by Oliver North
CH-46 helicopters from Marine Medium Helicopter Squadron 268
"Six hours after the helicopters arrived in port, they had been stripped of the weather-proof covers, had their rotor blades replaced, and were ready for flight," said Lt. Williamson. "Some people think that's extraordinary. And maybe for some organizations it would be, but for these Marines, it's what we do for a living," he added.
But picking up and moving isn't the only thing that Marines do for a living. They must also be prepared to fight when they get to where they are going. The Red Dragon helicopters had to be ready at a moment's notice to carry Marine infantry in a helicopter-borne assault, resupply units in contact, insert reconnaissance units deep into Iraq, and evacuate casualties. That meant their "Phrogs"—the nickname Marines gave these twin-rotor helicopters nearly forty years ago—must be constantly maintained, around the clock. In a sandstorm, that's hard to do.
On our second night with the squadron, a vicious sandstorm blew in from the northwest, carrying fine particles of sand all the way from the Saudi desert. This sudden sandstorm—the locals called it a shamal—was unlike any other kind of weather I've ever experienced. The wind literally blanketed the place with a fine dust that obscured and covered everything. It added an additional challenge for the troops who had to try to protect and clean the sophisticated computers, jet engines, and weapons that were coated with sand.
The howling wind, blowing across the dry, flat moonscape, flattened tents and filled the air with dust, making the thought of home even more attractive than usual. Life in this extreme climate and terrain prompted a longing for being anywhere without sand. One of the Marines received a rousing chorus of "Right on!" when he declared, "I don't think I'll go to the beach again for the rest of my life."
Marine maintenance technicians donned gas masks so they could work on aircraft in conditions that could only be politely described as "extreme." The dust storm filled the air with an orange haze that had the strange effect of turning daylight into dusk, blotting out the sun and changing the hue of every man and machine. Visibility was reduced to less than twenty yards. The wind, blowing steadily at twenty-five to thirty knots, howled like a banshee through the antenna guy wires.
A sandstorm approaches a U.S. air base
The "fog"—tiny particles of sand—got inhaled with every breath and swallowed with every mouthful of food. The fine dust whipped in beneath the sidewalls and portals of the tents. It jammed weapons. It seeped into every crevice and clogged the intakes of jet engines and the filters of the gas masks everyone carried everywhere, all the time.
Surveying the fury of the dust storm, one of the correspondents asked Lt. Williamson if the dust and dirt would affect the performance of his aircraft. The Marine veteran, tongue planted firmly in his cheek, replied, "Dust storms aren't allowed to affect us. It's contrary to Marine Corps policy."
GOOD TO GO
The shamal lasted thirty-six hours. As soon as it passed, GySgt Dennis Pennington, a weapons and tactics instructor, took action. He arranged to fly all the helicopter gunners—the Marines who man the .50-caliber machine guns mounted on the left and right sides of the CH-46 helicopters—out to the Udari range so they could test-fire every weapon in the squadron armory. Griff and I videotaped the entire exercise as "Gunny" Pennington, a very experienced combat veteran, coached young Marines—who had never fired a shot in combat on rules of engagement—how to lead a target and the best way to protect a helicopter that has to land in a "hot" LZ. They came back sweaty, dirty, and tired but confident that they would be ready when the shooting started. Gunny Pennington's encouraging assessment: "They know what to do and they know how to do it."
On Sunday, 16 March, President Bush met in the Azores with Prime Minister Tony Blair of the United Kingdom, President José Maria Aznar of Spain, and Prime Minister José Manuel Durao Barroso of Portugal. The four heads of state issued a communiqué, declaring that diplomatic efforts to convince Saddam to come clean on his weapons of mass destruction would end in twenty-four hours.
By Monday, 17 March, all the pilots and aircrews slated to fly into Iraq had been briefed by intelligence officers inside the Marine Air Group (MAG) 39 Air Operations Center. This was a partitioned area inside the steel building next to the squadron ready room tents. The Air Group S-3 then issued a detailed Operations Order and the Survival, Escape, Resistance, and Evasion (SERE) plan in the event an aircraft went down behind enemy lines. After all this, the Air Group S-1 had them all update their next-of-kin (NOK) information.
Sandstorms did what the enemy could not: put a stop to all sorties by U.S. helicopters
As the pilots and air crews departed the operations center, there was no back-slapping or joking around. Nothing focuses the mind of a Marine like a NOK form. It contains the details of who is to be informed, and how, when a Marine is killed, wounded, or missing in action.
That evening in Washington—it was 0300 in Iraq—dozens of Marines gathered around our little FOX News satellite transceiver to hear their commander in chief address the American people. When he said that the time had come for Saddam Hussein and his sons to leave Iraq and gave them forty-eight hours to do so, heads nodded in agreement, but nobody said a word. There was a similar reaction when the president said, "Their refusal to do so will result in military conflict, commenced at a time of our choosing." Nobody spoke when he added, "The tyrant will soon be gone."
No one in the hushed gathering commented on his statement that "the Iraqi regime has used diplomacy to gain time and advantage" and that "diplomacy can't go on forever in the face of a global threat." And when President Bush promised the Iraqi people, "The day of your liberation is near," I watched several of those who would have to make good on this commitment simply pat the back of the Marine nearest them.
As the president closed with his customary "May God continue to bless America," he looked grim. So did the Marines who had just heard him speak. Without so much as a word, the crowd broke up and went back to their duties or to sleep.
At 0800 on Tuesday, 18 March, Lt. Col. Jerry Driscoll, the Red Dragons commanding officer, summoned all the squadron pilots and air crews to a briefing in the squadron ready room. There, he assigned missions for the opening of hostilities. "When the order comes down," he said, "HMM-268 will be the lead air element carrying British Royal Marine Commandos into the attack on the Faw Peninsula." The squadron was also ordered to conduct inserts and extracts of reconnaissance units well inside Iraq and "cas-evac" missions—the evacuation of casualties from fire-swept "hot" LZs.
Driscoll told his pilots and air crews to go over their survival gear and get some rest in the hours ahead. He then ordered the maintenance crews to complete final checks on the Phrogs for any last-minute mechanical, hydraulic, electronic, or ordnance problems. The Red Dragon "wrench turners" and crew chiefs had been working around the clock, in fair weather and foul, looking after the aging birds.
By noon the desert sun was making bubbles on the flight-line tarmac and turning the skin of the aircraft into griddles that seared exposed flesh. That didn't stop the flight-line crews and mechanics from going over each aircraft with a fine-tooth comb.
Many of the Marines and Navy medical corpsmen took time to write to spouses, family members, and loved ones back home. Because of our satellite feed, the troops knew that back in the United States there were unfounded reports that the troops gathered on Iraq's borders were unprepared and ill equipped for the mission ahead. A bevy of "experts," including former generals and admirals, added fuel to this fire by claiming that our chemical protective suits wouldn't work, that there were insufficient troops, weapons, or equipment to take on Saddam's 480,000-man military.
Time spent in Kuwait before the invasion wasn't wasted; troops trained relentlessly to be ready when the order came to move
Some—including many who should have known better—suggested that it would take "at least three months" and "te
n thousand or more U.S. casualties" to take Baghdad.
By Wednesday, 19 March 2003, the only information we were getting from the "outside world" was via our FOX News satellite transceiver. That's how we learned that the British Parliament, by a vote of 412 to 149, had approved the use of military force to disarm Iraq and oust its leader. It's also how we knew that British and American aircraft flying over Iraq were now dropping leaflets stating that war could start at any time and how we learned that UN Secretary General Kofi Annan, French President Jacques Chirac, and German Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder were all making last-ditch efforts to prevent military action against Saddam. Apparently the leaflets were more persuasive than the diplomats for some Iraqis. Late in the morning of the 19th, seventeen Iraqi soldiers surrendered to American troops deployed at a Kuwaiti border checkpoint.
After weeks of waiting, U.S. troops were ready to get "boots on the ground" in Iraq
Marine air crews work to ready their CH-46 helicopters
Late that night we received a call, on our satellite phone from the FOX foreign desk, telling us that we should come up on our satellite link for an address to the nation by President Bush and to be prepared to provide "reaction" commentary.
As soon as we set up our satellite equipment, we were surrounded by Marines of all ranks, waiting to see their commander in chief address their countrymen about war. When President Bush said that the "opening stages of what will be a broad and concerted campaign" to liberate Iraq had begun, someone in the group muttered emphatically, "Finally!"
Calling in a report via satphone on the way to Baghdad
A U.S. Marine F/A-18 launches off the flight deck of a carrier in the Persian Gulf to strike at targets in Iraq
That was it. There was no cheering or back-slapping. When the president said, "The peace of a troubled world and the hopes of an oppressed people now depend on you," he was speaking directly to the pilots and air crews around me. The words themselves did not convey a particular sense of foreboding, but I did make time before dawn to take out the Bible I carry in my pack and read from it for a while. I did not know that within hours four of the men around me would be dead—the first American casualties of Operation Iraqi Freedom.
19 March 2003
President George W. Bush:
"The peace of a troubled world and the hopes of an oppressed people now depend on you."
4
HOSTILITIES HAVE COMMENCED
19 MARCH 2003 ALI AL-SALIM AIR BASE, KUWAIT
The president's announcement that the campaign to liberate Iraq was underway had little visible effect on the routine at Ali al-Salim Air Base. Bomb-laden British Tornado fighter-bombers continued to roar off the runway throughout the night and return empty. The Marines of HMM-268 were told that the ground offensive would commence after twenty-four hours of continuous bombing, and they simply continued their preparations. But in Iraq, the world had changed completely.
The first strike was carried out by two USAF F-117 Nighthawk stealth aircraft armed with two-thousand-pound, bunker-buster EGBU-27 guided bombs, steered to the precise location by GPS technology. The target was the Dora Command and Control Complex, underground concrete bunkers designed to protect Saddam's Baath Party elites. An intelligence source claimed to have seen the Iraqi dictator and his sons Uday and Qusay entering the facility.
F-117 Nighthawk stealth aircraft
The F-117 raid was followed over the next thirty-six hours by waves of sea-launched Tomahawk cruise missiles, launched out of the Persian Gulf by the USS McCain, USS Columbia, USS Providence, USS Milius, USS Donald Cook, USS Bunker Hill, USS Cowpens, USS Montpelier, USS Cheyenne, and the Royal Navy's HMS Splendid and HMS Turbulent. The cruise missiles and precision strikes by guided bombs dropped from B-1s, B-2s, F/A-18s, and Tornados took out the entire Iraqi air defense system. Not a single aircraft from Saddam's air force got off the ground.
U.S. warships launched Tomahawk Cruise missiles as part of the "Shock and Awe" campaign
An F/A-18 Hornet returns from a combat mission over Iraq
Shortly after the airstrikes began, Lt. Gen. James Conway, the commander of I MEF; Maj. Gen. James Amos, commanding the 3rd Marine Aircraft Wing (Reinforced); and Maj. Gen. Jim Mattis, commander of the 1st Marine Division (Reinforced), all issued guidance to those they were leading into battle. Copies of the 1st Marine Division commander's eloquent message were widely distributed to all hands:
Lt. Gen. James Conway
"For decades, Saddam Hussein has tortured, imprisoned, raped, and murdered the Iraqi people; invaded neighboring countries without provocation; and threatened the world with weapons of mass destruction. The time has come to end his reign of terror. On your young shoulders rests the hope of mankind.
"When I give you the word, together we will cross the line of departure, close with those forces that choose to fight, and destroy them. Our fight is not with the Iraqi people, nor is it with members of the Iraqi army who choose to surrender. While we will move swiftly and aggressively against those who resist, we will treat all others with decency, demonstrating chivalry and soldierly compassion for people who have endured a lifetime under Saddam's oppression.
"Chemical attack, treachery, and use of the innocent as human shields can be expected, as can other unethical tactics. Be the hunter—not the hunted. Never be caught with your guard down. Use good judgment and act in the best interest of our nation.
"You are part of the world's most feared and trusted fighting force. Engage your brain before you engage your weapon. Share your courage with each other as we enter Iraq. Keep faith in your comrades to your left and right and in the Marine Air overhead . . . . For the mission's sake, for our country's sake, and the sake of the men who carried the division's colors in past battles—'who fought for life and never lost their nerve'—carry out your mission and keep your honor clean. Demonstrate to the world there is 'No Better Friend—No Worse Enemy' than a U.S. Marine."
—Major General James Mattis, Commanding General, 1st Marine Division, 20 March 2003
Strangely, the U.S. and British air attacks did not target the Baghdad electrical grid or the Iraqi Information Ministry. Al Jazeera, the Arabic-language satellite television network so supportive of Osama bin Laden, remained on the air, accusing U.S. and British bombs of killing innocent Iraqi civilians.
Television signals beamed from Baghdad carried statements by the Iraqi minister of information, Mohammed Saeed al-Sahaf that, "the enemies of God committed the stupidity of aggression against our homeland and our people." "Baghdad Bob," as the troops referred to him, also broadcast calls for the Saddam fedayeen—paramilitary fighters from all over the Islamic world—to defend Iraq. These "holy warriors" were urged to be "ready to die as martyrs" while "destroying the American and British invaders."
Baghdad Bod
Hearing this, one of the pilots who was huddled around our tiny FOX News satellite transceiver commented to no one in particular, "That's not good. We should have taken that guy off the air." At the time this pilot said it, we had no idea how right he was.
INTO THE FIGHT
CH-46 Sea Knight helicopters prepare for a night mission
THURSDAY, 20 MARCH 2003
The sun was just setting as the eight CH-46s from HMM-268 landed at TAA Gibraltar, a British base just a few kilometers from the Iraqi border. Shortly after we touched down, dozens of other helicopters landed around us, until all that could be seen were helicopters—U.S. Marine CH-46s, CH-53s, UH-1Ns, heavily armed Cobras, British Pumas and CH-47s, all dispersed on the desert floor.
We flew to the remote outpost at 120 knots and less than fifty feet off the ground from Ali al-Salim Air Base. At such a low altitude we could see convoys of tanks, armored vehicles, artillery pieces, trucks, and Humvees all racing north toward the border with Iraq. As we approached our landing point, batteries of 155-mm howitzers were deploying in firing order. The war had been "on" fo
r fourteen hours, and yet for us it had been a strangely surreal day.
At about 0930 local time, the "Great Giant Voice" announced that a missile raid was inbound and we ran for the shelters with our gas masks. Once again, Griff couldn't find his. About the time that the Patriot batteries opened fire on the incoming Iraqi missiles, he found it and came dashing into the bunker.
A U.S. Army armored phalanx headed for Baghdad
Right after the "all clear" from the SCUD attack, we loaded all our cameras, satellite broadcast equipment, and personal gear aboard two of the squadron's CH-46s. HMM-268 had been given the mission of carrying Royal Marine commandos in a helicopter-borne assault to seize the Faw Peninsula before Saddam's forces could cut oil flow to Basra. Lt. Col. Jerry Driscoll, the squadron commander, assigned himself the responsibility of flying lead for two, four-plane divisions full of troops. With Driscoll's concurrence, I was given a space on his helicopter and Griff was put aboard Dash Three, the third helicopter in the flight of eight.