thedrifter
09-28-07, 07:01 AM
Editor’s note: This is part one of a three part series focusing on the Marines of 1st platoon, Truck Company, Headquarters Battalion, Multi National Force – West.
Perhaps this war, on its most personal level, is not about dealing with gun fights or sneaking through alleyways; the Anbar Province has not seen full-scale combat in several months. To most, it is a fight to stay connected with a culture half a world away while finding comfort in the local heat and sweat. Service members rely on video games, magazines, new boots, cheeseburgers and other such luxuries to break up the monotony of a seven-day work week and create a sense of normalcy in a foreign place.
The Marines whose job it is to provide muscle and firepower to get these supplies to bases throughout the province virtually go unnoticed. They drive after the sun sets and only stay around long enough to see that the goods are safely delivered, and then they’re back on the road again. This is known as turn and burn.
Most of the time they do not know, or care, what is inside the large cargo containers on the back of the semitrucks. They only worry about completing the mission and surviving the roads that have killed in the past. They are the Marines of Truck Company, Headquarters Battalion, Multi National Force-West.
“Without stuff like PX supplies it would just make a lot of people’s lives crappy,” said Pfc. Paul Roder, a former mortarman turned motor transport operator, for 1st platoon. “All the (infantrymen) out in their (area of operations), if they couldn’t get the stuff we bring, it’d be miserable. I know it sucked when I was out there and we didn’t have anything.”
It was three hours before midnight and the beginning of Ramadan, the Muslim observance of the ninth month, as Marines gathered inside a plywood hut awaiting their preconvoy brief. The walls were dressed in maps of the province and a Marine recruiting poster stating, ‘Ready Still,’ faced them. A shot of laughter ricocheted off the silence.
A rumor started to spread that movie star Chuck Norris was coming to Fallujah. A group of Marines joked about what they would say if they got a chance to meet him, while others yawned their way to consciousness. Although it was rapidly approaching midnight, it was the beginning of the work day for these members of Warhorse 1.
Marine leaders had received information that more attacks were likely during Ramadan. Terrorist’s propaganda declared a greater reward if Muslims were to martyr themselves during this month, killing as many coalition troops as possible in the process.
Marines took notes as the convoy commander, 2nd Lt. Lee J. Stuckey, went over possible threats terrorist could use against the convoy. They would escort 49 trucks 20 miles to Baghdad International Airport; a convoy that would span more than seven kilometers and take more than eight hours roundtrip to complete. They would drive straight through the beginning of the most recognized holiday of the Muslim world and straight into a hidden improvised explosive device.
But the Marines train for this, even while at war. In fact, they’ve trained more since arriving in Iraq than they did in the states. This, according to Stuckey, is what keeps everyone alive.
“I think the level of proficiency, the dedication and the amount of training they do to prepare themselves makes a huge difference,” said Stuckey. “I’m constantly telling them to always prepare for the worst and you’ll set yourself up for success.”
Silhouetted against the desert horizon, the long, winding convoy resembled a sluggish northbound train. War trucks were scattered between the civilian tractor trailers. The convoy stretched more than seven kilometers. Throughout the trip, distant voices and static came across the radio.
The convoy reached Baghdad just after midnight.
“Happy Ramadan,” Stuckey said through the head set. That got a few laughs.
Hundreds of trucks lined dimly lit, dusty roads inside the base. The trucks that had just arrived had to wait for other trucks to leave, and created a traffic jam that could have impressed any New Yorker. It resembled a NASCAR race if it were held on the moon.
Several enormous military seven-ton vehicles and smaller humvees darted between the noncombatant trucks. Civilian drivers stood outside their vehicles stretching and smoking cheap cigarettes, too tired to remain sitting behind their steering wheels.
The civilian trucks look similar to semitrailers on U.S. highways, although many are made by luxury car manufacturers. They are driven by foreigners or third country nationals, also known as TCNs. They carry everything from pillows to Iraqi uniforms, both essential on opposite levels.
It seemed like an early morning mirage inside the wire of BIAP, Marines in their vehicle turrets passing back and forth. The sound of men shouting orders mixed with hundreds of idling engines as fumes of diesel, exhaust and burning garbage filled the air.
Marines did not have time to wait for each truck to find a parking spot. Half their job was done, but they still had to get home.
It was not long after the Marines of 1st platoon left the confines of BIAP that their convoy came to a halt. An IED had been spotted and no one was going anywhere until it was diffused.
Hours later, while sitting inside their vehicles surrounded in the darkness of a moonless desert sky, the reassuring deep thud was heard miles away. This signified the hidden bomb had been destroyed.
“That was it,” said the gunner. “Did you hear it? Let’s get the hell outta here.”
Marine drivers quickly stepped on the accelerator, crossing dirt medians and traffic lanes, avoiding Iraqi soldiers and convoys who lined the highways that night. Just like a parade, there was only time to wave and smile as Truck Company jetted passed the men who were wearing uniforms supplied by convoys such as this one.
Soon thereafter, as the Marines approached Camp Fallujah, the sun peered over the horizon. Those inside camp were getting ready to start their day as these Marines were approaching an end to theirs. They will spend the following day cleaning vehicles and weapons before heading back to their rooms where they will try to find comfort in movies, music and video games, which certainly seem to create an environment closer to home and further from the dangers of war.
Perhaps this war, on its most personal level, is not about dealing with gun fights or sneaking through alleyways; the Anbar Province has not seen full-scale combat in several months. To most, it is a fight to stay connected with a culture half a world away while finding comfort in the local heat and sweat. Service members rely on video games, magazines, new boots, cheeseburgers and other such luxuries to break up the monotony of a seven-day work week and create a sense of normalcy in a foreign place.
The Marines whose job it is to provide muscle and firepower to get these supplies to bases throughout the province virtually go unnoticed. They drive after the sun sets and only stay around long enough to see that the goods are safely delivered, and then they’re back on the road again. This is known as turn and burn.
Most of the time they do not know, or care, what is inside the large cargo containers on the back of the semitrucks. They only worry about completing the mission and surviving the roads that have killed in the past. They are the Marines of Truck Company, Headquarters Battalion, Multi National Force-West.
“Without stuff like PX supplies it would just make a lot of people’s lives crappy,” said Pfc. Paul Roder, a former mortarman turned motor transport operator, for 1st platoon. “All the (infantrymen) out in their (area of operations), if they couldn’t get the stuff we bring, it’d be miserable. I know it sucked when I was out there and we didn’t have anything.”
It was three hours before midnight and the beginning of Ramadan, the Muslim observance of the ninth month, as Marines gathered inside a plywood hut awaiting their preconvoy brief. The walls were dressed in maps of the province and a Marine recruiting poster stating, ‘Ready Still,’ faced them. A shot of laughter ricocheted off the silence.
A rumor started to spread that movie star Chuck Norris was coming to Fallujah. A group of Marines joked about what they would say if they got a chance to meet him, while others yawned their way to consciousness. Although it was rapidly approaching midnight, it was the beginning of the work day for these members of Warhorse 1.
Marine leaders had received information that more attacks were likely during Ramadan. Terrorist’s propaganda declared a greater reward if Muslims were to martyr themselves during this month, killing as many coalition troops as possible in the process.
Marines took notes as the convoy commander, 2nd Lt. Lee J. Stuckey, went over possible threats terrorist could use against the convoy. They would escort 49 trucks 20 miles to Baghdad International Airport; a convoy that would span more than seven kilometers and take more than eight hours roundtrip to complete. They would drive straight through the beginning of the most recognized holiday of the Muslim world and straight into a hidden improvised explosive device.
But the Marines train for this, even while at war. In fact, they’ve trained more since arriving in Iraq than they did in the states. This, according to Stuckey, is what keeps everyone alive.
“I think the level of proficiency, the dedication and the amount of training they do to prepare themselves makes a huge difference,” said Stuckey. “I’m constantly telling them to always prepare for the worst and you’ll set yourself up for success.”
Silhouetted against the desert horizon, the long, winding convoy resembled a sluggish northbound train. War trucks were scattered between the civilian tractor trailers. The convoy stretched more than seven kilometers. Throughout the trip, distant voices and static came across the radio.
The convoy reached Baghdad just after midnight.
“Happy Ramadan,” Stuckey said through the head set. That got a few laughs.
Hundreds of trucks lined dimly lit, dusty roads inside the base. The trucks that had just arrived had to wait for other trucks to leave, and created a traffic jam that could have impressed any New Yorker. It resembled a NASCAR race if it were held on the moon.
Several enormous military seven-ton vehicles and smaller humvees darted between the noncombatant trucks. Civilian drivers stood outside their vehicles stretching and smoking cheap cigarettes, too tired to remain sitting behind their steering wheels.
The civilian trucks look similar to semitrailers on U.S. highways, although many are made by luxury car manufacturers. They are driven by foreigners or third country nationals, also known as TCNs. They carry everything from pillows to Iraqi uniforms, both essential on opposite levels.
It seemed like an early morning mirage inside the wire of BIAP, Marines in their vehicle turrets passing back and forth. The sound of men shouting orders mixed with hundreds of idling engines as fumes of diesel, exhaust and burning garbage filled the air.
Marines did not have time to wait for each truck to find a parking spot. Half their job was done, but they still had to get home.
It was not long after the Marines of 1st platoon left the confines of BIAP that their convoy came to a halt. An IED had been spotted and no one was going anywhere until it was diffused.
Hours later, while sitting inside their vehicles surrounded in the darkness of a moonless desert sky, the reassuring deep thud was heard miles away. This signified the hidden bomb had been destroyed.
“That was it,” said the gunner. “Did you hear it? Let’s get the hell outta here.”
Marine drivers quickly stepped on the accelerator, crossing dirt medians and traffic lanes, avoiding Iraqi soldiers and convoys who lined the highways that night. Just like a parade, there was only time to wave and smile as Truck Company jetted passed the men who were wearing uniforms supplied by convoys such as this one.
Soon thereafter, as the Marines approached Camp Fallujah, the sun peered over the horizon. Those inside camp were getting ready to start their day as these Marines were approaching an end to theirs. They will spend the following day cleaning vehicles and weapons before heading back to their rooms where they will try to find comfort in movies, music and video games, which certainly seem to create an environment closer to home and further from the dangers of war.