Since we got back so late, I slept until noon, and really only got up because I would have regretted missing lunch. I have lost a bit of weight since I have been here, and not just because I carry around 50 or so pounds of gear plus weapons as part of the job.
Yesterday it was 112 degrees. And I have to walk a ways outside in the heat for lunch. By the time I get to the chow hall, even such culinary delights as Salisbury steak lose some of their appeal as I gasp for a cool breath while basting in a self marinade. Cheap steak is not what you want for lunch when it is over 110 degrees outside.
Our mission for the night started out to be a guaranteed slack. Some commando outfit was conducting an operation in our neighborhood, and we were to provide the Quick Reaction Force, meaning that we sit around ready to spring into action if the Trouble-Alert goes off. Practically, this means watching movies or X Box tournaments until the mission is over. However, unbeknownst to us, this was a real mission that started with a passing comment. Rumor has it that while debriefing some informant, the good guys remarked about somebody on the most wanted list.
Good guy: “I wish we could catch that guy.”
Informant: “He lives right up the road.”
Good guy: “What? How come you never said anything?”
Informant: “You never asked.”
Soon an assault element of the British Special Boat Service (a Royal Marine SEAL sort of outfit, and generally considered one of the best in the world) was on its way to Camp Charlie. Our target was one of the guys in the Most Wanted Deck of Cards that got so much attention in the news a couple years back.However, we didn’t know any of this, and I opted to go to sleep early.At 2AM, a Lance Corporal was pounding on my door. He excitedly told me, “QRF, sir!”
Well, well. Maybe some work tonight after all. I jumped out of bed. Boots, pants, shirt, no time for scarf, body armor, weapon, and leave the FAC pack because I will improvise if I need to. We gotta go!
I ran out to the vehicles, and thought that they were mighty dark and quiet considering we were supposed to be the Force that was Reacting Quickly.I chucked some of my stuff in the vehicle, and wandered over to the command post, which was full of guys sitting down to watch Team America: World Police, which seemed fitting. They sort of laughed as I stood in the doorway in full kit with weapon.
“Hey, I am just putting the Q back into QRF.”
Turns out that we were just staging for actual participation in the assault. When they finally showed up, I was rudely reminded about how I have a reflexive inferiority complex with speakers of British English. British English sounds great. They could the back of of a shampoo bottle and it will sound so cultured.
“Lahther, rinse, and then repeat, old boy.”
I was impatient for him to start briefing. Come on, say something in British.The target was really just up the road. The house was bordered on two sides by roads, and the other two by a lake. The SBS guys were going to assault by helicopter, and ODA and Anglicos were to provide security and a blocking force to capture evaders. A pretty straight forward plan, and no questions asked.We snuck our vehicles into position, then the helicopters took off. As the helos swooped in, we rolled forward to our positions, and the helos orbited overhead with infrared spot lights. We locked the house down quickly, and ended up capturing five guys, but one escaped. The ODA and SBS guys went looking for him. They were trying to flush him out onto the road that Anglico was guarding, and we were told to be vigilant.
Most military operations have a lot of moving parts, but very few people actually kicking down doors and the like. Most guys stand around with a rifle, which is also a fun job, if not as physical. Furthermore, most of the action is in the beginning of an operation, followed by a fair amount of standing around. Maintaining focus becomes a challenge. At the outset, you think:”OK, I need to keep an eye out for bad guys. I better take some cover so he won’t shoot at me. Or, really, I don’t want him to see me so he will come out. I think I will go over by that dirt pile. I am wearing tan, and the dirt is tan, so that will be good. Trot trot trot. Better kneel, too. OK….come on out….am I being silhouetted by some street lights? Shift shift shift. That’s better…..Come on….Is that something moving? Run run run. Shine IR light. Nope…just a bush. OK, better find some more cover. How about that tree? Trot trot trot…”
Time drags on:
“I wish this guy would just give up so we can go home. My feet hurt.”Soon:
“I like pie.”
We set some lance corporals to watch the road, and the Warrant Officer and I climbed a dirt berm bordering the road to see if we could see the guy. I walked right into a roll of concertina barbed wire. A lance corporal said, “Look out for the barbed wire, sir.””Couldn’t you have told me a bit earlier?””I thought you knew.”
Note to self: speak to staff sergeant on more timely warnings from lance corporals.
The helicopters were overhead shining their IR floodlights, and we were looking as well as we could. Even at night, it was still 90 or so degrees, and I was sweating agreeably. Then the helicopter flew right overhead, stirring up a tremendous cloud of dust that stuck nicely in my sweat covered body. I turned to the warrant officer and said, “I am hot, moist, and dusted with brown powder. I am a Cinnabon.”
Ultimately, we never found the guy that escaped. The five we did catch were just servants for the bad guy, so we let them go. It seemed better to walk away disappointed and set up a watch on the house, and hope for better luck next time.
The drive back was uneventful, and I made a quick call to my Beautiful Bride as the internet phone works well in the middle of the night. A quick shower, and off to bed.
This is our second dry hole in as many days, which is unusual. The ODA guys have only had one other dry hole in the whole time they have been here, so I suppose we were due for our fair share. Besides, our success is largely dependent on our intel, and we have no control over that.