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A Staff Visit
posted Monday, 24 April 2006
Originally published by the New York Times on March 7th, 2006
Life in Iraq can be pretty surreal. As I write this, I’m just outside the city of Ramadi, Iraq, which is the southwest point of the infamous Sunni Triangle in the Al Anbar Province. I am a first lieutenant in the Utah Army National Guard, currently serving as the signal officer (SIGO) of a field artillery battalion. When the enemy shoots mortars or rockets at the thousands of soldiers, marines, and civilian contractors living on our F.O.B. (forward operating base), we shoot back. We’re a lot better at it. The enemy doesn’t usually hit what he’s aiming for – we rarely miss.
I’m on my battalion staff, which means I advise the commander regarding all communications (commo) issues, and maintain C2 (command and control) on the battlefield. Staff officers are not required to leave the F.O.B. all the time on combat missions – they’re planners. But here in Iraq everyone is an infantryman first and foremost. You must be mentally and physically prepared to go out on a combat mission at anytime. And every single trip “outside the wire” is a combat mission, regardless of the reason you’re leaving.
This morning I conducted a staff visit to one of our observation posts (O.P.). I met with our Bravo battery for a quick pre-mission brief. We then checked all our radios and intercom equipment, put on our body armor, and headed out in a convoy of green and desert tan armored HMMWV’s .
At one point there were approximately 100 cars on the shoulder of the highway, waiting in line for gas. The radio crackled and my T.C. told the gunner over the intercom system, “Maintain your speed when we pass these cars. There was a suicide vehicle attack out here yesterday.”
“Roger that,” the gunner said.
(The guy in the front passenger seat is the “vehicle commander,” but in the Army we call him the “T.C.,” from “tank commander.”)
The T.C. then pointed out the carcass of a blown up vehicle near a large black smear on the highway. I saw the remains of a destroyed front axle and big chunks of burned metal lying at bizarre angles in the desert next to the highway.
The T.C. was completely focused on what was up ahead.
“Okay, we’ve got civilians in the road. Gunner, you let them know we see them,” he said.
“Okay, we’ve got civilians in the road. Gunner, you let them know we see them,” he said.
The gunner swung around, ready to engage.
Again the T.C. was thinking ahead. “Watch that blue car,” he told the driver and the gunner. “Don’t let him get near the convoy!”
It was tense for a few moments. I sat in the back seat and watched the gas station blur by through my bulletproof window. You can’t daydream or ponder the latest stock trends out here. You must stay super-alert and in tune with every little detail of your surroundings. We have signs on our vehicles, written in Arabic, telling traffic to keep their distance. So if a vehicle acts aggressively, you take action. You never know who might be driving a bomb on wheels with the intention of blowing you up. We passed without incident.
When we were close to the O.P., the T.C. of a vehicle nearby called us on the radio, asking “Red 4, this is Blue 4, do you see the white sedan at your three o’clock?”
“Roger. I’ve got eyes on,” our T.C. replied.
Then from the radio: “He’s driven past us four times in the last half hour. We’re going to check him out.”
Our T.C. said, “Roger. We’ve got your back.” Then he yelled to the driver, “Go left, go left!”
What was supposed to be a simple staff visit had now become an unplanned vehicle search. We jumped out and motioned for the occupants to exit their vehicle. Once they opened all doors, the hood and trunk, we asked some questions using an Iraqi interpreter. We tested their hands for explosive residue. We’re trying to stop bad guys from moving any weapons or bomb-making materials through the Al Anbar province, right under our noses. I helped to guard the driver as other soldiers searched the vehicle.
Being out on the highways of Iraq is similar to police work sometimes. The big difference is that you have no comfort zone. You don’t swagger up with a toothpick in your mouth, lean into the window, and politely ask for license and registration. Most of the Iraqis we meet are good people caught in the middle of a country going through incredible and rapid changes. They are very happy to see us, and thank us profusely. We apologize if we inconvenience them.
But you have to expect the worst, and make yourself hard to kill.
Our enemies would love nothing more than to blow us up, shoot us, or video-tape the separation of our head from our bodies. They are religiously fanatic murderers and thugs who will kill innocent people and blow up mosques simply to breed hate and discontent.
Today we did not get aggressive. We simply thanked the men for their cooperation and let them go. We are trained to be polite, professional, and prepared to kill.
Within an hour and a half, I was back on base, going through the motions of my day, working on various communications issues under this unforgiving Middle Eastern sun.
Leave comments for Captain K here: (4)
1. .... left...
Wednesday, 26 April 2006 1:47 pm
Oh Lee ! It's all nice and easy to read your perfect objective
demonstration "Fighting With Honor" ! But it is NOT so easy to read the
details about your everyday work !
3. devildog6771 left...
Friday, 28 April 2006 9:42 am :: http://helloiraq.blogspot.com
Great post Lt. K. I don't know how you maintain your sanity and spirits in
such a constant state of readiness. You and all our troops are so amazing.
God Bless you all. Thank you again for your service and all your
sacrifices.