thedrifter
08-10-05, 09:04 PM
After 3 deployments, many Marines of 1/5 long for quiet life
Courtesy of Mark aka The Fontman
By Gregg Zoroya
USA Today
RAMADI, Iraq - The day the Marines invaded Iraq, Cpl. James Welter Jr. killed his first man. During his second combat tour, he earned a commendation for leadership skills and coolness under fire, but he brought a nightmare home. Now, with only a few weeks left in his third fighting tour, his goal is simple.
He hopes to survive.
Welter - Jimmy to his friends - is among about 150 veterans of 1st Battalion, 5th Marines, here who have fought in Iraq three times since the war began in March 2003. Each trip has brought some of the harshest combat.
They were here for four months at the start of Operation Iraqi Freedom, when they were at the tip of the invasion spear. In the summer of 2004, during a second tour that lasted 4˝ months, they fought in the streets of Fallujah after insurgents there killed four American contractors, burned and mutilated their bodies and strung two of the corpses from a bridge.
Now, for seven months this year, the Marines are here in Ramadi, the capital of the insurgency and a city thick with roadside bombs. Snipers lie in wait, and at the exits of U.S. military installations, huge warning signs, some inscribed with a skull and crossbones, read: "Complacency Kills!"
The battalion has lost more men in Ramadi than anywhere else: 12 Marines and a Navy corpsman killed in action. Their 13 portraits hang on a wall in battalion headquarters - a grim reminder of what awaits outside the gate.
The frequency with which troops are being sent back to combat is unprecedented in the all-volunteer U.S. military, which was created in 1973 after the draft ended. To boost morale, commanders draw comparisons to the sacrifices of the Greatest Generation, those who fought for the duration of World War II. But that war is dust-covered history to those fighting here, and defense researchers concede that they do not yet know what back-to-back-to-back tours of duty will do to this military - or to those fighting.
"It's an open question as to how much we can ask of them," said James Hosek, a Rand Corp. specialist on military retention.
The Marine Corps sends troops to Iraq more frequently than the Army, but for shorter combat stints that don't last longer than seven months. Three Marine battalions, including the one in which Welter serves, have fought or are fighting for the third time; two more are preparing for third combat hitches. The Army deploys units for longer periods - usually 12 months - but less often. Some Army units are starting a second tour in Iraq this year.
Lt. Col. Bryan Hilferty, a spokesman for the Army's personnel division, said re-enlistments have held steady so far. "But we are keeping an eye on that," he said.
Studies about Vietnam veterans are of little use because the nation had a larger, conscript military then and combat was typically limited to a single 12- or 13-month tour. Hosek testified before Congress last year that what limited data exist suggest a third tour could sour the troops and their families and hurt re-enlistments.
Interviews with two dozen Marines in Ramadi, their commanders, and friends and family back home reveal the cost in human terms. Like Jimmy Welter, some Marines in this unit enlisted after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. But that patriotic fervor now seems spent. And what the Marines have endured - Welter's story is typical - speaks to the changes that come with war.
During their first tour, Welter and his unit were greeted as liberators. During the second, they fought a growing rebellion. Now, on the third, many say they are angry to be back, shaken by the loss of more friends and feeling old beyond their years.
"I'm 22 years old. It really feels like I'm 30," Welter said. "I've seen more and done more things at 22 than most people have in 40 years."
Evidence of victory is scant, those interviewed said. Some are stunned that, after all the sacrifices they and others have made, so many Iraqis now seem to hate them.
Their choice to serve has put them on the battlefield three times in three years. Now, many say they just want to go home.
'I just want to live an easy life'
Their commander, Lt. Col. Eric Smith, sees the wear and tear.
"This takes a mental toll on these guys," said Smith, 40, of Plano, Texas, who was wounded in combat during a tour last year in another command position.
"I do know they get tired, and I do know they've changed," Smith said. "I mean, their counterparts [back home] are running around getting ****ed off because they were unable to register for Psych 303 and they have to start their senior year. These guys are running around worried about being supplied with .50-caliber ammo and not getting shot tomorrow."
The man working to re-enlist them explained the hardships.
"They've done their war, and they're done," said Staff Sgt. William Beschman, the battalion retention officer. Unlike the Marine Corps as a whole, the battle-scarred 1st Battalion, 5th Marines, will not meet its re-enlistment goal this year. Sizable re-enlistment bonuses - a year's salary, or about $20,000 tax-free if they sign up while in Iraq - got few takers. Of 287 first-term Marines in the battalion, just 50 are staying. The goal is 58.
And veterans of the battalion now have a look about them. In Vietnam, it was called the "thousand-yard stare": a weariness devoid of emotion. Cpl. Mike Kelly, 23, wore it as officers awarded him a Navy commendation for valor at a battalion headquarters ceremony last month.
He's heading home to Boston with hopes of opening a bar. His four-year enlistment - including three tours of duty in Iraq - is almost over. "I just want to live an easy life," he said after the ceremony. "A normal job, nothing fancy. A working stiff. That's my dream."
So does Cpl. Richie Gunter. "I just want to go back to the way things are," said Gunter, 30, who longs to trade cammies for a T-shirt and jeans and work on the family's tomato farm in Woodland, Calif.
Their loved ones suffer with them. Danielle "Dani" Thurlow of Coloma, Mich., has watched her fiancé, Cpl. Ryan Kling, 22, grow colder and angrier with each tour. "He's pushing his luck," she said.
"I tell a lot of people: I wouldn't wish this on anyone," said Thurlow, 19. "It's very hard. It really is. You're just looking toward the end. That's all you want, is for it to be over."
And Ken Frederking, 69, said he lives in fear that his oldest grandchild, Jimmy Welter, may never find his way home. "What this kid has gone through at his age, it's incredible," the grandfather said. "It just seems like he can't escape."
Keeping in touch with their families - through letters, e-mails and telephone calls - is essential to preserving morale, said Smith, the battalion commander.
"You've got to make sure to not let the Marines get mean," he said. "You can't let the guys go home without their humanity."
Listening to Metallica
Ramadi, a city of 250,000 people along the Euphrates River, is the capital of volatile Anbar province, which includes Fallujah and stretches west to the borders of Jordan and Syria. The governor here is the third in as many months. The first one quit out of fear of reprisal for working with Americans. The second was assassinated.
Tips about insurgent activities in the city have been increasing, Smith said. Still, the largely Sunni Arab population here seems either indifferent toward or outright supportive of the guerrillas. Barely a thousand people here participated in elections in January.
Clerics have routinely preached violence against Marines. Early this month, loudspeakers from the Saman Mosque in Ramadi blared: "My God: Victory to the enemy of America!"
Marines estimate that there are roughly 2,000 potential insurgent fighters here, rallied by a hard core of perhaps 150 full-time combatants skilled at sniping and roadside bomb ambushes. Suicide car bombers are also a threat.
"They kill us. We kill them," Smith said grimly. He could easily use two more battalions of about 850 Marines each, he said.
With the assistance of two Army battalions operating on the city edge, the Marines have incrementally brought limited security to Ramadi. They do this by aggressively sending out daily and hazardous "presence" patrols, on foot or in armored vehicles. The official acronym for this work is security and stability operations, or SASO.
continued....
Courtesy of Mark aka The Fontman
By Gregg Zoroya
USA Today
RAMADI, Iraq - The day the Marines invaded Iraq, Cpl. James Welter Jr. killed his first man. During his second combat tour, he earned a commendation for leadership skills and coolness under fire, but he brought a nightmare home. Now, with only a few weeks left in his third fighting tour, his goal is simple.
He hopes to survive.
Welter - Jimmy to his friends - is among about 150 veterans of 1st Battalion, 5th Marines, here who have fought in Iraq three times since the war began in March 2003. Each trip has brought some of the harshest combat.
They were here for four months at the start of Operation Iraqi Freedom, when they were at the tip of the invasion spear. In the summer of 2004, during a second tour that lasted 4˝ months, they fought in the streets of Fallujah after insurgents there killed four American contractors, burned and mutilated their bodies and strung two of the corpses from a bridge.
Now, for seven months this year, the Marines are here in Ramadi, the capital of the insurgency and a city thick with roadside bombs. Snipers lie in wait, and at the exits of U.S. military installations, huge warning signs, some inscribed with a skull and crossbones, read: "Complacency Kills!"
The battalion has lost more men in Ramadi than anywhere else: 12 Marines and a Navy corpsman killed in action. Their 13 portraits hang on a wall in battalion headquarters - a grim reminder of what awaits outside the gate.
The frequency with which troops are being sent back to combat is unprecedented in the all-volunteer U.S. military, which was created in 1973 after the draft ended. To boost morale, commanders draw comparisons to the sacrifices of the Greatest Generation, those who fought for the duration of World War II. But that war is dust-covered history to those fighting here, and defense researchers concede that they do not yet know what back-to-back-to-back tours of duty will do to this military - or to those fighting.
"It's an open question as to how much we can ask of them," said James Hosek, a Rand Corp. specialist on military retention.
The Marine Corps sends troops to Iraq more frequently than the Army, but for shorter combat stints that don't last longer than seven months. Three Marine battalions, including the one in which Welter serves, have fought or are fighting for the third time; two more are preparing for third combat hitches. The Army deploys units for longer periods - usually 12 months - but less often. Some Army units are starting a second tour in Iraq this year.
Lt. Col. Bryan Hilferty, a spokesman for the Army's personnel division, said re-enlistments have held steady so far. "But we are keeping an eye on that," he said.
Studies about Vietnam veterans are of little use because the nation had a larger, conscript military then and combat was typically limited to a single 12- or 13-month tour. Hosek testified before Congress last year that what limited data exist suggest a third tour could sour the troops and their families and hurt re-enlistments.
Interviews with two dozen Marines in Ramadi, their commanders, and friends and family back home reveal the cost in human terms. Like Jimmy Welter, some Marines in this unit enlisted after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. But that patriotic fervor now seems spent. And what the Marines have endured - Welter's story is typical - speaks to the changes that come with war.
During their first tour, Welter and his unit were greeted as liberators. During the second, they fought a growing rebellion. Now, on the third, many say they are angry to be back, shaken by the loss of more friends and feeling old beyond their years.
"I'm 22 years old. It really feels like I'm 30," Welter said. "I've seen more and done more things at 22 than most people have in 40 years."
Evidence of victory is scant, those interviewed said. Some are stunned that, after all the sacrifices they and others have made, so many Iraqis now seem to hate them.
Their choice to serve has put them on the battlefield three times in three years. Now, many say they just want to go home.
'I just want to live an easy life'
Their commander, Lt. Col. Eric Smith, sees the wear and tear.
"This takes a mental toll on these guys," said Smith, 40, of Plano, Texas, who was wounded in combat during a tour last year in another command position.
"I do know they get tired, and I do know they've changed," Smith said. "I mean, their counterparts [back home] are running around getting ****ed off because they were unable to register for Psych 303 and they have to start their senior year. These guys are running around worried about being supplied with .50-caliber ammo and not getting shot tomorrow."
The man working to re-enlist them explained the hardships.
"They've done their war, and they're done," said Staff Sgt. William Beschman, the battalion retention officer. Unlike the Marine Corps as a whole, the battle-scarred 1st Battalion, 5th Marines, will not meet its re-enlistment goal this year. Sizable re-enlistment bonuses - a year's salary, or about $20,000 tax-free if they sign up while in Iraq - got few takers. Of 287 first-term Marines in the battalion, just 50 are staying. The goal is 58.
And veterans of the battalion now have a look about them. In Vietnam, it was called the "thousand-yard stare": a weariness devoid of emotion. Cpl. Mike Kelly, 23, wore it as officers awarded him a Navy commendation for valor at a battalion headquarters ceremony last month.
He's heading home to Boston with hopes of opening a bar. His four-year enlistment - including three tours of duty in Iraq - is almost over. "I just want to live an easy life," he said after the ceremony. "A normal job, nothing fancy. A working stiff. That's my dream."
So does Cpl. Richie Gunter. "I just want to go back to the way things are," said Gunter, 30, who longs to trade cammies for a T-shirt and jeans and work on the family's tomato farm in Woodland, Calif.
Their loved ones suffer with them. Danielle "Dani" Thurlow of Coloma, Mich., has watched her fiancé, Cpl. Ryan Kling, 22, grow colder and angrier with each tour. "He's pushing his luck," she said.
"I tell a lot of people: I wouldn't wish this on anyone," said Thurlow, 19. "It's very hard. It really is. You're just looking toward the end. That's all you want, is for it to be over."
And Ken Frederking, 69, said he lives in fear that his oldest grandchild, Jimmy Welter, may never find his way home. "What this kid has gone through at his age, it's incredible," the grandfather said. "It just seems like he can't escape."
Keeping in touch with their families - through letters, e-mails and telephone calls - is essential to preserving morale, said Smith, the battalion commander.
"You've got to make sure to not let the Marines get mean," he said. "You can't let the guys go home without their humanity."
Listening to Metallica
Ramadi, a city of 250,000 people along the Euphrates River, is the capital of volatile Anbar province, which includes Fallujah and stretches west to the borders of Jordan and Syria. The governor here is the third in as many months. The first one quit out of fear of reprisal for working with Americans. The second was assassinated.
Tips about insurgent activities in the city have been increasing, Smith said. Still, the largely Sunni Arab population here seems either indifferent toward or outright supportive of the guerrillas. Barely a thousand people here participated in elections in January.
Clerics have routinely preached violence against Marines. Early this month, loudspeakers from the Saman Mosque in Ramadi blared: "My God: Victory to the enemy of America!"
Marines estimate that there are roughly 2,000 potential insurgent fighters here, rallied by a hard core of perhaps 150 full-time combatants skilled at sniping and roadside bomb ambushes. Suicide car bombers are also a threat.
"They kill us. We kill them," Smith said grimly. He could easily use two more battalions of about 850 Marines each, he said.
With the assistance of two Army battalions operating on the city edge, the Marines have incrementally brought limited security to Ramadi. They do this by aggressively sending out daily and hazardous "presence" patrols, on foot or in armored vehicles. The official acronym for this work is security and stability operations, or SASO.
continued....