10/05/2024
2003
19 years old…..
Ft Carson, CO - November 2002-March 2003
After going to my unit and getting acquainted with the green machine that is the US Army, I found myself learning and growing with each passing week. Learning from those above me that had been through the paces and come to be the masters of the trade.
My unit was one that rotated between law enforcement on post (garrison) and training cycles where we would go through our series of weapons ranges and maneuvers for combat support missions. Iraq was potentially kicking off and I can still remember the back and forth from Saddam Hussein and our country’s leaders with it seeming to get more and more heated by the week.
Now, mind you, this was the very fresh post 9/11 time. Afghanistan was also full on and it seemed inevitable that it wasn’t if, but when orders would come for us to go to either theatre. We were itching for out part in the fight bit at the same time, it was definitely something that you spent the night in the barracks looking up at the ceiling wondering what it would be like. What it would involve. What it would mean. But until orders came, we just continued to train and train and train and train and train. It became a vacuum and there was so much that was thrown at us to learn.
There were also the personnel shuffles. Staff changed up due to certain soldiers ending time in service, others coming down on orders to a new unit, others coming on as brand new privates, and injuries that sidelined others still. There was a buzz about everywhere on post and it was both awesome and scary.
I was one of those basic minded Americans. Watching the TV as the planes slammed into the towers before leaving home for school my senior year was the final nudge for me to sign my military contract. I was already three quarters of the way there but once that happened they almost couldn’t get me to basic soon enough. I was pi**ed. And I was damn sure set on it not coming to my home.
So, fast forward to early 2003, those orders that we knew were looming finally came. But it wasn’t the celebratory or elated feeling that one thought it would bring. Everything suddenly became extremely real. Because for all the drills and scenarios, battle tactics, classes, weapons drills, and everything else we had been doing, it all now meant that the next time any of those would be employed, it would be the very real thing; war.
Woodland camouflage and shined black boots with berets soon went into the closet and was traded out for desert camo, tan boots, and soft caps. Our brand new M1114 uparmored humvees soon became a very desired commodity of armament overseas and we loaded them on the trains to be taken to Texas ports to, at the time, ship out for Turkey, where we would join them and come into Iraq from the north.
That final night in Colorado still sticks with me. The barracks were packed, everyone’s personal belongings were stored away, nothing but shower bags and what we were soon taking on a plane remained. S**t was getting real and really fast. Everyone was anxious beyond anxious. That hum or buzz about the place getting more and more loud. The reality that we may not come back was right there with cleaning out the barracks. At 19 years old that night was phone call after phone call after phone call doing those last chats with friends and family from stateside. And then one last ride with some soldiers around Colorado Springs just to get away from that gnawing anxiousness that was the barracks. Motivation through the roof, but that aching of what was being left behind and the fact that when or if we came back we all knew that absolutely nothing would ever be the same, feel the same, look the same, sound the same, and all that, it would never be that, ever again. Having good conversation on every call while the thought that it could very well be the very last time of ever speaking to someone or me speaking to them. Trying as best as possible to avoid that thought entering the phone call. Both sides struggling with how to say goodbye. All the normal endings of “Bye”, “Talk to ya later”, “talk soon”, “later”, “see ya when you get back”…..they held an absolute unknown as it wasn’t known if there would be a “later” or a “coming back”. And others with “you be safe and get back” or a couple “don’t you dare not come back” statements still resonate with me today. They felt like just as much a threat as a “do what you need to do to come home”.
Car ride over, it’s like midnight now, back at the barracks or the B’s. All lights on, nobody is sleeping. Guys are pacing the halls and outside. Others are trying to chill and maybe sleep. It was like an 0400 formation that would begin an extremely long trip to the Middle East.
Tired and stressed now, anxiety and all the phone calls playing over. I try and rack out but it’s uncomfortable, minimal bedding as what I kept was going into a dumpster soon. Staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning. Light dozing and then the alarm clock and it’s 0400. Time to go.
Company formation and this is it. These are the faces we will see for the next year. All we will know. A sea of desert tan and even with the anxiety, a solid confidence that God help what and whoever tries to f**k with us. Bravado or arrogance? Neither, just a confidence and determination that we were going to take on whatever came our way with how we were trained and get it done.
Gear loaded up, weapons issued, onto the buses and the 15 minute ride with police es**rt to the airport. Up the stairs and onto the commercial jetliner, stow your gear, find your seat, and in 18 hours we will be in Kuwait.
Wheels up, Pikes Peak “America’s Mountain” out the window and soon gone, destination Germany for refuel and then on to Kuwait. Sleep, wake up, eat, sleep. The plane had these small TV screens in back of the chairs ahead of us and they played movies. Otherwise it was a rather relaxing flight. Funny how all those thoughts connected to home had now disappeared. Every thought, every bit of focus was now looking forward with wonder and curiosity mixed in. What’s Germany look like? How long are we there? What can we see from the airport? And Kuwait, what’s it like? It’s how hot there?! You’re kidding! Where are our trucks? They haven’t left port in Turkey yet to go to port in Kuwait….lovely.
Back to sleep. It wasn’t good sleep either. It was like roadtrip sleep only with the addition of jet lag and exhaustion that comes from being unable to change out of the uniform and into whatever one wears to bed. None of that existed anymore. What we were wearing was what we were wearing for the next year. The most comfortable we were able to get was losing the uniform top and keeping a tshirt on, losing the boots and keeping the socks.
Leadership would make the rounds here and there to check on everyone but for the most part it was simply a time to chill as much as possible and joke around some too.
Then the final descent into Kuwait. Halfway around the world now gang! Looking out the windows as the plane got lower and lower and absolutely nothing but sand to be seen. Holy hell, nothing but sand. As a normal announcement, the flight attendants announce the current conditions on the ground in Kuwait City and the temperature here in April 2003 is a wonderful 95 degrees. Oh and Kuwait City, well let’s add to that 95 degrees and enter in the humidity being that it’s a port city right next to the damn ocean.
Wheels down. We step off that plane and the Kuwaiti air greets us literally like someone with a blow dryer on high. Breathing in was like breathing in the heated air from a campfire. How in the hell do people live here?!
Off the plane, into the heat, luckily briefly, as we all load up and onto a series of small buses with air conditioning. Then it’s a long ass ride north to the front lines and a series of camps set up for coalition forces….out in sandman land.
Camp Virginia. Nothing but sand berms, c-wire, tents, and formations of military vehicles (for those that had their’s). Our’s were still on route to port.
The invasion has already kicked off and been underway for a couple weeks at this point and we all cram into two huge tents with sand floors. My bed? A sheet of cardboard and a sleeping bag, if it’s cool enough to use. The tents had AC most of the time but there were several times when they would go out and we would roll up the sides if possible and if there weren’t sandstorms. Couple weeks there. CD player with Linkin Park’s Meteora album that came out just before we shipped off. Played over n over in the headphones as I slept, nightly.
It was about a half mile walk to the chow tent. I don’t recall showers, pretty sure it was baby wipe baths.
Our humvees finally arrived and then it was awaiting orders or attachment to a unit. There was confusion and more waiting and all sorts of logistical problems.
Finally, we got our destination, Baghdad. I had turned 19 just a few days prior. Now, here I was, a gunner in an armored humvee rolling north into Iraq. Intel still advising that there may be some T-72s running around. This was definitely concerning to me as a gunner with an M-249 mounted that does jack and s**t to a T-72! The AT4 draped behind me on the hatch would be the only possible way to handle that but that was if we could even get that lucky. Air support was around but nothing close. We weren’t moving under cover of gunships, they were up north on point in the fight. So yeah, roadtripping through Iraq….hot as hell, desert, and totally unknown ahead.
