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Emails from Lt. Josh Arthur
Happy Holidays from the Sandbox ;)
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
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
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