Yesterday...

So I was out on patrol yesterday enroute to the shura….this is what I was thinking about as we pushed:

So we stepped out…. I gave a brief to the Marines going with me and the CO was accompanying us. He is a good leader and always likes to lead from the front. Normally Officers don’t take point but the Major always insists on doing so and we let him. I too have taken point several times but any Enlisted Marine will tell you that Officers belong in the back because we just don’t take the point…..it’s probably the most dangerous position on patrols because if the enemy wants to hit the most vulnerable part of the movement it’s the front. But he and I are both ‘prior enlisted’ so we can do it…..at least I was an 0311.

We step….75 lbs of extra gear, which by this time is just part of our body, weapon and radios. We always push through the marsh and get wet….doesn’t even bother me to get ‘balls deep’ in the nasty feces infested water anymore it’s just part of the job….plus it cools you off. My feet now look forward to the wetness that will accompany me the rest of the day….trench foot sucks but I have to remind myself that I have it because I don’t even notice the poor condition my feet are in. I had to laugh as I walked through the mud which I sunk 6 inches in with every step. I brought up the rear and as ‘tail end Charlie’ it’s my job to ensure no one is following us, watch our six, and to keep up with the rest of the of the section that is pushing…..I walk backwards a lot of the time and I’m constantly keeping my head on a swivel as I look back every 4-8 steps.
So I slipped and ate….mud but my training kicks in and I keep my finger ‘straight and off the trigger’ all the while I keep my weapon above my head so it stays dry. Me without my weapons makes me almost useless….I have the radio so I can still call for help if I don’t get to shoot back. My weapon without me is just a paperweight.
As we patrol I don’t know why but my sense of smell is heightened. I can smell all the goat poop as we push through the fields where the goat herders bring their animals to graze. First time I’ve noticed it in months. I push across the dirt road that has been flooded because a farmer allowed too much water to flood his fields and it’s spilled over. Or is he using an old tactic that will just slow our movement down and bog down heavy tactical military vehicles? It doesn’t matter because like my mom used to say, ‘shoe leather express will take you wherever you need to go.’ Sometimes I wonder if she too was a Marine…..maybe that’s why she is just as badass as Gunny and I still think of her as my hero…..not some asshole sports figure that makes so much money he forgets that he’s playing a game and relying on his talent to make it in this world.
I push past a compound that has four children outside. They are always there. A boy, the oldest, who is about six…he always watches me like a hawk and pushes his two younger sister aside because he’s already learned that women don’t have as much right to do anything like men do. The oldest girl just waves at me as I wave at her….she is about 5. Next is the 3 year old girl who’s hair has never seen a comb and the last time her parents gave her a bath was months ago. She has her dirty little fingers in her mouth and drools. The littlest one is a boy who is about two. He too is barefoot and wearing a hand-me-down shirt that reaches his ankles. He has a finger in his nose no doubt getting ready to have breakfast….it’s 0740 and still cool outside.
We cross a wheat field that isn’t growing very well. A boy, probably 13, is working the field like he normally does. I make it a point to get close to him and say hello in his native language. He says something else but my terp is so far ahead I can’t ask him to translate what he says. I’m sure it has something to do with us walking through his fields destroying the little crop he is trying to maintain. I hate to say, ‘too bad and if you tell me where the Taliban is I’ll walk around your field’ but it’s the truth. Not that I don’t care but going home on my own is better than being carried by six Marines….I still have a good life to live and having a family with Martha is the next step in my life that I’m looking forward to.
As I cross one of many canals I decide to not take the foot bridge and dip again into the murky water. Balls deep I go into the water but it’s a little refreshing. I haven’t taken a shower in two days and I’ve already built up a sweat and am breathing a little heavier after doing the slip and slide in the muddy wheat field. We cross another wheat field and are into the main portion of the village. The fields are vast and the colors of green are beautiful. The wheat stalks sway back and forth in the breeze like a church choir does at Sunday Mass….but today is Saturday and we are off to our Council of Elders Shura.
We pass another compound with an older man working his little wheat patch. I see him all the time in this same spot. He never looks at me until I say hello. Even then he is reluctant to respond but his culture makes him be polite….really he wants us to leave and stay out of his grape fields. He has two daughters ages 10 and 12 respectively. Out of respect for their culture I ignore them but sometimes I give them a smile when I look in their direction. I pass by the puddle that I do my best to avoid every time I’m in that area. It is brown and black nasty water that even the bugs won’t visit. It’s probably filled with urine and feces….only say this because I haven’t stepped in or had to avoid a pile of human shit that is around every other compound that we patrol by. The people have no sense of what hygiene is besides the traditional branch they use to clean their teeth. It’s no wonder 1/5 children die before the age of 5 in this country. Well I step too close to the puddle and the earth gives way…..down I go into the dark water….only my right side gets wet to include, my pistol, Leatherman, and k-bar. Again my training pays off and I keep my rifle above my head so it stays dry. I think to myself, ‘I haven’t had to use my pistol yet and only had to pull it out twice so far.’ I should be good for the day but I keep my fingers crossed just as an added precaution. I smell like shit….quite literally and of all days when my sense of smell is working better than most days. It must be the allergy pills doc gave me to stop the sneezing. I think I’ll need a tetanus shot or a series of them when I get back to civilization. I just got over having ‘Osama’s Revenge’ and I’m thinking I’ll for sure get it again. I’ll try to keep from touching, with my filthy hands, the granola bar I’m looking forward to having for a snack (breakfast) when I get to the compound. Just another day in the Stan.
We make it just outside the compound and run into our good friends the Afghan National Boarder Police. One asks another Marine to help him carry some plywood….the ANBP is willing to carry his M4 while they move the wood. I just have to laugh because it will be a cold day in hell before any Marine hands over his weapon and I’d end some one’s life just by reaching for it….except for the little kids that have done so on several occasions. The Bridge builder is completing his work on the bridge and asking for more money as per usual. Little does he know that he is being fired today because he is 6 weeks over due and we won’t put up with his excuses anymore. To his testament he has
gotten a lot of work done with very little. Still we’ve grown tired of him and even though America is made of money we refuse to spend anymore of your tax dollars for this project. The bridge will probably be targeted by the insurgency soon anyways. It would only be the 4th time it’s been blown up. I just hope with the ANBP presence that the enemy will be deterred…..but I doubt it.
So I expressed to the elders on Wednesday that the shura starts at 0900 Marine Corps time. Not 1030 Council of Elders time. They show up at 0909 only after my Marines go over and interrupt the pre shura shura. I’m sure they had to get their story right before they come to talk to the rich Americans and ask for money.
The first thing they want to talk about the man’s wife that was ‘collateral damage’ or ‘accidentally killed’ in the fire fight a few weeks ago. There are times when I don’t like being the ‘bad cop’ but it’s necessary. We explain that we are here to help the people with problems they cannot solve themselves. Not to pay for things that we didn’t do and the Taliban are responsible for. And I ask the elders, “Have you gone to the TB and asked them to donate money to this man?” You could hear a mouse fart and now I’m the asshole. But I don’t care really. We help them realize that they need to appeal to their District Gov and we move on. Next we talk about security and poppy….I’m over talking about it so I won’t get into that BS with you. We end up having a prior detainee come in and site before the council and tell us how the Marines came to his compound and put a knife to this throat and threatened him. (this is a Taliban threatening technique) Let me get this into all your heads: We don’t have to threaten anyone with knives….we have rifles, pistols, and grenades. Why would I bother with a knife? Not to mention that we don’t have to make threats….we make promises and keep them. Got it? He also says that Marines have come and cut down some of his poppy and we took ½ kilo of opium. Well after 30 mins of this BS the elders asked him to leave. Even they couldn’t stand the BS….later they asked for permission to rid him from the community. I just wish we could do it by making an introduction to Allah…did I just say that? Yes….. I did. But that’s not how we conduct business.
We broke our shura after a bit of arguing and heated tempers. But we were productive believe it or not. Progress was made.
So I got back to the COP and realized that my shoulders were aching and my knees are not as young as they used to be. Pain is a good thing….it lets you know that you are still alive. Fear is good too…keeps you alert and on point.
I dropped my gear, stripped down, and got to take a hot shower in 105 temperatures….but I didn’t care that my sunburned skinned burned under the hot water. I was getting the piss and shit off me and that was a great feeling. My Marines were back and safe and that’s all I ever worry about when they are outside the wire. I was hungry but again my training and guilt kicks in…..they teach us in Boot Camp: Weapon, gear, self…that’s the order in which you take care of things when you get a chance. I took my shower but chow would have to wait. My pistol was muddy and I could see the rust on my barrel already. I knew my crappy clip that held my 9mm rounds was probably bad too. So I spend the next hour and a half cleaning my weapons, knives and Leatherman. I got some chow in me and was ready for a nap. But Awards are due and my Sergeants ask if I could submit a few on their behalf. The dead line was three days ago but I’m going to submit them anyways. It’ kept me up until 0015 this morning but I’m happy to put my Marines first. They’ve earned it……and they are my Marines.

Semper Fi,

ws