Our Commanding Officer (CO) cared very little for the Marines in his unit. To him we were nothing more than steppingstones to his next promotion or award. This was a man who did not hold back on sending his Marines on ridiculous missions and if I recall correctly left the Forward Operating Base (FOB) we were holding once for combat patrol, maybe twice, and that is not an exaggeration. I cannot recall how many times while we were in Iraq he would be yelling at a Lieutenant or on of us Staff Sergeants for not doing our jobs because Marines were not getting wounded or killed. While giving orders to one of the Rifle Platoons he told them they would go to a location and stand in the open; their mission, to draw out enemy sniper fire so our snipers could try to take them out. While we argued against routine patrols on exact same routes because he puts Marines as risk, especially at the threat of Improvised Explosive Devices (IED), he would shout back, “Marines fucking die, that’s your job.” I was on Watch in the Command Post when the call came in that one of our HMMWVs patrols was stuck by an IED. It was what we called a “catastrophic hit”, no survivors. While my friends were picking up their pieces of their fallen and trying to identify bodies off name tags and dog tags on the boot; I overheard our CO mumbling something about his Fitness Report for his next promotion finally having something good on it.
I was a Section Leader for one of our three Mobile Assault Platoon (MAP). This consisted of four armored vehicles: one 7-ton with three HMMWVs and minimum of three personnel per vehicle. When we started the deployment there were four to five per vehicle, but due to casualties across the company, we were down to three per vehicle. We were already there at the end of our fifth month of a seven-month deployment in the Al Anbar province. The three MAP platoons were on a rotation. One day of constant patrols (sometimes upwards of 20 hours straight), one day of Quick Reaction Force (QRF) which was also our rest period, and one day of whatever was needed; sometimes additional patrols, supply runs to the Battalion headquarters, overwatch on roadways, waterways, highways. Anything that fit the COs whimsey.
One day near the end of the month the CO tasked us with checking an area near an oil refinery and setting up a vehicle and personnel check point. After conducting our survey, I told the CO this was not a good idea. Our Company was already stretched thin, we did not have the manpower for another 24-hour post, and the area was so far in the open it was not a matter of if we would be attack but when and how bad. The CO decided we don’t need a 24-hour post, we will just run it from sunrise to sunset. I tried to argue that this was an even worse idea. Sunrise to sunset gives the enemy greater opportunities to lay IEDs or other traps and only increases the risk to the Marines. I asked, “This has not been a priority before, what is different now?” The CO’s response was, I wish I were making this shit up, “The next unit will be ripping in in less than a month and we need to make it look like we were doing all this the whole deployment, so we look good. Figure it the fuck out and make it happen.” I realized later when he said, “all this” he had plans for the rifle platoons as well, more patrols, more open exposure to draw out enemy fire.” You couldn’t help but believe that this guy views combat success based off how many of his men were sent home in body bags. We didn’t have much choice, this was Iraq and this guy was the Commanding Officer placed in command, so we made it happen and this mini check point was added into the rotation. This replaced the third day of rotation “the Cos whimsey”. If additional support was needed for any of the other responsibilities of day three, he would muster his “supplemental MAP platoon” which consisted of our FOBs mechanics, cooks, supply & administration Marines. While every Marine is a rifleman, these poor SOBs rarely left the base, were not familiar with the Area of Operations whatsoever, and had not seen direct combat once in any of their combat deployments.
We added the Oil Refinery checkpoint to our rotation. Every third day my section heads out there after a day of QRF and rest. After some time, the checkpoint grows in popularity with the locals. Each day we are on QRF, I submit a request for overnight satellite patrols to check the area of activity and every time it is denied. More people come each day and on one of our rotations, we spot something shiny on the desert floor; it turns out to be copper wire. The wire of choice for command detention IEDs buried under the dirt. I submit my report and request snipers and / or satellite patrols and this time I include, we don’t know if they plan on attacking us anymore, we know they are and it is only a matter of time. The CO denies the request again. It is February now; we are less than six weeks away from going home. My MAP section was on patrols, and the CO had us out the over eighteen hours patrolling in vehicles, sitting over watch, etc. As the sun rises, we finally get the call to bring our patrol back to the FOB. Exhausted, we started the trip back. Shortly after entering the FOB, I send my Marines to go get breakfast and eat before hitting the rack, we are on QRF now and if we get called, they need to eat to refuel their energy. When I enter the Command Post I am greeted by the CO. He wants us to gear back up right away and head to the check point. I honestly cannot recall what the guys who have been on QRF for the last 24 hours were doing. I just know they were well rested, inside the FOB still, and available. I reminded the CO we were supposed to be on the QRF rotation; my boys have been on vehicle patrols for over eighteen hours; they were tired and needed rest. He screamed at me, “This is a fucking combat zone do your fucking job staff sergeant.” I headed back to the chow hall and told my boys to throw their food away and we headed to our trucks. They were pissed off, complaining, but we all knew the character of our CO. He gave lots of orders, never told us the why, and expected unquestionable loyalty till our death.
When we reached the checkpoint every warning sign was there. The 20-30 people standing by waiting for new ID cards were absent. The 5-10 taxis sitting on both sides of the checkpoint to shuttle to locals around were all missing. Just 3 cars sitting off in the distance. No one thought anything of it. We were beyond tired. As we approached the area, me and the four other Marines not driving or manning a gun got out and started sweeping the area for signs of IEDs, wires, threats, etc. I found myself walking over some small dunes towards the three vehicles when the blast went off. I turned and watched as one of my Marines, the youngest in our unit, was thrown into the air. I started sprinting towards him. I reached his torso, everything from his waist was gone. I held him in my arms staring into his eyes, helpless and useless. There was nothing I could do except hold him as he gurgled and choked for a few seconds and then eyes went grey. I was in shock, I didn’t move, couldn’t move. Our corpsman ran up next, put his arm on my shoulder and said, “He’s gone Staff Sergeant, there’s nothing we could’ve done.” I knew he was right, but in my head, I was already blaming myself for not doing more, for not arguing with the CO about setting up this position, for getting my boys the rest they needed instead of heading back out when we shouldn’t have been there.
I called in the causality evacuation and waited for the QRF to arrive. The QRF that was still sitting in the FOB after spending the last 24 hours resting. I couldn’t help but feel angry at them, though I knew it wasn’t their fault; it was his, the CO. They arrive not to pick up out KIA Marine but with new orders. The CO said to evac our own Marine out and return to the FOB so we could get some rest. I radio back to the base requesting to stay, we just lost our Marine and I did not want the rest of my unit to have to transport our own casualty back then try to tell them to rest. The request is denied and when I try to argue with the radio watch the CO get on the radio yelling into it, “Follow your fucking orders.” We collect the remains and drove back to the FOB. The medical team is waiting; they take care of our fallen and the “supplemental QRF” will be taking him to the landing zone to start his final journey home. I tell the Marine to try and rest and head inside the Command Post; I had reports and an after action to write up. While I am completing the reports the CO comes in and says, “Staff Sergeant, I just wanted to let you know I put that request for Sniper you asked for in.” I replied, “It’s to fucking late now.” The CO clearly irritated raised his voice and asked, “What did you fucking say to me?” I did not hold back, I shouted, “It’s to fucking late now.” and I started walking away. As I walked, he was yelling, “Get back here Staff Sergeant.” I had had enough and all I could say as I walked out of the CP was, “Go fuck yourself.”
I walked into the room I shared with the other Staff NCOs, they heard everything. Asked if I was ok, they meant well, but they knew I was not. A few minutes later our 1st Sergeant walks in and angrily throws some papers at me telling me to sign them. I ask him, “What are these?”. He tells me it’s your Company Level NJP, you’re being charged with disrespect to a Commanding Officer.” I told 1st Sergeant I refuse to sign and he tries to tell me I do not have an option, I cannot tell the CO to go “Fuck himself” and expect to get away with it. I lost it on 1st Sergeant; I told him I know my rights under the UCMJ, and I refuse to sign an NJP because I am going to request a court martial. I know I probably won’t win; but in a court martial I will appear in front of a jury of my peers and his, (the COs) and I will tell them every fucked-up order he gave, every time he made comments about losing Marines getting killed like it was something positive. I will tell them of this fucked up post he put us on, of the wires I found, of the requests for snipers denied over and over again until after another Marine is killed and how 1 hour after he dies, the CO finally says he is going to support us; and I will call every fucking Marine in our company as witness in my trial to testify against him and the shit he put us though. 1st Sergeant walked out of the room. He returned about an hour later with another set of papers and I asked him if those were my court martial papers. He told me no, the CO decided to drop the NJP charges and wrote me a No punitive letter of caution chalking my outburst up to combat stress due to loss of a Marine. I refused to sign that paper too, but it still made it into my records.
Nearly twenty years have passed since that incident and to today where I find myself writing about this incident. To this day I still wish I had done more or done something different. I blame myself for not seeing past my exhaustion and recognizing the imminent threat of that day. I wonder if I had argued more against the position or against going out that day if things would have worked out differently. I felt guilty for a long time, it ate me up inside. I stopped talking to people, I started drinking more, I grew disconnected from the people I cared most about. I kept everything bottled in and refused to talk about it for almost 15 years. I didn’t want to seek help because I did not want the stigma of being labeled and I feared if I let someone diagnose me with PTSD then somehow people would treat me differently. Try as I might, I could not hide the anger and pain I felt inside, and it almost cost me my marriage. I agreed to seek help, but only with someone who served, because no civilian could ever comprehend the full impact of the emotions and guilt I was dealing with. I still wonder if things could have turned out differently. I still think about that deployment and how we, the Staff NCOs and Lieutenents might have done more to support and shield our Marines from a CO who saw them as not his men, but as steppingstones to his next promotion. We did the best with the situation we were given and bonds we created were stronger than the failed leadership we dealt with.