Hillah, Iraq.
Things are quiet with half the Marines gone. With no rock fights or X Box competitions to distract me, I opted to finish my CAS training presentation. The internet predictably went down, ensuring that I would have no recourse but to work. Sometimes God works in ways that are not even remotely mysterious.I aggressively plagiarized the course material provided at Tactical Air Control Party school to finally finish my presentation. 48 slides of air strike training goodness, and my best bet for getting to drop bombs in Iraq. I figure the odds of actually getting to expend any ordinance in country are slim indeed, but after consulting some Powers That Be, I have decided on a time tested tactic true in taverns the world over: get the guy with money to buy a round for all the guys that are broke. I figure that by running my plan on the multinational side, I can get a lot of support from the countries who don’t have massive air forces, but want to learn to drop bombs, to get ole Uncle Sammy to buy this round. All you taxpayers, I feel your hateful gaze, but I already declared “Shields” and made my saving throw, so your +1 Stink Eye is not working. This is me…not caring that I am trying to waste taxpayers’ money by blowing up junk in the desert. I promise to take lots of videos to make you feel like you are getting something for your taxes.
The SF guys decided to work some of the less promising targets, as half our guys are gone. We still needed some man power, so we opted to invite the local MP unit to come along. They readily agreed as the most recent MP excitement was investigating a Pole who stole an MP3 player from the Hadjimart. They even brought two of their wheeled light attack vehicles, which seemed a bit excessive to go arrest a doctor helping insurgents. These guys haven’t had much work outside the fence, and we looked like seasoned hands by comparison. Of course, we did nothing to discourage their perceived views. The SF team sergeant briefed everybody up, and then asked the MP guys to review their instructions, which they did admirably. Then he asked a sergeant in command of one of the tank things what he would do if he saw someone running out the back.
The sergeant quickly replied, “Um…shoot him.”
“No, you fire a warning shot, right?”
“Right!”
“And what if he doesn’t stop?”
“Um…shoot him.”
“No. Okay, you only get to work the spotlight tonight.”
Some days even my gear is against me. The bracket on my night vision goggles broke, and in the process of replacing that, I managed to lose my flashlight. I got the crappy radio that has the free spinning tuning knob which is impossible to tune with no flashlight, and my headset wires kept getting tangled in my GPS, which ran out of batteries. The coffee measure has gone missing, so I had to cowboy the java. And my Leatherman pouch came unclipped and ensnared in my side webbing.
Some days it seems I can’t fight the war because I am too busy fighting my gear.I finally found the bracket, gave up on my flashlight (the wisdom of a sandy colored flash light was suddenly called into question), stripped off my gear to fix the Leatherman pouch, poured a cup of weapons grade coffee, and sat in the humvee behind a Bad Mood through which nothing Happy could pass. The war was suddenly a lot less fun, and I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything get in the way of my Unenjoyment. This is me….being Unhappy. And I dare you to try to fix it.
The Poles have caught on to SWAT raiding their water, so we just bring a couple of cases to the marshalling point. I managed to beat my gear into submission, and the healing goodness of Einstein’s Vanilla Hazelnut began to erode my bad mood, which was thoroughly destroyed by the enthusiasms of young Marines going into combat. These guys are so excited to be here doing what they are doing that you can’t help but get caught up in it.
We were actually hitting three targets. They were located right off the main road, on a narrow dirt road parallel to a canal. The first target was several hundred meters down the dirt road. The second was across a narrow bridge over the canal at the first target, and the third down the road a ways from the second. The plan was for the first assault element to hit the first target, while the second assault element crossed the bridge to the second target. Whoever finished first got to attack the third, reinforced by the other team.Marshall time, then launch time and we were off.
The objective area was no great ways away, and we were there shortly. As usual, the informant had a bit of trouble finding the right house at night, as we ended up stopped away from the lead vehicle while they tried to get the right house. The dirt road was quite narrow, and when I stepped out to pull security, I fell down the banks of the canal. The lance corporal driving opened his door, and said, “Be careful, sir…..Oh, are you okay, sir?” He is lucky that his night vision was turned off momentarily, lest he see the venomous look I shot him.
We got the right house, crossed the bridge, and found the second house. Anglico drove to the end of the objective area to provide security.Ultimately, we didn’t have much luck as the Iraqi Police had driven through the area about fifteen minutes prior to our arrival. All the bad guys had already run away, and the remaining locals had their stories all put together to confuse the gringos. One guy told us that these guys lived over there, and the guy that lived over there said, oh, no they live over there, and that guy over there said that these guys lived no where near here, but he didn’t know them anyway. The Iraqi Police patrol drove back by, and left all their lights on which ruins the effectiveness of the night vision equipment. Which is just as well as the batteries in my targeting laser ran out. Wanting to arrest somebody, the SWAT guys just started putting every local in the back of their trucks, which caused even more confusion. The SF guys ran over to start pulling them out. The team sergeant found that one of the detainees was a midget, which only enhanced the circus atmosphere. The midget was immediately the most popular guy there, and the SF guys took his picture. They also gave him a chem light for his troubles, with the added benefit of also keeping him from getting trampled as we turned our convoy around to go home. We ended up not arresting anybody, but we did photograph an Iraqi midget, which is something you don’t see every day.