Hunting Down Saddam (28 page)

A major concern of ours during this time was how to get at the thugs planning these attacks. We began to place a series of outposts and ambushes in the most likely areas of enemy activity. The locations varied from downtown to suburbs to villages. The labor was not in vain. On the night of the 6th to 7th of September, we raided three suspected locations based on tips, and detained seven thugs and weapons. The night of the 7th, one of our outposts in a northern suburb noticed a group of men with AK-47s coming to an abandoned house for a meeting. We suspected this house all along and had 1LT Mike Isbell's men from C Company posted there, but they were actually looking for a bomber at a house in the opposite direction. Even so, our men opened up on the group, wounding one and capturing five others.

On the 9th of September, a foot patrol from C Company led by SSG (Staff Sergeant) Sanchez, found itself under fire from a white car driving by an alley. The enemy fired RPGs and rifles. Our men immediately returned fire and blasted the car, forcing the enemy to flee. We were unable to locate the thugs thereafter.

We were however able to locate more of those planning their evil deeds. On the night of the 10th we cordoned three businesses along 40th Street. Among the goods in the stores were TNT and C-4 explosives, clocks, mercury for detonators, mortar ammunition, AK-47s, and shotguns—quite a variety for the discriminating shopper.

Toys

Most interesting of all were several radio-controlled cars that were being converted into bombs. The cars themselves were discarded but the bombers were taking the electronic guts from them to attach to blasting caps. Then they would wrap them in C-4 and place them inside a container of some kind for camouflage. The “hobbyists” would then use the remote control (R/C) steering device to initiate the bomb, as a convoy would pass. The range on these devices is about one hundred meters. In a built-up urban environment, that is about the same as one hundred miles in terms of seeing who could initiate the bombs.

To counter some of the threat of this, I took one of the R/C controllers and taped the levers down. The toy cars all operate on essentially the same frequency. We put it on the dash of our humvee, flip it on, and use it as a poor man's anti-explosive device—risky perhaps, but better than exploding bombs through discovery learning.

Since this time, we have received all sorts of good ideas and gadgets to counter the bomb threats. Unfortunately, most of these devices are full of promise and short on delivery. The jamming equipment in “high speed” vehicles also jams our radios—not the best solution.

Other items have been huge white Chevy Suburbans with NASA-like antennae. We might as well paint bull's-eyes as an added touch. These are like going to war in a Winnebago—fine for the movie
Stripes
but not fine in reality.

Elections

Mid-September arrived with promise. The heat still insufferable, our soldiers performed each task magnificently, whether ambushes, patrols, training native levees, or engaging the local officials in democratic processes.

We graduated our first class of Iraqi Civil Defense Corps soldiers and began training the second. We formalized the “Council of Sheiks” and made the head tribal leaders the representatives rather than open it up to everyone who had a complaint. This allowed us to focus on the best issues. Our mayor began to get his footing and established an effective system of public works. We hired our third municipal police chief—the first was fired, the second was transferred. Our cooperation with the Saladin Government continued to gel.

With this backdrop, MG Ray Odierno tasked all the units to select delegates for each city and province to form representative councils to aid the governors of the three provinces covered by the 4th Infantry Division. Having already engaged many of the sheiks and leaders beforehand, we found an able group of ten sheiks and five professionals from which to choose four representatives for Tikrit. Other cities did the same and then we all came together at the 1st Brigade headquarters for the representative election of thirty-four delegates to serve on the Saladin Province Governing Council.

The big day came on September 13th. I met with our Tikritians in a private room after all were gathered in a general assembly. Iraqi judges were present for each selection and to oversee the ballot count with each battalion commander.

I gave each prospective councilman the floor. The qualifications for why they should be selected varied. One touted his 9th-grade education and character. Others spoke of their law or engineering degrees or were medical doctors. Some had held political office before. My favorite was a tribal head sheik that stated simply, “I am Sheik [so-and-so].” That was the sum of his qualification and he passed the floor to the next individual. He was not elected, but he did get several votes.

On the afternoon of the 18th we were coming back from a visit to B Company in Bayji. Not far to the south, two humvees and a wheeled ambulance were transporting a sick soldier north along Highway 1 to the military hospital. Little did they imagine that before they arrived they would add to their casualty list.

At about 1600 hours, as the lead vehicle neared the spiral arches on Highway 1 south of Owja, a terrific blast shattered the vehicle's windshield, front tires, and side. The humvee belonged to a first sergeant from 1-66 Armor who was leading the convoy. We heard a distant
whump,
and then a radio transmission requesting assistance. The driver lay bleeding but conscious when we arrived. The soldiers there all seemed shaken by the event, which was understandable. The armored battalion's sergeant major arrived shortly after we did.

I remember looking at the young man laid out on the ground. His leg was mauled but not seriously damaged. His mouth and face were covered in blood. He seemed worried and was obviously in pain. The sergeant major and I told him to take a deep breath, relax, and that he was going to be OK. He calmed a bit and then said he needed to spit. He had collected blood in his mouth from what appeared to be some missing teeth.

The men from that unit did a good job putting their convoy back together. They grabbed their casualties and equipment. Fortunately for the wounded soldier, he was traveling with an ambulance and medics so he was going to be fine. I told their men that we would recover their vehicle and remaining gear and to not worry about it. We would get it to them at the brigade aid station.

We did a hasty examination of the area and found the remnants of a Motorola radio bomb. These were not your average bombs. The range on them was several kilometers. As we were in an open expanse of desert along the highway, there was no telling who had initiated the device—except that he was a coward. Several Iraqi cars were also damaged by the blast, although we never learned if any Iraqis had sustained injuries.

We returned to our command post, ate, and then went out on patrol again. We were up in villages to the north that night when we heard some disturbing radio calls from across the river. A section of humvees from the brigade's reconnaissance troop had been caught in an ambush on a levee road. They were responding to reports of an RPG being fired in the area. The lead and trail vehicles came under tremendous fire that killed three soldiers and wounded two others. The remainder of the men fought off the attackers and maintained contact with the enemy.

Soon, the rest of the troop rallied to them and requested medical evacuation support. We immediately responded from our side of the river. I sent C Company with Bradleys and Infantry to support CPT Des Bailey. All of the wounded and killed were brought to our aid station. CPT Brad Boyd supported the cordon of a couple of farms in the area until late afternoon the next day.

Three of the six attackers were captured outright. A total of forty were eventually hauled in and from these all of the attackers were brought to account. Even so, the result could scarcely remove the pain of such loss. The men all belonged to the artillery battalion supporting our brigade and the troop. Our best comfort lay in taking it back to the enemy.

The next evening, we moved across the river in force with our battalion. CPT Mark Stouffer's A Company, CPT Jon Cecalupo's tank company and the S3 and I patrolled the entire swath of land with Bradleys, M1A2 tanks and Infantry from our task force. We continued to support Des Bailey's troop with a section of Bradleys and some mortars for some time after this. In the coming weeks, the people cried for us to stop operations in the area. CPT Bailey handled them as they deserved to be handled—and captured or killed those equally deserving.

Taps

As LTC Dom Pompelia's and CPT Bailey's units recovered from their loss, we prepared to pay our respects to the fallen. The night before the memorial service—the 20th of September and my mother's birthday—COL James Hickey called me. He said he had received a Red Cross message. I did not think this unusual, as many of my soldiers had received these unfortunate messages, including me when my grandfather died in July. I was not prepared for the news he gave me. He said that my stepfather had died only a few hours before and that my family had requested my presence. I was stunned. I was accustomed to loss on the battlefront but not the home front. I immediately missed him. Just a few days before, I had received one of his letters.

After calling home, I knew my place had to be with my family. I called my commander back and told him I needed to go home for the funeral. He understood and supported me. I told him the battalion would be in good hands with MAJ Mike Rauhut, my executive officer. I left the next day.

While I Was Away

A world away, C Company patrols received fire from the industrial area of the city. The Iraqi Police were also attacked at their main police station. The attacks seemed feeble and the enemy appeared content to “miss-and-run.” There were no casualties.

The next day, MAJ Mike Rauhut led the battalion on a magnificent raid into the farmlands south of Owja. Based on an informant's tip, the “Gators” of A Company cordoned the lush, densely vegetated farm. A bountiful harvest of weapons awaited—23 shoulder-fired anti-aircraft missiles, 4 RPG launchers with 115 rocket-propelled grenades, 400 hand grenades, 1 mortar with 39 rounds of ammunition, 51 smoke pots, over 1,000 pounds of C-4 explosives with 1,300 blasting caps. This deadly crop was laid out in our trucks for eventual destruction.

The “Cobras” of C Company had their palace rattled by RPG fire on the 29th of September. An informant on the 30th led our operations officer MAJ Bryan Luke to a cache of sixty rocket-propelled grenades. After weeks of successful raiding, the enemy was severely disrupted. He struck back with more roadside bombs.

On the 1st of October I received a phone call from CPT Matt Weber, our rear detachment commander. He told me there had been an attack with casualties and that MAJ Rauhut was trying to contact me. He got a call through a few minutes later. The news was not good. A sinking feeling washed over me. Here I was, strangely out of place standing in a Texas parking lot while Mike described what happened.

CPT Curt Kuetemeyer's convoy from our support company was traveling north in downtown Tikrit along Highway 1 where it turns into the main street. Passing the soccer stadium, his vehicle approached the Tuz-Tikrit highway turnoff. Suddenly he went deaf and saw a bright flash to his left. The air immediately turned brown with dust and had a sickening sulfur smell. He knew something was terribly wrong. The humvee seemed pilotless.
Hit the brakes!
he thought. Then he thought the brakes must be damaged. He braced for impact.

At a T-intersection in the highway stands the road sign directing a turn off for the city of Tuz. The vehicle crashed the curb, flattened the road sign, and bounced to halt. He could see flames all around him. CPT Kuetemeyer immediately took stock of his soldiers. They were in bad shape. He could see his driver slumped and still seat-belted behind the wheel. The soldier behind her was badly burned and pinned in. The soldier behind CPT Kuetemeyer was in better shape and was also trying to free himself from the vehicle. Despite the shock of the concussion, Curt seemed intact and able to move.

SPC Guckert and FSG Davis in the vehicle behind saw their company commander's vehicle hit by the blast and watched in disbelief. They braced themselves as they entered a brown, flaming fog. They pulled up to the blazing vehicle. FSG Davis yelled for Guckert to pull security and ran to the vehicle. Guckert ordered SPC Bemak to pull security as well and then immediately made a radio transmission for help, her voice calm and in charge. She described the situation and guided life-saving help to the scene, fully aware of her dangerous surroundings. CPT Kuetemeyer and FSG Davis managed to pull the three wounded soldiers from the burning vehicle. They performed an emotional and grisly task, fighting the flames as they attempted to save their comrades in the burning vehicle.

SPC Guckert then informed another convoy that was passing by about the situation. These soldiers pulled security around the vehicles to assist. SPC Guckert joined CPT Kuetemeyer and FSG Davis, encouraging the wounded to hang in there as they rendered aid. Guckert then grabbed her aid bag and began to administer first aid.

CPT Brad Boyd from C Company showed up and provided immediate help with his men. The wounded soldiers were taken by humvee to the battalion aid station. There, our surgeon MAJ Bill Marzullo and our physician's assistants CPT Alex Morales and 2LT Armando Buergette struggled to save CPT Kuetemeyer's driver. She died of her wounds. The other soldiers were treated for serious burns, concussions, lacerations, and broken bones.

Meanwhile, Highway 1 returned to normal after C Company recovered the vehicle. There will never be an opportunity for Iraqis to dance on our equipment. Not in this town. We would kill the whole city first.

On the 3rd of October I boarded a plane in Dallas to return to Tikrit.

Meanwhile, in Tikrit, the soldiers of the 1st Battalion, 22nd Infantry and the 4th Forward Support Battalion gathered at Saddam's “Birthday Palace.” The Aggressors of A Company, 4th FSB stood on the asphalt still marked with lines for Saddam's military parades. A chaplain stepped forward and prayed. A Purple Heart and Bronze Star Medal for making the ultimate sacrifice were laid on a pair of boots overshadowed by a lone rifle with a Kevlar helmet planted on top. At a podium, commanders and friends struggled to find words that vocabularies failed to adequately provide. Soldiers stood at attention. Private First Class Analaura Esparza-Gutierrez's name rang out for roll call. She did not answer. Taps resonated in mournful tones. Tears rolled down faces as they remembered her life.