A Battlefield Tourist

Air Assault Near Mahmudiyah

Sep 17 at 4:04pm by David Tate

My nap lasted for two hours and I woke up just as tired because for some reason, I’ve been having some really wierd dreams.  The latest one had to do with some crazy scavenger hunt/riddle that needed to be solved, in x-amount of time and with a teamate.  My teamate was the old lady that helps run the corner store near my house in Roanoke.  Anyway… it wore me out.

I was told to be at HQ by 2130 for a briefing in regards to that night’s operation.  So I carefully had everything planned out, like I do, to ensure I was there on time.  Just as I was almost finished getting ready, there was a knock on my wall with some unknown voice looking for the “reporter guy”.  “They’re looking for you at the LZ, sir…”, it said.

Ugghh.. that made me cringe.  In this environment, I do not like to be a burden, at all, which is now what I was (at least in my mind).  I threw on my armor, checked my gear and hustled through the darkness toward the landing zone to meet up with the guys I’d be covering during a night air assault.

The introductions went well and no one was bent out of shape, in fact, the helicopters were going to be late anyway, so we sat around, smoked a few cigarettes and waited for the birds to come in.  While we did that, the 155’s were blasting away at something, which gave me a great chance to shoot a number of good night shots of the big guns in action.

For being just a hair shy of 40, I consider myself to be in pretty good shape.  I don’t lift weights or anything, but I am quite active and I have a job that requires a lot of lifting… so by default (and the fact that I’m a bit hyper), I tend to be a youthful 40 (most folks guess in the 28 range).  This will prove important for what I was about to do.  Actually, I was going to put that theory to the test, considering this was my first air assault in three years, and there was no room for miscalculation.

The choppers came in after 2200, just two of them, ready to take on 22 passengers:  10 US soldiers, 10 Iraqi soldiers, myself and an Iraqi “terp” named, “Roger” (he wanted to be known as “James Bond”, but the Americans decided “Roger” would be better.

I was assigned the second “stick”, third position and would be leaving the chopper in the #3 position.  The goal tonight:  Capture up to 15 guys, some of whom were expected to be Al Qaeda in Iraq.

As the Blackhaws came down, I turned away and hunkered down as sand and what seemed like billions of rocks pelted me with the sting of a thousand bees attacking at once.  We lined up in our pre-arranged order and made our way to the chopper;  the three of us in front and a mix of eight others in the back.  Before long we were airborne, making our way toward the target, hot air rushing past my face.  Inside the chopper itself, it was just barely illuminated by the dull green coming from the cockpit.  Outside I could barely make out the lines of fields below with the lights of Baghdad in the distance.

At first we did a “false insertion”, which is where we touch down, wait about 20 seconds, then lift off again toward the real objective.  That came just moments later.  We landed hard, rocking the bird and forcing me to grab for something sturdy.  The door gunner reached over and threw the door open, immediately followed by both Lieutenants and myself hitting the ground running.  I have no idea where the others were, I assume behind me.  After a couple of steps, the Iraqi Lt. went down hard.  Two steps later, I did too, as the ground we were running across was tilled farmland and hard as concrete (after I would learn several of the guys went down).  I actually just lost footing on the left, driving my knee hard into the ground, but I quickly stood back up and continued following Lt. Cleveland toward the first house.

The next ten minutes was a blur as I tried to work my nightvision camera, running across uneven ground, all the while expecting to start hearing incoming fire.  It didn’t come.  What’s surreal is leaving the sphere of sound produced by the chopper as it lifts off, only to have an eeire silence punctuated by dogs barking take its place.  All around me I could hear yelling and doors being kicked. I followed an Iraqi soldier into the first house and saw a bewildered woman there.  I crouched next to a wall out of the way and just videotaped whatever I could.  It happened so fast, I don’t even know if I recorded anything usable.

The soldiers moved room-to-room looking for the men of the house.  The Iraqi Lieutenant already had plans to take all the men at the objective into custody, so that’s what they were looking for.  As they cleared the home, I looked into what appeared to be the main bedroom as an Iraqi left.  It had been somewhat jostled, but nothing near what I had expected would happen:  Mattress moved, closets looked through, drawers emptied.

Outside one of the soldiers spotted men running away from the house with his nightvision prompting everyone to give chase.  I have no choice but to keep up, and with 40lbs of armor plus 20 lbs of gear, it was strenuous.  The thought of getting lost, in the dark in the “Triangle of Death”, was certainly motivation for getting it done. 

As we ran across the fields, hundreds of scrubby weeds, similar to tumbleweeds with thorns, penetrated my pants, causing a stinging pain that all I could do was ignore. I just kept running.  Suddenly, there was a gun shot and some yelling.  Just up ahead I could see a blur of guys, some with hands up, having their clothes ripped off (this is in case the suspect is wearing a suicide vest).  I tried to get into a better position to take video… SPLASH!  I was now waist deep in water having fallen into a ditch.  The mud deep enough that it nearly pulled my boot off.  Keep in mind, I have a camera in my hand, another camera in my backpack and a camera in my pocket and it took every bit of strength to pull/crawl out of this slop.  By the time I did, the Iraqis had three guys down to their shorts (and sandles) with hands above their head. 

We made our way back to the original house where we briefly stayed as the search continued.  Once one house was cleared, we moved to the next.  Same procedure, just less intense as it was becoming apparent the men had all fled.  With choppers overhead the soldiers cleared house after house, that were seperated by palm groves. 

Finally we made it to the mosque which was locked with a large padlock.  The soldiers didn’t enter it, satisfied with a cursory search using lights through the barred windows.  We did take a second her to have a smoke, catch our breath and get some water. 

Within an hour we were making our way across another field toward a pre-planned landing zone to wait for the choppers to pick us up.  After 10 minutes, they touched down right on target.  As they did, I ran for the first bird as someone was yelling above the roar, “Let’s go, let’s go!”.  I do not hesitate in these situations and actually was the first to board.  I threw the door open and climbed in the back followed by everyone else who were right behind me.  With three extra bodies we were packed in tight.  I had something hard and metalic (probably a rifle part) jabbed in my side.  With an Iraqi detainee at my feet I could only rest my hand on his bare back as we took off toward the FOB. 

It didn’t take long to realize I got the worst seat in the house.  The guys call it “The Hurricane Seat”.  Use your imagination.  Thank God the ride was only five minutes, or so, as I spent all five of those minutes concentrating on holding on to my gear and making sure my helmet and goggles didn’t fly out the open window.

Once we touched down, it was over as fast as it began.  No one said much of anything as we walked back toward our respective quarters.  It was well past midnite and I was beat, so I took a quick shower, inhaled an MRE (Meal Ready to Eat) and feel asleep within seconds of lying down.