Two Weeks in the Desert

[thedrifter]

A Soldiers Journal
Two Weeks in the Desert
By Lt. Col. Gerard F. Healy / U.S. Army Reserve Public Affairs

IN THE PERSIAN GULF — Nothing is easy; not in the desert, not with 20 pounds of gear strapped on. The flak vest goes on top of the Desert Camouflage Uniform. The load bearing equipment, or LBE, goes on top of the vest. The utility belt attached below includes two canteens of water and a nine-millimeter pistol. The protective mask is strapped across the flak vest. The water pouch goes atop all else.

The feeling is not unlike the little boy in "A Christmas Story." Bundled up in wintry clothes so much by mother, the boy falls immobile onto the ground, flailing his arms and legs. But, it is not quite so bad. We haven't had to don our chemical suits – yet.

As a member of an Army Public Affairs team, I am traveling with the 459th Multi-Role Bridge Company. The unit is headquartered at Bridgeport, W. VA. But this day it is in Kuwait, just south of Iraq. It is the early evening of March 19th. Around the camp, fires burn. Darkened figures of soldiers walk to pits and toss wood and trash inside as flames arch high.

Pride and professionalism are evident in the unit. Earlier today, it was heard in the story of how the unit placed 2nd in a field of 22 in a European bridge-building competition. It is also evident in the quietness of the unit's perimeter. Beyond the boats and bridge parts mounted on large vehicles, there are voices. Someone is yelling for a first sergeant. Someone else loudly asks for a Sergeant Brown. In contrast, the quiet within the 459th area is almost unnerving. Soldiers gather in small groups and talk lowly. One figure leaves and meets another small group and information is passed. All soldiers are in full battle gear; no head is without a kevlar helmet, no weapon is more than an arm's length away,

Capt. Timothey Vanderborne moves purposefully around the perimeter of the camp. As the commander, he performs last minute checks and talks often to 1st Sgt.Fred Bell. There is a question of enough water. Bell heads out into the dark to contact a neighboring unit. Later, he reports the water problem resolved.

Vanderborne, at about five feet, seven inches, is not tall. But even in the dark his movements are easily monitored. He moves with a display of energy, propelling himself forward with quick steps. At close range, his M-16 rifle sling at a 45-degree angle across his chest and a rubbery contraption that surrounds and holds his glasses distinguishes him from other soldiers.

"I want to get it done," he says, echoing the comments of many of his soldiers. By "it," he means the war with Iraq. The soldiers have been at Camp Hammer for eight days. They do not look worn down by the field conditions. Surprisingly, they move with energy. Their words and comments reveal impatience.

"I've been waiting 12 years," said one soldier standing by a wooden table outside a field-cooking shelter. "I wasn't at Desert Storm, but I'm here now." He looks around as though speaking for all the surrounding soldiers. "Let's do it." Heads nod in agreement.

As the fires burn the remnants of Camp Hammer, Vanderborne returns to his jeep, looking around the camp. 'I just wish we came here earlier," he says. "At Arifjan, the soldiers were losing their focus a bit. You could see it in their eyes." An earlier staging base, Camp Arifjan had a Post Exchange, fast-food restaurants, and ice cream shops. None of those luxuries visited Camp Hammer. "They're sharp now," adds Vanderborne.

As the commander of the 172-person unit, Vanderborne is responsible for everything the unit does or fails to do in the coming battle. When asked if the current situation or his responsibilities awe him, he flashes a quick smile. His face feigns puzzlement. "This?" he asks looking about. "This is nothing. Back home I manage a chemical plant."

Vanderborne and his entire company are members of the Army Reserve. It was last October when most members of the unit learned of their upcoming deployment. Four months later, they arrived in

Kuwait. With the variety of most Army Reserve units, the soldiers of the 459th include construction workers, college students, truck drivers, a school counselor, a policeman and even a bartender.

Today, around the perimeter of the camp, small bulldozers level dirt berms built only weeks ago. Assembly Area Hammer is being destroyed, erased from the desert landscape. Later, long rows of vehicles snake through departure pints. The immense convoy goes northwest, not yet into enemy territory, but closer to the coming fight.

At 4:31 a.m. this day, it is beyond the President's 48-hour deadline. America is at war and the men and women of the 459th MRB Company move toward Baghdad. Between these soldiers and Saddam Hussein's home is the Euphrates River. It is a river that flowed through the origin of civilization. Before the month ends, the members of the 459th may well bridge it.

Since leaving Hammer, it is hard to measure time in hours and days. There is driving time, which is almost all the time and there is sleep time. In between is the sitting-by-the-side-of-the-road-wondering-if-we-are-going-to-get-any-of-that-sleep time. Before getting six hours sleep, we travel close to15 hours.

March 20: Today, at 5 p.m., the unit got several energy boosting events. The first was the sight of numerous rockets, traveling in clusters northward, sent on their way by Multiple Launch Rocket Systems. The next event was the clear view of what appeared to be a SCUD missile, bright and high in the sky, arching directly over camp before suddenly disintegrating into the desert air. The third event was the word to don our chemical suits.

March 21: The big news of the day is that, surprisingly, no one seems to mind the chemical suits. The charcoal-lined, thick-clothed texture worked well in keeping out the desert's cold night air. At 8 a.m., the convoy moves out again. Creeping northwest at about 10 miles per hour across the desert this day and the next, we snack on sleep, about three hours at a time.

Like the desert path, the day goes on forever. It is a long day spent driving in what could quite arguably be the longest traffic jam in modern history. At 10:15, we arrive at a desert pass. A long fence that warns of electric shock stretch to both sides of the east and west horizon. Thirty meters of the fence is torn away. In case there is doubt, a sign on the near side of the fence is stuck into the dirt and sand. It's message is simple - 'Welcome to Iraq."

On the other side of the fence, down the road, two gentlemen in long flowing robes, tending their sheep, wave to the convoy. About six miles further down the road, a man of about 20 approaches the convoy with three children. A young girl gestures toward her mouth for food. Several soldiers hand over Meals, Ready to Eat, or MREs. About another mile down the road are tents, patched together with various styled cloth. Off to the side of one of the tents are two pick-up vans. As the convoy crawls along, the Bedouins with the MREs head back toward their tents.

This day, a Global Positioning System, or GPS, reveals that our convoy is averaging less than 10 miles per hour. From the short band radio, a reporter from the British Broadcasting System, or BBS, was reported from somewhere in the long convoy that includes the 459th. He spoke of traveling relentlessly through the night. Several soldiers laugh. "Slowly, but relentlessly," someone observes. Also, from the radio, we learn that part of Iraq is in the control of the Marines and that Special Forces units possibly control oil fields in the north.

By afternoon, the immense long line of vehicles has taken a toll on the hard-packed desert dirt. Almost impenetrable with a shovel earlier, now the main road has been ground into a substance almost as fine as talcum powder. At least three vehicles of the unit get stuck, as the convoy continued along. At 6:18, we arrive at a resting position. The vehicles would rejoin the unit days later, welcomed with loud applause.

March 22: Twice during the night the unit prepared to move out, but stood down. At 6:30 a.m., we are underway. We learn from BBC, that Turkey has now allowed military overflights. Also, we learn that Baghdad was bombed hard during the night. By two o'clock in the afternoon, the GPS reveals that we are 50 miles into Iraq.

During the night, the unit received a mission to assist other units stuck in the sand. Following this mission, traveling is slow across the desert. Several times the unit pulls to the side of the road to allow other units to go forward. By 6:30 p.m. we pass through another assembly area that was in the early stage of development. Marine Cobra gunships land and take off while we continue on our way.

March 23: The radio reports today tell of Marine forces heading for a town we are to go through. It is called An Nasiriyah. The convoy reaches a main highway today. The thought of leaving large swirling dust storms that reduce visibility at times to only two feet, boosts morale. However, with all traffic headed north and none going south, the congestion continues.

After 22 hours of on and off driving, the unit gets to sleep at 5:15 a.m. Three hours later, the soldiers are up; some shaving, others heating up MREs.

The commander meets with a Marine element that has just taken operational control of the 459th. Returning from the meeting the commander announces, "We're going south." It is hard for exhausted faces to look stunned, but the faces around the commander's jeep come close.

"Baghdad is north," says one officer. 'What's south - Korea?" asks a soldier.

continued....

[thedrifter]

At 5:30 p.m., the unit moves out. We are to travel south, link up with a separate Marine element and proceed north on another route. In the distance, we hear the sounds of a battle. It is too far to hear the small arms fire, but the thumping sounds of the artillery as they smash into the ground are routine. Tanks and armored personnel carriers race past us during the night. As our convoy pulls to the side of the road, Marine Cobra helicopters thunder overhead, moving north quickly.

On the radio, BBC reports of "fierce resistance" in An Nasiriyah. Our route is altered and we move to another assembly area. Shortly after 1:30 a.m., tired soldiers fall asleep.

March 24: Most of the unit has finished eating by 7 a.m. On he radio, Marines have been reported dead nearby. Other American soldiers were put on television in violation of The Geneva Convention. The unit members spend the day collecting much-needed rest as plans for following operations are reworked. Radio reports say up to 25 Americans have died in fighting to date. Rumors that will continue for days say the POWs were executed by Iraqi soldiers.

Most of the day is spent on personal hygiene and maintenance of equipment. High angelic voices sing loudly from a CD player in a soldiers truck "You can't always get what you want" over and over. Soldiers walk by smiling without comment. At 3 p.m., the unit gets word of a mission. We will go around the city with the on-going battle. We are to move out at 6 p.m. At 9 p.m., the convoy moves out.

During the convoy, the route changes and the unit goes to another holding site. Soldiers are told there was sniper activity in the current site the previous night. Also, we learn that the unit will go through the embattled city after all. Soldiers raise eyes and look briefly around at each other when this news is announced. Soldiers stay in their trucks at the wheels, motors running off and on for four hours since the departure time was uncertain. Explosions and flashes of light can be seen throughout the night from the area of the city we will visit. Around the holding area wild dogs bark madly at the military vehicles. Getting no food they turn on each other. Several yelp in pain and run away making a strange high-pitched squealing sound.

March 25: "A lot of sitting, a little bit of driving, no sleep," a soldier says as he passes a truck. The convoy has been moving off and on since 3:15 a.m. But we make no real progress until shortly after 7:45, when maps of the troubled city are passed out. The maps reveal where the convoy members may expect enemy small arms fire or artillery rounds to come from.

At 8:15 we pass artillery placements 100 meters in from the road on the west. Further along, large Iraqi military trucks burnt and mangled litter the road. Beyond the "Welcome" sign to An Nasiriyah, the convoy moves slowly toward black smoke. Closer, the smoke is seen to rise from an open fire outside oil storage tanks. Just inside the town, the city seems peaceful and poor. Villagers look on curiously as Cobra helicopters fly overhead. The convoy begins to cross a river at 8 a.m. On the other side of the bridge a large color portrait of Saddam Hussein greets the soldiers. Seconds later, there is gunfire. It is small arms fire - single-shot rifles and machine guns. An Iraqi troop carrier still smokes off to the side of the road.

Suddenly, two Cobra gunships fly over the convoy, right to left. The lead Cobra dips at an angle toward the city, firing down at a target beyond the houses we see. To the right of the convoy is open terrain. On the left are rows of Marines in firing positions, some in vehicles, some lying on the ground. They also open fire, their rounds going between vehicles of the convoy, beyond the open spaces to houses about 300 meters away. Two single-shot rifles come from the city. They are answered with a barrage of fire from the Marines.

The convoy moves slowly onward. Further ahead, Marine placements are dug in on both the right side of the road and in the median on the left side of the convoy. Sporadic fire continues until the convoy crosses the second bridge and exits the city. Ten minutes after leaving the place some call "Dodge City" a radio announcer speaks of the fierce fighting still taking place in the convoy's wake.

An hour later, we pass the dead body of a man. He lays face down on the street. He appears to have been hit or run over by a large truck. Beyond him, to the left is a minivan, riddled with bullets and tossed on its side.

At 10:40 a.m., a truck from behind sounds three loud blasts from its horn. After hesitating, the blasts sound again. It is a signal of possible chemical contaminants in the area. Convoy members don their masks. Fifteen minutes later the "all-clear" message is given.

The wind picks up after leaving the city. A tumbleweed to the side moves beyond the length of a football field in only seven seconds. For the next several hours, the convoy resumes the stop and go pattern that has become expected, if not welcomed. Then, we pass over a small canal. This water too, is a light green color. It appears clean and refreshing. It flows like life or hope through its desolate surroundings. To the sides of the canal is only dirt. The dirt spreads out about 200 meters in all directions to a horizon. That horizon circles the convoy. From it a dusty cloud of brown rises about 300 meters into the desert air. Above us, at almost the same height is more swirling dirt and dust. It is as though a curse is upon the area for some past terrible sin.

I worry about the effects of sleep deprivation.

We stop and the Marines continue onward. From the trucks their faces reflect not exhaustion, more a tired weariness. They no longer seem curious as to which unit they pass. There are neither smiles nor waves. Their eyes do not scan the landscape. They have seen it already. Instead, they look down now, often at their weapons, which they rub slowly with brown rags. Their weapons are clean.

Again, the stop and go routine resumes. The convoy moves several hundred meters and stops. We wait and we go and we wait. At 3 p.m. a soldier walks by. "Making sure no one is sleeping," he says, wiping sleep from his eyes. While we sit, more Marine vehicles roll by. 'El Jefe," "Payback," "Angry American" are some of the names on the barrels of their tanks.

At 4 p.m. the convoy passes numerous dead bodies - perhaps twenty -- on the road. Bullet-ridden buses sit by the side of the road. Just beyond this point Marines stand guard on about 30 thin prisoners. They sit on the ground, their hands behind their backs and look at no one directly. The next day we are told that the buses with mostly men, but a few women and children on board had passed through a checkpoint, then the men emerged with rifles and a firefight ensued.

By 7 p.m. that night we get to sleep. Strong winds blow a sandstorm through the camp. Suddenly, the sound of large artillery rounds is heard from about only 300 meters away. "Sergeant. Lambert," a soldier yells. 'Sergeant. Lambert," he repeats with concern in his voice. "Are those incoming or outgoing?" No answer. Again, "Sergeant. Lambert!" this time with more urgency. "Are those rounds incoming or outgoing?" Then the answer, "Outgoing. It's OK. They're outgoing." Two more artillery rounds burst from the area. The soldier who asked the question seems to speak for all, 'Thank God," he says. Around him tired soldiers, only slightly relieved, struggle with sleeping bags in the dark amidst the sandstorm.

March 26: Iraqi interpreters familiar with the area tell both the Marines and the Army Reserve soldiers that the former mayor of the nearby town is a general in the Iraqi Army. He is suspected of organizing the resistance to the Americans in a nearby town. Civilians approach the interpreter and tell him that there are small arms weapons and missiles within the town and it is not safe for the convoy. Later a crowd begins to approach the convoy. They are turned back by the interpreter. The crowd of about 40 to 60 people begin to approach again. Warning shots are fired. Later in the day, more shots are fired. Several civilians are reportedly injured. A Marine major explained that the civilians, despite warnings, boarded a truck that contained a weapon.

As we continue north this day, the Marines establish a routine. Several of their elements leap frog ahead of the convoy and secure towns. After the unit reports the areas secure, the convoy moves forward. The convoy moves about 60 miles this day. Surprisingly, we do not pass through any town after "Dodge City." The road we travel passes the towns, usually on the east, but occasionally on the west. This allows the Marines to set up an offensive position just outside of the towns, where the villagers stay within. Of the five towns we pass this day, only one reveals a gathering of civilians. A group of about 50 young teenagers gathers by the road and wave in a friendly manner to the passing convoy. Marines on the opposite side of the road look on alertly, but without threat. The convoy rests from 9 p.m. to midnight and then again from 3 a.m. till 7 a.m.

This day provided also, the first sounds of normalcy since entering Iraq. Passing a creek, large bullfrogs croak. Later, birds sing to each other as they pass the waiting convoy. It has been the first sounds of nature since the quarreling dogs at an earlier stop.

continued......

[thedrifter]

March 27: The Marines moved northward at 8 a.m. One of the towns ahead is to be "Dodge City 2." The town includes an element of the Iraqi Republican Guard. Throughout the day, the sounds of firing and artillery can be heard. Helicopters are also seen frequently landing and leaving. The unit is told it has an impending mission, but the fighting up ahead will slow movement. The unit will stay in place for two days.

This is a day to get caught up on things left undone. Soldiers pour bottled water over themselves to shower, underwear and socks are changed, weapons cleaned and hasty fighting positions built. Throughout the night soldiers conduct security of the perimeter - two hours on, two off. As some soldiers prepare for bed, outgoing artillery booms from less than 1,000 meters away. Two rockets are launched. They arched high in a northwestern direction, falling silently beyond the horizon.

Hours later in the darkness past midnight, three flashes of light emerge, the shaking ground, and loud noises of bombs are heard to the west. The next day, we learn an aircraft dropped the rounds into a wrong area.

March 28: With the two-day delay, the priority of the unit is security. Hasty foxholes are expanded into two-man fighting positions today.

At 3 p.m., a large furor across the perimeter sends soldiers scrambling toward the road. Two buses and two small cars are along the ridgeline, stopped. The depiction matches earlier perimeter break-throughs that led to ambushes. An Iraqi interpreter boards the bus. He learns that the bus includes enemy prisoners of war being sent south. After much yelling, soldiers return to their foxholes. To everyone's surprise, hot food - ravioli - is served for dinner. Later, soldiers man their foxholes and listen as more artillery is heard hitting a town they may soon pass through.

March 29: Soldiers conducted security in two-man fighting positions through the night; three hours on, three hours off as the normal routine. Security is still the main concern. The perimeter is tightened to make way for more incoming Marines. Fighting positions are filled back in and new ones dug into the barren landscape to adjust for the new perimeter.

March 30: Radio reports say four American soldiers were killed by a suicide bomber when they approached a car. Soldiers remember the incident with the taxis and buses just days ago. Other reports mention the possibility of an operational stop. This is not welcome news to the 459th soldiers, who are still very much of the mind of "let's get this done." Soldiers fill in foxholes and take down communication equipment to prepare for a move to another location. The company does not move. Foxholes are rebuilt.

March 31: There is an early wake-up during the night as seven mortar rounds land near the assembly area. A Marine runs into the area, "Get in the foxholes. Get them in the foxholes." Soldiers not already on security detail head for their fighting positions. "Did you see that?" it sounds to be the same Marine. "They walked those rounds right down the road. That's how they start - first with mortars, then they follow them in." Later, the Marine Regimental headquarters estimated the mortars at 1.7 kilometers from the 459th's tactical operations center. The headquarters also reported that counter-battery fire fell on the enemy who launched the rounds. No more mortars fell and no enemy came.

April 1: We awake at 5 a.m. and the company begins lining up for movement at 5:30 a.m. Navy Construction Battalion (SEABEES) provide security for the unit as it moves westward and north, closer to Baghdad. At a nondescript intersection, there is a brief stop as the public affairs team headed south and the 459th continued north. The last hand I shake is of a Marine captain. He had walked the 459th's perimeter every night and coached them on infantry skills. "I hope your guys write good stories on these guys," he said. "They really are doing a great job."


Sempers,

Roger