Another Fallen Soldier

Our brief 10-day stay in Amarah is now finished and we have returned to COB Adder at Tallil Air Base near Nasariyah. I probably need a little more time to fully digest everything that occurred while working in Amarah but this represents an initial telling and interpretation of some of what happened while there. In the last post I set the scene of the small and new base where we stayed and a brief recent history of wartime events in the province.

Our team was really breaking new ground in terms of US involvement in provincial development. Unlike other provinces where we have worked, there had been very little pre-planning or knowledge of places to go and people to meet. Over time we have developed a template for this and it turned out to serve us well in Maysan.

Last Saturday we looked forward with anticipation to visits to the pump stations that served two of the three largest irrigation districts in the province. We got off to a rough start with some friction between the lieutenant who was in charge of our security detail and the major on the Civil Affairs team who was serving as a liaison between our team and the military. Once we got that worked out, we had some confusion around the link-up with some local leaders who were going to show us exactly where to go and then meet with us to discuss problems. Then, while on site, more and more people kept crowding into the main room of the pump station, making our Army security detail very nervous. At this point we were also far enough away that we were no longer in radio contact with the base so that if anything went wrong there was no way to call for help.

Once we finished our meetings at the pump stations, we made our way back toward base. When we finally came within radio contact, we learned that another soldier from the battalion, the second in about ten days, had been killed in an IED attack on the base commander’s convoy on a road heading south from Amarah, very near the same spot where the first soldier had been killed last week. Like the first soldier, this one was a gunner killed by an EFP directed upwards. Immediately, I could sense a change in the soldiers riding in my Humvee, their thoughts turned inward and a near complete lack of the normal radio chatter and good-natured ribbing.

When we arrived at the base I thanked the soldiers that took care of us as I usually do and told the lieutenant who led our security detail how sorry I was that he lost another comrade. He appreciated the gesture but I could tell that he was struggling to maintain his composure. I too got caught up in the moment, feeling a lump in my throat. A mental numbness washed over me.

We returned to our tent to try and make sense of the day’s events. The major came in and unleashed a brief and emotional tirade, directed largely at our BBA, who had been serving us well and diligently. I realized right away that the major’s anger and frustration was not really aimed at the BBA, that he was only a convenient target, and that the major was responding to a perfect storm of the events of the day, that it represented a response to cumulative causes. We also came in for criticism about circumventing the major’s authority in dealing directly with the lieutenant leading our security detail.

After the major left our tent, we sat there looking at each other in disbelief, trying to make sense of everything. A few guys opened MREs but I had completely lost my appetite. Then, we heard shouting from a nearby tent, the one housing the Iraqi interpreters living on the base. Apparently, a soldier came to the tent brandishing his weapon, threatening to kill one of the interpreters, thinking that one of them had tipped off whoever had triggered the IED. Apparently the soldier had really become unhinged. When I talked with the interpreters later they told me how much they liked the soldier who had been killed, how he used to come by and visit with them and learn a little Arabic, and how they too grieve for the loss of his life. Several interpreters were genuinely afraid for their lives and were going to request transfers to other bases.

Walking around the base that afternoon the soldiers were somber. The sense of anger and frustration was palpable. The desire for vengeance was very strong, nerves were raw, and tensions high. I spent the afternoon in quiet introspection, thinking about the young man and how his family was going to respond to the news of his death. Until the Army notified his next-of-kin, the base commander imposed a communications blackout, an order that remained in effect for over two days, essentially cutting us off from the outside world.

On Saturday night (actually Sunday morning) around 2 AM, the major came running into our tent to assure us that everything was fine, that we had taken some incoming fire but it had landed outside the perimeter of the base. Every night while at the base we had been hearing outgoing mortar fire, sent at random intervals to deter attacks. I found it impossible to distinguish between outgoing and incoming fire so I had assumed that it was all outgoing and had slept through the “attack.” Apparently the incoming fire was part of an elaborate plan to draw out the QRF (quick reaction force) and then spring an ambush. Fortunately it did not succeed.

It seemed to me that the growl of fighter jets, a constant nighttime feature during my stay at FOB GarryOwen, was more intense that night. In the morning we saw two Apache helicopters circling slowly overhead, looking for a target.

All movements off the base were cancelled on Sunday so we had no choice but to stay put. The major stayed away from us and for the most part we kept to our tent. I could really see the look of frustration on the faces of the soldiers. They are trained to kill and they wanted vengeance on the enemy that had taken one of their brothers, but they know that this was not an enemy that can be fought conventionally. It’s this knowledge that they find so frustrating.

For my part, I was surprised at the intensity of my own reaction. Upon reflection I realized how close I’d become to these soldiers, especially the ones who’ve been guarding our lives and enabling us to do our work. They are often in the background, but I always know they are there and will act professionally to any situation; I never take them for granted. Although we have followed very different paths, we share a common purpose here, each doing different parts of the same mission, and we need each other (although they need us less than we need them). I believe this, at least in part, explains the depth of my feelings for the loss of these two young men within the last ten days.