D-Day Plus Three
I slept fairly well, given the circumstances. Waking up, I tried to recall the events of the day before, and to be honest, it all felt like a dream. I couldnt make up my mind whether it was a bad dream or not. It hadnt previously hit me that I had been partially responsible for killing several men yesterday and it was something entirely new to me. Its hard to explain the feelings you experience when another dies at your hands. Not quite remorse or guilt, but not quite joy either. Still, it wasnt what I thought it would be like at all. And why was this? From day one in boot camp, you are given the mentality that as a United States Marine, more specifically, as a grunt, you are a killer...Kill becomes the most-used word in your vocabulary for that 4 months, and you say it so much it doesnt even register when you say it anymore. An ingenious way to desensitize thousands upon thousands to the concept of killing all enemy threats, both foreign and domestic. The question reverberating through my head though was, was this the reason I was feeling so detatched? Ive never really viewed myself as a cold-blooded killer. A warrior, yes. Decidedly, I concluded that ultimately, my actions yesterday were to save lives more than take them. Given the chance to do it over again, I wouldnt have changed a thing. As I said earlier, we were quickly learning that combat was about survival. It brought a whole new set of rules to the table. Soon enough, i snapped out of my comatose state of thought. I had a headache. Dehydration. With only 2 bottles of water left, I tried to decide on the best course of action for conserving what I had left without falling victim to the heat. We had a little over 4 clicks until we linked up with Fox 3, and it was all uphill. I pounded one bottle and left the other in my cargo pocket to sip along the way. I will say that it was getting easier moving up the mountains than it was the days before. Even though I could feel my body slowly deteriorating with fatigue, it shows the power that the mind can have over the body. The bottle in my cargo pocket lasted 2 hours, more than I had expected. And now it was official, I was completely out of water. According to the GPS, the was a stream shortly ahead and it would be another Marine Corps first for me, drinking water from the land. In the issued first aid kits we have iodine tablets which, when added to water, kill all of the bacteria therein and make the water potable. Ill admit, I wasnt too crazy about drinking the same water that these people bathe in, but sometimes you just have to swallow your pride by swallowing bathwater. It tasted pretty much like youd think it would. However, it would be enough to sustain me until we reached our destination, where cases upon cases of fresh spring water that was air dropped the night before awaited us. The thing that I was finding out about this terrain was that looks are decieving. We could see the hill where Fox 3 was and by all accounts, didnt look that far away. But when youre actually trying to find a plausible route there, all the while ascending in elevation, what you would think will take an hour in reality takes 3. The heat was starting to get to all of the Marines and it was in the back of everyones minds that we had better get there soon and rest or risk the entire unit being combat ineffective. At first I thought it was a mirage, but a quick look through the scope on my rifle confirmed the distinct shape of a Marine in a flak jacket and kevlar; we had made it. A squad of Marines came running toward us with a case of water to meet us halfway. Bottled water never tasted so good in my life before. I drank one bottle after another until it felt like I was going to puke and could drink no more. 200 meters left. Set up the mortar and then you can rest, Chad. Youre not done yet.
After finding tree nearby that provided the shade necessary, I opened up my flak jacket to aid in the cooling down process. It is said that temperatures inside your flak jacket can reach upwards of 120 degrees and today, I most definately believed it. Every inch of my cammies was soaked in sweat and it felt good whenever a random breeze would blow my way.
A quick look at my surroundings and it felt like I was on top of the world, and my GPS all but confirmed it....8,000 feet.
They werent lying.
After my body temperature went back to normal, I set out to locate various friends from Fox 3 to see how they were doing after yesterdays events. Pretty much everybody gave either hugs or high fives. Appearantly, our suppressive fire was more effective than originally reported. One by one, I listened to their stories; where they were, what they were doing, what was going through their mind. All of them thanked us for being there when they needed us, as soon as the first mortar dropped, they scattered like roaches which gave them time to administer first aid. They struck at first light, right when everyone had just woken up. One of my buddies was brushing his teeth, hadnt even put on his flak jacket yet when they got hit, and he ended up taking a sniper round in the abdomen. I have to give it to the guy, he handled it like a champ, grabbing his rifle and immediately aiming in, looking for the bastard that had just put a hole in his stomache. When the medevac helo landed, he walked right on it as if he was fine. Thats the definition of hardcore. (they later flew him to Germany, where it was determined that the shot hit his lowest rib, and ricocheted right back out....insane luck) Prior to yesterday, everyone had this pre-concieved notion that 81's and just mortarmen in general were lazy. And Ill admit it, we are, its a perk of having this job. But the truth of the matter is, whens its time to go to work, its good to have us in your corner because we can make they skies rain death on whomever you want.
They pointed out the areas where the Taliban was firing from and also where our mortar rounds hit. I wondered if they ever saw it coming. Where they there one minute trying to kill Marines, and then just gone the next? The thing about a mortar round is, you cant hide from it. There is no cover that you can seek. It comes out of nowhere. After hearing the stories, I definately had no remorse. Such is the way things work around here. You try to kill my Marines, and we are going to return the favor ten-fold, except we succeed where you fail. Go ahead and wage a holy war, be a martyr, and I will have no problem sending you to Allah. We gained alot of respect that day from the rest of the company and not just because we carry the most weight. They saw firsthand the destruction that we were capable of and what an asset it was when under fire.
The rumor amongst us was that we were going to be staying in this patrol base for at least the night, which was only logical, given that we probably couldnt have pushed on without adequate rest. Also going around was that we were to be leaving in the morning, where to was anyones guess. Either we were to keep pushing north until we made contact again, or back-track south and begin the extraction process. I secretly wished for the latter. The rumor circulating about moving out the following day was only confirmed when, a Combat Delivery System (CDS) was dropped in our patrol base with enough water and food to sustain our movement.
Still up in the air about our destination.
It was brought up that we should move our mortar position due to the enemy threat level in the area. There was some concern that they might have possibly zeroed in on us and intellegence was suggesting they were going to attack sometime tonight. So far intellegence had proven to be correct thus far. Unlike the enemy that we have gotten used to, these guys were not your typical bootleg druglords, these were trained Taliban with home court advantage, and when they said they were going to attack, they intend to attack. We had high ground on a hill, but adjacent to us was a mountain that just seemed to hug our hill on three of the four sides and pre-built fighting positions were visible all around. It was high ground against even higher ground. They had numerical and terrain advantage but it didnt matter. After all, we were mother-fuckin marines and we were ready for whatever.
Later on that night...
I said a prayer before I went to sleep. Perhaps it was partially out of habit, but im sure the fact that contact was immement might have had something to do with it. The next thing I remember was hearing gunfire and opening my eyes to see red tracer bullets flying directly 5 feet above me. We were under attack. My first thought was that tonight was not my time to go; I was not going to die tonight and neither were any of my Marines. My second thought; get your flak and kevlar on and shoot back. With rounds flying so close overhead, it was imperative that I stay low. Easier said than done. I must have looked like a baby trying to squirm out of a messy diaper as I frantically wiggled my way out of the sleeping bag. Once geared up, I reached into my pouch and pulled out my night vision to assess the situation and see where the fire was coming from. NVG's or not, the entire night sky was lit up with tracers going back and forth, like something out of a Star Wars movie. Sure enough, the fire was concentrated on the hill adjacent to us and this was an organized assault. By my best estimates, I could see two heavy machine gun emplacements laying down heavy fire and the unmistakeable sound of numerous AK-47s being fired echoed through the valley. It was concentrated in one area in particular and as I kept an eye on it, a bight flash followed by a loud boom came from across the valley. In that second, time stood still. When someone fires an Rocket Propelled Grenade at you, a paralyzing fear grips your body and you can do nothing except drop to the ground, freeze, and wait for the impact...all the while praying that it lands nowhere close to you. When the secondary explosion sounded, it provided a moments relief until another was fired and the process was repeated several times. After the 4th RPG was fired at us, the adrenaline had enough time to dilute the paralyzing fear in my bloodstream and turn it into anger which soon blossomed into rage. And in that moment, I had felt a hatred that I had never felt before. I remember having this picture of a smelly bearded Taliban fuck up there on that mountain firing down on me, trying to kill me. Trying to take my life. Trying to take me away from my wife back home. More rage. It was such a strong emotion of hatred that it terrified me and the only thing on my mind was killing him by all means possible. The thought was interrupted by whizzing sounds going past my head. I guess what they say is true, when you are getting shot at, your body's first impulse is to piss your pants. Theres no shame in it, not in combat at least. Its an unnerving thought to think that if you had been standing just one foot to the left, you would have taken a bullet in the face. So you put that aside and concentrate not on taking cover but firing back. Thats one of the disadvantages of being a mortarman, you cant take cover and manuever like the rifleman, you have to get up on the tube and drop rounds.
Yes, even with bullets whizzing past your head.
We finally got the data on one of the machine gun positions and proceeded to level up the gun. As we dropped three HE rounds down the tube, I prayed that each one would find its way directly onto their heads. The sound of our rounds impacting was like music to everyones ears, a direct hit that resulted in one less steady stream of machine gun fire onto our position. Once they realized that mortars were dropping on their fellow Taliban brethren, it scared the majority of them off and only a few hardcore remained to continue the fight. If we would have waited for the fire direction computers to work up the data on the remaining target, it probably would have taken another 5 minutes. We were so bloodthirsty at that point that the mutual decision was made instantly to direct lay on the machine gun position, the same one where RPGs were being fired earlier. When you direct lay onto a target, its a skill based action that pretty much involves eyeing the target and aiming the mortar tube in on it. Being that it was dark and ambient light was at a minimum, a educated guess as to where exactly to aim in at was necessary. For me, it wasnt much of a problem, as the image of that smelly fuck up there was still fresh on my mind. 2 more rounds dropped down the tube and once they exploded, someone yelled "Die Motherfuckers" And like that, a calm silence filled the valley once more. My friend Josh and I stared at each other in disbelief. It felt like something straight out of a movie. It was a surreal feeling, like a dream. And while I was glad that it was over, a morbid side of me wished that it would start up again, I wanted to kill more of them. I felt my arms, chest and legs to ensure that I hadnt been shot and in shock. Good. Lieutenant called out "81's, you alright?" A fierce warcry sounded off from 17 adrenaline filled warriors and was soon drowned out by the sound of 2 A-10 warthogs flying low overhead. Amazing. To have that volume of fire lobbed at us, and not a single casualty. Again, someone was watching over us that night.
2 more firefights erupted hours later against the other platoons on the other side of the mountain, but they were subdued by air support. After a warthog unleashed the destruction of a JDAM bomb on them, all further assaults ceased.
So much for getting some much needed rest. I couldnt go back to sleep no matter how hard I tried. Alone in my thoughts I sat, once more. I thought of back in Hawaii shortly before we left for Afghanistan when the Lieutenant had made a toast at the bar....
"If we must cheat, Let us cheat death..."
Ill drink to that.
....................To Be Continued.
I slept fairly well, given the circumstances. Waking up, I tried to recall the events of the day before, and to be honest, it all felt like a dream. I couldnt make up my mind whether it was a bad dream or not. It hadnt previously hit me that I had been partially responsible for killing several men yesterday and it was something entirely new to me. Its hard to explain the feelings you experience when another dies at your hands. Not quite remorse or guilt, but not quite joy either. Still, it wasnt what I thought it would be like at all. And why was this? From day one in boot camp, you are given the mentality that as a United States Marine, more specifically, as a grunt, you are a killer...Kill becomes the most-used word in your vocabulary for that 4 months, and you say it so much it doesnt even register when you say it anymore. An ingenious way to desensitize thousands upon thousands to the concept of killing all enemy threats, both foreign and domestic. The question reverberating through my head though was, was this the reason I was feeling so detatched? Ive never really viewed myself as a cold-blooded killer. A warrior, yes. Decidedly, I concluded that ultimately, my actions yesterday were to save lives more than take them. Given the chance to do it over again, I wouldnt have changed a thing. As I said earlier, we were quickly learning that combat was about survival. It brought a whole new set of rules to the table. Soon enough, i snapped out of my comatose state of thought. I had a headache. Dehydration. With only 2 bottles of water left, I tried to decide on the best course of action for conserving what I had left without falling victim to the heat. We had a little over 4 clicks until we linked up with Fox 3, and it was all uphill. I pounded one bottle and left the other in my cargo pocket to sip along the way. I will say that it was getting easier moving up the mountains than it was the days before. Even though I could feel my body slowly deteriorating with fatigue, it shows the power that the mind can have over the body. The bottle in my cargo pocket lasted 2 hours, more than I had expected. And now it was official, I was completely out of water. According to the GPS, the was a stream shortly ahead and it would be another Marine Corps first for me, drinking water from the land. In the issued first aid kits we have iodine tablets which, when added to water, kill all of the bacteria therein and make the water potable. Ill admit, I wasnt too crazy about drinking the same water that these people bathe in, but sometimes you just have to swallow your pride by swallowing bathwater. It tasted pretty much like youd think it would. However, it would be enough to sustain me until we reached our destination, where cases upon cases of fresh spring water that was air dropped the night before awaited us. The thing that I was finding out about this terrain was that looks are decieving. We could see the hill where Fox 3 was and by all accounts, didnt look that far away. But when youre actually trying to find a plausible route there, all the while ascending in elevation, what you would think will take an hour in reality takes 3. The heat was starting to get to all of the Marines and it was in the back of everyones minds that we had better get there soon and rest or risk the entire unit being combat ineffective. At first I thought it was a mirage, but a quick look through the scope on my rifle confirmed the distinct shape of a Marine in a flak jacket and kevlar; we had made it. A squad of Marines came running toward us with a case of water to meet us halfway. Bottled water never tasted so good in my life before. I drank one bottle after another until it felt like I was going to puke and could drink no more. 200 meters left. Set up the mortar and then you can rest, Chad. Youre not done yet.
After finding tree nearby that provided the shade necessary, I opened up my flak jacket to aid in the cooling down process. It is said that temperatures inside your flak jacket can reach upwards of 120 degrees and today, I most definately believed it. Every inch of my cammies was soaked in sweat and it felt good whenever a random breeze would blow my way.
A quick look at my surroundings and it felt like I was on top of the world, and my GPS all but confirmed it....8,000 feet.
They werent lying.
After my body temperature went back to normal, I set out to locate various friends from Fox 3 to see how they were doing after yesterdays events. Pretty much everybody gave either hugs or high fives. Appearantly, our suppressive fire was more effective than originally reported. One by one, I listened to their stories; where they were, what they were doing, what was going through their mind. All of them thanked us for being there when they needed us, as soon as the first mortar dropped, they scattered like roaches which gave them time to administer first aid. They struck at first light, right when everyone had just woken up. One of my buddies was brushing his teeth, hadnt even put on his flak jacket yet when they got hit, and he ended up taking a sniper round in the abdomen. I have to give it to the guy, he handled it like a champ, grabbing his rifle and immediately aiming in, looking for the bastard that had just put a hole in his stomache. When the medevac helo landed, he walked right on it as if he was fine. Thats the definition of hardcore. (they later flew him to Germany, where it was determined that the shot hit his lowest rib, and ricocheted right back out....insane luck) Prior to yesterday, everyone had this pre-concieved notion that 81's and just mortarmen in general were lazy. And Ill admit it, we are, its a perk of having this job. But the truth of the matter is, whens its time to go to work, its good to have us in your corner because we can make they skies rain death on whomever you want.
They pointed out the areas where the Taliban was firing from and also where our mortar rounds hit. I wondered if they ever saw it coming. Where they there one minute trying to kill Marines, and then just gone the next? The thing about a mortar round is, you cant hide from it. There is no cover that you can seek. It comes out of nowhere. After hearing the stories, I definately had no remorse. Such is the way things work around here. You try to kill my Marines, and we are going to return the favor ten-fold, except we succeed where you fail. Go ahead and wage a holy war, be a martyr, and I will have no problem sending you to Allah. We gained alot of respect that day from the rest of the company and not just because we carry the most weight. They saw firsthand the destruction that we were capable of and what an asset it was when under fire.
The rumor amongst us was that we were going to be staying in this patrol base for at least the night, which was only logical, given that we probably couldnt have pushed on without adequate rest. Also going around was that we were to be leaving in the morning, where to was anyones guess. Either we were to keep pushing north until we made contact again, or back-track south and begin the extraction process. I secretly wished for the latter. The rumor circulating about moving out the following day was only confirmed when, a Combat Delivery System (CDS) was dropped in our patrol base with enough water and food to sustain our movement.
Still up in the air about our destination.
It was brought up that we should move our mortar position due to the enemy threat level in the area. There was some concern that they might have possibly zeroed in on us and intellegence was suggesting they were going to attack sometime tonight. So far intellegence had proven to be correct thus far. Unlike the enemy that we have gotten used to, these guys were not your typical bootleg druglords, these were trained Taliban with home court advantage, and when they said they were going to attack, they intend to attack. We had high ground on a hill, but adjacent to us was a mountain that just seemed to hug our hill on three of the four sides and pre-built fighting positions were visible all around. It was high ground against even higher ground. They had numerical and terrain advantage but it didnt matter. After all, we were mother-fuckin marines and we were ready for whatever.
Later on that night...
I said a prayer before I went to sleep. Perhaps it was partially out of habit, but im sure the fact that contact was immement might have had something to do with it. The next thing I remember was hearing gunfire and opening my eyes to see red tracer bullets flying directly 5 feet above me. We were under attack. My first thought was that tonight was not my time to go; I was not going to die tonight and neither were any of my Marines. My second thought; get your flak and kevlar on and shoot back. With rounds flying so close overhead, it was imperative that I stay low. Easier said than done. I must have looked like a baby trying to squirm out of a messy diaper as I frantically wiggled my way out of the sleeping bag. Once geared up, I reached into my pouch and pulled out my night vision to assess the situation and see where the fire was coming from. NVG's or not, the entire night sky was lit up with tracers going back and forth, like something out of a Star Wars movie. Sure enough, the fire was concentrated on the hill adjacent to us and this was an organized assault. By my best estimates, I could see two heavy machine gun emplacements laying down heavy fire and the unmistakeable sound of numerous AK-47s being fired echoed through the valley. It was concentrated in one area in particular and as I kept an eye on it, a bight flash followed by a loud boom came from across the valley. In that second, time stood still. When someone fires an Rocket Propelled Grenade at you, a paralyzing fear grips your body and you can do nothing except drop to the ground, freeze, and wait for the impact...all the while praying that it lands nowhere close to you. When the secondary explosion sounded, it provided a moments relief until another was fired and the process was repeated several times. After the 4th RPG was fired at us, the adrenaline had enough time to dilute the paralyzing fear in my bloodstream and turn it into anger which soon blossomed into rage. And in that moment, I had felt a hatred that I had never felt before. I remember having this picture of a smelly bearded Taliban fuck up there on that mountain firing down on me, trying to kill me. Trying to take my life. Trying to take me away from my wife back home. More rage. It was such a strong emotion of hatred that it terrified me and the only thing on my mind was killing him by all means possible. The thought was interrupted by whizzing sounds going past my head. I guess what they say is true, when you are getting shot at, your body's first impulse is to piss your pants. Theres no shame in it, not in combat at least. Its an unnerving thought to think that if you had been standing just one foot to the left, you would have taken a bullet in the face. So you put that aside and concentrate not on taking cover but firing back. Thats one of the disadvantages of being a mortarman, you cant take cover and manuever like the rifleman, you have to get up on the tube and drop rounds.
Yes, even with bullets whizzing past your head.
We finally got the data on one of the machine gun positions and proceeded to level up the gun. As we dropped three HE rounds down the tube, I prayed that each one would find its way directly onto their heads. The sound of our rounds impacting was like music to everyones ears, a direct hit that resulted in one less steady stream of machine gun fire onto our position. Once they realized that mortars were dropping on their fellow Taliban brethren, it scared the majority of them off and only a few hardcore remained to continue the fight. If we would have waited for the fire direction computers to work up the data on the remaining target, it probably would have taken another 5 minutes. We were so bloodthirsty at that point that the mutual decision was made instantly to direct lay on the machine gun position, the same one where RPGs were being fired earlier. When you direct lay onto a target, its a skill based action that pretty much involves eyeing the target and aiming the mortar tube in on it. Being that it was dark and ambient light was at a minimum, a educated guess as to where exactly to aim in at was necessary. For me, it wasnt much of a problem, as the image of that smelly fuck up there was still fresh on my mind. 2 more rounds dropped down the tube and once they exploded, someone yelled "Die Motherfuckers" And like that, a calm silence filled the valley once more. My friend Josh and I stared at each other in disbelief. It felt like something straight out of a movie. It was a surreal feeling, like a dream. And while I was glad that it was over, a morbid side of me wished that it would start up again, I wanted to kill more of them. I felt my arms, chest and legs to ensure that I hadnt been shot and in shock. Good. Lieutenant called out "81's, you alright?" A fierce warcry sounded off from 17 adrenaline filled warriors and was soon drowned out by the sound of 2 A-10 warthogs flying low overhead. Amazing. To have that volume of fire lobbed at us, and not a single casualty. Again, someone was watching over us that night.
2 more firefights erupted hours later against the other platoons on the other side of the mountain, but they were subdued by air support. After a warthog unleashed the destruction of a JDAM bomb on them, all further assaults ceased.
So much for getting some much needed rest. I couldnt go back to sleep no matter how hard I tried. Alone in my thoughts I sat, once more. I thought of back in Hawaii shortly before we left for Afghanistan when the Lieutenant had made a toast at the bar....
"If we must cheat, Let us cheat death..."
Ill drink to that.
....................To Be Continued.
Stay strong and safe, and thanks again for everything you do.
Wow.