Battalion honors their fallen before leaving Iraq

[thedrifter]

Battalion honors their fallen before leaving Iraq
Submitted by: 1st Marine Division
Story Identification #: 200471163834
Story by Cpl. Macario P. Mora Jr.



CAMP AL ASAD, Iraq(July 7, 2004) -- Marine and sailors with 3rd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment, said their final farewells to four Marines who were killed in action during the battalion's five-month deployment to Iraq, July 7.

The battalion honored 1st Lt. Oscar Jimenez, 34, from San Diego, Cpl. Daniel Amaya, 22, from Ector, Texas, Lance Cpl. Torrey Grey, 19, from Marion, Ill., and Lance Cpl. Bob Roberts, 30, from Portland, Ore.

Jimenez, Amaya and Grey were all killed during various firefights in and around Fallujah, Apr. 11.

"Those three men were lost on Easter Sunday," said Lt. Col. Bryan P. McCoy, the battalion's commanding officer from Norman, Okla. "Ironically that was the day we had our final farewell for the Marines who passed away last year."

Roberts was killed in a separate incident a month later.

"Today was a day for closure," McCoy said. "Despite it all, our men kept composure and pressed on. This is a very resolute group of Marines."

Jimenez was deployed for the fourth time, a prior enlisted Marine with a smile that could brighten anyone's day no matter how bad according to Cpl. Cedric C. Jordan, from Abbeville, La., and an embark logistics specialist.

"He was one of those few who demanded respect no matter what," Jordan said. "He led from the front, always cool, calm and collected."

Amaya was another who led by example, according to Cpl. Douglas A. Osborn, a squad leader with Company K, from Muncie, Idaho.

"He was so excited about coming out here again," Osborn said. "We were all in shock when he went down, but we were unable to grieve because of sporadic fire..."

Roberts was a very bright and experienced Marine who planned on competing for a commission in hopes of becoming an officer. He was often teased for being so much older than his peers.

"He was taken too soon," said Cpl. Charles W. Gipson, infantryman with Company L from Olympia, Wash., speaking about Grey. "They all died too young. But Grey was one guy who didn't deserve it. He loved life and we always talked about just having fun when we got home.

"It made us all fight harder," Gipson added. "None of us were going to let those guys die in vain."

The ceremony ended with a prayer and final farewell from each Marine as they marched together past four unmanned rifles, helmet on top.

"We're here to honor these men's lives," McCoy said. "Let us make the most of our lives so that these men of valor won't be forgotten. We will never forget what they stood for."

http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/image1.nsf/Lookup/200471164135/$file/farewell1lr.jpg

A Marine with 3rd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment pays his final respects to one of the four fallen Marines July 7. The battalion held a final memorial service honoring those who lost their lives during their five-month deployment to Iraq.
(USMC photo by Cpl. Macario P. Mora Jr.) Photo by: Cpl. Macario P. Mora

http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/image1.nsf/Lookup/200471164855/$file/farewell4lr.jpg

Marines with Company L, 3rd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment stand at parade rest and pay their final respects to the four Marines killed in action during a memorial service held July 7, in Camp Al Asad.
(USMC photo by Sgt. Jose L. Garcia) Photo by: Sgt. Jose L. Garcia

http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/mcn2000.nsf/main5/CA511E5E0C734E6885256ECE003A7669?opendocument


Ellie

[thedrifter]

Four U.S. Marines Killed in Iraq Attack

By DANICA KIRKA

BAGHDAD, Iraq - A militant group linked to Jordanian terror suspect Abu Musab al-Zarqawi claimed responsibility Sunday for a recent attack on a military headquarters in Samarra that killed five U.S. soldiers and one Iraqi National Guardsman.

The claim by al-Zarqawi's Tawhid and Jihad movement, which was posted on a Web site known for being a clearinghouse for such statements, claimed that dozens of Americans and hundreds of Iraqis died in Thursday's assault. The U.S. military has said insurgents detonated a car bomb and then fired mortars at the building used jointly by the 1st Infantry Division and Iraqi guardsmen.

"One of the lions of the martyrs' brigade, entered the building and destroyed it completely, plus six Hummers, including those who were inside them, thank God," the al-Zarqawi group said in its statement.

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As soldiers tried to escape from the building, "the soldiers of God were waiting for them and rained those who came with mortar shells," the statement said.

The accuracy of the group's account could not be verified.

Iraq has been torn by a persistent insurgency since the fall of Saddam Hussein more than 14 months ago.

On Saturday, U.S. Marines clashed with guerrillas taking cover at a taxi stand in a stronghold of support for Saddam's ousted regime, killing three people and wounding five, military and hospital officials said.

Insurgents clad in black attacked the Marines in the city of Ramadi, a hotbed of anti-coalition sentiment. U.S. forces returned fire, blasting the stand into a twisted pile of molten metal. Blood pooled on the asphalt. At least one child was wounded in the crossfire.

The deaths came the same day four U.S. Marines died in a vehicle accident while conducting security operations in an area of western Iraq, the U.S. command said Sunday.

The Marines were killed in Anbar, a Sunni-dominated area west of the Iraqi capital that includes Ramadi, Fallujah and Qaim on the Syrian border. They were assigned to the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force.

North of the capital, insurgents blew up three liquor stores in Baqouba on Saturday, prompting concern that Islamic militants may be trying to impose their strict interpretation of Islam there, witnesses said. The blasts killed a passing taxi driver, said Dr. Nassir Jawad from Baqouba General Hospital.

Also in Baqouba, insurgents detonated two roadside bombs Saturday as a U.S. patrols passed. Two soldiers and one civilian were wounded in the two incidents. All were evacuated to a combat hospital.

Meanwhile, the fate of captured Filipino worker Angelo dela Cruz remained unclear. His captors demanded that the Philippine government withdraw its 51-member force from Iraq by Saturday or dela Cruz would be beheaded. Another 4,100 Filipinos work as key contractors on U.S. bases.

A spokesman for Philippine President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo said the country's small peacekeeping contingent would be withdrawn as planned when its stint ends Aug. 20, though no decision had been made on whether to send replacements.

Later, officials in the Philippines said dela Cruz was about to be freed. But a diplomat familiar with the talks in Baghdad remained cautious, and the Al-Jazeera television station, which broadcast the original tape showing dela Cruz surrounded by armed men, said it received a statement Saturday night from the group denying he had been freed and calling him a "prisoner of war."

"We are still negotiating," a diplomat familiar with the talks said Sunday. "We don't to derail the process of negotiation."

In the statement, the group called itself the Iraqi Islamic Army-Khaled bin Al-Waleed Corps and gave the Philippines an extension until Sunday night, according to Al-Jazeera.

In a video aired earlier Saturday on Al-Jazeera, the hostage urged his countrymen not to come to Iraq.

"I advise you not to come to Iraq because there are a lot of problems, and the Iraqi police won't be able to protect you, like what happened to me," he said, according to the announcer.

Meanwhile, Bulgaria expressed hope that two Bulgarian truck drivers also kidnapped by militants were still alive.

Al-Zarqawi's group threatened to kill the men if the United States did not release all Iraqi detainees _ an ultimatum that has expired.

Bulgarian Foreign Minister Solomon Pasi suggested Saturday that the men were still alive, though he warned the information was "unconfirmed."

President Bush telephoned Bulgarian President Georgi Parvanov on Saturday to discuss the hostage situation.

Bush offered to assist but refused to negotiate with terrorists, the White House said. Parvanov affirmed Bulgaria's strong commitment to Iraq.

Elsewhere, insurgents slashed the throat of a translator working for American forces in the northern city of Kirkuk, the latest in a series of assaults on professionals supporting the multinational forces here.

The body of Hewah Omar, 28, was dumped by the side of a river flowing through the middle of the city.

"His throat was cut by a knife, and he was stabbed in the chest seven times," said police Col. Sarhat Qader.


http://www.nctimes.com/articles/2004/07/11/ap/headlines/d83ogneo0.txt


Ellie

[thedrifter]

Marines clash with Iraqi insurgents, killing three

By: DANICA KIRKA - Associated Press

BAGHDAD, Iraq -- U.S. Marines pummeled guerrillas taking cover Saturday at a taxi stand in a stronghold of support for Saddam Hussein's ousted regime, killing three and wounding five others, military and hospital officials said.

The Marines came under fire in Ramadi, part of the so-called Sunni Triangle and the site of frequent clashes with coalition forces, the military said. The Americans counterattacked, blasting the stand into a twisted pile of molten metal. Blood soaked the street.

At Ramadi's hospital, a child caught in the crossfire moaned in agony, video from Associated Press Television News showed.


"We went to the market near the stand, and the Americans struck against us," said the child, who did not give his name.

North of the capital, insurgents blew up three liquor stores in Baqouba, prompting concern Islamic militants may be trying to impose their strict interpretation of Islam there, witnesses said. The blasts killed a passing taxi driver, said Dr. Nassir Jawad from Baqouba General Hospital.

Iraq has been torn by a persistent insurgency since the fall of Saddam more than 14 months ago.

Meanwhile, the fate of captured Filipino worker Angelo dela Cruz remained unclear. His captors had demanded the Philippines withdraw its 51-member force from Iraq or dela Cruz would be killed. They gave a Saturday deadline. Another 4,100 Filipinos work as key contractors on U.S. bases.

A spokesman for Philippine President Gloria Macapagal said Saturday the country's small peacekeeping contingent would be withdrawn when its stint ends Aug. 20, though no decision had been made on whether to send replacements.

Later, officials in the Philippines said dela Cruz was about to be freed.

"While this man is still not in our hands, he will be brought to a hotel in Baghdad, where he will be turned over to our people," Labor Secretary Patricia Santo Tomas said.

But a diplomat familiar with the talks in Baghdad remained cautious, and the Al-Jazeera television station, which broadcast the original tape showing dela Cruz surrounded by armed men, said it received a statement Saturday night from the group denying he had been freed and calling him a "prisoner of war."

In the statement, the group called itself "The Islamic Army of Iraq -- Khalid bin al-Waleed Brigade" and gave the Philippines an extension until Sunday night, according to Al-Jazeera.

In a video aired earlier Saturday on Al-Jazeera, the hostage urged his countrymen not to come to the country.

"I advise you not to come to Iraq because there are a lot of problems, and the Iraqi police won't be able to protect you, like what happened to me," he said, according to the announcer.

Also Saturday, saboteurs attacked a natural gas pipeline that runs from the oil-rich northern city of Kirkuk to a power station, an official with the North Oil Company said.

The attack could cut power supplies even as Iraq sizzles in summer temperatures topping 110 degrees Fahrenheit, but it wasn't clear how severe cutbacks would be.

Insurgents have targeted the country's crude oil, natural gas and electricity supplies to cut off sources of revenue to Iraq's interim government. Such attacks, together with hostage taking and other acts of intimidation, are intended to disrupt efforts to stabilize and rebuild the country.

Also Saturday, insurgents slashed the throat of a translator working for American forces in Kirkuk, the latest of a series of assaults on professionals supporting the multinational forces here.

The body of Hewah Omar, 28, was dumped by the side of a river that flows through the middle of the city.

"His throat was cut by a knife, and he was stabbed in the chest seven times," said Col. Sarhat Qader, a senior police official.

Late Saturday, clashes broke out between Iraqi police and insurgents in Kirkuk, seriously injuring a police officer and a bystander, Qader said.

Bulgaria expressed hope that two Bulgarian truck drivers also kidnapped by militants here were still alive.

Jordanian militant Abu Musab al-Zarqawi's Tawhid and Jihad group threatened to kill the men if the United States did not release all Iraqi detainees -- an ultimatum that has expired.

Bulgarian Foreign Minister Solomon Pasi suggested Saturday that the men were still alive, though he warned the information was "unconfirmed."

President Bush telephoned Bulgarian President Georgi Parvanov on Saturday to discuss the hostage situation.

Bush offered to assist but refused to negotiate with terrorists, the White House said. Parvanov affirmed Bulgaria's strong commitment to Iraq.

A Pakistani truck driver who returned home after being held hostage here said Saturday he watched as three fellow captives were beheaded. Amjad Hafeez, 26, said he was taken to a room where two foreigners and an Iraqi were killed with a sword.

Hafeez told The Associated Press the two foreigners were "English-speaking people" who were crying, weeping and begging for their lives. He said they were killed June 27, but there was no confirmation on their identities.

Both an American hostage and a South Korean known to have been killed by the group were reportedly slain before that date.

Earlier Saturday, a senior military official in Bulgaria, Gen. Stefan Stefanov, deputy chief of the military intelligence service, dismissed speculation that the two Bulgarians were the victims Hafeez saw die.



http://www.nctimes.com/articles/2004/07/11/military/19_34_597_10_04.txt


Ellie

[thedrifter]

Imagine Dying
He Could Have Told What Happened That Day in Fallouja With His Camera. But Sometimes Even a Photographer Must Turn to Words.

By Rick Loomis, Rick Loomis is a Times staff photographer.


I finally tried to wash the Marine's bloodstains from my pants.

It had been nine days since the battle, and daily layers of dirt and dust masked what I knew lay beneath. From the relative comfort of "Dreamland," a reasonably secure U.S. base just outside Fallouja, I swirled my pants in a square metal pan containing four inches of precious water. With each spin, the water turned a deeper brown. Soon I could see the blood of Sgt. Josue Magaña, the stains unmoved by the swirling water, my memories of that morning just as deeply set.
april 26. 5 a.m. the marines of echo company had been ordered to take two homes in the Jolan neighborhood at the northwestern edge of Fallouja, the heart of the notorious Sunni Triangle and the root of U.S. occupation resistance. Not even a month had passed since the gruesome deaths of four American contractors there.

In their initial push into Fallouja, the Marines had fought to gain a toehold, and for Echo Company this consisted of three abandoned homes and a school, all within 300 meters of each other. They had fortified their positions using sandbags, 24-hour-a-day watch posts, concertina wire and sniper positions. By the time I arrived on April 22, the neighborhood was a ghost town. Most residents had fled, save for one blind Iraqi man who was dutifully being fed by a Kurdish translator working for the Marines.

In the houses and school, Marines had parked their gear in every room. M-16 rifles were delicately perched against the glass doors of a cupboard holding the family's finest dishware. The luckiest Marines claimed the couches; the rest sprawled out on the floors each night.

Walls that once separated neighbors were demolished to allow easy house-to-house access. Doors were taken off their hinges and used to bridge the gaps between the roofs of the houses. On the roof were M-240 machine guns, a larger .50-caliber machine gun, a Mark 19 grenade launcher and shoulder-fired rockets. Small "mouse holes" were pounded in the walls to allow snipers to pick off distant targets.

From the sniper holes could be seen a bullet-riddled car abandoned in the middle of the street. Deep craters where parts of the road used to be. Downed power lines sagging across the roadway. There was also the stench of rotting cows and dogs that died in the crossfire.

Also in view from the sniper's nests were objectives A and B. The two homes, just across the cemetery, had been in view for weeks, and it was there that Marine commanders perceived a threat.

on the morning of april 26 a platoon of marines crept through the darkened streets. A wail could be heard in the distance—the Muslim call to prayer. My camera useless in the darkness, I fumbled to record the ominous sound with a digital recorder. It was too dark to see the buttons, so I gave up.

Ahead, two squads of men were breaching the homes, breaking down doors to clear the buildings. Marines poured inside objectives A and B, taking up defensive positions, a set of eyes on guard from nearly every window. Dawn had come and the sky began to brighten.

It was all starting to seem too easy when a rocket-propelled grenade, or RPG, smacked the front of the house with a thunderous crash. The walls trembled. The Marines returned fire with their M-16s and then there was silence.

Defensive postures took on a new urgency. Mattresses were upturned to cover windows, bags of rice stacked in front of open doors to slow speeding bullets. Holes were hammered through the walls to make sniper positions. Then, nothing. Sitting. Waiting. Resting. Drinking. Eating. Nothing. No shots. No enemy sightings. Nothing.

Five hours had passed since the start of the mission and Marines were spread out on the floor, sleeping when they could. I visited the roof briefly to eye the sniper positions, then went back to the bottom floor to look in on sleeping Marines. Returning to the second floor, I tried to capture on camera the reflection of a Marine in a bullet-riddled mirror. I, too, was bored.

The sleeping Marines stirred a bit as shots rang in the distance. There were reports of seven insurgents, scratch that, six insurgents (one was reported over the radio to have been shot by a U.S. sniper) in the area of the mosque. An incoming mortar round hit an adjacent house, igniting a fire.

The Marine commanders decided that one squad, about 12 men, should search the mosque area. There was no movement or firing as they made their approach through the cemetery to the mosque itself. Outside, it was bright, hot and quiet; inside, it was empty. As the Marines searched for insurgents, I looked around but found no shell casings. There was only a partially damaged building, curtains moving in the breeze. I began to wonder if anyone had ever been there.

The men trod back through the cemetery and I felt much less exposed than when I had trailed them earlier, veering around and over graves at a rapid pace. Running through a cemetery seems a violation of those lying beneath. I was glad when we got back to the houses.

It was at just that moment—when I felt the most secure—that all hell broke loose.

It began suddenly. Insurgents had crawled into positions covering all sides except the one where we had just entered. They let loose a continuous barrage on the house. Marines scrambled to their feet to fight back the ambush. "Roger, we are taking heavy fire. You need to orient to east, over the mosque complex," the commander coolly relayed into the radio.

The rumble of machine guns and the returning crack of AK-47 rounds flying toward the building pounded in my eardrums. In the next room a Marine fired his machine gun from the second-story window. I was photographing the seriousness on his face as he fought the onslaught. At that moment a flash of fiery orange enveloped the room. An RPG had scored a direct hit at head level of the firing Marine, the wall of the home saving him from certain death. It was so sudden and violent that I only have a blurry frame to serve as a reminder. The Marine was screaming as he was knocked to the ground, stunned by the concussion and deafening roar of the grenade.

He took only a moment to regain his composure. He was clearly ****ed. He went back to the window and began firing with even more resolve. It wasn't long until another RPG crashed into the same wall. Insurgent forces were determined to score a kill. Inside the room the barrels of two M-249 machine guns became so hot from the rapid succession of fire that they melted and seized.

On the roof, another battle was raging. The Marines were in such close contact with the insurgents that the two were lobbing hand grenades back and forth. Shrapnel was shooting all over the roof, tearing into the Marines. A Marine who was on a second-floor balcony yelled, "I'm hit!" One of several thousand rounds fired in the opening 30 minutes of the battle had found its target. He gave an agonizing scream and yelled again that he was hit.

Moments later Sgt. Josue Magaña was dragged by the grab handle on the back of his flak jacket into the room where I was hunkered down. He had been shot through the back and was in severe pain. While corpsmen were concentrating on his injury, I could see that he was beginning to fade. His eyes were empty and began to close. He was mumbling about a letter from his daughter, and I feared he was conceding that his life would end right there.

I grabbed his hand and assured him that he would see his daughter again. I looked him straight in his eye, telling him to look back at me, then to squeeze my hand so I knew he was still with me.

I felt caught between being an objective journalist and responding as a human being. I apologized to a news crew that was trying to film the scene, realizing that I was out of place, a photographer not being a photographer. "I have to be a human first," I heard myself saying awkwardly. It was a lesson I had learned early on from a photography professor who had a profound effect on my life.

I shot only a few frames to depict the scene, some as Magaña was being dragged into the room and then after he was stabilized. I felt satisfied that I had done my job and also done what was right. Rounds were cracking off all sides of the building and now a second wounded Marine made his way to the doorway. Everything seemed to be unraveling. Here was a group of men, 37 in all, whom I viewed as courageous warriors, well-trained and well-equipped, and they seemed to be falling one by one right in front of me. I began to wonder: Is this it? What if, by sheer numbers and the great desire of those opposed to them, these Marines and I were about to be gunned down, right here. I wondered if the Marines on the bottom floor were fighting to their last bullets.

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[thedrifter]

For an instant, I imagined the following scenario: As I peer from the doorway, insurgents rush up the stairs, firing at those working on the wounded Magaña. Three easy kills for the insurgents. What would I do? Would I cower and scream "sahafi, sahafi" ("journalist, journalist") and hope to separate myself from the Marines? Would I find myself, the barrel of a gun pushing into my skin, begging for my life? Would I be killed instantly, no distinction made, in a hail of gunfire? Or would I pick up a weapon myself and fight for my own life and for those around me?

These decisions are guttural, instinctive. Every move seems to be analyzed in some split-second process. When the fight was raging, I was making decisions based on saving my life and doing my job—in that order.

But at that moment I knew that photographing a firefight can be like photographing a triple play in baseball. While it's certainly a dramatic moment, a photograph can't always capture the essence of what you are witnessing. The pictures of the men shooting out of the window in the next room conveyed little of the life-and-death intensity of the moment, the sound of gunfire, the smell, the gulping sense of mortality. They could have just as well have been shooting at tin cans in the alleyway.

So was I going to make a target of myself when at least two men were already shot and RPGs were bouncing off the walls as fast as the men shooting them could reload? The short answer was no, I would not risk it all for one frame. At this moment I thought of my mom, and how shattered she would be getting that phone call that no mother wants. It would be early morning, in a tiny northern Michigan town, the phone ringing as she prepared for work that day. No one frame was worth it.

Just being in this country as a journalist is an elevated risk, I thought to myself. And here I was feeling more exposed to danger than at any point in my career. A momentary series of thoughts, contemplating the immediate future for myself and those around me, and then I was snapped back to the reality.



the house was still taking a serious pounding, there were wounded in both the buildings and the insurgents were still waging a vicious attack. Then I heard a familiar and welcome sound—two tanks rumbling up the alley. I peered out the window to photograph them. They were our ride out. But something was wrong. The main gun on one of the tanks was pointed right toward our window. For a split second I thought, "Oh, no, they think we are the insurgents and they are going to fire on us!"

Friendly fire is a sad fact of warfare, and I never believed it possible until I saw it with my own eyes during the march up from Kuwait just 13 months earlier. I wondered if the tanks knew that those were "friendlies" staring at them from the window above. I stepped back into the room, a useless move as a main gun tank round would surely obliterate us all no matter where we were standing.

"OK, we are punching out of here now, and we are punching out hard!" yelled one of the commanders. The tanks were giving us the time and firepower needed to run back down the same alley we had crept through in the predawn hours earlier that day.

The call was made to bring everyone and everything down to the first floor. At the same time, the wounded from the building to the north were filtering into our courtyard. Four Marines carried the limp body of Lance Cpl. Aaron Austin. He would be listed as "killed in action" from the fight that day. His heroics would earn him official recognition for his actions—albeit posthumously. Austin was shot multiple times in the chest as he attempted to throw a hand grenade from one rooftop to another. Magaña was lying on a broken door in the second-floor room. The Marines used it as a litter to carry him downstairs. It was creaking to the point of breaking but made the trip to the bottom floor.

The foyer where the men gathered was a bloody mess. Magaña was lying on the door, fear in his eyes. Lance Cpl. Lucas Sielstad, 18, a wiry but tough Marine by all accounts, had bandages on his right arm soaked through with blood. His pants had been ripped by medical shears from the waist down to treat a shrapnel wound on his leg, and he was bleeding from his lip. He looked tired and stunned.

Another Marine came down from the roof with a haphazardly tied rag wrapped around his bleeding head. He had wounds in several other places. Still, he was calm and alert, and a bit saddened by not being able to finish the fight.

It came time to evacuate and we hustled through the door into the courtyard. For a moment I felt like a skydiver taking his first leap out the door of the plane. I felt so vulnerable, wishing for the cover of darkness that had offered some protection earlier that morning.

The courtyard was hemmed in by 7-foot walls that shielded us from view of anyone on the streets. But the Marines were an easy target for gunmen on the second story or rooftops of any of the surrounding houses. Crouching low and near the wall, my instinct was to run for it, to break away from all of the Marines exiting in some sort of timed formation. It felt like time was of the essence.

What seemed like hours passed before my turn, but it was probably less than two minutes. I did not know exactly from what direction the firing was coming from—or how much was incoming or outgoing. I just knew it was heavy and I wanted to get back to a place of relative comfort.

My gear seemed heavy and awkward as I approached the gate leading to the street. I had been asked to carry several 203-grenade rounds in a blood-soaked pouch that was taken off a wounded Marine. When the two Marines in front of me finally moved, I bolted out behind them.

Along the wall we ran beside, about halfway down the block, there was a 4-foot gap that offered a clear shot at us. A scene from the movie "Enemy at the Gates" popped into my head, depicting celebrated World War II Russian sniper Vassili Zaitsev knocking off targets at will. Why this movie scene I don't know. What I do know is that when it was my turn to expose myself for that half second, I hesitated, but any sniper waiting for the perfect shot was a figment of my imagination. We were almost home free. I could see the school in my view, less than 200 meters away. As I crossed the street, three Marines were struggling to carry a wounded comrade. One of them motioned me over as I approached their position, slowing my run. He asked me to help. For a split second I thought, "Are you crazy, my job right now is to run like hell so I can live to do the job another day." The split second happened about the time I was grabbing the injured Marine by his right shoulder and arm. We ran to the schoolhouse, a fairly fortified structure. I tried to ease the wounded man through the door, but he was being pulled too quickly from the other end. He escaped my grasp and that of the Marine carrying his other arm. His head hit the concrete step with a thud.

Several more Marines piled into the schoolhouse. The machine guns on the roof were wailing away. With all the Marines back inside the building, their fields of fire were clear and they were engaging everything in sight. Several more RPGs pounded the school, as did small-arms fire from AK-47s.

The scene on the bottom floor was pandemonium, resembling an ant nest after it has been disturbed. One Marine was barking orders: "We need more M-16 rounds on the second floor!" Another was shocked, helmet off and head in his hands. Several wounded were waiting for a transport Humvee to get through and take them out. I caught my breath and took stock of everything that had happened. Adrenaline had been pumping through my veins for two hours, and my body needed a break.

The wounded, 15 in all, were hauled a kilometer or so away to a field hospital, which was nearly overwhelmed by the volume. Commanders started sorting out the chaos in the school, with their main mission to keep their gun positions humming and any insurgent advance at bay.

When the squad stationed in a house 300 meters away gathered in the doorway of the school to make their run back, I joined them. One last run to safety. As we approached our home base, I noticed something was missing. It had marked my landscape for the week that I had been in Fallouja. The minaret, the same one that had loomed overhead as we ran through the graveyard that morning, was gone. I was told later that it was leveled by a tank round when Marines spotted a sniper in the tower. The group gathering inside the house was not the same upbeat cadre that I had witnessed the day before. They had seen one of their own die, in a brutal death that left his body torn and bloody. They had watched another of their comrades lose an arm from an enemy hand grenade. I knew these men to be tough and ready, but this shook them to their core. They were changed.

continued........

[thedrifter]

Being in a battle zone with troops was not new for me. Since 9/11, I have done about a third of my work in conflict regions such as Afghanistan, Israel and the Palestinian territories, Haiti and...

[thedrifter]

Lejeune Marines get up to speed on NBC techniques
Submitted by: 1st Marine Division
Story Identification #: 200471162852
Story by Cpl. Shawn C. Rhodes



CAMP MAHMUDIYAH, Iraq(July 8, 2004) -- Chemical threats for Marines in Iraq haven't been a leading concern since combat operations last year, but that doesn't mean anyone is letting their guard down.

Marines from 2nd Battalion, 2nd Marine Regiment held decontamination drills to keep their Marines ready to respond to a nuclear, chemical and biological attack.

"During this three-day class we spent a few hours each day bringing the Marines up to speed on detailed decontamination training for personnel and vehicles," said Cpl. Jason L. Barton, a 28-year-old NBC specialist from Wilson, Kan. "After the class they're supposed to go back and teach this stuff to their Marines."

The reason every Marine needed to know how to supervise and participate in a decontamination site was because you never knew who would be available, Barton said. Marines from Headquarters and Service Company were chosen because they would likely aide the rifle companies who would be exposed to an NBC agent.

"The Marine Corps is a winning team and we prepare for the impossible as well as the probable," Barton said. "There's no doubt this training could save lives."

During the training, the Marines were shown how to navigate each station of a decontamination center. They learned how to properly disrobe a contaminated Marine and clean them of all NBC agents. Once the Marines were thought to be clean they are tested with NBC-detection tools.

"The two things we use are the chemical agent monitor and the automatic chemical agent detector," said Lance Cpl. Peter W. Duffy, a 20-year-old NBC specialist from North Hampton, Mass. "There's nothing hard about operating these detectors. These guys can pass on how to operate them which will help if we ever have an NBC attack."

The Marines were expected to leave the classes with a new appreciation and understanding of NBC procedures. Although the classes taught the Marines some things they didn't know and refreshed them on others, practice still makes perfect.

"We have plans for follow-on classes to keep this information fresh in their heads," Barton explained. "We need to maintain their skills so each of them can properly operate a decontamination center."

Handling NBC decontamination presents a concern to those treating other Marines. In the event of an NBC attack, Marines could possibly be injured and contaminated with agents. This problem was addressed during the classes.

"Marines need to realize they're going through the decontamination center before they go to the base's aid station here," said Navy Petty Officer 1st Class Christopher T. Brown, a 34-year-old hospital corpsman from Albany, Ga. "We have to make sure they won't infect the sterile environment of the aid station."

This doesn't mean that injured Marines won't get medical help in time.

"We have NBC stretchers we can use to carry Marines through the decontamination process," Brown said. "We'll also perform life saving steps the whole time if they're needed."

In addition, corpsmen can also stand in for the Marines inside the decontamination center to help wash off NBC agents.

"Something I learned here was that you can't take their gas mask off until they're at that station in the center," Brown said. "Even if it would help you treat him you could hurt yourself and him more by breaking his gas mask seal before the right time."

The site also gave the Marines the added bonus of practicing in a set-up just as it would be used in combat environment. This enabled them to obtain a more real-life feel for the whole process.

"It was just like walking them through the real thing..." Barton said.


http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/image1.nsf/Lookup/200471163134/$file/NBC1lr.jpg

Lance Cpl. Peter W. Duffy, a 20-year-old nuclear, biological and chemical specialist from 2nd Battalion, 2nd Marine Regiment explains a basic NBC tool to a group of Marines. Classes were give to Marines on decontamination and NBC detection. The chemical agent monitor is a valuable tool the clerks and riflemen of the battalion need to know how to use in case of an NBC attack.
(USMC photo by Cpl. Shawn C. Rhodes) Photo by: Cpl. Shawn C. Rhodes

http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/mcn2000.nsf/main5/4B8DA33770AA303C85256ECE00399334?opendocument


Ellie

[thedrifter]

Marines work to make safe a deadly business <br />
Submitted by: 1st Marine Division <br />
Story Identification #: 2004795169 <br />
Story by Cpl. Shawn C. Rhodes <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
CAMP MAHMUDIYAH, Iraq(July 7, 2004) -- The...

[thedrifter]

Iraq Says Zarqawi Likely Seeking WMD Materials
Sun Jul 11, 2004 10:15 AM ET


By Edmund Blair
BAGHDAD (Reuters) - Iraq's national security adviser said on Sunday unconventional weapons material might have gone to neighboring states in the war and Jordanian militant Abu Musab al-Zarqawi is probably trying to get some.

Mowaffaq al-Rubaie also said the Iraqi interim government had approved the transfer of all radioactive material in its possession to the United States, but said he could not be sure more material was not hidden inside Iraq by Saddam Hussein.

Rubaie did not provide any evidence that unconventional weapons materials had crossed the border, or of attempts by militants to acquire them in Iraq.

U.S. and U.N. officials said on Wednesday Washington had transported about 1.8 tonnes of enriched uranium out of Iraq for safekeeping more than a year after looters stole it from a U.N.-sealed facility left unguarded by U.S. troops.

Artillery shells found by Polish troops in Iraq in June contained the deadly nerve agent cyclosarin, the Polish army said last week.

"Just imagine if these weapons of mass destruction or any of these capabilities of making a dirty bomb or a chemical weapon or anything like this, if it falls in the hands of Zarqawi's gangsters and Zarqawi's people and these global terrorists or Saddam's former regime, what will happen?" he said.

"I have no shadow of doubt that..., with his evil mind, he (Zarqawi) will try to acquire these unconventional weapons," he told a news conference.

Zarqawi is Washington's top militant target in Iraq and has offered a $25 million reward for his capture. Zarqawi's group has claimed responsibility for bombings in Iraq and the beheadings of an American and South Korean.

MISTAKES

Asked if unconventional weapons material may already be in the hands of Zarqawi or others like him, Rubaie said: "We don't know. We have no intelligence information on that."

But he said "many mistakes" were made in failing to secure sensitive sites after the U.S.-led war that toppled Saddam.

Rubaie said the transfer of about 1.8 tonnes of low enriched uranium and almost 1,000 radioactive sources to the United States involved everything collected in Iraq. But he said he could not be certain Iraq was free of weapons of mass destruction.
"Whether he (Saddam Hussein) has smuggled these through the borders during the conflict of last year, whether he has hidden these weapons of mass destruction... we don't know," he said.

The United States and Britain have failed to uncover any stockpiles of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, even though the possession of such weapons was one of the reasons cited for launching the March 2003 invasion.

Rubaie said there were indications that some unconventional materials had crossed borders into neighboring states, and said Iraq would seek to have it returned if so.

"There are some indications that these (unconventional materials) have gone that way during the conflict and immediately after the conflict," he said but gave no details.

© Reuters 2004. All Rights Reserved

http://www.reuters.com/newsArticle.jhtml;jsessionid=PAM4YKBPWKBKKCRBAEOCF EY?type=topNews&storyID=5636989&pageNumber=1


Ellie

[thedrifter]

Fallen Marine's baby arrives

Beth Rockwell for the Arizona Daily Star

Cadence Freedom, born to Celeste Lawrence. "Celeste knows that Jeff would be very proud," said Jeff's cousin Heather Kuntz.

Healthy girl born days after Tucsonan was killed in Iraq
By Carol Ann Alaimo
ARIZONA DAILY STAR

Tucson Marine Cpl. Jeff Lawrence wouldn't have wanted sorrow over his death to spoil the joy of his baby's birth, loved ones say.

So, early Saturday, his little girl was welcomed into the world with awe and excitement, four days after her father was killed in Iraq.

"Right now it's a happy occasion," said Heather Kuntz, Jeff Lawrence's cousin, of the birth of 7-pound, 11-ounce Cadence Freedom Lawrence.

"We've got a long road ahead of us and we'll deal with the sadness later," said Kuntz, who's been in constant phone contact with grandparents and other Tucson relatives who flew to an East Coast military hospital to attend the birth.

At the hospital, Kuntz said, family members were determined to put aside their grief for a time, so that the child's birth would be greeted with a sense of celebration.

"She deserves that and Jeff wanted her to have that," Kuntz said.

"He wouldn't have wanted this day to be about him. He would have wanted it to be about her, and I think that's the way it was in that room."

The family was relieved when the birth went well, with mother and child both healthy, Kuntz said.

"We're thankful everything went OK, because if something would've happened I don't know what it would've done to Celeste," she said of the baby's mother, Celeste Levon Lawrence of Tucson.

Cadence Freedom has a puff of dark hair and resembles both her parents, said Kuntz.

"She's absolutely beautiful. Celeste knows that Jeff would be very proud."

The name Cadence Freedom was chosen by the baby's 22-year-old parents before her dad left for Iraq in March. The child was originally due on the Fourth of July.

Instead, she arrived early Saturday, at 3:11 a.m. Tucson time, at the naval hospital at Camp Lejeune, N.C., Jeff Lawrence's home base.

He was in Iraq with the 2nd Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion, a mobile infantry unit under the 2nd Marine Expeditionary Force. He and several other Marines died near Fallujah early Tuesday when they encountered a homemade bomb.

Jeff Lawrence will be buried in Tucson once his wife is able to travel, family members said.

Kuntz said the family has been pondering ways to preserve the dead Marine's memory so that his daughter can someday get to know who he was.

Besides saving news clippings, they've been asking people who knew Jeff to write letters to the little girl describing her dad to her, so that she can read them when she's older.

"She's going to have a huge gap in her life and that could help to fill it some," Kuntz said.

Meanwhile, family members taking condolence calls in Tucson said they're astonished by the wave of public support that hasn't let up since news of the Marine's death.

Cards, letters, e-mails and phone calls have poured in by the hundreds, said Vickie Pataki, 52, Jeff Lawrence's aunt.

Some are from other families with loved ones killed in Iraq, others from veterans of previous wars. A number are from strangers around the country.

"I thought the community would be very nice, but I had no idea it would go to this extent," Pataki said.

"Without the support it would be unbearable," she said. "The community outpouring is helping us deal with the grief."

After the funeral, Celeste Lawrence will be moving back to Tucson to raise her little girl in the city where her parents were born, family members said.

"She loves Tucson," said Kuntz.

"And right now it feels like the whole community loves her."

�œ Contact reporter Carol Ann Alaimo at 573-4138 or at caalaimo@azstarnet.com.


http://www.azstarnet.com/ss/2004/07/11/29616-1.jpg

http://www.dailystar.com/dailystar/dailystar/29616.php


Ellie