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Date: Tue, 19 Dec 2006 23:09:59 +0300
From: "Joshua Arthur"
Subject: Happy Holidays from the Sandbox ;)
All,
Whew. I'm happy to admit I'm a bit exhausted from this most recent
round of package-opening tonight, and because of that I have to
say, before I mention anything about life over here, that I
couldn't possibly tell everyone how thankful I am for everything
they - you - have thought to send me. It has been truly
overwhelming, and while I am going to try to write as many
thank-yous as I can (I know I can afford to do nothing less to
remain in the Speakers' good graces ;)), I must at least say now
how appreciative I am and all of my soldiers are for each and every
package you've sent. I promise I personally want nothing to do with
pistachios or coffee, for example, but the guys really do appreciate
them! It means a lot just to know people are back home thinking
about them, particularly in this time of the year.
Life here has been, for the most part, fairly uneventful and routine
since last I wrote, believe it or not. To say that, though, leaves
out two particularly notable events, and it would be a disservice
if I didn't mention them. It was just about two weeks ago to the
day that my platoon was waiting, as QRF, to respond to events out
in our area. (The QRF, or Quick Reaction Force, is an element that
stands ready to be available for the battalion leadership to commit
to a course of action they see fit, most commonly to help another
unit that might comes into contact with the enemy). It had been a
largely uneventful day, really, when we got a call that there were
reports of an attack involving small arms fire, rpgs
(rocket-propelled grenades), and incoming mortar rounds in part of
our area and that we needed to move to that location and attempt to
neutralize whatever was going on. As it turns out, the reports of
such coordinated attack were somewhat overblown, as we later came
to find out. All of those things had happened at some point
throughout the day, but there wasn't any kind of planned, complex
attack on a position. In any event, when we were close to the area
we certainly did hear plenty of gunfire, although we couldn't
identify precisely where it was originating until we were
practically on top of it. Once we did, I've got to hand it to my
gunners for being as disciplined as they were in not engaging
anyone until they could maintain positive identification of their
targets. I know this is delving into the realm of jargon, and I
want to avoid that if I can, but that term is pretty important. It
means, quite sensibly, that you need to have reasonable certainty
that someone you're thinking about shooting at is either in the
process of committing a hostile act or clearly showing hostile
intent, so that you can justify taking action against him. There's
an endless catalogue of "what if?" scenarios that come into play
when you're talking about situations that could potentially involve
using lethal force; thankfully for me, this time a guy on a rooftop
raised his AK and began firing at us. So that much was more or
less cut and dry. We returned fire, and within minutes there were
helicopters overhead, another patrol was on its way to aid us, and
- of course - by the time they got there, all shooting had long
since stopped. If you were under any impression that there are
hours-long firefights these days, I think, for the most part,
you're mistaken. That was certainly not the case with us, when
after a few minutes, everyone had stopped firing and we'd secured
the area. Bold though the anti-Iraqi forces may be, I can't blame
them for not wanting to stick around when multiple bulletproof
trucks with machine guns are firing at them and helicopters
overhead can potentially see their every move. So, brief though it
was, that was by far the most action our platoon has seen yet.
We've been involved in two IED attacks, but they didn't damage the
vehicles and, unsurprisingly, we were unable to return fire since
we couldn't identify who was detonating the device.
So, that night, my platoon felt pretty good about ourselves and our
disciplined actions as we returned to the battalion headquarters,
briefed the commander and intelligence officer, and then returned
to our staging area to continue our role as QRF. That was still
our mood the next morning when we were about to be relieved as QRF
when we all heard a loud explosion out in our area of operations.
We didn't think much of it at first; after all, explosions of some
sort are routine, and I'm sure that's the case in most parts of
Baghdad. But I knew something had gone wrong when I heard another
patrol (from another company in our battalion) request medical
evacuation just seconds after the blast. They said they would need
evacuation by helicopter, and they immediately began to move to our
location, since where we were was one of the locations that
helicopters are prepared to land to evacuate casualties. We
prepared the helicopter landing zone, waited for the patrol to come
in with its casualty . . . and when it did, well, it was without a
doubt the most vivid, enduring memory of my time in Baghdad so far.
I can't imagine - unless one of the patrols I'm on involves a
wounded soldier - that anything over the course of the next year
could replace it. The wounded soldier was a staff sergeant from
another company, and it was tragically obvious to me - and I think
to anyone who laid eyes on him as they pulled him out of the HMMWV
and the medics did what they could to try to treat him - that there
was virtually no hope of his recovery. I can't begin to describe
what it was like to prepare yourself to receive, say, a casualty
with a shrapnel wound, or maybe a half-amputated foot or leg, and
then see someone in the shape he was in. His wounds were probably -
thankfully, in a way - just irreversibly fatal. The trauma to his
head was severe and I don't think it would have made one bit of
difference if they'd had an operating room with a surgeon standing
by just feet from the site of the blast; it seemed like a truly
hopeless situation. I say "thankfully" because I can't imagine a
more horrible feeling than that of the guilt that you could have
done something to save someone's life, but didn't. In this case, I
just don't think anything could have been done. It was a horrible
sight, one that I'm quite sure I will never forget, and a horrible
reminder to everyone in the battalion - just weeks after we arrived
in Iraq - that we're still involved in a very deadly struggle, like
it or not.
So you see why, although it's been a mostly uneventful few weeks
since I last wrote, that's not to say that certain very pointed
events haven't been foremost in everyone's mind. For my platoon,
those were undoubtedly some of the most memorable hours of our
lives, and I think I can speak for all of my soldiers who were
there in saying that sudden change of emotions, that instant
evaporation of any feeling of success or a job well done, was all
too grave a reminder that our job here is dangerous and far from
over.
As I said last time, though, I don't want to give the impression
that patrols here are fraught with danger. Is the potential always
there? Of course. And I think it's that knowledge that keeps
soldiers healthily aware. If anything, though, it's the fact that
so many patrols are completely uneventful that makes staying
vigilant so hard, as I'm sure any veteran can tell you. You may
have heard the old saying that war is weeks of sheer boredom
punctuated by moments of sheer terror, and that's absolutely
correct. It's those weeks of total boredom, of patrols that seem
lifeless and unimportant and routine, that cause soldiers (and
leaders) to lose their diligence, to stop taking precautions they
should and rehearsing things they should and making checks they
should - and, so it seems, it's always precisely that moment when
you've settled, when complacency has nestled comfortably on your
shoulders, that you're shocked back into doing the right thing.
You just hope you're not shocked because it happens to you.
The sectarian violence has been somewhat less spectacular since the
much-publicized attack in Sadr City some weeks ago, but it is
persistent nonetheless and colors everything that happens in the
city. I can't claim to have studied war and warfare enough to be
able to pronounce one way or the other whether Iraq is in the midst
of a civil war right now, even if I had every single bit of evidence
that might support one argument or the other. To the extent that
the happenings of the country are shaped by and shape in turn the
violence between the two sects, proclamations of a civil war are,
at the least, not unfounded. It's all very difficult for coalition
forces, too, because we don't want either side to "win." I'm not
saying that it would be justified to side with one of the
participants even if we did; at least in that case, though, we'd be
able to identify "the enemy." As it is, you all probably remember
talk of the "Sunni triangle" that was so publicized earlier in the
war, and for good reason: since Saddam's party (Sunni) was in power
when we entered the country three and a half years ago, we had every
right to expect those loyal to the regime to resist our attempts to
bring about change. Sure enough, they did, and not for nothing was
Fallujah the site of two major offensives in this war, in April and
November of 2004 (our battalion took part in the latter). While
that Sunni resistance is still there, though, and while they make
up the entirety of the Al Qaeda members in Iraq, it's not as though
the Shia population is without blame. Plenty of them are more than
willing to do harm to coalition forces too, and the Jayesh
Al-Mehdi, or Mehdi militia, is one of the most disconcerting
organizations in the country. Certain Shia weapons and tactics,
moreover, are considerably more feared than Sunni. So it's not as
though there are any clear rights or wrong. Do the Sunni holdovers
from Saddam's regime, now devoid of most of the power they had,
still hold a grudge and pose a threat? Sure. But do you see
coalition forces strolling peacefully through Sadr City, a Shia
enclave? Of course not. In some areas you have units working to
prevent Shia infiltration (like ours), and in others you have units
still fighting bitterly against Sunni insurgents. There are no
clear answers here, from the top to the bottom.
But, as for life on the FOB, well, still few complaints ;) I'm sure
my complaining that the internet works inconsistently in my room is
going to draw reactions of contempt from those who actually had to
fight as an epeditionary force months or years ago; I still feel
that complaining about much of anything here is practically
sacrilege when viewed in light of the conditions endured by
soldiers in every conflict in years past. In light of that, I
can't say much of anything is lacking at the FOB. When the worst
you can say is that your internet doesn't work much of the time and
that the water in the showers is sometimes "only lukewarm," well,
you've got it pretty darn good. I wouldn't have you think anything
differently. The folks out the chow hall now are apparently so
bored with themselves that they've decided to implement a karaoke
mic every Friday at lunch and dinner (they thankfully spare people
that terror early in the morning, which is wise). I listened to a
soldier croon Al Green's "Let's Stay Together" the other afternoon
and simply had to smile. It's Christmas time, of course, and the
day itself is fast approaching, but much like Thanksgiving, I find
myself not missing it much. Well, frankly, it doesn't feel a bit
like Christmas, except for the packages that you all have been
wonderful to send. And it's not because they don't try to make it
feel like Christmas; it's just, well, it's just another day.
Again, I imagine if you ask any veteran, he'll say the same thing.
You think about loved ones, and you hope they're enjoying their
holiday, but the 25th will simply be the day between the 24th and
26th, a day either to go on patrol or get paperwork done for guys
and awards, or do PT, or catch up on sleep (a favorite pasttime of
mine). I trust I'll take time to think about some special people
that day, as I do every day, but most of me is glad I'm not too
bent out of shape about it. (It could be, of course, that I'm
simply soulless and dead to the world, but I think it's just the
routine over here ;))
To all of you back home, though, I hope this finds you
extraordinarily well, happy, and healthy, and I hope you do plan on
spending your holidays with your loved ones (I realize we don't all
celebrate Christmas, Jewlenko, thank you) and enjoying them. Be
sure to enjoy the winter weather for me - it's not exactly warm out
here, but I'm trying to savor whatever coolness I can before the
spring and dreaded summer roll around. Please, take care, be safe
this holiday season, and feel free to offer a small toast on my
behalf around midnight on New Year's - I'll be thinking of you
eight hours beforehand ;)
Love to all,
Josh
