During the April offensive of 2004, in which attacks erupted all over Anbar province, my unit was involved in a two-day firefight. Shortly after the firefight was underway, the same commander who had given us the mission ordered that everyone wearing a black dishdasha and a red headscarf was displaying “hostile intent” and a “hostile action” and was to be shot.
Later he ordered that everyone on the streets was an enemy combatant. I can remember one instance that afternoon when we came around a corner and an unarmed Iraqi man stepped out of a doorway. I remember the marine directly in front of me raising his rifle and aiming at the unarmed man. Then I think, due to some psychological reason, my brain blocked out the actual shots, because the next thing I remember is stepping over the dead man’s body to clear the room that he came out of. It was a storage room and it was full of some Arabic version of Cheetos. There weren’t any weapons in the area except ours.
The commander told us a couple of weeks later that over a hundred enemy “had been killed,” and to the best of my knowledge that number includes the people who were shot for simply walking down the street in their own city. After the firefight was over, the standing Rules of Engagement for my unit were changed so that marines didn’t need to identify a hostile action in order to use deadly force. They just had to identify hostile intent.
The rules also explicitly stated that carrying a shovel, standing on a rooftop while speaking on a cell phone, or holding binoculars or being out after curfew constituted hostile intent, and we were authorized to use deadly force.
On my third tour, the Rules of Engagement were stricter, but they only existed so that the command could say there were Rules of Engagement that were being followed. In reality, my officers explicitly told me and my fellow marines that if we felt threatened by an Iraqi’s presence, we “should shoot them,” and the officers would “take care of us.”
By this time, many of the marines were on their second or third tour and had suffered such serious psychological trauma that they shot people who were clearly noncombatants. There was one incident when a roadside bomb exploded, and a few minutes later, I watched a marine start shooting at cars that were driving hundreds of meters away and in the opposite direction from where the IED exploded. We were too far away to identify who was in the cars and they didn’t pose any threat to us. For all I could tell, standing about twenty meters away from the marine and about three hundred meters from the cars, they were just passing motorists. It was long enough after and far enough away from the explosion that the people in the cars might not have even known that anything had even happened, but the marine was shooting at them anyway. This marine, whose best friend had been killed on our last deployment, was also present at the two-day firefight that I mentioned earlier. He watched the commander who had given us the order to shoot anyone on the street shoot two old ladies that were walking and carrying vegetables. He said that the commander had told him to shoot the women, and when he refused, the commander shot them. So when this marine started shooting at people in cars that nobody else felt were threatening, he was following his commander’s example.
In general, the Rules of Engagement changed frequently and were contradictory. When they were restrictive, they were loosely enforced. Shootings of civilians that were known were not reported because marines did not want to send their brothers-in-arms to prison when all they were trying to do was protect themselves in a situation they’d been forced into. With no way to identify their attackers, and no clear mission worth dying for, marines viewed the Rules of Engagement as either a joke or a technicality to be worked around so that they could bring each other home alive. Not only are the misuses of the Rules of Engagement in Iraq indicative of supreme strategic incompetence, they are also a moral disgrace. The people who set them should be ashamed of themselves, and they’re just one of the many reasons why the troops should be withdrawn from Iraq immediately.
Jason Washburn
Corporal, United States Marine Corps, Rifleman
Deployments: March 19, 2003–September 11, 2003, al-Hilla;
May 27, 2004–February 6, 2005, Najaf;
September 6, 2005–March 31, 2006, Haditha
Hometown: San Diego, California
Age at Winter Soldier: 28 years old
During the course of my three tours, the Rules of Engagement changed a lot. It seemed like every time we turned around we had different Rules of Engagement, and they told us the reasons they were changing them was because it depended on the climate of the area at the time and what the threat level was. The higher the threat the more viciously we were permitted and expected to respond.
For example, during the invasion we were told to use target identification before engaging anyone, but if the town or the city that we were approaching was a known threat, if the unit in the area before us took a high number of casualties, we were allowed to shoot whatever we wanted. It was deemed to be a free-fire zone, so we opened fire on everything, and there was really no rule governing the amount of force we were allowed to use on targets during the invasion.
I remember one woman walking by. She was carrying a huge bag, and she looked like she was heading toward us, so we lit her up with the Mark 19, which is an automatic grenade launcher, and when the dust settled, we realized that the bag was full of groceries. She had been trying to bring us food and we blew her to pieces.
After the invasion ended and Bush declared “Mission Accomplished,” the rules changed pretty drastically. Instead of actually firing, we used a lot of close-combat, hand-to-hand violence to subdue people. There were a lot of times when we were on foot patrols we were ordered not to allow people to pass through our patrol formation, and unsuspecting villagers tried to pass through or cut through our formation, and we would butt-stroke them, jab them with our muzzles, or kick them just to get them out of our formations.
Another time there was a guy on a bicycle with a basketful of groceries who tried to just ride through our formation. We clothes-lined him and smashed up his bicycle. For what? Passing through our patrol formation? This is what we were expected to do.
On another mission, we were ordered to guard a fuel station. At the end of the day, when we were about to take off, a bunch of Iraqis rushed to the fuel pumps to try to take some fuel. Our squad leader called it in, and the response over the radio was, “What do you think we want you to do? Go fuck them up!” So we jumped off the trucks and charged at the Iraqis, and beat the hell out of them with rifles, fists, feet, anything we had available. Once they had either fled or were broken and bleeding, unconscious on the ground, we mounted back up in our trucks and left. We were never told to detain anyone or question anyone, just mess them up.
Most of the innocents that I actually saw get killed were behind the wheel of a vehicle, usually taxi drivers. I’ve been present when almost a dozen taxi drivers got killed just driving.
During my third deployment, there was a rule in place where all Iraqi traffic had to pull off of the road to let military convoys pass. If they didn’t comply, or if somebody got back on the road too early, they would get shot up. If they approached a checkpoint too fast, or too recklessly, they would get shot up.
Often we were told to be on the lookout for vehicle-borne IEDs (VBIEDs)—Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs)—matching the description of every taxi in Iraq. We were to be on the lookout for any car that has orange-paneled doors and a front that’s white. That’s what every taxi in Iraq looks like, and these are the cars that could be VBIEDs. Quite a few of those guys got shot up just because their car looked like the cars we were told to look out for.
In another instance, the mayor of a town near Haditha was shot. Our command gathered the whole company together, and we were shown pictures of all of this. They had pictures of what everything looked like. There was a really nice, tight shot-group in the windshield, and the command announced that this is what good marine shooting looks like, and that was the mayor of the town. It was my squad that was tasked with apologizing
to the family and paying reparations. All we did was go there and give them some money and then leave. It was really a joke.
Something else we were encouraged to do, almost with a wink and nudge, was to carry drop weapons, or by my third tour, drop shovels. We would carry these weapons or shovels with us because if we accidentally shot a civilian, we could just toss the weapon on the body, and make them look like an insurgent. By my third tour, we were told that if they carried a shovel or a heavy bag, or if they were seen digging anywhere, especially near roads, that we could shoot them. So we carried these tools and weapons in our vehicles in case we accidentally shot an innocent civilian. We could just toss it on there and be like, “Well, he was digging. I was within the Rules of Engagement.” This was commonly encouraged, but only behind closed doors. There obviously wasn’t a public announcement, but it was pretty common. That’s all I have to say.
Jon Michael Turner
Lance Corporal, United States Marine Corps, Automatic Machine-gunner, Kilo Company, 3rd Battalion, 8th Marines
Deployments: Haiti; between Fallujah and Abu Ghraib;
March 2006, Ramadi
Hometown: Burlington, Vermont
Age at Winter Soldier: 22 years old
There’s a term, once a marine, always a marine; but there’s also the term, eat the apple, fuck the Corps. I don’t work for you no more. [After saying that line, Turner rips off the medals he received for his service in Iraq and Haiti and threw them to the ground. Medals discarded included the Purple Heart, National Defense Service Medal, Army Expeditionary Medal, Iraq Campaign Medal, Global War on Terror Service Medal, Humanitarian Service Medal, and a Combat Action Ribbon. After doing so, he received a standing ovation from his fellow veterans.]
I want to start by showing you a video of the Executive Officer of Kilo Company. We had gotten into a two-hour long firefight, and it was over for quite some time, but he still felt the need to drop a five-hundred-pound laser-guided missile on northern Ramadi.
[Turner shows a video of the XO gloating after ordering the dropping of the bomb. In the video, the officer says:] “I think I just killed half of the population of northern Ramadi, fuck the red tape. It doesn’t fucking matter.”
We had gotten our Rules of Engagement brief at Camp Ramadi. Just after we had gotten that brief, our first sergeant had pulled my platoon aside and stated, “If you feel threatened in any way, shape, or form, take care of the threat, and we’ll deal with it later.” With that being said, “mistakes” were made on several occasions.
One incident involved an Iraqi guy we called “Mr. Wilson.” My post was post Alpha, at the government center in the southwest corner. His house was directly across the street. We had a high suicide-vehicle-borne IED threat that day, and this car drove rapidly around the corner. I fired one 50-caliber machine gun round in his direction, and it ricocheted off the ground through the floorboard of the car, through his shin, and then through the roof. The car immediately came to a stop, and out of the car came seven of his daughters and Mr. Wilson himself.
A 50-caliber round is about six inches long, and the projectile is about an inch and a half long. The one shot at Mr. Wilson was a slap round, which has a polyurethane base and a titanium tip. When the projectile exits from the 50-caliber machine gun barrel, it spreads open so goes into your body leaving a hole about four inches and exits leaving you with next to nothing.
On patrol, when mistakes were made we carried “drop weapons.” We took weapons from the Iraqi police during our first deployment. We took their weapons and carried them around with us, in case we messed up and shot the wrong person.
Anytime we went into a house, we took the firing pins out of their weapons. Every household is allowed to have one AK-47 for their own protection, but the weapons wouldn’t fire after we took out the firing pins. Therefore, they had no protection.
[Turner shows a photo of the brain matter of an Iraqi killed by a member of his unit, sitting across the cushion of a car’s front seat.] For those of you who don’t know, that is brains. That was not my kill; that was one of my friends’.
When we did make mistakes, we had no respect for Iraqi bodies afterwards.
That is a man’s face on April 2, 2005, at Abu Ghraib. We sustained a very highly coordinated attack, and the next day we went ahead and had to search the premises for any remains. That face, or that part of the face, was found and put on top of a Kevlar, so a picture could be taken of it.
We had a mortar attack at Camp India, which was in between Camp Fallujah and Abu Ghraib. This was a twelve-year-old boy who was building our camp for us, and he took a piece of shrapnel to the head.
On April 18, 2006, I had my first confirmed kill. He was an innocent man. I don’t know his name. I call him “the Fat Man.” During the incident, he walked back to his house and I shot him in front of his friend and father. The first round didn’t kill him after I’d hit him in his neck. Afterwards, he started screaming and looked right into my eyes. I looked at my friend I was on post with, and I said, “Well, I can’t let that happen.” I took another shot and took him out. The rest of his family carried him away. It took seven Iraqis to carry his body.
We were all congratulated after we had our first kills, and that happened to have been mine. My company commander personally congratulated me. This is the same individual who stated that whoever gets their first kill by stabbing them to death would get a four-day pass when we returned from Iraq.
My third confirmed kill was a man riding his bicycle. We had Laura Logan from CBS with us, but she was with the other squad. It was later on in the day, and we went ahead and took out some individuals because we were excited about the firefight we had just gotten into. And we didn’t have a cameraman or woman with us.
Anytime we did have embedded reporters with us, our actions changed drastically. We never acted the same. We were always on key with everything, did everything by the book.
House raids: Because we were a grunt battalion, we were responsible for going on several patrols. A lot of the raids and patrols we did were at night at around three o’clock in the morning. We kicked in doors and terrorized families. We segregated the women and children from the men. If the men of the household gave us problems, we’d take care of them any way we felt necessary, whether it be choking them or slapping their head against the walls.
On my wrist, there is Arabic for “fuck you.” I got it put on my wrist just two weeks before we went to Iraq, because that was my choking hand and anytime I felt the need to take out aggression, I would go ahead and use it.
I’m going to show you a video of the Fatimid mosque minaret. It is riddled with bullet holes. The holes in the top of it were from mortars. A tank round went into the minaret even though we weren’t sure if we were taking fire. It is illegal to shoot into a mosque unless you are taking fire from it. There was no fire that was taken from that mosque. It was shot into because we were angry. This video shows the tank round that went into the minaret.
[The video plays. A soldier inside the tank jokes over the radio:] “We are on ice cream trying to suppress the blue and white minaret.... Go ahead, take another round at that building, at that mosque over there. Another round, Kilo Two. Fuck yes. Awesome.” [Video ends.]
There are many more stories and incidents for me to talk about although we don’t have the time. Everyone sitting up here has these stories, and there’s been over a million troops that have gone in and out of Iraq, so the possibilities are endless.
The reason I am doing this today is not only for myself and for the rest of society to hear. It’s for all those who can’t be here to talk about the things that we went through, to talk about the things that we did.
Those four crosses and this memorial service were for the five guys in Kilo Company, Third Battalion, Eighth Marines that we lost. Throughout our unit, we had eighteen that got killed.
Clifton Hicks
Private, United States Army, Cavalry Scout C Troop, First Squadron, First U.S. Cavalr
y Regiment
Deployment: May 2003–July 2004, Southern Baghdad
Hometown: Gainesville, Florida
Age at Winter Soldier: 23 years old
Before I begin, I have a brief statement: For the infantrymen, scouts, and tankers of C Troop First Squadron, First United States Cavalry Regiment, there are few words which can express my admiration. I can merely say that I love them with all of my heart and that I would never have made it home alive without such worthy and courageous troopers at my side. These were men who risked everything for a cause they believed was just and true. They left behind their families, their friends, and their lives. They endured the unendurable. They did this not for greed, or jealousy, or hatred, but for the sake of love, and for that they are beyond judgment. I am no judge, and I did not come here to pass judgment either on my fellow soldiers or the officers who once commanded us in war. I’m here today to pass judgment on war itself.
First item, April 2004, free-fire zone in the Abu Ghraib neighborhood of Baghdad: During Operation Blackjack, I was instructed by our troop commander, a captain, that one sector was now a free-fire zone. He told us there were “no friendlies in the area.” He said, “Game on. All weapons free.”
Upon arrival in the neighborhood, the streets were littered with wreckage of vehicles. Who knows if it’s a civilian vehicle or an enemy vehicle? There’s no way to tell. In addition, there wasn’t a single building that hadn’t had a hole shot through it or something exploded inside of it. The streets were littered with human and animal corpses. I did not see military gear or weapons of any kind on any of the bodies.
I did not fire my weapon on this operation, but other members of my unit embraced the weapons-free order by firing indiscriminately into occupied civilian vehicles and at civilians themselves. They used personal weapons like rifles, vehicle-mounted weapons such as machine guns, and coaxial machine guns of various caliber. I swear until the day I die, I did not see one enemy on that operation. Judging from what I saw on the ground, the majority of those so-called KIAs were civilians attempting to flee the battlefield.
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