"Roster Numbers"
By: Jason Henke, SGT
"Hey Maxey!"
"Yo, Sergeant what's up?"
"Hey come on back here for a minute. Gifford and I are sorting through the M.R.E. Boxes and wanted to know if you wanted the Chicken Cavatelli?"
"What are you having Sergeant?"
"Well, I picked out number 15, the Beef Enchilada, and Gifford's having Beef Stew from the last of the 'A' Box."
"Yea, save me the Chicken Cavatelli, Ill be back there in a second," the voice of my Driver Specialist Elias "Cody" Maxey beckoned to me from his drivers hatch of Headquarters 66, the Bradley Fighting Vehicle that we shared as a crew for the Battalion Commander of 1st Battalion, 30th Infantry, LTC Wes Gillman.
"Damn it's getting hot out here", Specialist Aaron Gifford said a loud as he squinted his eyes and stared out into the late April afternoon. "I knew Iraq got hot, but not this hot."
Losing my own sight in the luster of the mid afternoon sun and feeling the burning intensity of the light on my face I began to misplace my thoughts to a time and place of my up bringing. Remembering my first time at the beach and the brightness of the sand and heat of the sun on my body, these memories were bringing an invigorating emotion to what has become a dismal place in my life, Baghdad, Iraq.
"Where's lunch, I'm hungry", SPC Maxey shattered my utopia with as he piled into the back of the Bradley and took up residence in forward part of the troop compartment. Slamming his rifle down and throwing his Kevlar on the shelf behind me, Specialist Maxey began to clear a space at his feet to stoe his Meal Ready to Eat (MRE). "Where's my MRE?"
"Here you go you loud ass mother fucker," SPC Gifford said with a smile on his face as he tossed the Chicken Cavatelli MRE at Maxey's feet. "You always have to make an entrance, don't you?"
"Wha'--- I didn't do anything wrong!" SPC Maxey sarcastically said as he tried to hide a smile.
"So Maxey, how hot do you think it is today? You are from Las Vegas and you're used to hot ass weather, right?" I questioned to redirect the conversation.
"Sure Sergeant, yeah, well, I guess I could say it's around the high 90's right now…"
"…damn, and its only April," SPC Gifford cut in.
"Well its April 28th, so technically we are almost into May and only 27 days till my birthday, right?"
"Sure Sergeant---", Gifford assured me with a side glance and a smile on his face. "Well today is Saddams birthday, right?"
"Yeah and they still haven't caught the mother fucker yet," SPC Maxey added with no prejudice in his tone.
"Hey now, you never know about that rat, he could be anywhere in this place. I mean he is only one man out of nearly 50 million people in this country," I proclaimed. "It shouldn't matter. Everyone knows what the fucker looks like and no one likes him," SPC Maxey defensively retorted.
"On the contrary Maxey, he still has a lot of supporters out there, and who knows, he could have been killed already and laying in some buildings rubble or even living in Syria in exile. It could be any number of things!"
"It don't matter anyway," SPC Gifford supplemented my argument with, "He's going to be found and then its going to be all over with for him, whether or not he's dead or alive!"
Opening the MRE and rummaging through its contents, I knew exactly what to expect in number 15, the Beef Enchilada; 1 package of Jalapeño Cheese, 1 package of Vegetable Crackers, 2 Chocolate M&M Cookies, a Beverage Base powder, and the Beef Enchilada meal itself. Extracting the contents and laying them neatly on the floor boards at my feet in the Bradley Troop Compartment I separated the portions of the meal that needed to be heated from the portions that could be eaten with out the luxury of warmth.
"Hey guys, what's up?" SPC Lovejoy came to the foot of the ramp to announce. "Having lunch a little late aren't we?"
"Don't you have shit to do in the TOC Lovejoy?" Maxey retorted.
"Well, so sorry I was able to escape for the moment and come see what you guys were up to," SPC Lovejoy said as he stood in the bright sun.
"Come on in and sit in the shade," Gifford tried to coaxed SPC Aaron Lovejoy in.
"No-- no, I see where I stand with some people," staring at SPC Maxey. "Ill just locate myself out here for a few and shoot the shit with you two," Lovejoy said referring to Gifford and myself.
"Humph…" was the response to what was a silent SPC Maxey.
Looking from Maxey to Lovejoy I turned the subject away from the tension at hand and into local events. "So RTO (Radio Transmission Operator), what's going on in the Battalions Area of Operation today?"
"Nothing much Sergeant, err, Bravo Company has a Platoon of Bradlies and dismounts in the Market place of the Ash Shu'lah district to our north, while Charlie Company has two Platoons at the UXO (Un-Exploded Ordinance) Site with most of the Alpha Company 3-17 Engineer. There all there still cleaning up the mess from what was left behind …"
"Have you been out there yet Lovejoy," I asked the young soldier.
"No negative Sergeant."
"You should really go. There is so much ammo stored in that neighborhood its no fucking wonder in all this heat that it doesn't start cooking off and come raining down on the people over there."
"Yea Roger Sergeant," Lovejoy agreed with. "But we have been doing a lot of clean up with the locals over there. I mean First Sergeant Garza and the C-O, Capt. Watkins have been taking load after load of that shit to a holding site way on the western edge of the city half way between here and Al Fallujah. The Brigade is storing it there and burying it so no one can get to it."
"Yeah well I think they're just storing it there until they can properly dispose of it. I mean they can't keep all those artillery and mortar rounds the Republican Guard left behind out in the open or in a hole, its going to have to eventually go somewhere." I thoughtfully rebutted.
"Hold-up…" SPC Maxey cut in with. "You mean that shit still hasn't been cleaned up yet?"
"No and I don't think it will be for a long time. There's still an ass load of that shit laying around in our own perimeter, in all those partially built houses just south of us and north of the Mother of all Battles Mosque." SPC Gifford added while stepping into the conversation.
"Yea there's enough ammo to be disposed of in our small five square mile area that our Battalion alone will be kept busy for 24 hours a day for the next 2 weeks," Lovejoy said as he looked at SPC Gifford.
"Well, were getting good at making it disappear, we've been at it for two weeks as it stands now. There is more UXO and ammo lying around in our neighborhoods to out weight all of what's on Fort Benning alone," I finally added.
"Damn, I'm glad I don't have to live here…" SPC Maxey said quietly as he started to take a hefty mouth full of Chicken and Cavatelli.
"Technically you are living here Specialist Maxey, so technically this is your home... for now." I further said as I took my own heaping bite of my meal. Feeling some of the sauce drip on my chin I quickly whipped it away with my sleeve making a deep maroon smear on the fore arm. "Shit! I fucking hate it when I do that, now I'm going to have to clean this DCU top again!"
"Ha-ha-ha-ha…" was the playful response as SPC Maxey, Gifford and Lovejoy tried to hide their laughter at my misfortune.
"All of you are going to fucking do push-up in a sec…" I said with no real intention of doing so. "How's your Mom Maxey," I quickly took the conversation in a more subtle direction.
"She's getting better, her Diabetes has simmered down again and she's out of the hospital."
"That's good to hear."
Continuing with the small talk SPC Maxey went onto in saying, "How's your sister Shannon, got any new pictures?" SPC Maxey giddily said.
"Hey, quit while you're ahead Maxey. Don't go there," I said with a defensive posture. "I'm going to write to her after lunch. It's hard to pick on a subject to talk about with her. I mean, this whole War, I really don't get to into the details with anyone I write too. It's mostly the, hey I'm still alright, still doing well and I would love to come home any time now!"
"Yea that's the same with me" Lovejoy surprised me and said.
"Shit, I forgot you were still standing there Lovejoy," I said. "Get your ass in the shade…. Your making me feel hot standing there baking!"
"Nah, I'm good Sergeant. I need to get back to the TOC anyway, I'm sure the place is falling apart without there bitch boy radio operator in there to answer all the calls!"
"Yeah, I'm sure it is falling apart," I laughingly responded. "Get back in there and find out when the mail is getting out here."
"Roger Sergeant. I know that First Sergeant Garza and Company Commander, Capt. Watkins are bringing it up this afternoon."
"I thought they were helping with the clean up," SPC Gifford questioned.
"Nope, not today, the First Sergeant and C-O of Alpha 3-17 are picking it up for the next few days, so 1SG Garza and CPT Watkins can get back to running things back in the Field trains located in the Brigade Support Area near Abu Ghurayb," SPC Lovejoy said as he began to step back and place his Kevlar helmet on his head. "Well, I'm outta here guys… and ah, Sergeant," SPC Lovejoy quickly said as he extended a defensive arm and hand out in my direction. "Ill catch y'all later!"
"Get outta here Specialist", I groaned as I watched the soldier trot back into the Battalion Tactical Operations Center (TOC). Looking back at Maxey and Gifford I noticed them packing up the last of their lunch into the MRE bag, "Damn you guys are already done?"
"Roger Sergeant," SPC Maxey retorted, "Not all of take forever to eat," he smiled and said.
"Bye Maxey…" I said with some candor as my driver whisked by me and out into the open sun.
"I'm going up to take a nap in the 'hell-hole' Sergeant…" SPC Maxey said as he placed his Kevlar on his head. "It's going to be a boring day anyway… just wake me when the C-O and 1SG get here with mail."
"Hey, just be ready as always to get out of here in a hurry if anything should happen," I ordered.
"Nothing has happened in days Sergeant, just relax, you're too up tight about shit, but yea, Ill be ready… and tell your sister Shannon I said hello, and I mean it."
"Roger that Specialist!" I said a loud.
Smiling and lumbering back to the front of the Bradley Specialist Maxey disappeared from site. "See ya Sergeant…"
Bringing my attention back to Gifford I began to ask, "So what are you going to do with the rest of your day?"
"Well Sergeant, I'm not going to go take a nap if that's what your inferencing. I think I'm going to continue reading that book you gave me from the Dragon Lance series, its getting kind of interesting to read."
"Well whatever, I'll be in here finishing my lunch and starting on my letter to my sister."
Packing up the last remnants of his MRE Specialist Gifford began to search for his rifle and Kevlar. "Ill be right back Sergeant," and with that he was gone.
Leaning back in my uncomfortable troop chair, the back of which grinded heavily in my spine I looked up at the pale green ceiling of the troop compartment. "What am I going to write about today," I pronounced a loud to a non-existent audience. Rolling my eyes back into my head and absorbing the heat of the day into my psyche I lost myself in thought…
* * *
"SERGEANT HENKE!" A voice a loud came to my consciousness. "Sergeant Henke…" The tone was clearer to me as I came back into the world and began to give a confused look about. "First Sergeant Garza is hurt," yelled my Battalion Commander, LTC Gillman as he ran at me putting on his Kevlar Helmet. "Get '66' ready, and follow me out the gate with Maxey."
Speeding into action, the juices of my mind began to flow clearer. "Maxey get the fuck up and start the Bradley, raise the ramp, lets get the fuck out of here!" I screamed into the 'hell-hole' as I began to throw objects about to clear my path into the Turret. "Raise the RAMP, the Colonel is already backing out of here in the HUMVE!"
"Did he just say that the First Sergeant was hurt," SPC Maxey yelled back over his shoulder."
"Yeah, raise the ramp up and back '66' out of here!" I said over the roar of the newly started engine.
"Roger Sergeant!"
Putting my CVC Helmet over my head and slipping it down past my ears I turned around to start the radios. "Just back up out of here Maxey, I'm not going to ground guide you, I trust you know your way out of here… just stay on Gifford's ass in HQ 6."
"Not a problem Sergeant!" Hearing the response of my driver through the CVC helmet, the muffled sound of his transmission was breaking its way through the new sound of the dual radio channels babbling in our ears.
Turning about in the commander's seat to face forward I began to turn on the other gizmos in my Turret… next on the list was the tracking computer, then, arming the 25mm gun itself. Reaching under the M242, I searched around with my naked hand for the manual arm switch. "Found it!" I said to myself as I turned the butterfly switch into the 'Armed' position. Specialist Maxey started to back the Bradley out of its position and onto the hard concrete of the Battalion TOC area I on the other hand braced my arms and legs in the turret as the movement violently threw me about in the seat. With a rev of the commanding engine I was flung against the back of the turret. My head knocking back against the radio's I began to gather my composure and look about for all the commodities that I needed for this impromptu mission. Rifle, check, Radios, check, Computer, check, 25mm, check… looking down at my right hand I began to see red flow from the top of my hand. Pieces rolled flesh and skin hung onto my hand as a last attempt for life. Warm liquid began to flow and a sting of pain began to permeate from the new wound. "Damn" I announced a loud!
"What's going on Sergeant?" SPC Maxey said concernedly over the CVC.
"Nothing, just keep going, I'm down in the turret right now getting shit ready… just keep on'em Maxey, I trust you to get us to where we need to go," saying in a lost voice to myself and to Specialist Cody Maxey. "Stay on them…" I finally ended with as I brought my hand to my lips to clean the blood away. Tasting the metallic warmth of the blood it began to seep into my teeth and around the walls of my mouth. "Damn…" sucking in air to make a hissing noise. Grasping my right hand with the comfort of my left I looked at the scrap a little closer…. Nothing but a small abrasion inflicted by the violent movement of the Bradley's 25mm gun and my hand.
Bracing myself and slowly lumbering my body up and out of the Commander's hatch, I emerged to the bright sun in my eyes. Looking away, I saw the members of the Battalion TOC pour out of the tent door to watch me whisk away. Faces blank and staring, they had nothing to say, and further more, nothing to do as they helplessly stood there in the mid-afternoon sun. Rounding a sharp curve just a long side the M577's of the TOC we straightened our vehicle for a one line shot to the front gate. Digging deep into the black top, the Bradlies tracks slid and pealed as the heavy engine and vehicle dug in deep to find the burst of power that would take us closer to the Commander and his HUMVE not but 50 meters to our front. "Punch it MAXEY!" I screamed into the CVC. "Go-go-go-go!"
Feeling the hot sun on my neck I dazedly looked left and right of my vehicle as more soldier came out from their shaded hiding places to watch Head Quarters 66's out of character actions as it flew at top speed down the narrow road and past them in the Water Processing Plant we called home. Knowing that no one was allowed to go over 5 mph in a zone like this, and let alone not have someone ground guiding from the front was completely out of place and the astonished soldiers faces looked deep into me as I looked back. "First Sergeant Garza's hurt… we need to get the hell out of here!" I yelled out over the roar of my passing Bradley. The shock and awe the flushed over their faces left them standing there deep in question and concern as I continued to look back over my shoulder.
"The Gates open Sergeant and the Commanders already through it…"
"Roger that Maxey, Ill call him over the Radio and get a radio check, and ask him to hold down his speed. His HUMVE is faster and more agile then our Bradley."
"Battle 6, this is Battle 6 Golf, over!"
"Battle 6 Golf, this is Battle 6 go ahead…"
"Battle 6, this is 6 Golf, roger sir, I'm conducting a radio check over."
"Read you loud and clear 6 Golf.
"I read you same Battle 6, break…" Pausing between transmissions… "Battle 6, this is 6 Golf, roger sir, please be advised, HQ 66 can not keep up with you at your current speed over."
"Battle 6 Golf, roger, I understand, and will advise my Delta to slow his speed down until you come up closer to me, break…" Pausing between transmissions… "6 Golf, advise your Delta that when we get out on the open road to stay on my tail as much as he can."
"Battle 6, this is 6 Golf, will-co, over."
"This is Battle 6, out."
Placing the hand-mike down on top of the turret I turned my attention to my current status. "Maxey, you there?"
"Roger Sergeant," I heard the distant voice from down below reply back with.
"You heard the Commander right?"
"Yes Sergeant… I'm trying to get up to him now, but this soft sand is kicking up a lot of dust here, and I can't see more then 5 feet in front of me.
"That's alright Maxey, I got ya… I can see. Just keep on your current course and we'll make it onto the east/west road and out the perimeter of our Battalion assembly area," I said as I put my goggles on and around my CVC helmet, wiping away the old dust to make room for the new. I could see our current course that took us south to the East/West road that intersected our assembly area. Just beyond my sight, about a kilometer away I could gaze upon the green-blue dome of the 'Mother of all Battles Mosque' and the reflecting pool that stood on its northern flank. The minarets that surrounded the beautiful structure looked in the distance like Scud missiles pointing into the heavens. A visual its builder wanted when it was constructed around a decade ago. Its designer was Saddam Hussein, and he constructed it in honor of his military 'victory' over the Coalition lead by America in 1991. Only being a vastly larger piece of propaganda Saddam used its beauty to over come its false pretences. The Mosque held a sacred copy of the holy Koran written in the blood of Saddam himself. Once again another example of his crushing influence on the nation of Iraq.
Looking left and right, I could see the partially scattered and constructed homes that lay in our area. Nothing but more lies built by a mad man, for these homes would never be occupied by humans. They were erected as cover and concealment for the massive amount of Arms and Ammunition that was stored in the Northern reaches of Baghdad. Knowing that the United States would never willing bomb houses and neighborhoods, Saddam and his Generals hid these pieces to the puzzle all throughout the region to throw us off guard. Now they were ours…
Skidding onto the East/West road and past Bravo Company 1-30, a plume of dust caught us in our wake. Over taking the Bradley, the warm cloud filmed my nose and lungs with a hot grittiness as I took a deep breath in. Coughing and holding on, my Driver, SPC Maxey swerved onto the partially constructed service road and headed due west to the main gate going into the neighborhood of Shaykh Hamid. "Maxey, there's the medic track and HUMVE… let them join up between us and the commander…we'll take rear security."
"Understood Sergeant, I see'em just ahead near the west gate."
"Maxey, use as much of your skill as my driver to get us out of here and onto that road!"
"Roger Sergeant!" was the response of my driver.
"Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6, over." I could begin to hear the radio conversation in my CVC Helmet. Specialist Lovejoy was on the other end of the hand-mike in Battle X-ray, our Battalion TOC.
"Battle 6, this is Battle X-ray, go ahead sir."
"Battle X-ray, this Battle 6, roger, the HQ 6 and HQ 66 victors are leaving the outer perimeter time now, break…" "We've picked up 'Battle Bones' and are conducting escort procedures, break…" "Battle X-ray, we are leaving the west gate time now, with 4 victors, and 11 PAC's, over."
"Battle 6, that's a good copy, break…" "Four victors and 11 PAC's on Medivac mission leaving the western gate time now, over."
"Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6, break…" "What are the coordinates to the Head Hunter 6 and 7's last known positions, over?"
"Battle 6, this is Battle 5, over." Major Shultus the Battalion Executive Officer came over the Battalion net.
"Five, this is six, go ahead…"
"Roger six, this is five, sir there last known grid was Mike-Bravo 2-5-4-5-8-7-6-0, last known location was near the under pass just outside the neighborhood of Abu Ghurayb, on the hard ball, over"
"Understood, I copy MB 25458760, over."
"Battle 6, that's a good copy over."
"Battle X-ray, Ill update further. Clear the net and wait for emergency traffic, out"
Looking down at my map and the number I copied on my left hand. I compared the grid to the map I had in the Bradley. Tracing the distance from where we were to where we had to go, it wasn't far, just some 11 kilometers or 5 miles.
Blaring through the west gate the soldiers on guard had to jump out of my way as we shot through the narrow passage. The Guards had already cleared traffic in both directions as we blazed acrossed north bound traffic up and onto the center median. Skidding a hard left turn we righted ourselves and were underway through south bound traffic. The road we were currently on had two lanes of traffic on either side with a flurry of people and cars bustling all over it.
Weaving in and out traffic made it an exceptionally difficult task to keep the convoy in perspective. Head Quarters 6, with the Commander and Gifford, were in the lead. The two medical vehicles we had picked up just inside the perimeter consisted of an M113 Armored personal carrier converted into an ambulance. Painted tan with a bright Red cross on its flanks, it was unmistakable what its mission entailed. The extra HUMVE had further supplied us with more medics for the scene. Bringing up the rear, HQ 66, my Bradley Fighting Vehicle, its crew consisting of SPC Maxey and myself was tasked to keep all foes from interdiction and stopping of our mission of Mersey.
"Battle 6, this is 6 Golf, over…"
"…Six Golf this is six, make it quick."
"Roger six, I have the coordinates and I know where we're going. However, my being here is to secure this convoy, break…" "… The distances in the covey are too great for me to be effective sir!"
"Understood, now clear the net, this is six out."
"Damn it!" I yelled out over the CVC as I threw the hand mike onto the top of the turret, the coiled cord rappelling it back down into the hole and hitting the face of the radio it was attached too.
"Don't worry Sergeant, I got this, I can see him and the rest of the convoy. He won't lose us," SPC Maxey came over in a calm and cool voice. "It's not his fault. The man has a million and one things going on right now. We just have to make sure that no one fucks with him, or the medics… that's your job. You have the 25 up there… and I'm down here making sure that nothing gets in our way."
"Yea, yea, yea I understand, but I just hate it when he does this," I said as I crouched down and picked up the hand-mike that was daggling from the radio.
"Sergeant Henke, calm down, we've got this, don't worry… trust me, we've got this."
"I know--- I know, it's just that, Ahhhh, never mind…" I ended with a frustrated out burst.
Going through this routine for a few weeks now, I trusted Specialist Maxey whole heartedly to get me where I needed to go and safely. The Commander was in his HUMVE and we we're in the Bradley pulling security for our small convoy. My job, to get us there and meet the enemy, no matter who they were, with the full brunt force and power that was at my command. Both of us working in unison for a common goal, the safety of each other and of our Commander, LTC Gillman.
The sun setting in its mid afternoon horizon, its heat blazing on my exposed face, I looked in a silent stare as I rode as a passenger and less like a Gunner. My mind in a different place, questions floating in my psyche; what happened…why did it happen, what's going to happen now, all these happenings flowing through my mind on a rough sea of the unknown.
"Sergeant Henke…"
"What's up Maxey?"
"Looks like the Commander is turning onto the highway…"
"Yeah roger," my consciousness began to come back to reality. Grasping my M-4 rifle in my hand, I chambered a round and set it in its holster behind me. "The Grid that was given over the radio takes us just down this highway and about 8 kilometers west bound."
"Shit-- there's a lot of traffic on the freeway Sergeant."
"Don't worry about it, just try to close the distance between us and the rest of the convoy, and please Maxey, don't hit anyone in the other vehicles. These people drive crazy enough as it is in this country."
Coming out onto the 'Hard Ball' façade of the Iraqi Freeway system we started cutting in and out of traffic. These Freeways were nothing like the ones in Los Angeles, or any of the other major metro areas in America, but all in the same, many lanes and many cars. No one could stop our marauding pursuit of our Commander; he led the way and we followed, keeping a watchful eye in all directions for potential danger.
Swerving in and through traffic, nothing was going to stop us. Then the shock hit me like a sledgehammer. There in the far distance on the opposite side of the freeway was a commotion. Dropping down into the turret I grabbed the Commanders Hand station and traversed the turret in the direction of the mass of people and vehicles. The disarray of scouts, medics and other personnel could be seen much clearer now that I was looking through the Integrated Sight Unit of my Bradley. It wasn't apparent to me yet the scope of what we were about to come upon… however, I don't think any of us could have imagined it.
"Maxey, bring the Bradley into the fast lane and prepare to move over the center divider."
"Roger Sergeant."
Arriving like a hot wind on the front end of a sand storm I saw what had happened and quickly assessed what we had to do. "Maxey, as soon as you beat feet over the divider, turn the Bradley around and back it into the sense."
"What's going on Sergeant, what can you see…? I know you can see up there… what's going on?!" Was the frantic but yet still cool response from my Driver.
"Don't worry about it right now; just do what you're told."
"Roger Sergeant."
Specialist Cody Maxey didn't have to see what was now unfolding in front of my eyes. We we're going to turn the 'ass-end' of the Bradley toward the catastrophe on the Freeway; I was going to guard the opposing view with my 25mm cannon, and no one was going to get by me unless 'I' let them…
"Is this good…right here Sergeant?"
"Roger, its good Maxey… just prepared to move on command."
"Understood Sergeant….roger, understood…" His voice disappeared into the vastness of my mind.
I was still reacting, not thinking, and then the reality of the situation slammed into me again. Captain Watkins, my Company Commander in Bravo Company and now in Head Quarters Company was washed in crimson. He had been giving First Sergeant Garza CPR, taking turns with the others on the scene; SPC Hess, SPC Sons, some of the scouts. Faces covered in blood, clothes stained. Red…then maroon as the liquid dried and set in desert camouflage of their DCUs. No words could ever illustrate what the human eye can see and what human emotion can feel… nothing. It was heart wrenching.
Delivering mail to the Battalion TOC to be distributed out to the rest of the Companies, CPT Watkins and 1SG Garza were on their way to us from the Brigade Support Area (BSA) just 20 minutes earlier. Now they struggled to release the First Sergeants body from between his vehicle and a near by dark blue taxi-van. The First Sergeants back snapped in two, the organs mangled from the impact of being thrown from his vehicle and then crushed in a pincer between two vehicles.
"Sergeant Henke…" taking off my CVC to hear, "Sergeant Henke," the Battalion Commander beckoned to me.
"Watch'a need sir?"
"Get on the radio and tell Battle X-ray they we need an Air Medivac right now! Tell them the coordinates are alright to set a bird down on the highway."
"Understood sir!" I yelled over the deafening rumble of the Bradley engines exhaust pipe.
Giving thumbs up, the Commander turned and trotted out toward the scene again. Slipping my CVC back over my head I caught a glimpse of SPC Gifford standing on the Commanders side of the HUMVE near the radio's. Giving my own thumbs up in his direction he retorted with a smile and head nod of acknowledgement
"Battle X-Ray, this is Battle 6 Golf over."
"Battle 6 Gold this is X-ray, go ahead."
"Battle X-ray, I'm requesting an Air Medivac to my location time now, over."
"Roger Battle 6 Golf, we have all the information we need for a nine line Medivac call in, break…" "… Go ahead and inform the six actual that we are calling it up now over the Brigade net and we will, break…" "…we will follow up and call you when it has been sent, over."
"That's a good copy Battle X-ray; this is Battle 6 Golf out."
Looking acrossed to the west bound traffic on the other side of the highway I noticed the slow in movement as the lookie-loo's rolled by. People in their cars and busses plastered to their window's trying to get a better glance of what the Americans were doing. Small children to the oldest of citizenry glued to their windows, watching, and wondering. Now keeping the traffic back, I realize that everyone on the sight was closely affiliated with 1SG Garza. He was our First Sergeant, from the scouts that were helping me secure the area, to the medic's tending to him on the ground, and finally ending with me and my drivers, Maxey and Gifford…
"Battle 6 Golf…"
"Battle 6 Golf… over…"
"Battle 6 Golf, this is Battle X-ray over."
Coming too, I picked up the hand mike again. "This is Battle 6 Golf, go ahead Battle X-ray."
"Roger 6 Golf, this is X-ray, break…" "…the bird is 1-0 mikes out, break…" "…however, the pilots might be reluctant to land in that area, over."
"Battle X-ray this is Battle 6 Golf, break…" "…roger, what do you mean they might be reluctant to land, over."
"Battle 6 Golf, this is X-ray, break…" "…the pilots don't have sufficient air cover and, break…" "…and don't know if it's safe enough to land, over."
"Are you kidding me," I announced over the radio completely losing all composure and rational in radio procedures.
"Come again Battle 6 Golf, your last transmission was misunderstood, over."
Gathering my self-control again, I began to respond, "Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6 Golf, break…" " … Ah, Battle X-ray I will relay to the six actual and get a response to you ASAP, over."
"Understood Battle 6 Golf… this is Battle X-ray out."
"Sergeant Henke, you slipped up for a second didn't ya?" A voice said over my CVC.
"Yea I know, but what the fuck do these Black Hawk pilots get paid for? I mean come on, my step-uncle was a Huey Pilot in Vietnam and he got shot down three times in a more volatile place then this!" I screamed out in frustration. "Fuckin-a damn-it!"
Glancing about I noticed the Commander standing next to the Bradley motioning me to take off my CVC. "What's up sir!" I screamed out as I removed the helmet from my cranium.
"What did Battle X-ray say," LTC Gillman said as he cupped his hands around his mouth in order to project his voice louder over the Bradley engine.
"They said 1-0 mikes sir!"
"What! That's too far off…"
"Also sir, they said they might not land if it's too dangerous around here…"
"WHAT! Do they know that there is a Bradley here, and more then a hand full of troops with weapons, HUMVE mounted .50 cals and MK-19 Grenade launchers?"
"I don't think they give a shit sir."
"Fuck…God Damn it!" Was the harsh response as the Commander looked to the ground and put his hands on his hips, "Ill call the TOC personally," he said as he turned and headed toward Gifford and HQ's 6.
"Oh shit," I said to myself, "Here we go…"
"Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6 overt!" I heard the exchange start in my CVC.
"Battle 6 this is Battle X-ray over."
"What do you mean that the bird might not land here cuz it's not 'secure' enough for them…" Not waiting for a response LTC Gillman threw the hand-mike to the ground. However before it hit, the wire coiled up and it shot back into the HUMVE. Kneeling and grabbing the hand-mike again the Commander began to speak, "Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6, I don't need a response, break…" "…We're going to ground E-vac from here, break…" "…Battle Bones has a Medical M113 out here and they're attending to Head Hunter 7 now, break…" "…call off the air Medivac and we'll transport the First Sergeant by ground to the MASH unit at the BSA down the hard ball, over…"
"Understood all Battle 6."
"Good, Battle 6 out!" Placing the hand-mike back in the HUMVE, the commander looked up at me and gave the hand signal of 'get ready to move'. Nodding in positive and silent response I adjusted my position back to the front and began to get myself situated.
"Maxey… get ready to move out."
The revving of the Bradley engine was his silent but loud response.
"Ill take that as a yes…" I said as I looked over to SPC Gifford move the HUMVE over to pick up the commander whom had walked back over to the scene of the accident. "We'll pick up rear security again when we move out Maxey."
Once again hearing the engine ideal up, SPC Maxey gave me a response with intensity, one with no words, but one with full fledged meaning and soul.
"That's good Maxey. I'm ready too," I finally came down to earth with in a cool and calm voice that had vanished in the leading moments to our arrival.
Looking over my shoulder to get a better estimate of time I could see the First Sergeant now free from his confines and laying on a stretcher, SSG Thompson rendering mouth to mouth procedures to the dying man, as he ran along side the stretcher. It was placed quickly, but gently into the rear compartment of the Armored Personnel Carrier, still with no pulse and no breathing everyone around the First Sergeant was still fighting for him.
Seeing the M113 with the bright Red Cross on it close its ramp and a plume of black smoke exiting from its exhaust pipe, I started to move into action. Without much direction, Maxey and I punched it and were off racing into opposing traffic on the west bound side. Civilian good Samaritans had stopped traffic to create a break for us to get by, however to the sheer horror to the citizenry held up on the Freeway we completely caught them off guard as we veered into their direction. 25mm cannon poised and pointing, they all came to a screeching halt in terror.
Continued..... in part Two