Chapter Three: War Machine
I can tell you why people die alone
I can tell you why- shadow on the sun
Staring at the loss
looking for the cause
And never really sure
Nothing but a hope
to live without a soul
and nothing to be learned
Days when I have nothing, days when I'm spiritually, physically, and emotionally broke and done, days when it all comes back to me, I get a note from one of my boys- a wedding here, a birthday there, or a newborn coming that brings my actions to full verse. They always end their note with a thank you for making it all possible. I am humbled and full from commander to a father and brother, and I resolve to write my own song- a lifesong of brotherhood and sacrifice that transcends modern thought. During these days, I remember. As my wise sage continually reminds me, it must be done.
Something real. Something we were all grasping for in that fall as Iraq descended into chaos.
We took the fight to the enemy. Delusions of grand victory marginalized our own thought for far too many years as we engaged in small war. To fully understand, we must head back to Thanksgiving 2006 to realize how one spartan squadron began to dismantle an al Qaeda training camp. I promise you this is a story that you've never heard. If you remember, this story was shelved underneath Nancy Pelosi's ramblings about how Iraq was in shambles and Sean Hannity's worthless commentary to place a yellow ribbon on a car to support the troops. This story was real.
Turki Village, Iraq, late November 2006
As we maneuvered along the road, two of my four radios burst with traffic as my convoy abrubtly stopped.
"Shadow Six, this is Red One. Contact IED, Out."
"Headhunter 71, this is Charlie Seven. Contact with small arms fire with seven to ten dismounts, Out."
I grabbed the company hand-mike.
"Red One, Shadow Six. Roger understand, Pushing EOD forward. EOD, did you moniter."
"Roger, sir. Enroute."
"Red six, Shadow six. I"m dismounting to your position."
Charlie troop was taking fire, and I was stuck blocked by a mine in the road. My emotions went numb. It was time for this fight. This fight was a long time coming. Two years ago, I watched the last round of this Turki Bowl as four Americans were killed in an ambush along the same spot. At the time, I was a staff pogue watching a Predator feed. Today was different- I was the commander on the ground.
We knew this was a sacred ground for the presumed Islamic State of Iraq. To date, we were afraid to enter. This risks were far too high for our elite Delta Force, Ranger Regiments, or Special Forces to clear. Everyone left this area alone. Everyone was wrong. The risks were moot. It needed to be done. This area produces fighters deep into the fight in Baqubah, Baghdad, and beyond. It was time to end it just like the strykers would end the shia revolt in najaf and 3rd ID would venture to Lake Thar Thar. It needed to be done.
The airborne recon descended. We walked into hell.
I walked forward to the front of my line towards the IED. My emotions went numb. I felt nothing.
Much is about to happen..More to follow as I finally tell this tale...Sometimes there is just nothing to say. As a hundred fighters were left dead, this tale must be said. Stacked bodies upon bodies, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. It will take some time, but it must be done.
The real surge will come undone. One trench, one grenade at a time.
Bookmarks