I ordered Mark Stouffer to cover the area anyway and to observe the event through our best optics. This was a perfect opportunity to snag the “Who’s Who” of Saddam loyalists, yet for political reasons, we were ordered to do nothing. We watched at a distance as three corpses were laid in the dirt. The third body was Qusay’s 14-year-old son, Mustafa. He had been killed while firing an AK-47 at SOF soldiers from under a bed in the same Mosul house blown apart to get Uday and Qusay.
Arrogant men, some veiled, surrounded the graves in a theatrical display of counterfeit mourning for these murdering lifeless forms. They piled dirt mounds above their sunken corpses then secured an Iraqi flag to each mound with dirt clods and rocks lining the edges, the mark of a martyr’s burial. The funeral passed uneventfully. Few tears were shed. Not a single box of tissues was needed for this occasion. The enemy, however, had other uses for tissue boxes.
In the early evening, we were introduced to a new tactic, the improvised explosive device (IED) attack. The first bomb attack was nearly identical to the second except in result. Each bomb appeared to be a box (first Pepsi, then Kleenex) packed with C-4 plastic explosives and mixed with nuts and bolts to serve as projectiles. The source of detonation was not clear to us at that time, but we became well versed in these deadly devices later.
The first attack unfolded as our Scout Platoon traveled the main highway north through the center of the city. Congestion by the telephone exchange offices narrowed the lanes to one. A median, elevated with decorative concrete box planters, served as a directional backstop for the Pepsi box bomb that the enemy had concealed among so much other trash in the unsanitary country. The first scout Hummer passed safely, but the second disappeared in a concussive mass of orange flame and brown smoke. Glass from the large plate windows in the telephone exchange building on the east side of the street exploded in every direction. Policemen inside were thrown to the ground. Shards of flying glass from the windows of a parked taxi sliced into the passengers, all of them children. As the dust settled, the pavement along the blast area took on the appearance of an unfinished mosaic of glass.
Sergeant Christopher Gardner in Scout Hummer 233 saw his fellow soldiers in Scout Hummer 232 disappear in a cloud of smoke right before his eyes. He told Sergeant Robert Eschenbacher, his driver, to close with them up ahead to see if they could help. The truck was gone.
Although briefly knocked unconscious, with an eye bleeding and an arm filled with fragmentation, Specialist Claude Goodwin threw the vehicle into low gear and nursed the heavily damaged Hummer with three flat tires out of the blast zone. His vision already impaired, he could not see at all through the shattered safety glass, now merely a striated pattern before him. Still unable to hear, he somehow managed to understand Staff Sergeant Sean Shoffner seated on his right.
“Keep moving forward!” shouted Shoffner, also deafened by the blast and unable to hear his own words. He instinctively performed a quick check of his men.
Specialist Stewart Simmons, in the backseat, took searing heat and fragmentation to his neck and left arm. His left eardrum would register no sound. The men yelled to each other, able to hear nothing. Specialist Jason Wells, up top, was bleeding from the face and neck but appeared to be regaining consciousness. Specialist Carlos Rodriguez, positioned behind Staff Sergeant Shoffner on the right side of the vehicle, though badly shaken, was not wounded.
The scouts continued their wobbly ride toward the battalion headquarters compound where the badly perforated vehicle was waved through the gate. The scouts cleared their weapons with bloody hands and made their way, with assistance, to the aid station. Two would return to duty. The third would need more time for his ear to heal, but he would recover. God, in His providence, had protected us that day.
Just twenty minutes later, about two miles north along the same road, a second bomb detonated. Military Police vehicles, similar in appearance to our scout vehicles, became the unintended target. The bomb, in this case, was built around a Kleenex box packed with plastic explosives in place of facial tissues. No major damage was sustained in the mistimed blast, only a few broken headlamps and minor cosmetic damage to the fiberglass hood of a single vehicle.
The attack was coordinated and seemed intended for our scout Hummers who were often main participants in our raids. Unlike prior mine attacks, these roadside bombs appeared to be detonated by some form of wireless device. Our study of these devices and the methods used to emplace or destroy them became a major focus of our tactical operations. I treated them as point ambushes and dealt with them in ways that initially drew controversy but later proved very effective.
After I ascertained that my wounded scouts were going to be fine, we persevered with several more hours of combat patrols. Though I was exhausted from a strenuous day, there was yet one more important task to accomplish before my day would be complete. I ordered Cody Hoefer to Auja’s cemetery to locate the new graves of Saddam Hussein’s sons. Pulling up alongside, adjacent to the mausoleum where other relatives of Saddam were buried, we found them. They lay in dirt mounds about nine feet long, four feet wide and two feet high. A smaller grave for Mustafa, son of Qusay and grandson of Saddam, lay next to them.
Iraqi martyr flags had been neatly spread and weighted with rocks on each grave, as is the custom. I approached the first grave, then the second, and yanked each flag from the mound. They would be afforded no honors. I left Mustafa’s grave and flag undisturbed. Whatever mistakes he made could not be blamed on a 14-year-old boy who was merely the product of his upbringing. The sins were of the father.
RATS’ NESTS AND ROCKS
August 3 was spent with Jack and his SOF team planning a simultaneous raid on each side of the river. The target was Rudman Ibrahim Omar al-Musslit, a major figure in the “Five Family” network and one of ten Musslit brothers. Early attempts to capture his brother, Mohammed, in May, met with negative results, but slowly the shadowy figures were becoming more visible. While we had thinned some of the Musslit family, we had yet to strike at the heart of the sons of Ibrahim Omar al-Musslit.
With Saddam’s Presidential Secretary Abid Mahmood captured, we surmised that his role had passed to individuals in the family network, particularly the Musslit family. Rudman seemed most likely to inherit the mantle. We felt that he might reveal Saddam’s location if captured. He and his nine brothers would be a major focus as we tightened the noose around Saddam. We had no photo of him, but our intelligence was good, and we found what we believed to be the locations of his family farms. For this raid, Colonel Hickey would be in overall command. Captain Dez Bailey’s G Troop, 10th Cavalry would target some of the structures, while Jack’s SOF guys would focus on the house in the multi-structure compound where they expected to find Rudman. Mark Stouffer’s A Company and Chris Morris’ scouts worked in tandem on the compound with Jack’s men. I would accompany Jack to synchronize communication, as SOF used different equipment than conventional forces. We also had helicopter and close air support. Brad Boyd’s company was left to secure Tikrit, and Jon Cecalupo’s tanks guarded Cadaseeyah. Since the armored vehicles were with us, the battalion mortars were assigned to cover the city should they be needed there.
As we moved stealthily on the Musslit compound, every available man was needed for the search. We had redirected as many of our forces as possible for the raid. I moved on foot with Jack and some of his SOF guys, clearing buildings and barns, rooms and stalls. The raid went precisely as planned, but Rudman was not found. His family was present, but he had either narrowly escaped or was hiding nearby. There was, however, one very interesting person on site. He was the 80-year-old Omar al-Musslit, the granddaddy of all Musslits. We did not detain him, but we confiscated many items from the compound, including Omar’s national identity card. We later noted that “666” was his registration number, the infamous “mark of the beast” in the book of Revelation. It was appropriate as he had spawned so much evil. We also found important documents and photos revealing, for the first time, the
identities of Rudman and many of his brothers.
In addition to the fruit of this raid, there was an added bonus. The following morning, Qais Shaban, one of Saddam’s personal staff, was detained. Incredibly, he came to the civil-military relations office to complain about the raid on his undamaged house. We took him to our complaint department where he remained for quite a long stay.
We maintained combat patrols in the city with ambushes plotted for an elusive enemy. Assailants with RPGs fired on a C Company patrol near the Women’s College but hit nothing. A Kellogg, Brown & Root worker driving a truck north of Tikrit was less fortunate. He hit a mine and lost his life in the ensuing blast. It was a terrible tragedy, illustrating the dangers of employing civilian contractors on the battlefield.
On the night of August 5, we shifted to the street fight with a network of “Salt Lick” ambushes involving Chris Morris’ “Comanche” elements (scout OPs), “Badger” elements (battalion sniper teams), “Cobra” patrols (C Company) and “Gator” QRFs (A Company). The troops were becoming more adept “flippers” on the insurgent pinball machine in the city of Tikrit.
Our tactical setup was quite unknown to Omar Hadel Mohammed Ahmed and his fellow insurgents. In the morning darkness of August 6, our soldiers noticed a small group of men walking across the main street in town with an RPG launcher and AK-47s. They didn’t have a clear shot, so they waited and reported. We were confident that if they continued to move, we would pick them up. Soon the twenty-year-old Omar appeared around a corner near one of our outposts, with an RPG at the ready. Our men fired first, wounding him in the leg. He shrieked in pain then calm settled over the alleyways. Soldiers searched the area but found only blood trails. Nevertheless, whatever attack this group had planned was now foiled. We would face several Ahmed family members in the future and would later capture Omar Ahmed, in December, sitting in his front yard smoking a cigarette.
As the day progressed, Tikritis informed us of a local recruiting effort by a Fedayeen leader nicknamed “Sami the Rock.” Having never heard of him, we classified him as a “Trigger Puller” or possibly a low-level organizer. Jack’s men were not familiar with him either. Taking the information, we diagrammed a raid on “The Rock” at the hotel where he was alleged to be staying.
Raiding a farm was one thing. Emptying a hotel was quite another. If our man Sami was there, sifting him from a crowd would be a challenge. It would be complicated work dealing with many civilians, mostly innocent. The potential that the hotel could be full of his cohorts had to be considered as well. I decided to go in strong with lots of force. We would bring Bradleys and tanks. No chances would be taken. More is always better in any potential fight. If things went south, it would be better to clear rooms with one of Jon Cecalupo’s M1 tanks than with our soldiers. The press, now numbering a dozen different agencies and outlets, knew something was adrift by the number of troops planning for action. I allowed them to accompany us. While our man Sami was not part of the Saddam hunt, he was a “Trigger Puller,” a real and present danger to Tikrit and our soldiers. The reporters were embedded into various units participating in the raid.
The “hotel” was a squat, multi-story building that might be classified as condemned apartment housing in the States. Locals told us it was filled with temporary workers. These “rent-a-day” workers came from Baghdad and other parts of Iraq seeking employment. They would loiter on a main intersection in town hoping to be hired for some odd job. The “rent-a-days” caused us some concern, not so much for the economy as for the potential they might easily be influenced to hire on as instant armed forces for some concerted insurgent effort.
Chris, Jon, and Mark’s troops cordoned the hotel, and we moved in with Brad’s soldiers and some headquarters troops. Elements from Jack’s SOF team, while not directly involved, came along, as they often did, to see what we stirred up. I believed that the only way to catch Sami was to cast a wide net and throw back anyone who wasn’t him. This meant moving every person inside the hotel outside into a compound behind the structure and doing a quick sifting similar to those Jack’s guys had performed in early Auja raids.
The sleeping residents of the Rat Nest Hotel did not know what hit them. They were benign and cooperative. Only an idiot or a zealot would have resisted the force we assembled. Thirty-nine individuals were ultimately detained; among them was “Sami the Rock.” As he was led away to captivity, I decided to address the involuntarily assembled crowd of mostly “rent-a day” workers.
“I apologize for the inconvenience you have faced tonight,” I stated as Joe Filmore translated. “You are going to be released. Sometimes when you cast a wide net to catch sharks, you get dolphins along with them. We are going to let you go as you have done nothing wrong. A Fedayeen insurgent leader was living among you, and he has now been captured. If you have done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear from us. We need you to cooperate. If you don’t, we will hunt you down and kill you.”
With that, I ordered their release. Reporters had filmed and quoted my “dolphins and sharks” and “hunt you down and kill you” statements and sent them around the world the following day. It was exactly the message I wanted the local people and insurgents to hear, as well as Professor Highbrow and Bubba back home. We were already receiving thanks from the locals in Tikrit for removing “Sami the Thug,” described by many as an outside troublemaker.
The overall effect was positive and must have had an impact on the recruiting effort in Tikrit. Two of “The Rock’s” new recruits fled the following day, but Mark Stouffer’s men got a tip from the locals and caught them motoring south toward Baghdad. Later, a merchant brought us their RPG launcher with three rockets. He said that he saw them hide it earlier and brought it to us once he learned that they had been captured. Iraqi support continued to increase with each success.
CRACKERS AND KALASHNIKOVS
It was clear that we were hurting the enemy. Street fights and raids were taking their toll. The insurgents attempted to enlist new recruits and resupply their arms but with much less success than they expected. Still, they were able to find enough of both to continue their efforts. Some of our best information about the source of arms flowing into the city came from Governor Hussein, General Abdullah, and the Governor’s security chief, Colonel Mohammed Jassim Hussein.
“Why don’t you do something about the Friday market?” asked Governor Hussein on one of my regular visits.
“What do you mean?” I responded.
“Everyone knows where the arms are traded. People from Baghdad bring them in and sell them at the market on Fridays. If you want to find them, you can.”
Locals confirmed this information and told us that the merchants from the market had complained to the governor and police about it. They said that the weapons were being used to attack the Americans and them.
Rather than take on the fight himself, Governor Hussein wisely put us on the trail of the arms market. If he took action, it might bode ill for him should there be a mishap. If we erred, well, that was to be expected. We were Americans. It was good politics and good tactics to proceed in this manner.
Daylight ambushes were set on the Friday market to curb the flow. The first Friday produced no results. The second Friday was entirely different. Our snipers were positioned at two points within a large vacant building adjoining the vast market. The area was near the Rat Nest Hotel. Staff Sergeant Brad Owens controlled the teams who infiltrated at 3:30 a.m. on Friday, August 8. They encountered nine Iraqi squatters, who were released at 6:00 a.m. when curfew lifted. They prepared their mission, expecting activity between 8:00 a.m. and 12:00 noon.
At 7:30 a.m., we finally confirmed the complaints to be true. Owens noticed two men in a red car pull into the field surrounded by the market shops along the streets. The field was also used as a flea market where anyone could vend his wares or produce. These two decided to vend weapons. They laid out wheat sacks filled with AK-47 magazines and grenade launcher attachments. Next, they set up v
arious other small arms items on the now empty sacks. Our men reported it but wanted to be absolutely certain these were weapons dealers. I gave them clearance to use their own judgment and to engage if they saw weapons.
Owens and the other snipers continued to observe. Finally, the suspects pulled an AK-47 Kalashnikov rifle from the trunk of the red car. After seeing small devices and electronic switches for bomb making and then more AK-47s, Staff Sergeant Owens called the shot and engaged.
The sharp crack of a sniper rifle drew little attention at first. A vendor selling crackers not ten feet from the arms traders took little notice, thinking the men were merely testing the weapons. But then he noticed that one man holding a weapon jerked and suddenly dropped it, his arm bleeding profusely. The driver of the red car, unaware of the activity around him, watched as one of two other men standing there handled a rifle. The man turned around with an AK-47 at the ready, seeking the direction of the fire. A round ripped through his groin. He ran forward, weapon still in hand. Another round smashed through his torso. He slumped to the ground, brought down by Owens and Specialist Juan Cantu.
The driver ran frantically to the car, attempting to flee. Owens gauged the approximate location of the driver through the rooftop (the car was facing away from him) and fired. The round perforated the top of the car and hit the man in the head. He stumbled out of the car and died. Specialist James Kelly began to place rounds in the dirt in front of a curious bystander contemplating whether or not to pick up a rifle. As dirt flew near his feet, he began to have second thoughts.
We Got Him! Page 14