thedrifter
02-04-06, 06:02 AM
SHRIDER: Marines don't give sacrifice a second thought
By MARYLEE SHRIDER, Contributing columnist
Bakersfield Californian
Last Updated: Friday February 3rd, 2006, 5:44 PM
The debate over America’s presence in Iraq has raged since the first Marine set foot on the sand, but it’s never been a question for Pfc. Jimmy Gentile.
He’s been there, done that and would do it again.
So would Joe Hayes, the Tehachapi boy who fought side-by-side with Gentile in one of the fiercest battles of the war to date.
The two men met after boot camp in 2001 when fate and the U.S. Marine Corps assigned both to Golf Co., 2nd Battalion, 4th Marines. They became fast friends, training together, deploying together, and ultimately almost dying together in the Iraqi city of Ramadi, a town USA Today once labeled “the most dangerous place on earth.”
Hayes and Gentile (pronounced jen-TILEE) enlisted in 2001, a year after their high school graduations — Hayes from Country Oaks Baptist Community in Tehachapi and Gentile from Lee Summit North High School in Kansas City, Mo . The following year, with war imminent, Golf Co. was deployed to Okinawa, Japan, where Hayes and Gentile feared their enlistments would end before they got to Iraq.
Haunted by images of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, the thought of returning home without the chance to test their mettle on the battlefield was unacceptable.
“I joined the Marine Corps to serve my country,” Joe said. “They had a very wicked government over there. I wanted to fix that.”
“I enlisted to fight,” Jimmy said “That’s why I chose the Marines and the infantry.” Finally, in February of 2004 , nearly a year after the war began, Golf Co. was deployed to Combat Outpost, a military base in the heart of Ramadi, about 70 miles west of Baghdad.
The Marines were assigned to “win the hearts and minds of the Iraqi people,” but in the face of almost daily insurgent activity — pot shots from rooftops and regular reports of roadside bombings — those good intentions quickly soured.
Still, they had their daily duties, said Hayes, who, by this time was a corporal and a squad leader. Those duties included neighborhood foot patrols, a necessary but dangerous job that left Marines vulnerable to attack as they scoured streets for crudely-made bombs known as IEDs (improvised explosive devices). Each morning, before heading out, Hayes would lead his squad in prayer.
On the morning of April 6, Hayes and Gentile were among three 10-to-15-man squads patrolling a dense area of the city. The two friends were in separate squads, roughly a block apart, when they turned onto an avenue known as Easy Street.
The street was eerily silent. The squads were midway up the street when a storm of machine gun and rocket-propelled grenade fire burst from nearby rooftops, doorways and alleys.
Caught in the lethal crossfire with nowhere to run, Hayes and his squad hit the dirt and fired back.
“It was like getting pinned down on Chester Avenue, where the only way to hide is to get as close to the ground as quickly as possible,” he said.
One of Hayes’ men, Pfc. Deryk Hallal, took a round in the leg, shattering his femur. Hayes dashed headlong into enemy fire to retrieve his wounded comrade, dragging Hallal out of the melee to what he hoped was a safer spot. Hayes was attempting to dress Hallal’s wound when a second shot struck the young Marine, this time killing him.
Horrified and heartsick, Hayes forced himself to focus on the battle. Minutes later, an Iraqi grenade exploded just feet from his team, wounding every Marine in the squad, including Hayes. Despite their wounds, they continued the fight for another two agonizing hours. Meanwhile, about 200 yards up the street, Gentile and his squad were caught in their own horrific battle.
Gentile had just finished “clearing” a house, when, running to aid another Marine, he “felt someone pop up behind me.”
Gentile ran for cover but, a second later, heard a loud pop as a round from an AK-47 struck just under his right ear, shattering his jaw, blowing off part of his nose and severing his carotid artery. Bleeding profusely, but fully conscious, Gentile managed to run 50 feet back to his squad, which was holed up in an Iraqi house.
Struggling to breathe and blinded in his right eye, Gentile refused to lie down, fearing he’d bleed out if he did. As the battle raged, Gentile applied pressure packs and towels to his wound to staunch the heavy flow of blood.
With all available forces fighting in the streets of Ramadi, the Easy Street Marines were on their own. They were running low on ammo and Gentile was running out of blood when, three hours into the battle, Cobra helicopters suddenly appeared overhead, scattering insurgent forces. His life literally draining away, Gentile was relieved to hear the sound of Humvees, each armed with 50-caliber machine guns, rumbling up the street.
“What a wonderful sound,” he said.
Down the street, a grateful Hayes watched as the Cobras flew overhead. The battle over, he went looking for his best friend, but didn’t know him when he saw him.
“When Joe first looked at me, he didn’t recognize me — that scared me,” Gentile said. “Then he recognized my big ol’ Italian nose and hugged me.”
Hayes, Gentile and others wounded in the fight were rushed to Bagdhad, where Gentile underwent the emergency surgery that saved his life. He was sent to a military hospital in Germany where two days passed before he was stable enough to fly to the intensive care unit of Bethesda Naval Hospital in Maryland. There he would reunite with Hayes and other wounded veterans of Ramadi.
The reunion was short-lived. Hayes left the hospital the day after Gentile’s arrival, flying to Bakersfield to rest and recuperate. Three months later, the shrapnel wounds to his hand and shoulder healed, Hayes chose to return to Iraq to complete his enlistment.
“After being in a terrible fight like that, it does something to you — it leaves some feelings unresolved,” Hayes said thoughtfully. “I was able to fight and felt an obligation to the company.”
In recognition of his wounds and his “zealous initiative, courageous actions and exceptional dedication to duty,” Hayes was awarded a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star. He came home for good in September, 2004 and married fiancé Candace Neighbors the following December.
Now 22, the fit former Marine lives in Bakersfield and works as a supervisor for Kent Brewer Construction .
And Gentile? It’s taken 16 surgeries to repair the damage to his face, with at least five more to go. Gentile, also 22, was awarded his Purple Heart while still at Bethesda by Gen. Michael Hagee, Commandant of the Marine Corps.
True to form, Gentile refused to receive the medal lying down, insisting on standing as Gen. Hagee pinned the Purple Heart to his hospital T-shirt. Photos that captured following moments show Hagee with his hands on Gentile’s shoulders, urging the young Marine back to bed.
Gentile is still in the Marine Corps, stationed at Camp Pendleton, where he is on limited duty. He plans to start college once his medical retirement is official. Nearly every weekend, he drives to his adopted hometown of Bakersfield, where he is a fixture at Valley Baptist Church and a welcome visitor in the Hayes home. Mindful of his pal’s new marital status, Hayes often bunks with other Bakersfield friends.
“They just got married, so they need their time alone,” says Gentile with an affectionate glance at the giggling couple.
The actions of Golf Co. and others who fought in Ramadi on that fateful day are recorded in the History Channel documentary “Battlecry Iraq: Ramadi.” Gentile and Hayes are featured prominently in the documentary, but during their own retelling of the story are modest and matter-of-fact. Both men say they struggle to forgive the insurgents who shot them and killed their comrades, but hope time will heal that wound.
Gentile is strong and healthy, but will live with the after effects of his wounds for the rest of his life. Still, he doesn’t regret the streets of Ramadi, where he fought the good fight and found his faith in the bargain.
“A lot of good came out of this — more good than bad,” he said. “If my country needed me, I would do it again in a second.”
Marylee Shrider’s column appears Tuesdays and Saturdays. For comments or questions please contact her at mshrider@bakersfield.com or leave a voicemail at 395-7474.
Ellie
By MARYLEE SHRIDER, Contributing columnist
Bakersfield Californian
Last Updated: Friday February 3rd, 2006, 5:44 PM
The debate over America’s presence in Iraq has raged since the first Marine set foot on the sand, but it’s never been a question for Pfc. Jimmy Gentile.
He’s been there, done that and would do it again.
So would Joe Hayes, the Tehachapi boy who fought side-by-side with Gentile in one of the fiercest battles of the war to date.
The two men met after boot camp in 2001 when fate and the U.S. Marine Corps assigned both to Golf Co., 2nd Battalion, 4th Marines. They became fast friends, training together, deploying together, and ultimately almost dying together in the Iraqi city of Ramadi, a town USA Today once labeled “the most dangerous place on earth.”
Hayes and Gentile (pronounced jen-TILEE) enlisted in 2001, a year after their high school graduations — Hayes from Country Oaks Baptist Community in Tehachapi and Gentile from Lee Summit North High School in Kansas City, Mo . The following year, with war imminent, Golf Co. was deployed to Okinawa, Japan, where Hayes and Gentile feared their enlistments would end before they got to Iraq.
Haunted by images of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, the thought of returning home without the chance to test their mettle on the battlefield was unacceptable.
“I joined the Marine Corps to serve my country,” Joe said. “They had a very wicked government over there. I wanted to fix that.”
“I enlisted to fight,” Jimmy said “That’s why I chose the Marines and the infantry.” Finally, in February of 2004 , nearly a year after the war began, Golf Co. was deployed to Combat Outpost, a military base in the heart of Ramadi, about 70 miles west of Baghdad.
The Marines were assigned to “win the hearts and minds of the Iraqi people,” but in the face of almost daily insurgent activity — pot shots from rooftops and regular reports of roadside bombings — those good intentions quickly soured.
Still, they had their daily duties, said Hayes, who, by this time was a corporal and a squad leader. Those duties included neighborhood foot patrols, a necessary but dangerous job that left Marines vulnerable to attack as they scoured streets for crudely-made bombs known as IEDs (improvised explosive devices). Each morning, before heading out, Hayes would lead his squad in prayer.
On the morning of April 6, Hayes and Gentile were among three 10-to-15-man squads patrolling a dense area of the city. The two friends were in separate squads, roughly a block apart, when they turned onto an avenue known as Easy Street.
The street was eerily silent. The squads were midway up the street when a storm of machine gun and rocket-propelled grenade fire burst from nearby rooftops, doorways and alleys.
Caught in the lethal crossfire with nowhere to run, Hayes and his squad hit the dirt and fired back.
“It was like getting pinned down on Chester Avenue, where the only way to hide is to get as close to the ground as quickly as possible,” he said.
One of Hayes’ men, Pfc. Deryk Hallal, took a round in the leg, shattering his femur. Hayes dashed headlong into enemy fire to retrieve his wounded comrade, dragging Hallal out of the melee to what he hoped was a safer spot. Hayes was attempting to dress Hallal’s wound when a second shot struck the young Marine, this time killing him.
Horrified and heartsick, Hayes forced himself to focus on the battle. Minutes later, an Iraqi grenade exploded just feet from his team, wounding every Marine in the squad, including Hayes. Despite their wounds, they continued the fight for another two agonizing hours. Meanwhile, about 200 yards up the street, Gentile and his squad were caught in their own horrific battle.
Gentile had just finished “clearing” a house, when, running to aid another Marine, he “felt someone pop up behind me.”
Gentile ran for cover but, a second later, heard a loud pop as a round from an AK-47 struck just under his right ear, shattering his jaw, blowing off part of his nose and severing his carotid artery. Bleeding profusely, but fully conscious, Gentile managed to run 50 feet back to his squad, which was holed up in an Iraqi house.
Struggling to breathe and blinded in his right eye, Gentile refused to lie down, fearing he’d bleed out if he did. As the battle raged, Gentile applied pressure packs and towels to his wound to staunch the heavy flow of blood.
With all available forces fighting in the streets of Ramadi, the Easy Street Marines were on their own. They were running low on ammo and Gentile was running out of blood when, three hours into the battle, Cobra helicopters suddenly appeared overhead, scattering insurgent forces. His life literally draining away, Gentile was relieved to hear the sound of Humvees, each armed with 50-caliber machine guns, rumbling up the street.
“What a wonderful sound,” he said.
Down the street, a grateful Hayes watched as the Cobras flew overhead. The battle over, he went looking for his best friend, but didn’t know him when he saw him.
“When Joe first looked at me, he didn’t recognize me — that scared me,” Gentile said. “Then he recognized my big ol’ Italian nose and hugged me.”
Hayes, Gentile and others wounded in the fight were rushed to Bagdhad, where Gentile underwent the emergency surgery that saved his life. He was sent to a military hospital in Germany where two days passed before he was stable enough to fly to the intensive care unit of Bethesda Naval Hospital in Maryland. There he would reunite with Hayes and other wounded veterans of Ramadi.
The reunion was short-lived. Hayes left the hospital the day after Gentile’s arrival, flying to Bakersfield to rest and recuperate. Three months later, the shrapnel wounds to his hand and shoulder healed, Hayes chose to return to Iraq to complete his enlistment.
“After being in a terrible fight like that, it does something to you — it leaves some feelings unresolved,” Hayes said thoughtfully. “I was able to fight and felt an obligation to the company.”
In recognition of his wounds and his “zealous initiative, courageous actions and exceptional dedication to duty,” Hayes was awarded a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star. He came home for good in September, 2004 and married fiancé Candace Neighbors the following December.
Now 22, the fit former Marine lives in Bakersfield and works as a supervisor for Kent Brewer Construction .
And Gentile? It’s taken 16 surgeries to repair the damage to his face, with at least five more to go. Gentile, also 22, was awarded his Purple Heart while still at Bethesda by Gen. Michael Hagee, Commandant of the Marine Corps.
True to form, Gentile refused to receive the medal lying down, insisting on standing as Gen. Hagee pinned the Purple Heart to his hospital T-shirt. Photos that captured following moments show Hagee with his hands on Gentile’s shoulders, urging the young Marine back to bed.
Gentile is still in the Marine Corps, stationed at Camp Pendleton, where he is on limited duty. He plans to start college once his medical retirement is official. Nearly every weekend, he drives to his adopted hometown of Bakersfield, where he is a fixture at Valley Baptist Church and a welcome visitor in the Hayes home. Mindful of his pal’s new marital status, Hayes often bunks with other Bakersfield friends.
“They just got married, so they need their time alone,” says Gentile with an affectionate glance at the giggling couple.
The actions of Golf Co. and others who fought in Ramadi on that fateful day are recorded in the History Channel documentary “Battlecry Iraq: Ramadi.” Gentile and Hayes are featured prominently in the documentary, but during their own retelling of the story are modest and matter-of-fact. Both men say they struggle to forgive the insurgents who shot them and killed their comrades, but hope time will heal that wound.
Gentile is strong and healthy, but will live with the after effects of his wounds for the rest of his life. Still, he doesn’t regret the streets of Ramadi, where he fought the good fight and found his faith in the bargain.
“A lot of good came out of this — more good than bad,” he said. “If my country needed me, I would do it again in a second.”
Marylee Shrider’s column appears Tuesdays and Saturdays. For comments or questions please contact her at mshrider@bakersfield.com or leave a voicemail at 395-7474.
Ellie