thedrifter
05-05-03, 02:42 PM
Remembering the faces of war
By Marine Corps Sgt. Joseph R. Chenelly
(May 4, 2003) — Operation Iraqi Freedom is evolving into a humanitarian relief mission, and my part is coming to an end.
Being a visually oriented person, my mind has instinctively cataloged the many memories I’ll bring back to the United States. The gallery of faces is much like the table of contents in a book.
I saw in my fellow Marines an uneasy relief when the war started. Through rubber gas masks, I witnessed eyes closing in prayer as we sat in concrete bunkers after an Iraqi missile hit outside Camp Commando, Kuwait.
The Marines peeled off the gas masks once the all-clear signal was sounded. Sweaty, blotchy faces emerged. We were thankful to be alive, but we knew we had a long way to go.
Not everyone was as fortunate as those of us safely in the bunkers that day. I spent several emotionally draining days during the war at U.S. field hospitals in Iraq.
I came face-to-face with war casualties -- servicemen who were wounded, some badly. Their bloodstained faces struggled to hide the involuntary wincing that accompanies nursing gunshot wounds or broken legs. But they pleaded with the doctors to get them back to the fray. I even met a couple of Marines who said they left on their own, hitchhiking back to their unit.
I saw pure misery on the face of a young Iraqi girl, who was badly wounded by shrapnel. A large piece was lodged in her head.
Astonishingly, she was still coherent. While Navy doctors, their faces sagging, examined the screaming 6-year-old, medics tried to distract her by drawing faces on inflated latex gloves.
Red tape threatened to keep the girl from getting desperately needed medical help. Cautious smiles flashed when word came that a deal had been worked out and she was to be flown to Kuwait. She is now recovering from brain surgery.
On April 3, I met the Iraqi man who put his personal possessions and safety aside to help Army Pfc. Jessica Lynch, the former POW. He risked everything by acting as a spy within a hospital controlled by regime death squads. A heartening, genuine goodness was clearly visible in his eyes.
He and his family left behind all of their relatives, friends and belongings, yet they wouldn’t stop saying how thankful they are. Many of the Marines tried to convey how grateful we were. We owe them for the life of one of our own.
I had the privilege to meet two other heroes -- the Marines who rescued the seven other ex-prisoners of war. They didn’t care about the importance of their actions. They saw it is as ‘’just getting the job done.’’ I sat down with Cpl. Christopher Castro and Lance Cpl. Curney Russell Jr. as they waited for a flight back from an Army base. They were the first Marines to push through sniper fire and reach the soldiers in a small dwelling in the Iraqi town of Samarra.
’’We have to get (back) to our unit,’’ Castro said. ‘’They’re still fighting. We can’t miss that.’’
I’ve seen that can-do attitude and perseverance in so many of the Marines in Iraq. The swift victory was no surprise to us. We believed our commanders when they said the war would be hard-fought but quick. It was not a false confidence.
If there was surprise, it was that Saddam Hussein’s troops didn’t use the expected chemical or biological weapons. But even after countless hours of training, I doubt anyone on our side was disappointed.
I think most of the Marines still in Iraq have no idea how successful they were. Some media outlets have reported that the combat operation is viewed as an astounding show of American capabilities.
Yet, in speaking with the infantrymen who helped topple Saddam’s statue April 9 in Baghdad, I see that they don’t quite grasp the significance of the event.
I’ve spent just about as much time in the Middle East over the past two years as I have at home. The experience of meeting so many people has been great, but there’s nothing I’m looking forward to more than seeing the faces of my loved ones back home.
U.S. Marine Corps Sgt. Joseph R. Chenelly, 26, a Rochester native and 1995 graduate of Fairport High School, is a combat correspondent now serving in Iraq. In 2001, he was among the first U.S. forces in Afghanistan.
Sempers,
Roger
By Marine Corps Sgt. Joseph R. Chenelly
(May 4, 2003) — Operation Iraqi Freedom is evolving into a humanitarian relief mission, and my part is coming to an end.
Being a visually oriented person, my mind has instinctively cataloged the many memories I’ll bring back to the United States. The gallery of faces is much like the table of contents in a book.
I saw in my fellow Marines an uneasy relief when the war started. Through rubber gas masks, I witnessed eyes closing in prayer as we sat in concrete bunkers after an Iraqi missile hit outside Camp Commando, Kuwait.
The Marines peeled off the gas masks once the all-clear signal was sounded. Sweaty, blotchy faces emerged. We were thankful to be alive, but we knew we had a long way to go.
Not everyone was as fortunate as those of us safely in the bunkers that day. I spent several emotionally draining days during the war at U.S. field hospitals in Iraq.
I came face-to-face with war casualties -- servicemen who were wounded, some badly. Their bloodstained faces struggled to hide the involuntary wincing that accompanies nursing gunshot wounds or broken legs. But they pleaded with the doctors to get them back to the fray. I even met a couple of Marines who said they left on their own, hitchhiking back to their unit.
I saw pure misery on the face of a young Iraqi girl, who was badly wounded by shrapnel. A large piece was lodged in her head.
Astonishingly, she was still coherent. While Navy doctors, their faces sagging, examined the screaming 6-year-old, medics tried to distract her by drawing faces on inflated latex gloves.
Red tape threatened to keep the girl from getting desperately needed medical help. Cautious smiles flashed when word came that a deal had been worked out and she was to be flown to Kuwait. She is now recovering from brain surgery.
On April 3, I met the Iraqi man who put his personal possessions and safety aside to help Army Pfc. Jessica Lynch, the former POW. He risked everything by acting as a spy within a hospital controlled by regime death squads. A heartening, genuine goodness was clearly visible in his eyes.
He and his family left behind all of their relatives, friends and belongings, yet they wouldn’t stop saying how thankful they are. Many of the Marines tried to convey how grateful we were. We owe them for the life of one of our own.
I had the privilege to meet two other heroes -- the Marines who rescued the seven other ex-prisoners of war. They didn’t care about the importance of their actions. They saw it is as ‘’just getting the job done.’’ I sat down with Cpl. Christopher Castro and Lance Cpl. Curney Russell Jr. as they waited for a flight back from an Army base. They were the first Marines to push through sniper fire and reach the soldiers in a small dwelling in the Iraqi town of Samarra.
’’We have to get (back) to our unit,’’ Castro said. ‘’They’re still fighting. We can’t miss that.’’
I’ve seen that can-do attitude and perseverance in so many of the Marines in Iraq. The swift victory was no surprise to us. We believed our commanders when they said the war would be hard-fought but quick. It was not a false confidence.
If there was surprise, it was that Saddam Hussein’s troops didn’t use the expected chemical or biological weapons. But even after countless hours of training, I doubt anyone on our side was disappointed.
I think most of the Marines still in Iraq have no idea how successful they were. Some media outlets have reported that the combat operation is viewed as an astounding show of American capabilities.
Yet, in speaking with the infantrymen who helped topple Saddam’s statue April 9 in Baghdad, I see that they don’t quite grasp the significance of the event.
I’ve spent just about as much time in the Middle East over the past two years as I have at home. The experience of meeting so many people has been great, but there’s nothing I’m looking forward to more than seeing the faces of my loved ones back home.
U.S. Marine Corps Sgt. Joseph R. Chenelly, 26, a Rochester native and 1995 graduate of Fairport High School, is a combat correspondent now serving in Iraq. In 2001, he was among the first U.S. forces in Afghanistan.
Sempers,
Roger