The Marines cheered, but the engagement wasn’t over. They had taken out the insurgent in the minaret, but were still taking small arms fire from the mosque.
Gordon and Bivens worked to get the TOW back up while the remnants of First Squad were engaging, slowly eliminating the Iraqi hostiles holed up inside the mosque.
As Gordon and Bivens readied the TOW for more action, the second vehicle in his team pulled up. Gordon looked up to Corporal Nellis, who was manning the “Ma Deuce” .50-caliber machine gun affixed atop the Hummer.
“We have some Muj in the mosque that is located on the left about a block and a half down. Provide support with the fifty to the grunt squad,” he instructed Nellis before running back to his vehicle to grab a radio.
He contacted Battalion Forward Headquarters to request additional support and another medical evacuation team.
Gordon was really starting to feel the toll from the blast. After radioing the headquarters, he noticed blood on the handset. He checked his hands, discovering that they, too, were covered in blood. He glanced down, wiped them off on his trousers, and saw more blood drip from his chin onto his boot. He wiped his face with his hand and looked at it. A thick layer of blood again coated his palm. He examined himself in the side mirror of his Hummer, discovering bloody pockmarks all over his face. He had taken shrapnel from the blast. He used his sleeve to wipe off more blood. Knowing there was no more time to waste on his face, he headed back into action.
The .50 caliber, with the help of a few M203 grenades, did its work on the mosque. The area fell silent, save for some gunfire in the distance.
“What do you see, Bivens?” Gordon asked.
“No movement, but you know those motherfuckers.”
The mosque stood eerily quiet, no movement or gunfire came from it. Looking up the street, Gordon could see what was once a thriving marketplace on the right and a soccer field on the left. Now, debris littered the street, all the buildings were shot up, and a few small fires burned on the vacant sidewalk. Gordon wanted to ensure the mosque was secure, but the only way to do that was to take it.
“Stay in the gun and provide support if we need it. I’m going to take these Marines up the street and take the mosque,” Gordon said to Bivens. He reached into his Hummer and grabbed a few more magazines and as many high-explosive grenades he could carry.
“Roger that,” Bivens confirmed.
“Actually, change that. Turn the gun around and watch our six,” Gordon commanded Bivens. He then turned to Nellis and ordered, “Nellis, provide overwatch as we move up the street.”
“Roger that,” Nellis responded.
Gordon ran up to Smitty. “You and these Marines okay enough to go take that Hajji temple down?”
“Yes, we are!” he said with a smile.
Gordon led the Marines through the commercial buildings on the right side of the street, clearing each one. He navigated up-down, down-up, crossing over from one building to the next from the rooftops. The front glass of the last building had been blown out and the entire structure was riddled with holes. He grabbed one of his high-explosive grenades and tossed it through the open window. The explosion was followed by a scream from inside. While the Marines were stacked up along the side of the building, waiting to go, Gordon stood back, kicked the door, and ran inside. The Marines followed, each peeling off into a separate room.
Gordon had gone in and immediately went left into the remnants of a café. Tables and chairs were scattered, along with empty brass casings.
“Sergeant Van Zandt, Sergeant Van Zandt!” Smitty hollered from a room farther inside the building.
Gordon could hear Marines shouting and someone yelling in Arabic. Upon entering the room he met Smitty, another Marine, and two Iraqi insurgents. One was alive, wearing a white, deeply blood-stained thobe. The second insurgent lay motionless on the floor. The room had pockmarks from shrapnel and bullets, there was debris and trash all over the floor, and three AK-47s leaning up against a wall. Smitty and the other Marine shouted to the wounded insurgent, demanding he keep still with his hands in the air.
The insurgent shrieked back in Arabic. Gordon couldn’t know for sure, but after already spending a tour in Iraq, he had picked up some of the language and he thought it sounded like “Don’t shoot.”
All the yelling was becoming distracting; Gordon knew he needed to take charge and process the prisoner ASAP.
“Everyone shut up! Smitty, process the guy and check him out for any intel. The rest of us will head upstairs.” The Iraqi kept screaming. Gordon turned and yelled, “Shut the fuck up! That’s enough! No one is going to shoot you!”
The Iraqi fell silent, as if he understood Gordon’s words perfectly. He quietly sobbed as he rocked back and forth, shaking in fear.
Gordon left the room and started slowly upstairs. His progress was interrupted by Smitty’s panicked voice: “The other fucker—”
A loud explosion shook the room.
Gordon whipped back around. Chaos had erupted downstairs; the two Marines who had been following Gordon were now yelling, though he couldn’t make out their words.
Gordon headed back downstairs, into what was left of the room. The wounded Iraqi was now blown apart. A Marine had also been torn up by the explosion, but he couldn’t tell who it was.
Gordon heard a voice from the hallway. “Sergeant!”
Gordon turned and saw Smitty lying on the ground, covered in the blood of four people including his own.
“What happened?” Gordon asked, kneeling next to him.
“The motherfucker on the ground wasn’t dead. He turned over and had a grenade. He blew up Grebbs.”
“Dirty motherfuckers!” Gordon cursed.
Just then, another squad of Marines emerged from the entrance of the building. They were followed by an imbedded reporter and his camera crew.
A corpsman followed behind and immediately started to look over Smitty.
“Suicide bomber killed a Marine in that room,” Gordon informed the new squad of Marines, pointing to the room. “Upstairs is not clear yet. Let’s go.”
Gordon and the new squad proceeded upstairs and cleared the area. On the roof, they could see the mosque. There was still no apparent movement.
“Let’s go take it,” Gordon said to the Marines. They rushed back downstairs and out across the street. The reporter and his camera crew followed closely.
Smoke flowed from a few windows on the south side of the mosque. The entire south and east sides were riddled with bullet holes. Gordon and the squad approached the front door and stacked up along the east side. Gordon kicked the door, but it did not break down. He kicked it twice more. Nothing.
“Sergeant, I have a shotgun,” a Marine in the squad offered.
“Okay, get up here.”
The Marine shot the door handle twice with his 12-gauge shotgun and backed away. Gordon took a step back and kicked the door; this time it flew open. He tossed a high-explosive grenade through the open door and stepped back, leaning against the wall. The grenade tumbled and rolled down the narrow hall and into the large great room of the mosque. The explosion shook the ground. As was standard operating procedure, he and the Marines proceeded into the mosque after the grenade detonated. The reporter and camera crew followed right behind the last Marine.
The first room on the right side was full of munitions and small arms. The room on the left was vacant except for soiled mattresses. The men proceeded down to the great room, where they found a few Iraqis leaning up against a wall. The Marines loudly demanded they stay still. They all appeared alive, but wounded.
“Do not fucking move, fucking stay put!” Gordon yelled at them. He quickly assessed the situation in the room.
In the background, Gordon could hear the reporter talking to a rolling camera.
“I’m here inside a mosque in Fallujah with the Mar
ines. The battle has been fierce and the Iraqis have put up a tough resistance. In the end, though, they are no match for the superior firepower of the United States Marines. These wounded Iraqis here have managed to survive the heavy onslaught and are requesting aid—”
“Requesting aid? They haven’t said a fucking thing!” a Marine from the squad snapped at the reporter.
Gordon, with his rifle firmly planted in his shoulder, kept scanning over the half-dozen Iraqis. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Iraqi at the end of the line move his arm toward something on the ground.
Without hesitation, Gordon turned and fired off a single shot, hitting the Iraqi in the head. The sound from Gordon’s gunshot echoed through the great hall.
“Did you get that? Did you get that?” the reporter asked his cameraman.
“Yes, I did,” the cameraman responded, turning the camera on Gordon.
“That Marine there just shot an unarmed and wounded Iraqi,” the reporter said to the camera, pointing directly at Gordon.
March 17, 2014
Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family.
—Anthony Brandt
San Diego, California
“Pink or purple?” Gordon’s five-year-old daughter, Haley, asked, showing him two different bottles of nail polish.
“I like purple, but I prefer pink,” Gordon said, looking at his daughter as she started to shake the bottles.
“Can I have a snack after we’re done Daddy?” Haley asked, slowly applying polish to Gordon’s fingernails.
“Yes, of course, what did you have in mind?” Gordon replied in a soft tone.
“Fruit leather, I want a fruit leather and then I want to watch Octonauts!” Haley squealed, looking up. She smiled at Gordon and brushed some hair out of her face.
“Okay, fruit leather it is.” Gordon smiled, looking at Haley.
Haley was small for her age, very girly with long, blond curly hair and very fine features. She was definitely all-girl and loved everything princess.
Gordon adored his family and felt blessed to have his two children. Hunter, his seven-year-old son, and Haley were his pride and joy. His entire life revolved around them and Samantha, his wife.
He had met Samantha about a year after his tumultuous departure from the Marines. They were married after a year and had Hunter within the next. He was happy, secure and lived each day in the now. He never thought too much about his time in the Corps and when he did, it seemed like it was a different life entirely; almost as though it wasn’t even his life, but someone else’s.
Though his time in combat didn’t come to mind often, his everyday life was still influenced by his two tours in Iraq. The experience had shifted his priorities and shaped his perspective. He was no longer the idealist who believed in helping all. Instead, he had become more pragmatic and only wished to take care of his family. He was done sacrificing for those he considered “clueless.”
“After you’re done in the salon, meet me outside,” Samantha said to Gordon as she passed the doorway on her way to the kitchen.
Gordon looked over his shoulder. “Okay, but are you sure you don’t need a mani-pedi too?”
Samantha shouted from the kitchen down the hall, “Maybe later. Haley needs a little quiet time and you and I need some adult time.”
“Adult time? Like ‘adult time’ or adult time where you have to tell me something and have my full attention?” Gordon yelled back while watching Haley finish applying nail polish to his last finger.
“You’ll find out later,” she hollered from the kitchen
“You’re such a tease,” Gordon shot back.
“What is a tease, Daddy?” asked Haley.
“Well, honey, it’s when—”
“Haley, it’s when we play jokes on one another,” Samantha interrupted, now standing in the doorway of the play room.
Gordon whipped his head back over his shoulder. “Gosh you move so quickly and stealth-like.” He winked and noticed a semi-irritated look on her face.
Samantha stood there, looking at her husband. She loved him so much. She felt so blessed to have such a good man and good father to their two children. She couldn’t think of too many men who would subject themselves to having their nails painted pink. She was so proud that he actually took an interest in his children and loved how important they were to him.
She continued admiring Gordon. He fit her perfect profile of a man. He was tall and ruggedly handsome with a chiseled jaw, light eyes, and broad shoulders. Haley looked so small next to him, dwarfed by his strong, muscular build. She knew from the first time they met that he would always take care of her. She felt safe with him.
“Done, Daddy! Now can I have my snack?” Haley asked sweetly as she closed the nail polish bottle.
“Of course,” Gordon answered. He started to blow his fingers dry, but paused when he noticed Samantha still staring. He looked up to her and asked jokingly, “Does the pink bring out the blue in my eyes?”
Haley jumped up and ran out of the room, down the hall toward the kitchen. Gordon jumped up and followed, of course mindful of the wet nail polish he had on his fingers.
“So what’s up?” he asked Samantha before leaning forward to kiss her on the lips.
“Let me set up Haley for quiet time and I’ll meet you outside on the patio in, say, five minutes,” Samantha responded, then kissed him back.
• • •
Gordon sat on the patio and waited for Samantha to come out and join him. He leaned back, kicked his legs up onto the outside coffee table, and let the mid-afternoon sun warm his face. While he had a love/hate relationship with Southern California in general, he definitely loved the weather. He preferred smaller towns, and San Diego definitely wasn’t a small town anymore. All in all, though, life was good. He enjoyed a comfortable lifestyle, a nice group of friends, and the family he had around him. The one family member he wished was around more often was his little brother, Sebastian, who had joined the Marines four years after Gordon had left the Corps. His brother originally followed in his footsteps and became a TOW gunner, but it proved a bit boring for him. Being a man of adventure, he would now try out to be a Scout Sniper.
Gordon’s slumber in the sun was interrupted when he heard Samantha come outside. He opened his eyes to find her hovering over him.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked, looking down on him, her arms crossed.
“Why, yes, I am, thank you for asking,” Gordon replied with a grin on his face.
“When were you going to tell that your brother was coming down tonight for dinner?” Samantha asked, taking a seat across from him. “You know I need notice so I can get the house ready.”
“I thought I told you. I’m sorry,” Gordon said, sitting up more in his chair. “It is okay, right? We don’t have anything else going on, do we?”
Gordon looked at Samantha sitting across from him. He fell for her instantly when they met. He loved everything about her, from her small frame and long, wavy blond hair to her light green eyes and full lips. For him she fit the portrait of the perfect woman.
“No, we’re fine; I just need to know next time. Had I not checked the voicemail, I never would have known. Just promise me you’ll give me some notice next time.”
Gordon stood up and walked over to Samantha. He softened his voice. “Absolutely, honey.”
He bent down and gave her a big hug and kiss and whispered into her ear, “How about I apologize more upstairs?”
Samantha, a bit stubborn, pulled back and said, “You know I have things to do.”
“All things can wait,” Gordon said, even softer, knowing his wife too well. He followed up with a proposal. “How about I help you with your stuff later if you help me with my stuff now?”
Samantha raised her eyebrows and smiled mischievously. “Deal!”
She grabbed his hand and they both ran upstairs.
• • •
“Someone’s at the door!” Hunter yelled excitedly.
“Go ahead and get it; it should be your uncle Sebastian!” Samantha said from the kitchen. She was too busy preparing a salad to go to the door.
“Gordon, I think your brother is here!” she called out to Gordon, who was in his office working. Samantha loved Sebastian but didn’t always like his visits. It wasn’t Sebastian’s fault, but just having him around made Gordon act differently. She knew that Gordon would be very distant in the days after Sebastian’s departure.
“Uncle Sebastian!” Hunter screamed as he opened the door. Hunter and Haley loved his visits; they always had the best time when he was around.
“Uncle Sebastian, Uncle Sebastian!” Haley screamed as she bounded down the stairs.
Sebastian stepped inside and picked up Hunter. Haley made it down the stairs and grabbed his leg.
“Hey guys, how are my favorite niece and nephew?” Sebastian asked. He squatted down and picked up Haley with his other arm. He walked into the kitchen where Samantha was still rushing around, preparing dinner.
Sebastian was tall and, as they say in the Corps, “lean and mean.” He and Gordon looked very similar; there was no mistaking they were brothers. The major differences came from their seven-year age gap: Gordon was slowly getting a widow’s peak and a bit of gray on his sides. Sebastian had a full head of thick brown hair and no gray. While he was a hard charger, he didn’t go for the flat tops or high and tight haircuts; he liked his hair and made sure it was just regulation or longer if he could get away with it. Sebastian always had a smile on his face and took life more lightly, as opposed to his brother, who had a more serious and stoic persona.
Sebastian wanted to have kids himself one day, but for now he enjoyed the life of a single Marine. He still had the adventure bug, and with the Corps being tough enough without a family, he thought it not fair to start one. So for now, Sebastian took what family life he could get with his brother’s family.
The End Page 2