As the soldiers of Apache Troop prepared to move out the front gate of FOB Saber and head to our destination for the evening, there was a lot of things going through my mind. First and foremost was the knowledge that we were about to take part in something that could potentially be history-making and world-changing at the same time. It was a distinct honor to be able to play even a small role in a mission of this magnitude, and not only was I going to be able to play a small part — I was going to drive the 113 on my first night mission. As medics, we go out all the time with patrols at night, but only in emergency situations are we called upon to drive our ambulances to the scene. The higher-ups had deemed it absolutely necessary that we have full medical support on this mission, and I was lucky enough to be on primary the day it happened.
We lined up at the front gate with Red Platoon leading the way, followed immediately by the commander’s up-armored Humvee and our 113. Following us would be Green and Blue platoons, with a 88 tank/wrecker bringing up the rear with the squadron commander’s Humvee. We were only at the gate for a few moments before getting the command to roll out, and the line slowly started descending out the front gate. Now, you’ve probably heard that over 600 personnel participated in Operation Red Dawn, and I would say that figure sounds about right. Our Squadron had about 50 vehicles in the convoy, and to see it rolling out in pitch blackness was something I’ll never forget. We finally pulled the 113 out of the gate, and were immediately washed out by sand.
Most of you have never used night-vision goggles before, so I’ll try to explain a little bit about them. When you’re driving at night with the NVG’s, you can see perfectly…as long as no one shines a bright light in your direction. At that point, they become “washed out” and you’re stuck without vision for a few seconds. In this kind of situation, the best bet is to stop the vehicle and just wait until you have positive visuals again.
There’s another thing you might not know about Iraq, but get this: there’s sand. A LOT of sand. The sand has a mind of its own and particularly enjoys flying up in your eyes while you’re trying to drive, rendering you useless for driving and extremely potent on the cursing end of things.
On this night, BOTH of the above mentioned items happened to us.
We pulled out of the gate and through Checkpoint One, and were immediately blinded by both sand AND the boosted light coming from the city streetlamps. Both myself and Hatley, who was acting as my TC for the evening, couldn’t see more than 2 feet in front of us, so I stopped the vehicle to wait for visuals.
Unfortunately, when my vision returned, the convoy had left us.
We knew where we were going. We had maps and grid coordinates and knew exactly where we were supposed to be lined up during the mission. The problem wasn’t that we were lost — it was that the convoy had lost us. Fortunately, however, some enterprising folks from the Squadron headquarters pulled around and let us jump in behind them for the remainder of the trip.
The trip down Highway 24 was a relatively short one. After about 15 minutes of driving in full black-out mode, we were given the command to stop and set up a checkpoint and security. We were on the outskirts of the farm where the suspect was located, and as medics we really couldn’t do anything except sit back and wait until we were called upon. So we did just that — I turned up the radio, pulled out some beef jerky and the coffee that I’d freshly brewed before leaving for the mission, and played the waiting game as patiently as I could.
Our troop stopped all cars coming down Highway 24. Some protested, but most of the citizens could tell that we weren’t playing around on this night, and gladly went about their business. About 20 minutes after we’d set up our positions, we got the call that the engineers were about to shut down the power for the city, and in an instant the entire cityscape turned pitch black.
We heard the sound of approaching helicopters, and in the darkness we could see the silhouettes of the Super Blackhawk choppers flying low overhead. We knew the Delta Force boys were in those choppers, and that’s when the reality set in. The government doesn’t send Task Force 121 on an Air Assault mission when they’re just going after a reported suspect — TF121 is used only when the division has good intel and they are almost positive that they’re going to be successful.
From our position on the outskirts of the farm, we could see the mission unfold. The TF121 guys dropped out of the choppers and entered what looked like a little mud shack. These types of living quarters are everywhere in Iraq, and they are shockingly strong — I’ve seen a two-room mud hut withstand not only 25mm and 50cal fire, but three rounds from a Hellfire rocket fired by a Kiowa assault chopper! We typically have to take a tank and drive over the houses before they are destroyed. Oh, and before most of you start writing comments about how we’re destroying innocent people’s houses — we’re not. The only times we’ve ever destroyed houses are when they are found to be used as weapons caches or Improvised Explosive Device manufacturing facilities.
About 7 minutes after the choppers roared overhead, we were informed that the mission was completed and was a success. We were in a joyous mood, and of course a lot of people rushed back to the FOB and went immediately to the MWR tent to call and email relatives. The squadron had obviously thought about this scenario beforehand, because we discovered that the internet and phones were “shut down until further notice due to operational security.” This discovery only confirmed what we knew — that Saddam had been captured and they were waiting until they could get the media ducks in a row before releasing the news to the world.
The days following Operation Red Dawn were outstanding. We all knew that we’d taken part in something special, something we could tell the grandkids when we’re old and gray — something that will be remembered forever. I’ve read all the conspiracy theories (and, by the way, none of them have merit, including the far-fetched one about the Kurdish militants who’ve held Saddam captive for months and then planted him in the spider hole so we could find him) and I know that with any situation such as this one, there’s going to be people who try to play the devil’s advocate and put their spin on what happened and why.
The truth is that thousands of people around the world sit on the computer every day and prognosticate what’s going to happen over here and why things happen and who should be blamed for all of it, but there are thousands of people just like me — regular, average people who are simply doing a job — who are here actually DOING the things that most people dare not dream of doing. No matter what the conspiracy theorists or anti-War movement people say (and I’m not saying I’m pro-War, simply pro-Soldier), the operation that took down Saddam Hussein was grounded in complete reality and 2 months of hard work in capturing the right people and tracking down the right leads. Nobody can take that away from us.
Yesterday during Christmas, our unit was awarded a coin by the division commander for our efforts in the mission. We had the task of providing security for one of the most high-profile missions in the history of our conflicts with Iraq, and I would have to say that every single person in Apache troop did their job with respect and with the kind of fervor that can only be found when you have soldiers fighting for something they actually believe in. Regardless of our opinions on the reasons we’re here or the current state of politics back in the United States, all of us knew one thing for certain — that Saddam Hussein was an evil man and the unspeakable, horrific things he did to this country during his near-four decades of dictatorship deserved some kind of retribution. We don’t know if he’ll get that retribution or if he’ll get assassinated before his trial ever begins, but we know that we did our part in bringing the man to at least some form of justice.
I finished editing the copy of Part Two this morning after getting some changes back from our Affairs office. This afternoon after I finished I took a nap and shortly thereafter was awoken with the news that I had to get dressed and get in the 113 immediately — there’d been an IED (improvised explosive device) attack on our convoy that had been returning from Camp Speicher. Thankfully, there were only minor injuries and we were told to stand down because the guys from 1-22 Infantry were going to take our wounded in to the palace for treatment. We still don’t know the full outcome or the entire story of what happened today, and it’s quite likely that most of you will hear about it on the evening news before I even get to hear all the details. Christmas has been wonderful, but it’s obvious that we’re back in reality now and it’s time to get back to business.
I’d like to thank everyone who’s been visiting the site for their continued support; your comments have given us all something to think about and we look forward to reading what you have to say. I’d also like to thank the fine people of Blogger, not only for the dependable journaling software, but for including this site as a Blogger Site Of Note for the week. Please continue leaving your thoughts and questions under each post and I’ll get to them as soon as I possibly can.
Also: this column will be available in a few formats supported by e-reading software sometime in the next week. If you have a format that you enjoy using, please drop me a note and let me know what it is and what software I can use to convert the text, and I’ll do my best to provide it for you.
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