Sgt Sostand
10-23-03, 03:27 PM
The sea-Story
We were on the M203 range at Camp Pendleton, Ca in the summer of 1986. It was a normal day; hot, dry and full of stress and excitement. Reveille was at 0530, so around 0600 we headed over to the chow and returned to the barracks to gather our gear, forming back up at 0700 to march to the range. The march to the range was your typical Marine Corps walk-at-a-break-neck-speed-march, leaving the softhearted and broken Marines in the rear, eating dust and suffering the humiliation of the troop handlers as they yelled at the Marines for falling behind and who also provided occasional nudges of encouragement to catch up.
Once we arrived at the range we were provided more instruction on how to handle the weapon on the range, how to load and aim it, as well as a healthy demonstration, which provided us with even more motivation. We were all excited about firing the M203, boasting to each other about who would hit the targets and who would miss.
I had not yet fired my rounds on that day, nor would I have the chance. I was waiting in line, three Marines behind my bunk-mate, eagerly watching those in front of us fire so I could learn from their mistakes before I got on the firing line.
My bunk-mates turn finally came and he moved up in line to fire his first rounds from the M203. Sgt. Nunez, one of our troop handlers, was giving commands at our position. We liked Sgt. Nunez. He was hard, as were all of the instructors, but he was friendly too, talking to us like we were real Marines and not just the boots we were. My bunk-mate followed the direction given to him by Sgt. Nunez. He was given the command to kneel, and he did so. He was given the command to open the breach, and he did so. He was given a grenade by Sgt. Nunez and was instructed to place it in the breach for loading, and he did so. He was told to close the breach, and he did so. Upon closing the breach, the grenade exploded.
The noise and concussion of the grenade exploding was thunderous and immediate. Sgt. Nunez was mortally wounded in the head, falling to the ground, while my bunk-mate attempted to stand up. It was then he realized his arm was missing.
It took three Marines to hold down my bunk-mate so that the corpsman could put a tourniquet on his elbow, above his missing arm. There were other Marines with shrapnel in their arms and legs, where the body armor had not provided protection, but none were seriously injured and the corpsmen on the range were able to tend to them.
The troop handlers yelled at us to turn around and face the tree line, but many of us kept watching until the Life Flight arrived taking both Sgt. Nunez and my bunk-mate away. The march back to the barracks was much slower, with a heavy silence, except the occasional caught from the dust. When we returned to the barracks, we wrote statements on what we saw and heard and turned them in for review. The next day was almost back to normal, except the obvious absence of Sgt. Nunez and the occasional Marine pulled into the senior instructors' office for questioning or counseling. Finally, that afternoon, a formation was held and the announcement was made that Sgt. Nunez was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital.
Later that week I visited my bunk-mate in the hospital. He was upbeat, but, was definitely on his way out of the Corps. He told me he would be heading to college on the Marine Corps tab, once he was able to get out of the hospital. Our visit was short and I lost track of him after that. I am not sure how it worked out for him, but I hope he was able to move on successfully.
There was an investigation into the accident. Until that investigation was complete no HEDP (High Explosive, Dual Purpose) 40 MM grenades were fired in the Marine Corps. I was never made aware of the official explanation of why the grenade went off, however, with most of the weapon system destroyed, and the round expended, it must have been difficult to determine an exact cause.
I will always Remember Sgt Fred Nunez
We were on the M203 range at Camp Pendleton, Ca in the summer of 1986. It was a normal day; hot, dry and full of stress and excitement. Reveille was at 0530, so around 0600 we headed over to the chow and returned to the barracks to gather our gear, forming back up at 0700 to march to the range. The march to the range was your typical Marine Corps walk-at-a-break-neck-speed-march, leaving the softhearted and broken Marines in the rear, eating dust and suffering the humiliation of the troop handlers as they yelled at the Marines for falling behind and who also provided occasional nudges of encouragement to catch up.
Once we arrived at the range we were provided more instruction on how to handle the weapon on the range, how to load and aim it, as well as a healthy demonstration, which provided us with even more motivation. We were all excited about firing the M203, boasting to each other about who would hit the targets and who would miss.
I had not yet fired my rounds on that day, nor would I have the chance. I was waiting in line, three Marines behind my bunk-mate, eagerly watching those in front of us fire so I could learn from their mistakes before I got on the firing line.
My bunk-mates turn finally came and he moved up in line to fire his first rounds from the M203. Sgt. Nunez, one of our troop handlers, was giving commands at our position. We liked Sgt. Nunez. He was hard, as were all of the instructors, but he was friendly too, talking to us like we were real Marines and not just the boots we were. My bunk-mate followed the direction given to him by Sgt. Nunez. He was given the command to kneel, and he did so. He was given the command to open the breach, and he did so. He was given a grenade by Sgt. Nunez and was instructed to place it in the breach for loading, and he did so. He was told to close the breach, and he did so. Upon closing the breach, the grenade exploded.
The noise and concussion of the grenade exploding was thunderous and immediate. Sgt. Nunez was mortally wounded in the head, falling to the ground, while my bunk-mate attempted to stand up. It was then he realized his arm was missing.
It took three Marines to hold down my bunk-mate so that the corpsman could put a tourniquet on his elbow, above his missing arm. There were other Marines with shrapnel in their arms and legs, where the body armor had not provided protection, but none were seriously injured and the corpsmen on the range were able to tend to them.
The troop handlers yelled at us to turn around and face the tree line, but many of us kept watching until the Life Flight arrived taking both Sgt. Nunez and my bunk-mate away. The march back to the barracks was much slower, with a heavy silence, except the occasional caught from the dust. When we returned to the barracks, we wrote statements on what we saw and heard and turned them in for review. The next day was almost back to normal, except the obvious absence of Sgt. Nunez and the occasional Marine pulled into the senior instructors' office for questioning or counseling. Finally, that afternoon, a formation was held and the announcement was made that Sgt. Nunez was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital.
Later that week I visited my bunk-mate in the hospital. He was upbeat, but, was definitely on his way out of the Corps. He told me he would be heading to college on the Marine Corps tab, once he was able to get out of the hospital. Our visit was short and I lost track of him after that. I am not sure how it worked out for him, but I hope he was able to move on successfully.
There was an investigation into the accident. Until that investigation was complete no HEDP (High Explosive, Dual Purpose) 40 MM grenades were fired in the Marine Corps. I was never made aware of the official explanation of why the grenade went off, however, with most of the weapon system destroyed, and the round expended, it must have been difficult to determine an exact cause.
I will always Remember Sgt Fred Nunez