Chapter+13

A Soldiers Story

As I wake up this morning I can tell you this, it is 5:00 am and it is absolutely freezing. You know I have been serving here in Baghdad for- oh I don’t know, what has it been- four and a half months, and I still can’t get over how damned cold it is in the mornings. You would think that in a place as hellish as this, where on average it reaches 100+ by noon, that it couldn’t possibly be so cold in the morning. But that is Iraq for you. Nothing makes any sense over here. At least I have the privilege of getting to stay at the base this morning – hey that’s a plus, right? Yesterday, my unit got to clear out an insurgent stronghold for good old Uncle Sam. Thankfully everything went well and all my men came back in one piece. So now, for our reward we get to stick around the base and wait to get picked off by one of the insurgent’s mortar rounds and if we make it through the morning hours we get to go do another home in the afternoon. Sounds fun huh? Now don’t get me wrong, I didn’t always used to be this way. When I shipped out last March, I thought that it was the right thing to do, sign up for the Army Special Forces. Never did I imagine that instead of helping these people, we would be actually making their live worse. Honestly, I can live with the fact that civilians are dying here; it’s the fact that my own people, my men, are dying here that really gets to me. Probably, it was the ambush that my unit went through two months ago that really put me over the edge. Sgt. Wilson and I joined the men in the briefing room on the south side of the base. “All right men,” said Sgt. Wilson, “are you ready to go beat some Iraqis?” Sgt. Wilson had all of the unit’s attention. At 6’2 and 210 pounds, it would be hard not have their attention. He was one of those types of people that could walk into any room full of people and automatically attract the attention of everyone simply by his sheer size. He was a big guy and all of the men knew not to mess with him. There was Anderson, a small guy out of Minnesota. He was new to the forces. He really looked up to Sgt.. I’m sure that he thought that the Sgt. could get him through any conflict we might come into. And there was Johnson, a young tough guy out of New York. He was kind of cocky, but very reliable. We really had an excellent group. All of us ready to fight. “Major Stevens,” said Johnson, “Are we really going to get our new armor by next week.” “That’s what they tell me Johnson.” “ I was just wondering because I can really see that the vest they gave me is falling apart.” “Stop bitch’n Johnson,” exclaimed Sgt. Wilson. “Its alright Sgt.,” I said in a reassuring way, “I’m sure you can you can make it one more day through patrol.” We all packed up our gear and moved towards the humvee that was waiting for us. The driver was an older guy. Sense we just got into Iraq a week earlier, I had only just seen him around the base, and I didn’t know his name. “You guys ready to go,” said the driver. “You bet we are,” said Anderson. The humvee was supposed to take us to a remote village outside the city. The army told us that they wanted the village swept because there were reports that the enemy was storing weapons in the village. We got into the humvee and pulled out of the base and started down the road. It was hot as hell and the buildings around us seemed to be waving in the scorching heat. There were few people on the streets, but as we drove by they all seem to have the same look of hatred on their faces. I think that hatred was for us. About an hour into our drive we approached the exit of the city. Just as we were about to cross the bridge that led into the countryside toward the village and out of the city, we heard a loud explosion. “Major, we’ve been hit,” screamed Anderson. The rear of the humvee had been struck by an RPG and was in flames. “Everyone out,” yelled Sgt. Wilson at the top of his lungs. As the men exited the humvee, the driver was the first to go down. He didn’t even give off a cry. I found out later that he had been struck in the neck and was killed instantly. I guess that must be some relief for his family back in Georgia. At least his kids can know he died without suffering. My unit moved away from the burning humvee and tried to take shelter behind some surrounding parked car. At this point bullets were flying around like a swarm of bees. It was absolute chaos. “Major, I’ve been hit”, said Johnson. He fell to the ground. I ran over to him to see what I could do while Anderson and Sgt. Wilson provided cover fire. I reached down to get his attention and I saw he had been struck in the chest. He was hardly breathing and not conscious. I reached down for his radio he was carrying and called for immediate support. As I looked back over at Johnson I noticed that where he had been shot that he shouldn’t have been wounded because his armor vest was supposed to stop any bullets from hitting him there in the chest. I guess that he really couldn’t wait another day for the new vest. Just as I was getting up to go check on Sgt. Wilson and Anderson, I heard another large explosion, larger than the last, and this time I heard lots of screaming. I turned around and both of them were lying in the street. Sgt. Wilson laid still and was moaning. Anderson was tossing back and forth and was screaming for his mother. I got up to go to them, but as I got up I felt a hot sharp pain right below my right arm. It knocked me over and eventually caused me to black out. When I awoke, I found myself in a hospital bed. The military doctors told me I was lucky and that my wounds weren’t that bad and that I should be ablbe to go back in the field within a month. Now days I have learned to accept that we are fighting for an unknown cause. I don’t know how our great country could stand behind a war that makes no sense, but I hope that someday, maybe, I will be able to find at least some personal reason this war was worth fighting for. But right now it sure doesn’t look that way.

By Kai Youngman

Sources: www.iraqwarveterans.org/index.html