Marines in Iraq Trade Training for Bullets

[thedrifter]

Marines in Iraq Trade Training for Bullets
Thu Apr 15, 3:02 AM ET

By LOURDES NAVARRO, Associated Press Writer

FALLUJAH, Iraq - On a rooftop overlooking Fallujah's industrial wasteland, Lance Cpl. Tom Browne pokes his machine gun muzzle out of a hole in a barrier wall, singing to himself to pass the time.


In the street below, the corpse of an insurgent suspect lies baking in the sun. Browne, from Boston, says he has killed several rebels, probably Iraqis, so far.


"I don't even think about those people as people," he says.


It wasn't supposed to be this way.


The band of Marines in this insurgent stronghold received two big orders this year. They were told to return to Iraq (news - web sites) to stabilize the Sunni areas west of Baghdad, Iraq's toughest patch of territory. The normally clean-shaven Marines were also told to grow mustaches in an attempt to win over Iraqis who see facial hair as a sign of maturity.


"We did it basically to show the Iraqi people that we respect their culture," said Lance Cpl. Cristopher Boulwave, 22, from Desoto Texas.


But after the brutal killing of four American contractors in Fallujah on March 31, they tossed aside such pretenses. First to go were the mustaches.


"When you go to fight, it's time to shoot — not to make friends with people," said Sgt. Cameron Lefter, 34, from Seattle.


In the fight for Fallujah — which has killed more than 600 Iraqis, according to city doctors, and around a dozen Marines


_ the Marines now seem to be following the second half of their famous motto: "no better friend, no worse enemy."


The Marines say it's easier to cope with the daily work of killing inside Fallujah, where a seemingly unending supply of rebels continues to fight, if they don't think about the suspected Iraqi rebels they are targeting as people who, under different circumstances, they might have been trying to help.


"If someone came and did this to our neighborhood I'd be ****ed too," said Capt. Don Maraska, of Moscow, Idaho, a 37-year-old who guides airstrikes on enemy targets in the town. "I've never had people look at me the ways these people look at me. I don't know what came before, but at this point, what else can we possibly do but fight?"


The Marines were hoping to lull Fallujah and al-Anbar province into a state of well-being by passing out $540 million in rebuilding funds, and showing off a more educated attitude about Arab sensitivities than they believed their U.S. Army predecessors displayed.


Before returning to Iraq, the Marines took a crash course in cultural training that included a video teleconference with an Arabic studies professor and the distribution of a culture handbook with tips warning against showing the soles of their feet or eating with their left hands.


Around three dozen Marines from one unit took a three week intensive language course in Arabic. And of course, they grew mustaches.


"We grew them for the Iraqi people. We shaved them off for us," Lt. Col. Brennan Byrne, who originally ordered his men to sport the facial hair, said.


These days, the Marines are speaking a more familiar language.





"We didn't initiate this," said 1st Marine Regiment Commander Col. John Toolen. "I came in here with more money than bullets. Now I'm running out of bullets but the money is still in my pocket."

The Marines are frustrated with the negotiations to halt the firing in Fallujah. Many say they want to finish the battle, take control of the rebel city by brute force — whatever it takes — rather than wait for Iraqi negotiators to thrash out a deal to stop the fighting.

"We're the guys that go in and put out foot in the door," said Maraska, a veteran of the first Gulf War (news - web sites) and Somalia. "We'll do any mission. But we're better at pushing and fighting."

Behind the front line, Marines are trying to supply the holed-up locals that they encounter with food and water, one of the few areas their cultural training is put into use.

But Cpl. David Silvers, based in a front-line building nicknamed "the tower," says his experience with Iraqis has been limited to dodging bullets from a persistent and shadowy gunman he dubbed "Bob the sniper."

"He's the guy who wakes us up every morning and fires at us all day. He hasn't got anyone yet but he's come close a few times," Silvers said.

Even though the Marines have given Bob his name, they say they still want to kill him.

"This is the closest relationship I have with an Iraqi right now," Silvers said.


http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmp...es_get_tough_1


Ellie

[thedrifter]

In the siege of Fallujah, a kilt-wearing Michigan Marine plays his bagpipes


Associated Press
4/15/2004



FALLUJAH, Iraq - Amid the clatter of gunfire and explosions that regularly rock this city, an unexpected sound rises over the front line - bagpipes.

Dressed in Marine fatigues with his gun at his side, 1st Sgt. Dwayne Farr, 36, of Detroit blows into his set of pipes. The plaintive wail is carried by the wind that whips across this dust-blown, war-torn town.

"Playing on the battlefield - I never thought that would happen," Farr said.

Farr, an African-American from Detroit, was inspired to learn when he saw another player who didn't match the Scotsman stereotype.

"I was at a funeral and I saw a Marine playing the bagpipes, and I thought, this isn't a big, burly, redheaded guy with a ponytail and a big stomach. He's a small Hispanic Marine. I said if he can learn to play the bagpipes, I can learn," he said, chuckling.

When he is not on the front-line, Farr wears a kilt when playing, and some Marines have been skeptical about a member of one of the toughest fighting forces in the world donning what looks like a skirt.

But Farr is unfazed. He's looking for a desert camouflage kilt he can wear in operations like these.

"Kilts are something that fighting men wore many years ago, and we know that the Marines are fighting men," he said. "So real men wear kilts. And they are pretty comfortable too."

Among his admittedly limited repertoire is "taps," the tune traditionally played by the military when a service member is killed. Farr has played it several times over the past days in Fallujah.

Marines say the sound of the bagpipes is a morale booster.

"It's something to hear besides the rockets and gunfire," said Master Sgt. Rowland Salinas, 42, from San Antonio, Texas. "It's something that soothes the mind."


Ellie

[thedrifter]

Young U.S. Marines forge bonds, cope with death in war


FALLUJAH, Iraq (AFP) - Marine Corporal Robert Long watched a white-tailed deer cross the no-man's land in the Sunni rebel bastion of Fallujah before sunrise.

The deer moved beyond the treacherous industrial wasteland where insurgents and US marines have hammmered each other for the past week.

"It was a real deer," Long, 26, said in disbelief, holed up in a dilapidated cinderblock attic, with peeling wall paper of Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck and a gallery of Walt Disney characters.

Long had been thinking of his friend Lance Corporal Blake Wofford, killed by a gunman last Wednesday. Now he hopes that every man he shoots is the one who killed his friend.

Hours later, on the same spot where the deer roamed, one of Long's men sees an Arab male walking with his hands in his pockets near their position. Long asks the marine to move out of the way. He wants this kill himself.

He aims his M-16 rifle through the thin wood boards and sandbags providing cover and shoots the man dead.

"I think Blake this is for you. I hope this is the ****er who got you," Long says.

He defends his actions.

After intense fighting and public announcements calling for women and children to leave the city, he believes the only military-age male who could be walking on the streets without a white surrender flag is an insurgent.

"It's been rough on us," Long says as the body, clad in a black shirt and grey pants, lays in the dirt.

Long refuses to be burnt by the enemy. His comrade, Lance Corporal Ryan Deady, 20, agrees.

"We thought it was going to be good guys and bad guys. We thought it would be clear who were the innocent people, but everybody is shooting rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs)," Deady says.

"I feel numb. I used to feel sorry for them," he says, reflecting about the people killed in the intense urban warfare over the past week in Fallujah.

"It's getting ridiculous. Without my guys, I'd be in a padded cell."

Iraq has affected them deeply. Deady and Long rely on their 13-man assault squad to get by. Along with Wofford, Deady's best friend is Corporal Anthony Dori.

"We've been tight. We had no choice because we were stuck together, but we grew to love each other. Of course, we would never tell each other that," Deady laughs, embarrassed by his powerful sentiments.

He remembers the good times with Wofford.

When Deady woke up in a Tijuana, Mexico jail after busting into a candy store drunk and passing out behind the cash register, Wofford came to bail him out.

"He never let me live that one down," Deady says.

Now he and the others try to cheer themselves up. Deady and Dori joke that Wofford is up in heaven arguing with God. They talk about visiting his family in Texas when they leave Iraq.

They remember an expensive meal at a Mexican restaurant last summer when they celebrated coming home from the first war. They spent 12 dollars on water and 14 dollars on a plate of iceburg lettuce.

Everyone was alive then and no one could imagine they would be back in Iraq fighting for their lives one year later.

"We have to be there for each other. If someone's feeling ****ty, you tell jokes. Dori was looking for nail clippers for a week. So I gave him mine. It made his day," Deady says.

"These guys are my new best friends. I'm still friends with the guys back home. But we go through the same things here."


Ellie

[thedrifter]

A Day in the life...I Co. 3/24
Submitted by: I Marine Expeditionary Force
Story Identification Number: 2004415514
Story by Cpl. Matthew J. Apprendi



CAMP FALLUJAH, Iraq(April 15, 2004) -- The morning light conquered darkness at Camp Fallujah, Iraq, as Reserve Marines with India Company, 3rd Battalion, 24th Marine Regiment prepare for their mission: protecting the camp’s perimeter.

Dawn. The Marines exit a seven-ton truck into a haze formed by the sun’s rays filtering through the dusty landscape. For now, they are a part of the Quick Reaction Force – ready to respond to any threat.

The Nashville, Tenn. reserves' responses have resulted in the seizing of looters and the neutralization of an insurgent attack, since they took the helm of force protection from the U.S. Army’s 82nd Airborne Division on March 13.

“That’s the thing about reserves,” said Lance Cpl. Woody Maddox, from Nashville, Tenn. “We’re pretty impressive in the fact we can transition from our civilian lives to our military ones from just stepping off a plane.”

The Marines, donning armored vests and helmets, walked to their chariots. They began to clean and prepare the tactical vehicles for their shift.

Lance Cpl. William Harber, a machine gunner with the outfit, links strands of machine-gun rounds. When done, Harber, a native of Dickson, Tenn., said, with a thick southern drawl, “Are we fixn’ to get some chow?”

Approaching the chow hall, a long line of fellow Marines, sailors and soldiers confronted the team. They stepped in front of the line like they were celebrities entering a hot nightclub in Los Angeles. Force protection personnel have that privilege for being on call 24-hours and seven-days a week.

“It’s our humor and strong sense of camaraderie that keep us motivated everyday,” said Sgt. Joseph Pyadon, a platoon commander and Murfreesboro native. “Everyone is a joker out here.”

The Marines scarfed down their food, and then headed back to their staging area. Dismounting the vehicles, they entered their ready room.

They began playing cards – Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers lightly filled the room’s air.

They waited for the call to spring into action and defend their base.

“Every time I sit down and start to put that first piece of chocolate cake in my mouth,” said Lance Cpl. Neal Griffy, a Unionville, Tenn., native. “We get called. It’s inevitable.”

This time it was not the chocolate cake, it was the hand of cards that fell to the table when the Marines dashed to their vehicles.
Time blurred, the team exited the camp’s perimeter to react to a call received from one of I Co.’s security posts.

Approaching locals in the midst of a massive burial ground of Iraqi military equipment, the Marines motioned for them to drop their bags and raise their hands. They were collecting scrap metal to sell.

After searching the Iraqis and their bags, the Marines snapped photos of them and warned them not to return. If they do, the photos will help identify them.

“The (Iraqi) people out here are extremely nice, said Lance Cpl. Eli P. Stuard, a Chapel Hill, Tenn., native. “They wave. All they want us to do is wave back. It’s only a few who don’t wave – the one’s against our presence here.”

It was those few the Marines encountered.

One of their security posts was taking fire. The team assembled and reacted to the threat in the same manner they respond to any – fast.

“Whether it’s looters or a more serious threat,” said the Nashville State sophomore Maddox. “It’s time to get serious and neutralize it to keep the personnel safe.”

The Marines successfully secured the area during the nearly three-hour evolution, Pyadon said.

When the Marines finished their shift, it was time for the reaction force to recharge their bodies with sleep. The incoming team from I Co. took the helm.

The mission for this team will continue until the fall of 2004, when the team is scheduled to revert back to their civilian lives.

“It’s going to be an awesome homecoming,” said Stuard. “I’ll be seeing my second newborn, Chloe Grace. I’m going to be like, ’Girl, where you come from, you weren’t here when I left.’”



Marines with India Company, 3rd Battalion, 24th Marine Regiment exit a seven-ton truck after completing nightly force protection of Camp Fallujah, Iraq March 23, 2004. Photo by: Cpl. Matthew J. Apprendi

http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/mcn20...5?opendocument


Ellie

[thedrifter]

Marines Battle Boredom On Front Line
HeraldNet
April 16, 2004,


FALLUJAH, Iraq - It's been nearly a week since Marine forces here were ordered to suspend offensive operations - six days of twitchy boredom, punctuated by brief bursts of action.

In a dusty carpentry workshop piled with crates of ammo and water bottles, a dozen men have passed the time reading detective novels, swapping plastic-pouched ravioli for enchiladas and retelling stories of the latest Marine sniper kill or the mortar round that just missed their Humvee.

"When there's a lull like this, it's hard to keep your adrenaline high," said Lt. Adam McCully, 27. Here at the Alpha Company command post on Fallujah's urban front line, the Marines sit squarely between a deserted industrial zone and a residential area crawling with insurgents. But McCully said there is nevertheless "a constant battle against complacency."

Up on the roof, though, Lance Cpl. Tom Browne, 21, focused intently on the danger that could instantly shatter the calm of a mild spring day.

Stretched out behind a machine gun inside a small cement shed, he squinted through a niche at the empty blocks beyond, looking for the smallest sign of movement.

At 10 a.m. Wednesday, a man and woman tentatively crossed the alley, carrying a white flag. Browne trained his weapon on them but did not fire.

Five minutes later, another Marine on the roof spotted a man in a white robe, coming out of his house and bending over in his garden.

Browne tensed, watched, waited. The rooftop around him was littered with spent shell casings. In the distance rose the tiled minaret of a mosque, gouged by a missile hole.

"If he displays hostile intent, drop him," the other Marine whispered. The man in the white robe kept gardening, apparently oblivious.

Impatient, the other Marine squeezed off one warning round from his M-16, and the man scurried back inside.

"Nobody should be on these streets now," Browne remarked, still squinting down his gunsight. "We gave them a chance to leave, and if they didn't, chances are they are up to no good." By this point, he confided, "I don't really think of them as people any more."

Mean thoughts

Last Friday, the Marines suspended their push into the city of 200,000 and began urging women, children and old men to leave. Since then, at least 70,000 people are believed to have fled, but tens of thousands more remain virtually trapped in their homes.

But the troops on the front lines see only mean streets, and must think mean thoughts to survive. A white flag could be a ruse. A gardener could be digging up a weapon. Sometimes, the snipers shoot barking dogs to keep them from giving away hiding places.

Most Marines here grew mustaches before they arrived here last month, preparing for a mission to ensure security and build goodwill in a Muslim society where most men wear mustaches or beards. But two weeks ago, as they prepared to surround and attack the city after a series of insurgent attacks, they all shaved them off.

"We grew them when we thought this would be a different mission, a lot of peacekeeping stuff," said Lt. Mike Liguori, 25. "But then things changed, and our mindsets changed, too. Now we are here to win a battle. Frankly, it lifted the battalion's spirits to be pushing instead of waving and smiling."

Now, after nearly one week in limbo, with their drive into the city halted for humanitarian and diplomatic reasons, the combat-eager Marines recount with relish the gun battles that periodically erupt.

Dramatic escapes

For the last two days, the hot topic among troops at the Alpha Company post has been the mission by a quick reaction squad that fought its way through blocks of gunfire Tuesday evening to rescue the crew of an armored vehicle that had strayed onto enemy turf, was hammered with grenade fire and burst into flames.

Lt. Joshua Glover, 25, the taciturn officer who commands the rescue squad, stopped by the post Wednesday and was surrounded by admiring men with strong handshakes, high-fives and unprintable compliments.

Later, the Marines exchanged stories of their own dramatic escapes.

There was the mortar round that landed next to 20 men but split a nearby tree in half, diffusing the weapon's impact. And there were the machine-gun bursts that erupted in a workshop where three Marines were camped, causing a moment's panic.

"It was like a cartoon in slow motion. There were sparks and dust and chunks of cement flying everywhere," said Capt. Don Maraska, 37. "It was terrifying, but when it was over, there wasn't a scratch on us. We just sat there and shook for a while."

The men have coined nicknames for their unseen enemies here, like Bob the Sniper, who has repeatedly popped up on roofs, taken potshots at Marine positions and vanished. During the day, the men have learned when to expect enemy gunfire to start up, usually just after noon and then again at nightfall. They know which sounds they can ignore, and which mean they must drop their week-old copies of Stars and Stripes and dive for cover.

"A slow and steady boom-boom-boom is outgoing. A sharp and uneven pop-pop-pop is coming at you," Liguori said.

Settling into a routine

Back at the empty factory that the 1st Marine Battalion, 5th Regiment uses as a command base, the lull in fighting has allowed troops to develop a somewhat settled routine. Wooden outdoor showers have been built under a row of palm trees, and on Thursday a truckload of mail and care packages arrived.

At night, incoming mortar rounds often land outside the factory, shaking the warehouse and shattering glass. But in the early morning, softer sounds have awakened the troops napping on the floor between sleepless stints on the front lines.

First Sgt. Dwayne Farr, from Detroit, hefts his bagpipes over his flak jacket and wanders through the compound, tootling "Amazing Grace" and Scottish airs while rooftop snipers close their eyes to listen. An Army officer, sitting in a broken chair outside the warehouse, strums flamenco melodies on his guitar.

"It's nice to hear something besides the rockets' red glare and the bombs bursting in air," said Staff Sgt. Roland Salinas, nodding appreciatively to Farr's piping Thursday. "Out here, we all need something to soothe the mind."

Ellie

[thedrifter]

London Times
April 16, 2004

Stranded Marines Fight To Last Bullets
By James Hider, in Fallujah

THE 15 Marines were trapped in a house, surrounded by hundreds of Iraqis
armed with rocket-propelled grenades and assault rifles, their armoured
vehicle in flames on the street outside. Each man was down to his last two
magazines.
"It was in my head, we just got to go. Whoever makes it back, makes it back,
those who fall, fall," said Staff Sergeant Ismail Sagredo, sitting in the
relative safety of Bravo Company's forward base yesterday, as mortars and
machinegun fire sounded a few streets away.
"That was the decision I'd have had to make, and I'm glad I didn't have to
do it."
It was one of the most dramatic actions of the war.
Sergeant Sagredo, 35, had been in one of two Amphibious Assault Vehicles
running out from the Marines' frontline close to the centre of Fallujah,
trying to trap insurgents who had ambushed a supply vehicle.
But as they headed down the narrow, parallel streets of Fallujah, where
Sunni tribesmen have battled the Marines for more than a week, their vehicle
came under fire from rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs), the guerrillas'
weapon of choice.
Unable to turn the large vehicle around, the squad charged their attackers,
but lost contact when they hit a bend in the road. They were driving into
unknown territory. Then they turned another corner and saw hundreds of
guerrillas.
"I've never seen so many RPGs. A lot of them were propped up against the
walls with extra rounds," said the sergeant.
The Iraqis, not expecting a lone American vehicle so far behind their lines,
ran frantically for their weapons as the Marines opened up with M16 rifles
and machineguns.
Rockets started smashing into their vehicle. One pierced the armour at the
front, taking a large chunk out of the leg of Lieutenant Christopher Ayres,
the officer in command. The rocket did not explode, but hit the engine,
setting it ablaze.
Still under intense fire, the driver swerved south along a route known to
the Marines as "Sh**head Alley", desperate to find a turning to the east,
towards their own lines. The gunner was dead from enemy fire, and several
men had been knocked down by the continuing rounds of missiles.
The blaze was spreading toward the stockpiles of grenades when the engine
gave out completely.
With the engine dead, the rear gate would not open. The men had to climb out
of the hatch one by one, still taking small-arms fire. Luckily for them,
their dash down the gauntlet of Sh**head Alley had left their attackers - up
to 600 of them - behind. But only for a while.
"When we stepped out I was relieved. At least I wasn't going to burn," said
Lance Corporal Abraham McCarver, a machinegunner.
The men had to help Lieutenant Ayres, who was crawling blindly toward the
fire. Sergeant Sagredo and Corporal McCarver pulled him, but his webbing
caught on a rack.
They were still taking fire, conscious that the vehicle could explode at any
moment. Then the webbing ripped, and they carried the wounded officer to a
nearby house, kicking down the door.
The Marines took up firing positions on the roof as more than 150 Iraqi
gunmen converged on the small house.
"All the Iraqis surged south to join the festivities," Sergeant Sagredo
said. He now found himself in charge of an impossible situation reminiscent
of scenes in Black Hawk Down, the film of a doomed US raid in Somalia that
the sergeant had seen back home in America.
"It did remind me of that soldier being dragged through the streets back
then," he said, aware that a similarly gruesome scene had involved four US
contractors just streets away, the trigger for the Marines' invasion of
Fallujah.
Ironically, Bravo Company's call-sign is Blackhawk.
The Marines could hear the Iraqi fighters shouting outside, could see their
feet shadowed under the front gate.
"I opened a window because I heard voices and I thought it was Americans,"
said Corporal Koreyan Calloway. "There was a guy in a headscarf with an AK47
standing there looking at me, so I shot him."
The attackers were darting down narrow alleyways beside the house, and
lobbing grenades from neighbouring rooftops.
"They were running across our line of fire like we weren't even shooting at
them," the corporal said.
"It was just like a range, we were just shooting them down," said Corporal
Jacob Palofax.
In the midst of the firefight, with the armoured vehicle's munitions blowing
up, an ambulance pulled up. The Marines thought they were being rescued.
Instead, 15 men with RPGs jumped out and started firing.
The Americans were almost out of bullets. An Iraqi round hit a kitchen pipe
and gas started whistling out as RPGs slammed into the building.
A guerrilla burst through the gate with an RPG and was shot dead. Another
tried to follow and was wounded.
"Then the men started shouting that they could hear tanks. The first one
went past, then the second," Sergeant Sagredo said.
Horrified that the rescuers would miss him, Sergeant Sagredo radioed to tell
them to back up. They did. A rifle muzzle appeared through the gate, and
Captain Jason Smith of the 5th Marine Regiment came through shouting:
"Marines, Marines, friendlies!"
It took an hour for the tanks to hook up with the burnt-out vehicle, but
they were determined not to leave a dead Marine behind inside it.
Sergeant Sagredo does not want a medal for saving his men. "A decoration
would only remind me of what happened. This is something I want to forget.
Unfortunately, if it doesn't affect me now, I know it will haunt me later."


Ellie

[thedrifter]

Troops Blast Music in Siege of Fallujah

By JASON KEYSER, Associated Press Writer

FALLUJAH, Iraq - In Fallujah's darkened, empty streets, U.S. troops blast AC/DC's "Hell's Bells" and other rock music full volume from a huge speaker, hoping to grate on the nerves of this Sunni Muslim city's gunmen and give a laugh to Marines along the front line.


Unable to advance farther into the city, an Army psychological operations team hopes a mix of heavy metal and insults shouted in Arabic — including, "You shoot like a goat herder" — will draw gunmen to step forward and attack. But no luck Thursday night.


The loud music recalls the Army's use of rap and rock to help flush out Panamanian leader Manuel Noriega after the December 1989 invasion on his country, and the FBI (news - web sites)'s blaring progressively more irritating tunes in an attempt to end a standoff with armed members of the Branch Davidian cult in Waco, Texas in 1993.


The Marines' psychological operations came as U.S. negotiators were pressing Fallujah representatives to get gunmen in the city to abide by a cease-fire.


Six days after negotiations halted a U.S. offensive against insurgents in the city, the Marines continue carving out front line positions and hope for orders to push forward. Many are questioning the value of truce talks with an enemy who continues to launch attacks.


"These guys don't have a centralized leader; they're just here to fight. I don't see what negotiations are going to do," said Capt. Shannon Johnson, a company commander for the 3rd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment. Word of truce talks last week forced his battalion to halt its plunge into the northeast section of the city just hours after arriving to back up other Marines.


In the meantime, perhaps the fiercest enemy — everyone here seems to agree — is the boredom, and worst of all the flies that pepper this dusty Euphrates River city west of Baghdad. Marines burn them, using matches to turn cans of flammable bug spray into mini blow torches. They also try to kill them by sprinkling diesel fuel over fly colonies. They joke about calling in airstrikes.


Fallujah's front lines remain dangerous.


On Friday, insurgents fired several mortars at U.S. forces. One of the shells blasted a chunk out of a house where Marines are positioned, filling the building with dust and smoke. No one was injured.


A short time later, an F-16 jet dropped a 2,000-pound bomb on the city, sending up a massive spray of dirt and smoke and destroying a building where Marines had spotted gunmen.


"The longer we wait to push into the city, the more dangerous it's going to be," said Cpl. Miles Hill, 21, from Oklahoma, playing a game of chess with a fellow Marine in a house they control.


"They (the insurgents) have time to set stuff up." He guesses the insurgents are likely rigging doors with explosives, knowing Marines will kick them in during searches if they sweep the city.


Up on the roof, Pfc. James Cathcart, 18, kept watch from a sandbagged machine-gunner's nest Friday. His platoon commander passed along word that troops found a weapons cache that included a Soviet-made sniper rifle with a night-sight.


"A night-sight, sir?" he said, surprised that insurgents had the technology. His commander told him to keep his head down. "Everyone here wants to push forward. Here, you're just a target," Cathcart said.


The young Marine looked out over grim city blocks around a dusty soccer pitch and a trash-strewn lot, as a rain shower passed over. He said during the long hours of duty, he wonders what the insurgents are doing, how many there are and if they're watching him.


Adding to the eery feeling up, he said, are the music and speeches in Arabic that come over mosque loudspeakers.


Unable to advance farther, Marines holed up in front-line houses have linked the buildings by blasting or hammering holes through walls between them and laying planks across gaps between rooftops, a series of passageways they call the "rat line."





Lying on his stomach on a rooftop and wearing goggles and earplugs, a Marine sniper keeps an eye to his rifle sight. His main task in recent days has been trying to hit the black-garbed gunmen who occasionally dash across the long street in front of him. To dodge his shots, one of the gunmen recently launched into a rolling dive across the street, a move that had the sniper and his buddies laughing.

"I think I got him later. The same guy came back and tried to do a low crawl," said Lance Cpl. Khristopher Williams, 20, from Fort Myers, Fla.

Others have run across the street, hiding behind children on bicycles, said the sniper. In his position — reachable only by scaling the outside ledge of a building — he sits for hours with his finger poised on the trigger of a rifle that fires 50-caliber armor-piercing bullets with such force that the muzzle flash and exiting gasses from the weapon have blackened the bricks around the gun.

On the street in front of his position sits a car riddled with bullets, where the bloated, fly-infested bodies of three armed men have been left. The vehicle was shot up by Marine gunmen before the sniper set up his position.

Along the front line, Marines have been firing warning shots to scare away dogs chewing on corpses. In some cases, the troops have wrapped bodies in blankets and buried them in shallow graves.

At night, the psychological operations unit attached to the Marine battalion here sends out messages from a loudspeaker mounted on an armored Humvee. On Thursday night, the crew and its Arabic-language interpreter taunted fighters, saying, "May all the ambulances in Fallujah have enough fuel to pick up the bodies of the mujahadeen."

The message was specially timed for an attack moments later by an AC-130 gunship that pounded targets in the city.

Later, the team blasted Jimi Hendrix and other rock music, and afterward some sound effects like babies crying, men screaming, a symphony of cats and barking dogs and piercing screeches. They were unable to draw any gunmen to fight, and seemed disappointed.


http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmp...raq_front_line

Ellie