War Stories (21 page)

That's apparently not the case for some correspondents who are covering the war from Baghdad. For the troops who gather around our miniature TV screen, the best entertainment in Iraq has become the regular press briefings proffered by the Iraqi information minister, Saeed al-Sahhaf. Nicknamed Baghdad Bob, Saddam's official spokesman is ridiculed for his outrageous take on the “news.” His claims that Iraqi forces have “destroyed” the Army's 3rd Infantry Division and “halted” the Marine advance are greeted here with derision, even if they are taken seriously by some who are reporting from the Iraqi capital.

This morning Baghdad Bob reported that 207 civilians were killed in allied raids on the city during the previous night. He also says that Iraqi soldiers have driven American and British troops back from Basra after killing hundreds, perhaps thousands of them. The Marines find all this to be highly amusing.

But as funny as Baghdad Bob has become to the troops fighting here in Iraq, there's a serious criticism about the reporting on this war that is, for them, anything but a laughing matter.

Their complaint about the media is how U.S. television outlets regularly broadcast footage fed from Al Jazeera, referred to in the ranks as “Jihad TV.” Most of the troops recall that Al Jazeera was a “cheering section” for Osama bin Laden in Afghanistan after September 11, and they widely believe that the network is little more than an anti-American propaganda tool in the Arab world. Al Jazeera's broadcasts of Iraqi claims about civilian casualties inflicted by coalition forces and their apparent willingness to accept as fact any story provided by the regime are infuriating to those who believe that they are liberating the Iraqi people from a deadly despot.

By the end of the weekend they have even more reason to despise the Al Jazeera network.

   
OPERATION IRAQI FREEDOM SIT REP #13

      
With HMM-268

      
Vic RCT-5 Command Post

      
20 km north of Ur, Iraq, on the Euphrates River

      
Sunday, 23 March 2003

      
2300 Hours Local

This day does not begin well. Shortly after midnight we move yet again—leapfrogging forward to stay with Col. Dunford as he displaces his command group once more farther north, up Route 1. As
soon as we arrive at the new CP site, Griff and I once again fumble in the dark to set up our satellite gear so that we can go live for the 6:00 p.m. (EST) evening news broadcast. It took us almost a full hour to get up on the air, because in the new location, in the dark, and without lights, Griff and I can't find a Humvee to plug in our satellite equipment. Finally, shortly after 0100 hours local, about thirty seconds before we're due to go on the air, Griff gets our system up and we are able to go live with Washington.

Tony Snow asks me about the CH-46 crash on the night the war started, and I tell him what I know—with the exception of the names of the twelve Americans and Brits killed in the crash. The snafu over identifying the British dead has postponed their notifying next of kin, and MAG-39 has begged us to delay broadcasting our videotape of the crash. The U.S. Marines want to make sure that all of the families of the dead Royal Marine commandos receive their sad news before our exclusive video of the crash airs worldwide.

Worse yet, since our D-day crash, there has been another accident—this time two Royal Navy helicopters collided in the dark over the Persian Gulf. Seven helicopter crewmen were first declared to be missing in the water. Later, all seven were confirmed as killed. For the pilots and aircrews of HMM-268 who lost four of their own on the first night of the war, this is like rubbing salt into a raw wound. But it is just a foretaste of what is to come.

Shortly after we finish our 0100 broadcast, as we're preparing to get some much needed sleep, a runner from the 5th Marines CP races up to our helicopter with information that a U.S. Army convoy is fighting for its life south of us inside the city of An Nasiriyah. Our four pilots climb out of their cockpits and follow the messenger up to the CP. There they're told that their Marine CH-46s need to be prepared to launch on short notice for possible emergency cas-evac missions in the area of An Nasiriyah.

Inside the 5th Marines CP, officers and communicators are closely monitoring radio nets that are reporting on the battle to our south. The known locations of friendly and enemy units are being plotted on a large battle map with grease pencil. Over in the corner, Col. Joe Dunford, the RCT-5 commander, is huddled with his S-3.

The map shows that the Iraqi 11th Infantry Division is garrisoned in and around An Nasiriyah, a predominantly Shi'ite city of more than 400,000, bounded on the north by the Saddam Canal and to the south by the Euphrates. In 1991, Saddam had brutally repressed an uprising in An Nasiriyah and the occupants were generally thought to be hostile to the regime. Marine engineers and U.S. Naval Construction Battalion “Seabee” specialists judged that the city's four bridges—two to the south over the river, and the pair to the north over the canal—were capable of holding the seventy-two-ton weight of an M-1 Abrams tank if the spans could be captured before Saddam's troops seriously damaged or destroyed them.

Because rapid movement over the Euphrates and the Saddam Canal was crucial to the 1st Marine Division's scheme of maneuver, Task Force Tarawa and RCT-1 had been given the mission of seizing the four bridges just after first light on March 23. TF Tarawa's armored columns were poised about thirteen kilometers south of the Euphrates, ready to strike at the appointed time. The plan called for TF Tarawa to seize the southern spans and open the route through An Nasiriyah so that RCT-1 could race through the city and grab the northern bridges before the Iraqis knew what hit them.

But now, just hours before the attack to seize the bridges was scheduled to commence, an Army convoy of the 507th Maintenance Company, trying to close up on the 3rd Infantry Division, had taken a wrong turn and been ambushed near the easternmost of An Nasiriyah's southern bridges. It is apparently in imminent danger of being wiped out. Marine TF Tarawa, the closest U.S. military unit, is given
the mission of mounting a rescue operation.

At about 0300, TF Tarawa moves out, heading up Route 7 toward the ambush site, with a company of tanks in the lead, followed by 1st Battalion, 2nd Marines mounted in AAVs and trucks. Shortly after dawn, Iraqis along the railway bridge south of An Nasiriyah ambushed the lead elements of this heavily armed column. But unlike the soft-skinned Army trucks driven by mechanics, cooks, supply clerks, and other logistics personnel that had been so easy to pick off earlier in the night, the already combat-tested Marines, supported by AH1W Cobra gunships, replied with an overwhelming, disciplined firepower, destroying ten Iraqi tanks.

By noon, most of 2nd Marine Regiment is engaged in and around An Nasiriyah and anyone not otherwise occupied is seeking to learn how it is proceeding. The Cobras and armed UH1Ns that have been supporting 5th Marines are pulled off and sent to support TF Tarawa's fight. Hoping to get some footage of the action, I jump on a UH1N and fly to the FARP that has been established at the captured Tallil Air Base, southwest of An Nasiriyah. The Army shock-trauma hospital set up there to process casualties is already struggling to keep up. As the day wears on, the number of killed and wounded mounts rapidly.

Cobra pilots returning to rearm and refuel describe Marines fighting from their vehicles as regular Iraqi army units and civilian-clad fedayeen pummeled them with small-arms fire and RPGs (rocket-propelled grenade) from one- and two-story buildings lining “the gauntlet.” The foreign fighters are said to be from Syria, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Lebanon, and Egypt. One of the pilots says that these so-called fedayeen are entering the city from the north riding in buses, private autos, even motorcycles—all spoiling for a fight.

Despite the mounting Marine casualties, there is some good news: 1st Battalion, 2nd Marines have rescued a half dozen or more wounded soldiers of the 507th who had been hiding out in the outskirts of An Nasiriyah since the ambush of their ill-fated convoy.

There are few “walking wounded” to interview. The most grievously injured are quickly stabilized by Army doctors and nurses and dispatched back to Kuwait on U.S. Army Black Hawks and Marine C-130s. There, in an Air Force expeditionary hospital, they are either given further treatment or evacuated all the way to Germany aboard a USAF C-9 Nightingale.

Finally, mid-afternoon, I am able to cajole the crew of one of the CH-46s to take me aboard on a cas-evac mission. As we approach the pickup zone north of An Nasiriyah it is obvious that this has been the scene of a terrible fight. Blasted and smoldering American vehicles are intermingled with wrecked Iraqi tanks and civilian vehicles. Just north of the bridge, a Marine LVT apparently torn apart by an RPG or an anti-tank rocket still has the bodies of dead Marines inside.

As the wounded are loaded, I can see RPGs and gunfire raining down from the buildings a few hundred meters away. Cobra gunships are raking the rooftops and alleys of nearby buildings with 2.75-inch and 5-inch rockets, TOW and Hellfire missiles, and bursts of fire from their 20mm Gatling guns. Farther to the south, 155mm artillery rounds are obliterating structures and city streets. The din of rifle and machine gun fire from the Marines on the LVTs deployed around the zone—and from other dismounted infantrymen in ditches beside the road—can be heard even over the decibels of the helicopter engines and rotors. Every time an Iraqi or fedayeen fighter shows himself, the Marines respond with a fusillade of fire from their 240-Golf machine guns, rifles, and grenade launchers. As the up-guns of the LVTs accurately lobbed rounds with good effect into second-story windows, litter bearers, hunched down to reduce their target profile, race for the helicopters, carrying their dead and wounded comrades.

Several of the killed and injured have terrible wounds inflicted by a USAF A-10 that has swept over the gunfight strafing the 2nd Marines' column. Despite extraordinary efforts to prevent such friendly-fire incidents, the pilot somehow mistook the Marine AAVs
for Iraqis, and the carnage caused by the “Warthog's” 25mm armor-piercing rounds is horrific.

By the time we arrive back at the FARP it is beginning to get dark and I hitch a ride back up Route 1 with a 5th Marines resupply convoy that is just forming up. Unlike the long, slow-moving 507th Maintenance Company convoy that was ambushed the night before, these Marine vehicles are loaded for bear. There are fewer than fifty vehicles in the procession, and interspersed among the supply trucks and tankers, every third or fourth vehicle is either an M-1 Abrams tank, an AAV, a LAV, or a “hardened” Humvee with a machine gun, TOW, or grenade launcher in its turret. Nearly all the seven-ton trucks has a manned .50-caliber machine gun over their cabs, and the Marine riflemen standing in the AAVs have the muzzles of their rifles and 240-Golf machine guns pointing outboard as though daring a suicidal fedayeen fighter to fire at them.

I ride in a Humvee with the convoy commander, a Marine reserve MP lieutenant. He would ordinarily have been going to work in a pinstriped suit if he were back home in the States, but today he's wearing a flak jacket and helmet, briefing drivers and troop commanders on an “Ambush SOP” and their “immediate action drill” in the gathering dusk at a captured Iraqi air base. His Frag Order is as well thought through and professionally delivered as any issued by a career officer.

After a brief description of the friendly and enemy situation, he tells them that their mission is to safely deliver critically needed ammo, food, water, and fuel to RCT-5, approximately twenty-five kilometers up Highway 1. Emphasizing that they are to avoid rather than engage the enemy, he continues, “Minimum speed—thirty kilometers per hour. No lights. All drivers and gunners use NVGs. Stay closed up. Keep track of where you are on your GPS. If we're hit, open fire to the flanks and keep moving. If a vehicle is disabled, the next two follow-on vehicles will pull alongside to provide suppression
fire and pick up passengers and wounded. If possible, the M-88 tank retriever at the back of the column will take the damaged vehicle under tow. If the damaged vehicle can't be moved, the last tank in line will destroy the vehicle and its contents with its main gun. Leave no one behind.” After giving everyone the radio frequencies for the convoy and the Cobra gunship escorts, and then ensuring that every vehicle has an infrared strobe mounted on its antenna for IFF (Identification Friend or Foe), the lieutenant asks, “Any questions?” There are none.