Jim Spiri in Iraq

Today I would hook up with 1/40 Cav under 4th BDE part of 25th ID, who are stationed stateside at Ft. Richardson, Alaska. 25th ID is actually out of Hawaii, and I have spent a great deal of time in Hawaii in years past, involved in the helicopter industry. So, as I began to learn the soldiers I was with today, I reminisced much on my days in Alaska and the connection to Hawaii. I would meet a few soldiers from New Mexico, and a couple from Philadelphia, which happens to be the home of the folks posting my blog.

What I realized today is everything seems to be coming full circle once again as I begin to wind up this journey, by being here in the area on the south edge of Baghdad, where the surge is in full swing.

The day began very early, before sunrise. I was to meet up with 3rd platoon at their TOC and wait for an assignment into a humvee. Wishing I had some coffee, I purposed to stock up on some "rip it" drinks from the DFAC next visit during chow. Soon, I was met by SSGT John Floyd, 29-years-old, from the southern California area. He is prior Navy and had been trained in firefighting and after six years he decided he wanted to be more involved in the battle on the global war on terrorism. So, he joined the Army.

This is not the first time that I have come across such men, but this time, I would take note and write about it for the readers. Sgt. Floyd is a lively person and immediately I realized that his linking up with me was a good thing. He reminded me of other soldiers I had become good friends with, and as the day went on, he too became another one on the list of folks to remember. I had been apprehensive in meeting new soldiers for I spend so much time trying to explain why I'm here and what I'm doing.

It's not easy to explain it all.

Prior to the mission, I was taken aside by Lt. Anderson, head of 3rd platoon, who explained to me what we would be doing and some procedures to follow.

I had noticed he was a little skeptical about "the guy with the camera" and I broke the ice about telling him my son is over here and that my wife and I have worked in theater for over three years. I figured I would put him at ease and let him know that the history he is involved in is the reason I'm here. He smiled and shook my hand and from that moment on I began to once again feel the pulse of another unit. All these soldiers are stationed in Alaska and I would accompany them today on patrol through some agrarian terrain to the outskirts of a village called Hawr Rajab.

The driver was Elam, the gunner was Martinez from Phoenix, Arizona, and the vic commander was SSGT Floyd. The back right seat was vacant and I was informed that the door on that side is inoperable should we encounter a situation that required me to enter the vehicle rapidly. I took immediate note. We headed out the FOB in the dark heading for another small base between Falcon and the destination we were headed to. I never have a clue where I am usually and in the dark the confusion on my part is just multiplied. So, I enjoy watching humvees move through the dark with soldiers wearing NVG's and me not having a clue where I am or where exactly I'm going, but always trusting that these guys know the way. And they always do. It never ceases to amaze me how they get around in the dark.

We arrived at the smaller base and coordinated some things. I was given a "rip it" drink and was soon energized by caffeine enough to last the morning through. It was sunrise and the day looked so nice as light began to peek over the horizon. From here we would walk to our objective. I looked around and did not see any homes. What I saw was a farming area of sorts. For the past several months I had been used to walking in the residential areas mostly. I realized that today would be different. I like the rural areas and I was up for a good brisk work out.

As we began our walk, the lighting was very good. The scenes I was snapping reminded me of what I had read about in patrols in Viet Nam, years back. I was also beginning to realize that the training for patrols I received from the Marines in Anbar has been one of the most helpful things I've learned during my entire journey. Striding through Fallujah in the middle of summer with the Marines, has well prepared me for anything in Iraq. I must say however that today I did feel the "pain" just a bit, but it felt so good to keep up the pace. It is why I don't go to the gym.

We came to a small farm home of sorts and this would be the place we would stay for a couple hours or so.
As we approached the home I noticed my camera was giving me indications that something was not working.
I immediately began to cuss out Nikon again and vowed to one day tell the world that Nikon cameras don't hold up in war zones. I fiddled with it for a while, changed cards, and for the time being it seems to be working ok. But the first 40 or so photos I took, plus the ones of my son and I together, seem to be temporarily lost, and I'm not so happy about that.
I'm not sure, but I think the card is shot, but only time will tell. And I'm running out of time.

As we took up positions around this farm house, other platoons were setting up on the edge of the town yet not entering the town. We would all be in a waiting mode of sorts. It was at this time that the soldiers began to open up a bit and explain to me what they have been doing for the past year here in this sector.

Little by little as we all sipped on some cold bottled water from our camel packs, conversation focused on who I am and who they are. We talked about things and they began to realize that I came here to see what it is they do in this area of the country. What I learned was that it is a very hostile place and after a year of it, they are all looking very forward to going home. They, like others, have all been extended to 15-month deployments. No one likes it. Not even the extra $1000 a month bonus for every month over 12-months in country, changes their desire to go home.
Everyone has told me in every place, 15-month deployments are grueling. No one likes them, yet all stay focused. They have to. Lives depend on it.

I learned that the village we were just a ways from in an over watch position, has been an AQIZ stronghold.
It is a Sunni village. The area we walked through is an open space between that village and another village that is a Shia town. Both are at odds with one another. The village we were at from a distance, has pretty much been vacated lately, by the Sunnis as operations to route out AQIZ have been taking place recently. For the past couple of weeks however, it has been relatively quiet, more or less. Little by little, the Sunnis are beginning to come back in. It was explained to me that the AQIZ think they own the day, and for sure do not own the night in this village. So, our presence today was to let the bad guys know that American forces are here and the day does not belong to AQIZ.

It was also told to me that in a village just down the road a short distance, maybe 1-2 kilometers, there the AQIZ are concentrated and they have not been rooted out, yet. It is a delicate approach, one everyone thinks about as this war in Iraq, especially in this part of the southern edge of Baghdad, continues in the midst of the surge.
As I spoke more at length with the soldiers of 3rd platoon they educated me in depth of their history here in this area. They have suffered some losses and wounded among their comrades in the company and to hear them talk of it humbles the listener. They refer to their fallen comrades sometimes in the present tense, not acknowledging right away their absence.
They speak of the massive IED's that took them out and how in one day, four IED's blew up, two more were found, friends were lost, others were injured, lives were saved by medics and other soldiers acting as medics and many other things that were described in vivid detail.

As I listened to this historical conversation I learned that at any time the exact same type of situation could occur right where we are. I learned that the enemy is ever adapting and extremely creative in the use of HME (home made explosives). All the soldiers told me that those stateside think this population might not be so smart, but the soldiers here know first hand how incredibly creative the enemy has become and never underestimate their perpetuancy for lethal blows to US forces.

I then spoke at length with a fellow New Mexican. His name is Cpl. Justin Wheeler, 24-years-old, from Gallup, NM. He is a medic who is also a first class infantryman. We struck up a conversation due to us both being from NM. He is a fine man, looks older than his age, and has a head of red hair that distinguishes him from all the others. He told me as the day went on about how some of his comrades were killed and how miraculously others were saved when all thought at first glance they would be lost. He credits the training that some soldiers receive called, CLC, which stands for combat lifesaving course. As he recalled the events of certain days past, I noticed that specific dates stood out in definite order. There are dates he will never forget.
But as he told me these stories I noticed he was recalling how good his comrades that passed were, not how horrific the event was. They all speak in the same manner. Perhaps in years ahead they will recall a different emotion, but for now, they remember the comrades that were professionals.

I was very humbled to hear of what this past year has brought to the soldiers from Alaska. And there are many other stories not told. I had found where most of the "such and such numbers killed this month" had come from. It is a bad area. And we were here on the edge of this little town to say to the bad guys, "no, you don't own the day".

One of the patrols had found a 155mm shell, left probably for later pick up by they enemy. That is how the enemy does things. In a network of schemes like an underground mafia, piecing together this part and then that part and then placing it right in the path of soldiers on patrol. This one had been located, EOD was called out, a charge was placed, and the round was detonated. Later, we gathered our things and headed back to where the small FOB was, where our humvees were parked.

On the way back I stayed with SSGT Floyd who led the way. He walks briskly, and I liked the challenge to keep up. But in SSGT Floyd's walking, he is always looking for IED set ups. At one point, shortly after we set out, he told me that the locals say this field has IED's in it and to keep a close eye on where I step. It was very easy from that point on to keep up with him and follow his exact steps. Some things just don't make you tired.

In the end, we arrived back at the small FOB, retrieved the humvees and returned to FOB Falcon.
This day's mission was over. All were fine. There will be more missions by the soldiers from Alaska in the days, weeks and months ahead before they redeploy home. After all, they are the ones most only know of as the "surge". But, I was blessed this day to be at the heartbeat of the surge to hear history from the history makers in the place where history takes place.
I had come here because I had heard that this place has been called wild. One might say it was "The Call of the Wild" that brought me here.
But, what I found here were soldiers from Alaska on patrol in the very south of Baghdad, Iraq, in an area that has been wild but today was calm. That is a good thing. Perhaps the strategy of the surge is working.

Perhaps my wife and I should visit Alaska again someday. I may have a few new friends there I'd like to buy a beer for.

Jim Spiri
FOB Falcon
jimspiri@yahoo.com