The Music Trilogy (64 page)

IRAQ

MARCH 2003

CHAPTER 17

I am no longer in Kuwait. I am sitting in the driver’s seat of a Hummer, somewhere between the southern Iraqi border and Baghdad, the final objective. I have driven this piece of shit, which is now my home, for the past few days. Our last night in Kuwait was the last time I had any real sleep. When we got to our final dispersion points along the border, still on the Kuwaiti side I couldn’t find a definition for what my emotions were at that moment. Lieutenant Colonel Kirby spoke to us that evening. We circled around him, our rifles at the alert carry. This means that the rear or ‘butt stock’ is in your shoulder and the muzzle is toward the deck.

Lt. Col. Kirby told us that “this was it. D-Day had come.” The night before the U.S. had launched Tomahawk missiles to designated targets in Baghdad. Marines always love to start parties off with a bang. This was the ice breaker. The colonel was telling us about the full confidence he had in us. He paused briefly between sentences to take a deep breath and close his eyes. It was like he was enjoying a good meal at a fancy restaurant. He was taking it all in. He was a true war dog and a damn fine Marine. He told us to rely on our training and our gut instincts. “Fear is normal,” he’d say. “Fear is good. It raises your awareness and heightens your senses.” He spoke a little while longer about emotion, and how no worries should come of them. “I feel the same, but I know I will return to my wife and child. And you will all return to your families.” It was right out of a movie. The motivational speech on the brink of battle. I am ready for this I thought. “Mom, I love you.” As he dismissed us I looked at him one last time. He was the typical American boy. Probably a football or baseball player in high school, dated the cheerleaders then maybe married one. An all-American, a typical guy just doing his job. God bless our country.

Walking back to the Hummer the first bombs hit and I didn’t even look up. It was time. Time for war. I move one step closer to home. We fell asleep that night to the sound of artillery fire. The sound of freedom was ringing and we would enter the fight late the next evening. We crossed the line of departure on the evening of the 21
st
.

The moment Max and the Marines crossed that invisible line of the border they knew they were in a war. There were no hills, just flat sand from one end of the horizon to the other. They drove toward Baghdad, a mighty phalanx of military vehicles, to their final destination. They saw a few people of all ages, from children to elderly, walking on the side of the road. Some smiled, others waved. Max was driving the Humvee. His passengers were the Gunny to his right, Haferty and Honey behind them.

“This is so amazing!” Honey exclaimed.

“What is?” Colin asked.

“We’re in Mesopotamia!”

“The land between two rivers,” Max said.

“Oh, you know your Greek. Very good.”

Max wanted to tell them that his grandmother was Greek and that he was fluent, but he didn’t. He wanted to keep his home life incognito.

“They’re one of the oldest civilizations in the world, and the Sumerians were the ones who recorded the first writings. They were also brilliant engineers and peaceful people who created the Gardens of Babylon, one of the wonders of the world,” Honey continued.

“And Saddam fucking Hussein is a descendant,” Colin said.

“Am I stuck in this Humvee with fucking nerds?” The Gunny exclaimed.

“We are Marines, Gunnery Sergeant, first and foremost,” Max said.

“Marines, Gunnery Sergeant,” Honey repeated, “but we, well I, love ancient history. It’s really exciting. It’s like you learned and heard about it your whole life, you’ve watched documentaries and suddenly you’re inside the video.”

“Well, its scorching hot and the Gardens fucking disappeared long ago.”

“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant.”

♫

CHAPTER 18

‘Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I fear no evil for you are with me.’ I fear no evil. I repeated this in my head over and over last night. We were in a convoy heading north about 180 miles from Baghdad. There was no moon and it seemed like Iraq had become a planet of darkness. When we are making night moves we do not turn our lights on, all we have is our night vision goggles. As we drove we entered into a little town. I noticed how narrow the streets were. We were surrounded by buildings on both sides and I could almost reach out of the window and touch them. I kept thinking how easy it would be for an enemy soldier to stick his AK out of any one of these windows and shoot at us. For all we know it could have been a civilian. One thing that always scared me during this war was the civilians. Guerilla warfare tactics are more deadly than an organized military. The Iraqi militia would send women and children up to our vehicles. They would ask for food and water. At these early stages in the war we didn’t know any better. We would go give them these items while driving so it was easy for the militia to ambush us. As I saw it these men were going to die. But before Marines could put their M16 to use and destroy the enemy we would take losses as well. The most horrific part of this was, besides the loss of fellow Marines, was the death of the women and children who could do nothing but stand in the process. Throughout these tumultuous times, Marines would still portray goodness and humanity which can still exist in a time of war.

So as I’m worrying about militia and Republican Guard I am wondering if I’m driving the Hummer off the road or if my Gunny’s going to chew my ass off for going too fast or slow. It was a stressful night. I looked around and couldn’t see shit. I had had it at that point. I had a no bullshit talk with myself right then and there and I believe that it helped me make it through. I can honestly say that I thought there was a good chance of losing my life last night, but I told myself if it was going to happen it was meant to. It would be my destiny. I believe everybody is put on this earth for a reason. Living beings are put here to create. If creation did not exist the circle of life would stop. It’s obvious why we need animals and plants, but humans have so much more intelligence that our jobs here on earth is for greater deeds than just creation. If I died last night and was not able to bring a child into this world what was my purpose here? I pondered this for a while until I realized there was a greater purpose. My body and the child I might have had will have been my sacrifice for the lives of the people I might have already saved at this point. My death would have had meaning, and it would be remembered. Is this why I’m here?

I slowly forget about dying and fear begins to leave me. This is my destiny. If it’s my time to go I will go, and there will be a reason for it. If I stay then my time will come later, and there will be a reason for it. I no longer fear death, I no longer fear fear. I no longer fear the unknown. I only fear it the way I feel is wrong in the place I’m in right now. Suddenly gang members and dark alleys don’t seem so bad anymore. The buildings to my left and right that seemed closed enough to grab me before now look like they’re miles away. ‘Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I fear no evil for you are with me.’

As we headed farther north my Gunny became more and more excited. He told me we have to go north to get home, and with every move we made we were a step closer. Sometimes we would move two or three times a day. And sometimes we wouldn’t move for five or six days. These were the hard parts of the war for me. When coming to a pause the camouflage netting would have to be put up and fighting holds dug. This was exhausting. Sleep became a privilege. The lance corporals were beginning to carry all the workload. There were nights when I would only get one hour of sleep and then we would move and I’d be driving for twelve hours. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I fell asleep at the wheel. In a military Hummer the heat in the cab and the sound of the engine puts you out anyway. The lack of sleep just made it that much worse. My Gunny would always make sure he yelled at the top of his lungs when this happened and I was grateful. A couple of times he sang a Marine Corps cadence (some of course were a little crude) but the music and the camaraderie kept me awake and reinvigorated:

Back In 1775

My Marine Corps Came Alive

First There Came The Color Gold

To Show The World That We Are Bold

Then There Came The Color Blue

To Show The World That We Are True

Then There Came the Color Red

To Show The World The Blood We Shed

Then There Came The Color White

To Show The World That We Can Fight

Then There Came The Color Green

To Show The World That We Are Mean

On their second day the Marines reconnoitered another town. Max and the other men rushed to one of the houses. Half of them were in front, the others in back. They kicked down both doors at the same time and stormed in. It was dark and they were using their NVG’s, their night vision goggles. Their view was green and dusty. They were looking for insurgents, but all they found was overturned furniture and debris from an apparent mortar hit. Their boots crunched the broken glass as they slowly continued up a crumbling staircase to the second floor. They found more of the same, but no people. When they finished they came back down. All clear. They continued the same way through other houses but found no one. Where were the people? They found discarded uniforms and weapons, but no soldiers. They had just dropped everything and fled.

April 1
st
, 2003

Finally I have a moment of relaxation to write a somewhat decent entry. Today marks the tenth day in this barren wasteland we all call Iraq. Since we crossed the southern border a lot has happened. The basic order of operations here is to stick and move. Kind of like a boxing match.

Like another round of the boxing match, the Marines went in again. They heard fighting throughout the town and they knew this one wouldn’t be as easy as the previous one. Max sensed and heard the bullets tearing the air close to his face, and then the penetrating whack of their impact in the hard clay of the wall next to him.
That was fucking close!
He muttered to himself. Max and his squad continued and this time they saw dead bodies behind that same wall, militia as well as innocent women and children. Parts of their bodies were missing, brown dry blood caked on the torn rags that once were clothes. Their lay grotesquely deformed on the coffee-colored earth. Max’s heart stopped. He had never seen such surreal mutilation and his stomach was close to losing his last MRE. The worse part of the carnage were the blameless women and children.

They continued their mission keeping their heads as low as possible and their senses sharper than they had ever been. Something blocked the sun.

“Incoming!” They realized what it was when the symphonic drone of falling mortars became deafening explosions. The ground heaved pitifully and left sad craters where once gardens offered their flowers and aroma. The men were forcefully thrown down and they scrambled for cover as a barrage of gunfire from one of the rooftops send them running.

“Over there!” The Gunny said, pointing to the house, “let’s get in there!” The men followed him. They burst into the house and were met by a shower of bullets. The Marines answered back. Several of the militia men fell like broken dolls and parts of the walls crumbled from the shells of the M16’s. The Americans pushed in. Although it was their first kill they didn’t think about it, their focus on the mission at hand.

“Grenade!” One of the men yelled and they dove for cover. The explosion vibrated throughout their bodies and their ears rang. Some wouldn’t be able to hear for hours. The smoke hid their enemies but they followed them up to the next floor. They were met with another hail of bullets and this time a couple of the Marines were hit. One was hit in the leg, another in the neck.

“MEDIC! MEDIC!” Stapleton screamed.

Almost immediately a Navy Corpsman was at the side of the man wounded in the neck. He had instantly assessed which one was injured more severely and applied pressure. “It’ll hold, get him out of here!”

Stapleton lifted him up as best he could and half carried, half dragged him out. “You hang in there, man, you hear me?” He said to the wounded warrior.

The fighting went on continuously for two hours and the one hundred degree heat wasn’t helping. The men were so badly dehydrated and had inhaled so much smoke that they started coughing up blood.

All the insurgents were killed, but not before they managed to wound several of the Marines. An aerial bomb leveled the houses where the enemy had held them for so long. By the time Max’s squad finished their sweep they had seen so much death that it seemed almost inconsequential. It was a baptism they would never forget.

The men sat exhausted on the ground near their vehicles. They watched as an HH-60 Black Hawk helicopter used for medical evacuation landed and picked up the last of the wounded.

Max sat next to Colin smoking a cigarette. “Now there’s an amazing site.”

“The chopper? Yeah, she’s a beaut.”

“Not just that. Those guys are so good they look like a finely tuned orchestra, from the men getting the wounded on board, to the medics already working on them, and the pilots who barely got the bird on the ground before taking off again.”

“You’re right, that is quite impressive.”

They watched another helicopter come in, but this one didn’t rush back out like the first one, instead black bags with the bodies of the Marines who had perished were carefully being carried to the chopper.

“Oh, fuck!” Max said.

“Yeah, they didn’t make it.”

“One of them was the guy who got it in the neck,” Stapleton said, “I thought he would pull through.”

They got to their feet and stood at attention with all the other men who had gathered and who had fought alongside their fallen comrades. As they were gently placed inside all of the Marines saluted, their arms slowly coming up as if in slow motion, until their hands touched the rim of their helmets.

It was their first deaths. It hit the young men hard. There would be others, and just as painful, but never as poignant as this one.

Robert Johnson, who was embedded with the Marines, had captured the battle on film and in words. He never could have imagined the heroism of these young men and he was just as devastated as they were by the loss of their brothers. He too had been with them since they left Kuwait and had a unique kinship with them. He believed he was pretty tough, and they constantly riled him because he was with the Army. It was all in good fun, but when the Marines saluted their dead brothers Robert was just as choked up and shed a few tears with them.

♫