What I thought would be a relaxing day for me as an American Army Soldier at Camp Warhorse in Baqubah, Iraq proved to be untrue. It was the morning of May 28th 2003 after a "normal night" consisting of a somewhat manageable sleep schedule despite the frequent mortar attacks on our camp. Emerging from my Colman tent I started my daily routine, shaving my face using the drivers side mirror of my humvee to see myself, and using my canteen cup to rinse my shaver. After cleaning up I ate cold chicken and rice from a MRE packet to energize myself for the long and hot day ahead.
I was the 2nd Brigade 4th Infantry Division Command Sergeant Major's Driver; I was also part of the Brigade Assault Team which was mainly active at night when we were getting attacked. The day started out slow and calm, the hot sun began to rise and quickly heated things up. Shortly after I ate my meal the Brigade Command Sergeant Major reminded me we would not be leaving the camp that day. He had told me this the night before, yet it was still a sigh of relief for me to hear it again. I would not have to deal with the high level of anxiety involved with driving around in a combat zone, nor did I have to wear the heavy bullet proof vest while within the perimeter of the camp.
Before it got to hot to drink our water, I met up with some of the soldiers from our supply section to get some ice to fill my cooler. They had already gone into Baqubah to the Ice factory to get big blocks of ice, they were about 4 feet long and we would chop them up with our bayonets. That was one of their daily duties along with gathering all the supplies our company needed to survive out there. I had gone with them many times before to Baghdad, and Baqubah to get supplies s...
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...ion and had to make a decision to either, keep going hoping he would get out of the way, or stop and risk the lives of all of the soldiers I was leading into this. I may have made my decision out of pure fear and in the few seconds I had to decide, I hit him. I remember this in slow motion. He hit my brush guard and flew into the air, moving forward now at the same speed as us, he gradually lost speed and altitude and started tumbling on the road in front of me. The man then disappeared under my hood and thump, thump, as I ran him over with both of my passenger side tires.
Some say this is cruel, some say he deserved it. I think if they meant us harm then it was the right thing to do. I will never know though because of course, the reason for doing this was I did not want to stop and risk the lives of several soldiers when we were obviously out numbered by far.
PBS’ Frontline film “The Wounded Platoon” reviews the effects the Iraq war has had on soldiers as they return home and transition back into civilian life, focusing particularly on the rise in post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) among American military members from Fort Carson Army base (Edge, 2010). Incidents of PTSD have risen dramatically in the military since the beginning of the Iraq war and military mental health policies and treatment procedures have adapted to manage this increase (Edge, 2010). In “The Wounded Platoon,” many military personnel discuss how PTSD, and other mental health struggles, have been inadequately treated (if at all) by military mental health services. Reasons and Perdue’s definition of a social problem allows us to see inadequate treatment of PTSD among returning United States military members as a social problem because it is a condition affecting a significant number of people in undesirable ways that can be remedied through collective action (Reasons & Perdue, 1981).
In “The Smell of Fresh Paint” by Sergeant Tina M. Beller tells a short story of “Tina Beller was stationed near an abandoned Iraqi palace that was being remodeled for use as an embassy. Iraqi insurgents, or armed rebels, launched a deadly
“For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty for service as a machine gunner with Company I on Operation ALLEN BROOK. Company I was approaching a dry river bed with a heavily wooded tree line that borders the hamlet of Lee Nam, when they suddenly came under intense mortar, rocket propelled grenades, automatic weapon and small arms fire from a large, well concealed enemy force which halted the company’s advance and wounded several marines. Realizing that key points of resistance had to be eliminated to allow the units to advance and casualties to be evacuated. Pfc. Burke, without hesitation, seized his machine gun and launched a series of 1-man assaults against the fortified emplacements. As he aggressively maneuvered to the edge of the steep river bank, he delivered accurate suppressive fire upon several enemy bunkers, which enabled his comrades to advance and move the wounded marines to positions of relative safety. As he continued his combative actions, he located an opposing automatic weapons emplacement and poured intense fire into the position, killing 3 North Vietnamese soldiers as they attempted to flee. Pfc. Burke then fearlessly moved from one position to another, quelling the hostile fire until his weapon malfunctioned. Obtaining a casualty’s rifle and hand grenades, he advanced further into the midst of the enemy fire in an assault against another pocket of resistance killing 2 more of the enemy. Observing that a fellow marine had cleared his malfunctioning machine gun he grasped his weapon and moved into a dangerously exposed area and saturated the hostile tree line until he fell mortally wounded.
My grandfather was asleep one night on a Coast Guard cutter when another ship, a destroyer, appeared in the distance. The destroyer hit my grandfather's ship in the exact spot where he was sleeping. When he awoke, he found himself in the freezing water, watching his friends swim ashore to safety. They were leaving my grandfather there to die.
The day after my grandfather left Playku Central Highland the army was overran by the Vietcong and there began the hand to hand combat. My grandfather was really scared for his little brother because he was afraid he would never come back, and...
At 0800, we were ten to twenty miles away from the target when a twin-engine enemy fighter attacked us over the island of Kyushu. One of our engines caught fire, which required the crew to abandon. The engineer and I remained onboard and we continued our flight for another five miles until we lost a wing. We then bailed out and parachuted safely before the plane crashed near the town of Taketa. I evaded capture for eight hours. I was blindfolded, handcuffed, and taken by train to a camp.
In November I had finished my sniper training. There was talk of being sent to Africa to help in the desert campaign during our graduation ceremony. I was never more nervous in my life. It was all becoming real; everything I worked for.
I was deployed to Camp Bondsteel, Kosovo when Operation Iraqi Freedom kicked off. I remember wondering how this war would affect my life or the direction of my career and unit. In March of 2003 I found out. Because of the war, our replacements, already having been trained for real world action, were sent to Iraq, extending my already long six month tour to ten. The start and end of that war, as a whole, had its effects on not just me and my unit, as I was deployed there twice, but on the whole world. The outcome of a war can be explained one way or the other. The effects of which can echo throughout the ages. But the battles that bring you to the wars conclusion are the building blocks to the character of that war. One such battle that helped define the character of Operation Iraqi Freedom was the first battle for Fallujah also known as Operation Vigilant Resolve.
One cold, snowy night in the Ghetto I was woke by a screeching cry. I got up and looked out the window and saw Nazis taking a Jewish family out from their home and onto a transport. I felt an overwhelming amount of fear for my family that we will most likely be taken next. I could not go back to bed because of a horrid feeling that I could not sleep with.
My soldiers and I settle among our dead and wait. We had killed many of the enemy troops, but the mustard gas from the Zeppelin that burst into flames had done the most damage. This battle is over and we settle and wait for the next attack. Hopefully, this Great War will soon be over and we can return
...uld hardly speak; tears began to trickle down my check as I took deep breaths to regain my wits. In my mind, these two men absolutely had something to do with the IED that had killed Mike. In that moment I would have been glad to be judge, jury and executioner. Of course that’s not what I did, as U.S. Soldiers we operate under a code of conduct.
Sebastian Junger, author of the book, “War” and documentary titled “Restrepo”, argues that civilians need to understand troops’ complex feelings about war and if they do not, they will not do a very good job bringing these people home and making a place for them in the society. Junger reports that he wanted to fully understand the universal war experience and accompanied soldiers to a post called Restrepo, Afganistan. The war was happening in the Korengan valley, one of the most dangerous fields to battle in. Junger reports that war is not a political endeavour but real life experience. He admits that good number of soldiers returned from this place damaged. He documents on the kind of life the soldiers experienced at Restrepo. He notes that there was nothing like running water and soldiers could go for days without showering; there are no women to give these young people company, there is no television, alcohol and so on.
Camp hale is a rocky mountainside campgrounds where many troops go to learn and have a good time. It was my 2 year there and it was triple digits for the whole week. There is a trading post where you could buy candy,soda, and other stuff. During the week, i had bought many sodas and candies which just dehydrated me added to the heat and me not drinking water during it made me a victim to heat exhaustion. I was at dinner on the 4th day their when i became very tired and the troop-master noticed. He asked if i was feeling alright
It is hard to grow up as a young child without getting a few scraps and bruises. Kids are so active and have to have fun and burn off a little bit of energy. Imaginations are key to fun and to life. As a child one must come up with the most unusual games. Children do not realize at their age how important family is and just how much they give up for their child.
It was my first and last time that i got yelled at. This happened on the first day I arrived to camp pendleton. Everybody was in one line and the cadres would tell us in what squadrant we were assigned. When the cadre told me I didn't really hear her I just walked away that was the worst thing I could have done I didn't know where I was going. One cadre walked up to me yelling at me and asking me “WHERE ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE !?” I was so scared. I responded with “ I DON'T KNOW MAM!” oh my lord i almost cried three more cadres came up and were all yelling in my ear man did I miss my parents that day. I felt like leaving and quitting then and there.