Carnivore (38 page)

That's Sergeant Tony Broadhead Captain Burgoyne in front, with Sergeants Leon and Broussard in back.

Captains McCoy and Bair, relaxing in between missions.

Pulling guard duty on the bridge in Balad, we were on the lookout for weapons and large amounts of cash. Here I am listening to an Iraqi try to explain to me why he had a wheelbarrow's worth of money in his car trunk. Do I look like I believe him?

Guard duty can be boring—so I put on an Iraqi antiaircraft gunner's helmet over a gas mask, jumped out of the bushes next to cars stopped at our checkpoint, and spoke like Darth Vader. It scared the hell out of the Iraqis.

Back in Iraq in 2005, holding up just a couple of weapons we seized—a British Sterling submachine gun and an RPG warhead.

Sergeant Craig took this shot through his Bradley's gunsight while he was supporting our “naval” missions.

During my second tour in Iraq, the insurgency was in full swing. We came across this Hummer on patrol. It was crewed by multinational forces, and we medevaced out the wounded.

This is what happens when big IEDs go off near your Bradley—your idler wheels break and fall off.

Working as private contractors in Iraq, here we are securing a site after a bombing. We carried a lot more ammo on us than when I was in the Army because we were the backup.

With my beautiful wife, Amy.

My sons Jaycob and Max, circa 2005.

This is me and Mark Schindel of Gerber Legendary Blades at the 3rd Infantry Division's Museum, at their small display of the things I brought back from Iraq. Visible is one of my uniforms, a sniper logbook, and the buttstock of the M16 I took out of Saddam's Water Palace. That's Geary's Bradley, Circus Freaks, firing a TOW missile during a training exercise at Fort Stewart.

I
have many people to thank for this, and so will proceed in chronological order:

First, Robert “Buffy” Ellison, for showing me what a true war hero looks like. Silver Star, two Bronze Stars, three Purple Hearts, three tours in Vietnam—and no one reading this book has ever heard of him, because after medically retiring from the Army he went home, lived his life, and raised his kids, like most combat veterans.

To Patrick Sweeney, prolific book author and Handguns Editor for
Guns & Ammo
magazine, for seeing something in me and getting me into the professional writing world. This couldn't have happened without you. Also, for introducing me to Dave Fortier. I can still remember us sitting around the table in Las Vegas, three skinny white guys with goatees. Right after that meeting, they both shaved theirs off. Mine just keeps getting grayer.

To David Fortier, fellow writer, my conscience and rabbi in the professional gun writing business, who told all his editors they should use me and got me into the TV side of the industry. Some debts can never be repaid. Also, for introducing me to Dillard “CJ” Johnson. My first exposure to CJ was a three-hour ride from the Kansas City airport to Dave's house with CJ and his three boys in a rented POS Mercury Marquis. You learn a lot about people on long car trips, especially if there are kids present. I learned CJ was a good father. Everything else is secondary.

To Jill Fenech, who helped transcribe some of my early phone interviews with CJ while he was still contracting in Iraq. She struggled valiantly with some of the military acronyms, doing her own research so she could get things right. And for not once complaining about CJ's regular use of the term
assclown
.