by Oliver North
All of this was preamble to our late-night arrival at the Camp Ar Ramadi LZ after a much-delayed helicopter flight from Baghdad. We were met at the LZ by Marine Maj. Megan McClung, the 1st Brigade Combat Team's public affairs officer. She offered a cup of hot coffee and helped us load our backpacks, camera gear, and satellite broadcast equipment aboard a dust-encrusted Humvee and took us to meet COL Sean MacFarland, the brigade commander.
Just hours later, this widely respected and much admired Marine officer and two brave U.S. Army soldiers, CPT Travis Patriquin and SPC Vincent Pomante, were killed by an IED while escorting a Newsweek reporter to a security outpost in downtown Ramadi.
The tragic loss of these three Americans, like the four who were killed in a CH-46 crash near Taqaddum Air Base the day we arrived, were cited by critics as "proof" that the campaign was "unwinnable." Just days later a classified Pentagon intelligence report leaked to the media concluded that U.S. and Iraqi forces were "no longer capable of militarily defeating the insurgency in Al Anbar province." The assessment was wrong, and we showed why in our reports.
With Sheikh Sattar at an Iraqi Police Training Center
Since mid-summer the soldiers and Marines in Al Anbar had been working closely with a coalition of local sheiks led by Abdul Sattar Baziya, the most powerful tribal leader in Ramadi. His father and older brother had been murdered by Al Qaeda terrorists for cooperating with the coalition.
Sattar used his considerable influence to expand on what his father had started. By the time I met him for the first of several interviews, he was justifiably proud of what he called "The Awakening." He and a dozen other tribal leaders were recruiting local police officers and soldiers for the Iraqi Army and were working closely with the Americans to bring law and order in the province and rebuild essential infrastructure.
Civil Affairs teams, Military Transition teams, and Police Training teams had been formed from personnel in the 1st Brigade Combat Team and 1st Bn, 6th Marines. Their assignment was to work day-to-day with the Iraqis. New police security stations manned by Iraqi Army units—mostly Shia—and Iraqi police—mostly Sunni—and a single platoon of U.S. troops were being opened in neighborhoods long controlled by Al Qaeda.
Pushing into Al Qaeda safe-havens to establish new, permanent police security posts was dangerous for the Iraqis and Americans involved. The avenues of approach were inevitably lined with IEDs, and Al Qaeda was sure to attack the outposts.
Mal and I accompanied Bill Jurney's Marines as they set up a new police station in an abandoned four-story building in the heart of a neighborhood that had been under Al Qaeda control for more than two years. The operation, launched from Hurricane Point after dark, included Marines, U.S. Army tanks, EOD specialists, engineers, Navy Seabees, Iraqi police and army units, and truckloads of filled sandbags.
Within hours the building was secured and thousands of sandbags had been hauled inside to fill every window and build a barrier for security outposts on the flat-topped roof. Before dawn the escort force withdrew back to Hurricane Point, leaving a Marine Rifle platoon led by a lieutenant and nearly two hundred Iraqi police and soldiers behind to greet the new day.
Inside the building billeting arrangements were determined by security requirements, not creature comforts. A joint U.S.-Iraqi command post was set up in a room on the third floor, with wires running to antennas on the roof. Three-man security and sniper outposts were established on every corner of the roof. Every position had an American, a Sunni policeman, and a Shia soldier.
Mal and I took up residence in a windowless room on the ground floor, sharing space with the twelve-man U.S. Marine QRF. We unrolled foam mattresses from the bottom of our backpacks, set our cameras beside the bedrolls, and stretched out on top of our sweat-soaked flak jackets. Using our helmets for pillows, we went fast asleep with our boots on, waiting for the inevitable response.
It came after dark on our second night in the outpost. The local Al Qaeda cell, no doubt concerned that this new security station was interfering with their extortion, kidnapping, and burglary operations, decided to use the building for target practice. Apparently, every Jihadi who had ever wanted to fire a 60-mm mortar or a RPG was invited to the shoot-em-up.
I'm a very light sleeper, especially in the field. As the first mortar rounds hit the roof, I jumped up, threw on my flak jacket, fastened my helmet chin strap, grabbed my camera and a night lens, and headed for the stairs to get up to the roof. Half the QRF bounded for the roof while the other half headed out to preassigned positions in front of the building.
The attack was over in minutes. It had probably been staged to cover the withdrawal of the Al Qaeda cell from the neighborhood.
The effect of the new police station was dramatic and immediate. Iraqi police and soldiers accompanied by Marines began patrolling the neighborhood the morning after we moved in. Two days later a delegation of local parents, escorted by an Iraqi police lieutenant, came to the station and asked for help reopening a long-abandoned school.
Al Qaeda terrorists had told local authorities—on pain of death—not to allow this little female academic institution to unshutter its doors. Apparently, little girls learning math and science posed a significant threat to radical Islamic Jihadists.
In less than a week, Bill Jurney's Marines—aided by U.S. Navy Seabees, soldiers of the "Ready First" Brigade Combat Team, and Sheikh Sattar's local police—found desks, chalkboards, and school books and reopened the school. I went there with Maj. Scott Kish, the local Civil Affairs Group chief. It was an unusually cold day, and he noticed that the classrooms had no heat. That afternoon he delivered portable heaters, commenting that these actions "spawn success" because they "encourage Iraqis to take charge of their own destiny."
Opening police stations and girls' schools on the mean streets of Ramadi may not appear to be great victories to the critics of this war. However, they are precisely the kind of events that resulted from Sattar's "Awakening." They're also significant to the U.S. troops who help make them happen.
While we were visiting the school, I asked a young Marine corporal what he was doing in Iraq. "We're here to win," he responded, looking squarely into our TV camera—a more intimidating experience for him than the enemy fire he often faced on the streets of this beleaguered city.
By the end of 2006, Iraqi soldiers and police were regularly operating with U.S. Army and Marine units
When I pressed this twenty-year-old from the heartland of America to tell me what "winning" meant to him, he was straightforward: "That's when these people don't need me to guard this street so their kids can go to school—when they can do it themselves."
The belief that the Iraqi people would be able to "do it themselves" was evident in numerous other actions we documented—events that contradicted much of what the American people were being fed by the mainstream media and partisan political opponents at home. According to conventional wisdom, the Iraqis were unwilling to fight for themselves and were on the brink of a suicidal Sunni vs. Shia civil war. But that's not what we found on this trip to Al Anbar. A few examples from our reports:
While we were at the 17th Street Police Station with Bill Jurney, the Iraqi Police battalion commander, Lt. Col. Jabbar Inad al Namrawee, came to inspect his police officers. A week earlier, Al Qaeda terrorists had attacked another of his stations. Col. Jabbar led an all-Iraqi QRF into the battle. In the ensuing gunfight he was shot in the leg by an Al Qaeda attacker. By the time the battle was done, more than a dozen terrorists were dead and his "Sons of Al Anbar" had earned new respect from Ramadi's war-weary civilians.>
When I asked Col. Jabbar how his wound was healing, he pulled up his pant leg and showed me the new "battle dressing" that a Navy Corpsman had applied over the entry and exit holes from the AK-47 round that had gone through his calf. They were Sponge Bob band-aids.
— — —
We went with COL MacFarland
and Sheikh Sattar to Camp Phoenix, where hundreds of young Sunni police recruits were being drilled in law enforcement tactics by Iraqi Army NCOs, most of them Shiites. The training was being supervised by U.S. Army soldiers and civilian police officers from Pittsburgh, New York City, Cincinnati, and Los Angeles.
While we watched, one of the Iraqi recruits failed to complete a task. The Iraqi NCO supervising the drill had the young man drop down and do twenty push-ups. Sattar smiled, turned to me, and asked, "Can you still do that?"
— — —
Ramadi is less volatile today, but it is still a dangerous place. We were on a joint Marine-Army-Iraqi "presence patrol" through a very rough part of town when the call came over the radio, "Rocket-propelled grenade! Eleven o'clock! Street level." Everyone in the vehicle looked to the left front. An instant later there was a flash as an RPG was launched, followed by the command, "Engage!" As the projectile detonated on a pile of sand in front of our Humvee, the U.S. Army M-1 tank beside us opened fire, not with the main gun which would have done enormous damage, but with the coaxial machine gun.
The result: a terrorist who will never again try to kill an American soldier, Marine, or an Iraqi policeman. When I asked the young tank commander about his decision to use the lighter weapon on the RPG shooter, the soldier replied, "Yeah, it was the right thing to do. It's only 'collateral damage' when it's someone else's house."
The Sunday before we departed Ramadi, our FOX News team attended services in the 1st Bn, 6th Marines, chapel at Hurricane Point. Christmas was just a few days away. The roomful of armed men sang "Silent Night," led by a machine gunner with an angelic voice. Chaplain Stall-Ryan spoke about the birth of the Prince of Peace.
Out on the streets of the city, the "Sons of Al Anbar," recruited by Sheikh Sattar and trained by Americans, were manning security stations and outposts that hadn't existed in my previous trips. Though there were still vicious bomb builders and suicidal fanatics, there were far fewer of them.
As we filed out of the chapel, I asked one of the Marines if he had a message for the folks back home. He reflected a moment and replied, "Tell 'em that things are better here than they know. We've turned things around."
13
HERO VALUES
It has been the great blessing of my life to grow up and spend most of my now-considerable years in the company of heroes. For me, heroes are people who put themselves at risk for the benefit of others.
Whether it was my parents' generation that persevered through the Great Depression and then fought and won World War II or those who serve in today's all-volunteer military, they all embody certain essential values that make them iconic in our culture. These values are courage, commitment, compassion, faith, and good humor. Anyone who spends time with these modern heroes has seen countless examples. Here are some of the best from my many months with those who have "been there, done that."
COURAGE
Courage is evident in more than the citations for bravery on the battlefield, many of which appear in this book. It isn't something you are born with . . . and it can't be given to you. Courage is a decision you make. It doesn't come from something you are; it's something you do.
Courage is a squad of young soldiers or Marines who hold their fire when a sniper shoots at them from a crowd of innocent civilians.
Courage is American troops having the integrity not to steal something from an Iraqi or Afghan house that they have entered in the middle of the night.
Courage is Iraqi Christians who attend worship despite threats and attacks on their churches.
Courage is Afghan women who refuse to leave a voting line even when a suicide car bomb explodes nearby. To do so, they say, would be to give the terrorists a victory.
Courage is Iraqi men who continue to volunteer for service as policemen and soldiers at great risk to themselves and their families. It's evident when Shiite and Sunni men put aside their differences to rid their country of terrorists.
Courage is visible in the eyes of Afghan parents who have been threatened for sending their daughters to a newly opened school, and they keep sending them anyway.
Courage is going back to a lonely outpost or on patrol or with a convoy after you have lost a buddy.
Courage is often the ultimate in self-sacrifice, as the Medal of Honor citation for Marine Cpl Jason Dunham attests:
For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as a Rifle Squad Leader, 4th Platoon, Company K, 3rd Bn, 7th Marines (Reinforced), RCT-7,1st Marine Division (Reinforced), on 14 April 2004. Cpl Dunham's squad was conducting a reconnaissance mission in the town of Karabilah, Iraq, when they heard RPG and small arms fire erupt approximately two kilometers to the west. Cpl Dunham led his Combined Anti-Armor Team toward the engagement to provide fire support to their battalion commander's convoy, which had been ambushed as it was traveling to Camp Husaybah. As Cpl Dunham and his Marines advanced, they quickly began to receive enemy fire. Cpl Dunham ordered his squad to dismount their vehicles and led one of his fire teams on foot several blocks south of the ambushed convoy. Discovering seven Iraqi vehicles in a column attempting to depart, Cpl Dunham and his team stopped the vehicles to search them for weapons. As they approached the vehicles, an insurgent leaped out and attacked Cpl Dunham. Cpl Dunham wrestled the insurgent to the ground and in the ensuing struggle saw the insurgent release a grenade. Cpl Dunham immediately alerted his fellow Marines to the threat. Aware of the imminent danger and without hesitation, Cpl Dunham covered the grenade with his helmet and body, bearing the brunt of the explosion and shielding his Marines from the blast. In an ultimate and selfless act of bravery in which he was mortally wounded, he saved the lives of at least two fellow Marines. By his undaunted courage, intrepid fighting spirit, and unwavering devotion to duty, Cpl Dunham gallantly gave his life for his country, thereby reflecting great credit upon himself and upholding the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service.
HERO HUMOR
I'm Not a Mailman
For military men and women serving in harm's way during the holidays, there is nothing like getting mail from home to warm lonely hearts. Fortunately, families of these heroes never let them down when it comes to sending packages during the holidays.
On one trip, we were documenting the mountains of mail that had just arrived as troops loaded bags and boxes to be delivered to a rifle company. I shouted to one of the senior NCOs overseeing the detail and asked him, "do me a favor and walk toward the camera while we film all of you unloading the mail." Full of Christmas cheer, he glared into the camera and growled, "I'm not a ——— mailman!"
Never Fall Asleep First
"Sleep's a crutch"—or so declared the label on a bag of "Ranger Coffee" I was given recently. The caffeine it contained would have been welcome on any of my trips to the war zone, where I and my crew regularly pulled twenty-plus hour days. It's hard to complain, though, since the troops we cover seem to view sleep as a nasty habit that needs to be broken. They often get by on little more than chewing tobacco and Red Bull.
On our December 2006 trip to Iraq, we went through a grueling series of patrols, briefings, and night missions interspersed with live shots, stand-ups, and call-ins for FOX News. Andy Stenner, my producer, made the mistake of sacking out before the rest of us.
But with this group, you never want to fall asleep first.
We made sure Andy was comfortable and had some "friends" to snuggle with. The resulting photo was the source of laughs all over the newsroom. He paid me back by taking pictures of me every time I dozed off, no matter where it was.
Shot at Without Result
Mal James and I were with a dozen heavily armed Marines and Iraqi policemen in Ramadi, Iraq, one afternoon when an enemy sniper "cranked off" a round in our direction. The videotape shows me walking toward the camera and
my reaction as the shot passed wide of its mark. By the time the sniper fired a second time, I was out of the frame—and on the ground. Old men can move surprisingly fast when properly motivated.
The moment recalled Winston Churchill's line, "Nothing in life is so exhilarating as to be shot at without result." But the most impressive response was that of the Marines and Iraqi police accompanying the unarmed contractors. There was no burst of return fire from the Marines, no aimless barrage from the Iraqi policemen. Instead, as the camera continued to roll, they hustled everyone to cover. The Marines could be seen on the videotape scanning distant windows and rooftops through their rifle sights. Later, Marine gunner Bob Tagliabue summed it up best: "We go to the practice range. The terrorists don't."
COMMITMENT
Every one of our soldiers, sailors, airmen, Guardsmen, and Marines currently serving has volunteered to do so in time of war against an implacable enemy. Without being conscripted, they left the comfort of home, the warmth of friends, and the affection of their families to serve in harm's way.
Despite the relentless criticism of a generally hostile media, the overwhelming apathy of their fellow citizens, and the on-again-off-again support of politicians, they have reenlisted and returned to combat at higher rates than any military force in our nation's history.