Disarming the Bomb, Part 10

Camp Viper

Continuing from Part 9…

It was another day until we reached Camp Viper. Twenty-seven hours to be exact, on the afternoon of March 23rd. The EOD teams that originally started at Camp Coyote all reached Camp Viper. It was refreshing to see all the guys again. They had us stage just outside the Ammunition Storage Place (ASP). We were all tired. It was pretty nice to have an area where we all could rest. I was amazed at how fast the Marines set up the camp.

We staged our vehicles in a half moon formation just outside the ASP. Betsy was as hot and tired as we were, running for three days straight. T-Bone and I started to perform preventative maintenance on her. Checked the oil and tire pressures and blew out the air filters. We also organized our equipment more. We both were on the same page relating to being neat and organized.

All the EOD teams that night sat around and ate together. We had MREs and we were briefing each other on all that we had done over the past four days. That night I finally was able to get some sleep. T-Bone and I set up our cots next to Betsy. We both took a baby wipe bath before we hit the rack. I slept with my rifle. I never let my rifle out of my sight, and it was always an arm’s length away.

Wearing our chemical protective gear was actually a blessing. Under the chemical protective clothing or Joint Service Lightweight Integrated Suit Technology (JSLIST), also known as Advanced Chemical Protective Garment (ACPG) by the US Navy, I wore my silky shorts and a brown T-shirt underneath. Surprisingly, it was very comfortable for how hot it was.

The mask we used at the time was an M45 type gas mask. We used a system called M.O.P.P or Mission Oriented Protective Posture. This system ensured levels of protection against chemical, biological, radiological, and nuclear (CBRN) threats in such a way that each level increases protection and maximizes performance. If you were to wear the whole ensemble all the time, it would be extremely exhausting. Situational awareness and performance on the battlefield while operating in a CBRN environmental is crucial for survival. This was why the M.O.P.P. system was designed.

The next morning, March 24th, all the teams started to receive tasking for our next mission. T-Bone and I had been tasked with disposal operations along Route Tampa. As the US 2nd Marine Expeditionary Brigade made their way towards Camp Chesty on route Tampa, they would mark areas and structures with florescent orange spray paint where unexploded ordnance (UXO) was found. They would simply spray paint the letters “EOD.”

We spent the day preparing Betsy for this next task and making sure we had all the materials we needed. We stocked up on water and MREs. We refueled and made sure we knew the routes we wanted to use. The next town closest to us was Al Nasiriyah. I remember this day clearly because it was the same day that an 18-vehicle convoy of 31 soldiers of the United States Army's 507th Maintenance Company and two soldiers of the 3rd Forward Support Battalion of the 3rd Infantry Division missed a turn onto Highway 8 and mistakenly continued along Highway 7 into the city. This convoy made its way ahead of the US Marines and was the most forward unit into Iraq at this time.

This was what happened:

As the convoy turned left on to Highway 16. At about 07:00 it began to receive sporadic small arms fire, the source and direction of which could not be determined. The ambush was unlikely to have been set up in advance, because the Iraqis did not know which course the convoy would take. In the resulting chaos, the 507th became divided into three smaller groups as it attempted to move south, out of Nasiriyah. The first element of the convoy (known in the official U.S. Army report as Group 1) made it through unscathed, and continued south to meet up with the Marines. Group 2 also made it through the kill zone, although their vehicles were badly damaged and had to be abandoned. Group 3 encountered road barriers and was defeated.

At least 15 of the 18 American transport vehicles in the convoy, ranging from Humvees to Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Trucks (HEMTTs), were destroyed by small-arms fire, RPGs, mortar rounds, and tank gunfire. Some of them swerved off the road or crashed while attempting to avoid incoming Iraqi fire. One truck was crushed by the traversing 105 mm gun barrel of a Type 69-QM tank. At 07:30, King's three remaining vehicles made contact with the tanks of Major Bill Peeples' Alpha Company, 8th Tank Battalion on Highway 7, about 10 kilometers (6.2 miles) south of Al Nasiriyah. On their approach to the city, one of Peeples' tankers noticed American vehicles in the road ahead. Peeples ordered his tanks forward to rescue as many soldiers as possible. They rolled up on ten survivors from Group 2 which had also managed to escape the ambush and set up a hasty perimeter about 5 km (3.1 mi) south of the city.

In total, 11 soldiers from the 507th had been killed, while six others were captured, including Private First Class Jessica Lynch, Specialist Shoshana Johnson and Private First Class Lori Piestewa. Piestewa died of her wounds soon afterward. After a delay, the Marines of 1st Battalion, 2nd Marines (part of 2nd Marine Expeditionary Brigade), attacked Al Nasiriyah from the south, using amphibious assault vehicles (AAVs) and Cobra gunships. During this action, the Marines captured two bridges spanning the Euphrates River that were defended by Fedayeen and Ba'ath Party guerrilla soldiers. In heavy fighting, several Iraqi platoon-sized units, two ZSU-23-4 "Shilka" anti-aircraft weapons and several mortar and artillery positions were destroyed by a combined force of M1 Abrams tanks, Cobra helicopter gunships, and the artillery of 1st Battalion, 10th Marines.

We started to receive situational reports or SITREPS that the Marines had started to engage Iraqi forces in Al Nasiriyah. We also heard about the Army unit that Jessica Lynch was a part of and that she was taken by Iraqi forces. We didn’t have all the details as mentioned above. The reports we got were vague and limited. Suddenly the war started to really sink into our minds. This wasn’t some game. It was real and we were taking casualties. The Army had 11 killed and 6 captured and the Marines had 18 killed. T-Bone and I, and all the other EOD teams were on high alert. I had another adrenaline dump and became very focused. The Iraqi Army was fighting a lot harder than we expected. March 25th we were set to depart Camp Viper; T-Bone and I settled in the night before.

The next day, March 25th, 2003, we were met with the most fierce sand storm Iraq had seen in over 70 years. This delayed our next mission, obviously. The sand and mud in the air was so dense, our visibility was around 5 meters or less. The sand and grit packed its way into our weapons, leaving them completely useless. We were in our vehicles just waiting the storm out. Then suddenly, one of the senior Marine EOD guys started to run to each vehicle.

“What the fuck is big John doing?” I asked T-Bone. “I’m not sure,” T-Bone responded. T-Bone got out of Betsy to see what was going on. After talking to Big John for a few seconds, T-Bone ran back to Betsy, opened the door and said, “GET THE FUCK OUT, FAYAL!! LETS GO!!” He yelled.

What the fuck is going on, I thought to myself.

T-Bone ran behind Betsy and started to grab a shovel and the AT-4 we had in the back. I ran back to T-Bone and asked, “What the fuck is going on?”

“There’s a mechanized Iraqi division headed straight for us!” T-Bone yelled. “Take this shovel! We need to dig a fox hole!” he ordered.

“Roger that!” I responded. I ran in front of Betsy and started to dig. With each shovel full I dug, the sand storm blew back into the hole I was digging.

What the fuck! This is insane! I thought to myself.

I dug faster. I had to get a hole big enough to hold both me and T-Bone. I dug and dug like my and T-Bone’s life depended on it. After hearing yesterday’s SITREPS about Al Nasiriyah, I started to think that the Iraqi Army was a lot smarter and tougher than I thought. I didn’t know where T-Bone went. I kept digging and digging. I got a hole big enough to where T-Bone and I could at least cover half of our bodies. The hole was only waist deep.

Fuck! This is impossible! I remember thinking.

But I kept digging. It was chest deep. “OK, That’s good!” T-Bone said. I finally had the chance to look around. T-Bone and I were somewhat center of the half moon formation we were in. There were EOD Teams on our left and right. I checked my rifle. I could not pull the bolt back with the charging handle of my M-4 rifle. It was stuck. I had one round chambered, but none of the moving parts worked. I check my M-9 Beretta pistol, same thing.

Holy fuck! These weapons are useless! I said to myself.

T-Bone was right next to me. We both were tight in this foxhole that was quickly filling back up. We got inside the foxhole so that, if the foxhole filled itself back in, we would bury ourselves in it.

Fuck it. At least our heads would be out, and our bodies had some cover! I remember thinking.

I was staring out into the abyss, it seemed, trying to see any movement ahead of us. My mouth was full of sand and mud. I didn’t care. I was ready. This was the first time I felt that I could possibly die. I accepted it. I wanted to die fighting as hard as I could. I started to think of my daughter and wife at home. My wife was pregnant with my second daughter.

Lock it up Andy! You can’t think about that now! I thought to myself.

At that point, Big John slid next to our foxhole. “OK, this is the plan! Everyone’s weapons are jammed! You guys have one in the chamber though right?” Big John asked us.

“Roger!” T-Bone and I responded.

“OK, this is what you guys are going to do! When you see the enemy, you’re going to fire your rifle until it jams. Then, fire your pistol until it jams! Then, I want one of you to fire that AT-4! After that, use that fucking shovel!!! DO NOT MISS!!! HIT THE BASTARDS WHEN THEY COME!” Big John instructed us.

As quickly as he came, Big John left to go to the next foxhole. I felt extremely proud to be with the Marines. They always fought, no matter what. In US Marine history, they have never surrendered. Ever. Research that. It’s impressive, to say the least.

T-Bone and I waited and waited. I remember feeling controlled rage. I was pissed! I couldn’t wait to see the enemy and put one of my rounds into them. And my shovel too!

Fuck that! I’m not dying here today! I told myself.

In the distance I heard a helo.

“Hey! Do you hear that?” I asked T-Bone.

“Yeah! It’s close, too!” T-Bone responded.

The helo got closer and closer. It couldn’t have been more that 100 meters away from us. Then, all of a sudden we heard it land and start to power down. That helo just dropped out of the sky and landed right next to us.

“Holy shit! Did it just land?” I asked T-Bone.

“Yep, it sure did,” he responded.

The wind was blowing so hard that just to talk to T-Bone I was yelling at the top of my lungs. Our faces were being sandblasted, our mouths were full of sand and mud. Waiting, focused. Ready for what the enemy had to bring.

To be continued…