces (especially the Brits).

So, there we sat: a convoy that stretched 1½ - 2 miles long on the verge of entering Sadaam’s hometown crossing a bridge that had seen an explosion a few hours earlier. On the far side of the bridge was an IP car on the southbound side with its lights flashing. We couldn’t just sit there. The exposure of the convoy to RPGs, VBIEDs, and small arms fire was much too large to stay there for any significant duration.

We decided to cross the bridge on the south bound (left) side—my vehicle first. We moved up cautiously looking for any evidence of IEDs or potential ambush. I could practically hear the fast pace of each of the hearts of the solders in my vehicle. That level of tension is what is commonly referred to a “high pucker factor.” We used the NVGs and binos to see if we could see any enemy activity as we traversed the bridge. As we crossed the far side of the bridge, we looked into the IP car. It was empty. Nothing was around. The streets were ominously quiet; all that could be heard was the diesel engine of our gun truck HMMWV and the distant sound across the bridge of the engines of the trucks waiting to cross the bridge. We cleared the far side of the bridge and signaled for the convoy to cross.

We proceeded to lead the convoy through a part of Tikrit. The built up areas in the city were among the nicest we’d seen in Iraq. Though, there clearly were areas where gun fighting and explosive devices had been used in the recent past. There were also several rubbled and abandoned buildings. We ran across a number of IP cars with IPs just emotionlessly looking at us as we passed.

As we were driving through the built up areas (which is a very risky thing to do, especially with large vehicles), we noticed that there was a significant ambiguity in the strip map we were given. The turn off from the main road was not clearly designated on the map (no grid coordinates, no street names, and no detail in the map). We had to guess which street was the proper street onto which to turn. Unfortunately, we guessed wrong.

We were off by one street. The problem was that there was no way to correct the mistake without turning around the entire convoy. Turning around a 30-vehicle convoy containing semis is not a small feat. Making it worse, the road that we were on was getting narrower and the area was becoming more built up (3-5 story buildings). If AIF were out that night in Tikrit (and prepared), we would have been in store for a lot of trouble. I’m pleased to report that they weren’t.

We found a place to turn around and were able to do so without incident. We headed out of Tikrit as fast as we could (safely). But that wasn’t the end of the excitement for that early morning.

Outside of Tikrit there are several large hills. Inside the hills are a number of caves, where it is known that AIF leaders meet. We seen activity (movement of individuals) in the hills, which only elevated the tension (or pucker factor) level.

One of the things that we do when securing a convoy is to ensure that no vehicle passes or enters the travel area of the convoy. Think of it as a bubble or buffer zone. As part of securing what’s in the convoy, we prevent anything from entering the bubble or buffer zone around the convoy. Iraqi drivers know this. They typically pull over if the convoy approaches them and they standoff at least 50-100 meters from an intersection where a convoy is turning. The lights from convoys traveling at night are very distinct (bright and long strings of lights). They can be seen typically for miles, making convoys relatively easy targets for which to prepare an IED or ambush in a short period of time.

As we passed through the hills, we had a number of vehicles that violated our buffer zone. We fired a number of warning shots near vehicles that did this. Hearing and feeling that 240B (pronounced, two-forty bravo) or M2 (pronounced, em two or ma deuce) firing from the top of your gun truck at or near vehicles is an interesting experience.

As we made it out of the hills, the traffic became more sporadic. We ran across a few areas that had been IED strike locations earlier that morning or during the evening prior, but we did not run into any IEDs.

By 0700 or so, we made it to Kirkuk, just in time for the area rush hour. I don’t think I would wish on many people the task of taking a 1½ - 2 mile long convoy through the rush hour of one of the largest Sunni cities in Iraq.

Thankfully, we made it through the portion of the city we had to travel across without any significant episodes.

Upon arrival at FOB Warrior, we collectively let out a big sigh. A successful mission—no deaths, no injuries, and no damage to the equipment that was delivered on time. We then laughed and mused about the mission we just ran. I felt the great feeling of having an incredible weight lifted off of me coupled with the pride of how well my fellow soldiers performed early that morning.

We couldn’t enjoy the moment too long or let our guard down. Within eighteen hours of our arrival, FOB Warrior received two mortar attacks, several small arms fire engagements, and a VBIED. And then, of course, we had to leave at 0600 the next morning with the same convoy of vehicles carrying a backload of equipment south through another high activity area in Iraq. But that was another mission.