Sparrowhawk
11-26-02, 07:23 AM
There are things in life we never forget.
Walking by the bodies of twelve Marines KIA early on the morning of the 26th.
Unable to fire at the enemy when we needed a medevac chopper to come in because the M-16 were malfunctioning, the M-60 finally giving out. I melted one barrel and the other malfunctioned because of the dirt and grim we were in, I cleaned the gun as best I could but the gun just refused to fire anymore.
The sad faces of Foxtrot Marines the same ones that had come in company force to rescue us just a few days before, were now grim with the weight of their heavy lost on their shoulders.
Lima Company Marines who had been fired on by Charlie only to move out of the area as Lima moved in and accidentally engaged Foxtrot Co, and lost some men due to friendly fire.
We never realized that we were fighting such a well trained military force. An enemy that was determined to have us pay a price in battle.
The same tactic that had worked on our Company on November 21 that led our Company away from us worked on a Lt in one of Foxtrot's platoons and they were sucked into an "L" shaped ambush, where they were met by a hail of bullets on the other side of a small hill and we couldn’t get to them. We got to the top of the hill two, three times only to be driven back down by a barrage of incoming fire.
Without an M-60 I felt useless, only my .45 pistol, once those rounds were fired, I remember Welsh and I pitching grenades to get a sniper in a tree, we pulled the pin, allowed the spoon to fly off then tried to time it, before we threw the grenade, until we finally got him.
Memories so long ago, yet so very fresh in my mind. The mud, and the rain, the coldness and the pain. How we all stuck together, those of us that remained, there was never a question of returning fire, only how much ammo we had. We huddled around a Marine who's weapon was firing, and cleaned the ammo we could in hopes that it woudl fire.
Having put together these pages this past few weeks has been very draining, deep thoughts never shared before have crossed my mind often.
At times I didn't want to post, but your visits here, some at mid-night East Coast time, coming here to see what had happened kept me going.
Because we all deserved answers to our questions and we all share a need to share those memories with someone that understands, thank you all for being here these few days.
Thanks for allowing me to share these memories with you.
It seemed like only yesterday we started this journey, now we're almost half way through our tour of duty. Soon we can began our countdown and we become short timers and the seasoned grunt in the field, simply because everyone else is gone.
SF
Walking by the bodies of twelve Marines KIA early on the morning of the 26th.
Unable to fire at the enemy when we needed a medevac chopper to come in because the M-16 were malfunctioning, the M-60 finally giving out. I melted one barrel and the other malfunctioned because of the dirt and grim we were in, I cleaned the gun as best I could but the gun just refused to fire anymore.
The sad faces of Foxtrot Marines the same ones that had come in company force to rescue us just a few days before, were now grim with the weight of their heavy lost on their shoulders.
Lima Company Marines who had been fired on by Charlie only to move out of the area as Lima moved in and accidentally engaged Foxtrot Co, and lost some men due to friendly fire.
We never realized that we were fighting such a well trained military force. An enemy that was determined to have us pay a price in battle.
The same tactic that had worked on our Company on November 21 that led our Company away from us worked on a Lt in one of Foxtrot's platoons and they were sucked into an "L" shaped ambush, where they were met by a hail of bullets on the other side of a small hill and we couldn’t get to them. We got to the top of the hill two, three times only to be driven back down by a barrage of incoming fire.
Without an M-60 I felt useless, only my .45 pistol, once those rounds were fired, I remember Welsh and I pitching grenades to get a sniper in a tree, we pulled the pin, allowed the spoon to fly off then tried to time it, before we threw the grenade, until we finally got him.
Memories so long ago, yet so very fresh in my mind. The mud, and the rain, the coldness and the pain. How we all stuck together, those of us that remained, there was never a question of returning fire, only how much ammo we had. We huddled around a Marine who's weapon was firing, and cleaned the ammo we could in hopes that it woudl fire.
Having put together these pages this past few weeks has been very draining, deep thoughts never shared before have crossed my mind often.
At times I didn't want to post, but your visits here, some at mid-night East Coast time, coming here to see what had happened kept me going.
Because we all deserved answers to our questions and we all share a need to share those memories with someone that understands, thank you all for being here these few days.
Thanks for allowing me to share these memories with you.
It seemed like only yesterday we started this journey, now we're almost half way through our tour of duty. Soon we can began our countdown and we become short timers and the seasoned grunt in the field, simply because everyone else is gone.
SF