2RHPZ
07-14-2004, 05:17 PM
Parallel sand berms with an electrified fence between them have separated Kuwait from Iraq since the first Gulf War. The berms extend along the 124-mile common border.
On the night of March 20, 1st Battalion, Fifth Marine Regiment broke through the berms and became the first U.S. force to invade Iraq. It crossed into southern Iraq from a dispersal area in northern Kuwait nine hours earlier than planned.
"We can't wait any longer," said Lieutenant Colonel Frederick M. "Fred" Padilla, the battalion commander, as junior officers gathered under the camouflage netting covering the assault amphibian vehicles (AAVs).
Known on the battalion radio net as "Hondo," LtCol Padilla had just received word from his higher headquarters, Regimental Combat Team 5, First Marine Division, that Iraqi troops across the border had begun torching oil wells. It was midafternoon on March 20, and RCT-5, with 1/5 in the forefront of one attack, would be first across the international border, which was the line of departure.
Keeping Track of Events
In order to keep an accurate account of the assault into Iraq, I dictated notes into my tape recorder the night 1/5 entered southern Iraq.
March 20, 2003
7:45 p.m.: Tracs from Charlie Company are working their way around some barbed-wire barriers on the Kuwait side of the border.
8:45 p.m.: Vehicles ahead of us and beside us are getting stuck trying to climb over sand dunes. We fell face-first as our humvee climbed over a sand dune and plunged nose-first into a deep ditch. An AAV next to us is stuck, so is a British "breadbox," a large canvas-covered truck that is traveling in our column.
9:00 p.m.: I can see green chemical light sticks on poles as combat engineers mark lanes to the south berm.
Quite a pounding of targets across the border. No rest for the Iraqi army.
9:02 p.m.: We have just crossed the Kuwaiti side of the border and head out across "no man's land."
—Ross Simpson
At least three wells were ablaze by the time 1/5 began to cross the desert and sand berms on the border. A natural-gas separation plant and aboveground pipelines at a pumping station also had been set afire.
Hondo told the four embedded civilian correspondents with his battalion that they could call their home offices in Washington, D.C., but couldn't tell them the invasion of Iraq was about to begin. Once into Iraq, Padilla said the correspondents could report that U.S. Marines had just "kicked in the back door to Saddam's house and were coming for him."
Lance Corporal Allan L. Chitty from Sacramento, Calif., and Corporal Russell D. "Russ" Barajas Jr. of Clinton, Wyo., were the first Marines to cross the border. They operated ACEs (M9 armored combat earthmovers) from 1st Combat Engineer Bn. But they didn't have to punch holes in the Kuwaiti berm. Plow-equipped tanks of the 7th Kuwaiti Tank Bn pushed through the berms and then retreated through Marine lines.
Unlike AAVs and tanks that have three- and four-man crews respectively, the earthmovers have only a single cupola for the driver.
"It's lonely in there," said Cpl Barajas. "Other than that, it was cool."
Barajas' dozer broke down in Saddam City just before 1/5 moved through the streets of Baghdad.
Of the two earthmovers, only "Annabelle," Chitty's ACE, survived the 400-mile cross-country trip from Camp Coyote to the banks of the Tigris River. Annabelle had a hole right beside her name from an enemy bullet.
Barajas didn't name his earthmover, but he painted ducks beneath the bulletproof glass in the armored cupola where he sat. "Just like little ducks at the carnival that go ching, ching, ching when you hit 'em," said Barajas, who felt like a duck in a shooting gallery as enemy bullets bounced off his turret.
Private First Class Thomas A. Dowler, an engineer from Farmville, Va., was one of the first Marines to set foot in Iraq. Dowler rode into Iraq in an AAV before dismounting to help guide the rest of the battalion into enemy territory.
"It was pretty cool knowing we were ahead of everybody," said Dowler. He and fellow engineers stood in the open hatch of their AAVs and watched artillery shells burst in the air ahead of them in the darkness.
"We had to wait for the dozers to knock holes in the north berm before we could mark the lanes with green-colored chem lights," said Cpl Dylan T. Richardson, another combat engineer from Ontario, Calif., who found himself playing traffic cop inside the border.
"Warpath … Warpath … Warpath, this is Geronimo. Bravo Command, prepare to move," blared a voice on the battalion radio being monitored by First Lieutenant Jeremy M. Stalnecker of the antiarmor platoon commonly known as Counter Mech Platoon.
"Geronimo" was the tactical call sign for Headquarters, 1/5. "Geronimo 3" was the call sign for Major Stephen P. "Steve" Armes, the battalion's S-3 or operations officer.
Other units in the battalion had similar cowboy- and Indian-related call signs. Co A was "Apache." Co B was "Blackhawk." Co C's call sign was "Cherokee." Second Tank Bn was "Ironhorse." The 81 mm Mortar Plt in Weapons Co answered to "Mohawk," while the antiarmor platoon, the other half of Wpns Co, went by the handle "Tomahawk."
Major General James N. Mattis, commander of the 1stMarDiv, had scheduled coalition air strikes to begin at 8:30 p.m. on March 20. Artillery preparation fires would begin at 9 p.m. Almost 1,200 men and women truck drivers in the logistics train would begin crossing the border at 9 p.m.
The plan called for combat engineers to cut through an electric fence the Kuwaitis had built after the Gulf War. The fence was located in no man's land, a strip of sand about three miles between the north and south berms. Engineers were to cut through the fence no earlier than 4 p.m. Even the best-laid plans are subject to change, and this one changed dramatically.
Weather Goes South Again
The weather turned sour on the day before the invasion. Visibility was poor, as high winds drove dust and sand into eyes and every body crevice. Marines spent the day hunkered down in their high-mobility, multipurpose, wheeled vehicles (humvees) and armored vehicles. Everyone spent a miserably cold night huddled in poncho liners and bivy sacks, as all tried to sleep sitting upright in their vehicles.
Iraqi soldiers across the windswept border must have been as miserable as the leathernecks because at 2:30 a.m. Hondo announced that 30 to 35 Iraqis had surrendered to Marines. However, it wasn't until 6:20 a.m. that everyone learned the war with Iraq was under way.
Word of the war beginning came from the BBC on a shortwave radio. As was customary with Wpns Co, reveille sounded at 4:30 a.m. Between reveille and 6 a.m., Marines in the battalion were ordered to "Stand To." Fully dressed in combat gear, they sat in their vehicles, motors running, waiting for the signal "Oscar Mike" (on the move), conveying the orders to move.
Sergeant Steven D. Oldham from Portland, Ore., the MK19 gunner in 1stLt Stalnecker's command vehicle, held the shortwave radio next to his chest mike and keyed in the battalion frequency so everyone in 1/5 could hear live reports from the BBC.
A few minutes later the battalion listened intently as their Commander in Chief addressed the nation from the Oval Office, officially announcing that U.S. and coalition armed forces were attacking Iraqi targets.
The Marines couldn't hear the bombs falling on military targets in Baghdad. Nor could they hear an estimated 1,000 Tomahawk missiles that were fired from U.S. Navy warships operating in the Persian Gulf and surrounding area. One of the Tomahawks took out an Iraqi 155 mm GHN-45 towed howitzer that was capable of hurling high explosives 20 miles into the 1/5 herringbone formation in northern Kuwait.
As President George W. Bush concluded his remarks, Cpl Ryan L. Gillard from Tri Cities, Wash., touched his good-luck charm on the dash of his humvee and asked if everyone was ready to go. Stalnecker said yes, as up in the turret Oldham replied, "Always; let's rock 'n' roll," as he worked the bolt back and forth in his 40 mm grenade launcher.
Before leaving the dispersal area, Sgt Oldham took the AP correspondent riding with him aside. "I know you guys in the media are noncombatants, but there are no such things as noncombatants on the battlefield," he said as he pulled his 9 mm Beretta pistol from his leg holster and removed the magazine.
"Do you know how to use one of these weapons?" asked Oldham. "How about an M16? Keep the selector switch on semiauto and pick your targets just like you did in basic training." Oldham gave a quick brief on how to load the 40 mm grenade launcher.
"I know you guys aren't supposed to carry weapons out here," said Oldham, "but if this crew were to be killed in battle, you're gonna have to decide whether to surrender and run the risk of being tortured or pick up a gun and defend yourself." The choice was the correspondent's. Oldham provided assurance that he and the other leathernecks would defend the correspondent if he were wounded and hoped the correspondent would return the favor.
Many Marines sat down to write a last letter and told someone where to find the notes on their bodies in case they were killed. Knowing they had "taken care of business" was comforting. Many whispered a final prayer, adjusted their chin straps and gave their gear one last glance.
Being a big Clint Eastwood fan, Oldham suggested they name Gillard's vehicle "Pale Rider." After all, Oldham was the gunslinger, and Stalnecker was the preacher. Stalnecker, the son of a Baptist minister, was just a few months away from getting out of the Marine Corps and entering the ministry in Oceanside, Calif., where his wife and two children were waiting for him to return.
Crossing the Line of Departure
As the battalion bounced across the barren desert toward the south berm, Marine artillery batteries from 3d Bn, 11th Marines on the far right flank of 1/5 opened up. Bright reddish-orange flashes of light and the deep, throaty boom of the "one-niner-eights" (M198s) was heard as they belched out 155 mm artillery rounds in the direction of the burning oil wells on the horizon.
Visibility was becoming very limited. Huge clouds of talcumlike dust were being kicked up by the tracked vehicles in front of the antiarmor platoon. By the time they reached the south berm, all were covered with dust. The first section of the antiarmor platoon, led by Stalnecker, was in direct support of Alpha Co, one of three infantry companies in 1/5. Staff Sergeant Bryan K. Jackway was put in command of section two supporting Charlie Co.
By the time 1/5 moved toward the Iraqi border, a "Blood Moon" hung over the battlefield.
"Good fighting weather," commented SSgt Patrick L. "Pat" Keister, the platoon sergeant of the antiarmor platoon. Keister rode into battle in a high-back humvee. In the back under the canvas covering, he carried enough meals, ready to eat for several days and 5-gallon plastic jerry cans of water. Keister also carried a pigeon in a cage. "Sally," the pigeon, was supposed to warn the platoon if Saddam's troops used chemical or biological weapons. It was the responsibility of LCpl John Staples, the driver, to keep the pigeon well fed and watered.
In keeping with the battalion's cowboy and Indian theme, Keister's call sign was "Stagecoach," but Marines could easily ruffle his feathers if they called him "Chuckwagon" or referred to his vehicle as the "Bread Truck."
Keister took their ribbing, but was deadly serious when he told his young Marines to keep their heads on a swivel when they crossed into Iraq.
"All I want to see and hear are rounds going downrange and enemy vehicles lighting up," said Keister, whose career began as a light machine-gunner in Bravo Co. Keister had seen the intelligence reports and knew what was waiting across the border. A brigade of about 800 Iraqi soldiers was reported to be lurking in fighting holes and bunkers in the oil fields.
Stalnecker, Gillard and Oldham were wearing night vision goggles (NVGs), but the dust was so thick that they couldn't see very far. Neither could other Marines going through the breach. LCpl Thomas Webb Jr. from Sacramento, Calif., saw a truck in front of him stop, but when Webb slammed on his brakes, a truck behind him couldn't stop and destroyed the "Water Bull," or water trailer, he was pulling. None of the extra NBC (nuclear, biological and chemical) suits Webb was carrying were damaged, but 400 gallons of good water were lost.
Webb said the dust was so thick he got lost in the convoy. "You could barely see the hood of the truck with NVGs."
Urgent Call for Help
Moments after 1stLt Stalnecker's humvee crossed through one of the lanes cut into the north berm, a radio conversation between Hondo and Geronimo was heard.
"I hear small-arms fire about a klick or two away from my current location at Relief Point Bravo and see tracers in the vicinity of Apache's [Company A's] position," said Hondo.
"They are developing a situation and will call back when they have more information," replied Geronimo.
"Break, break. Ironhorse, Ironhorse. Blackhawk," radioed the commander of Bravo Co.
"Ironhorse should be able to address that," said Stalnecker, as the first section of nine humvees in the antiarmor platoon passed an Iraqi border post just beyond the electric fence.
Although Alpha Co appeared to be in trouble, Stalnecker wasn't too worried.
"They have tanks out there," Stalnecker told his crew. A moment later "Apache 6," the commander of Alpha Co, came up on the radio to say that his assault amphibian vehicles were heavily engaged with at least three T-54/55 tanks and dismounted Iraqi infantry. The battalion commander called for 2d Tank Bn and Javelin teams to come up quickly.
If the Iraqi tankers had managed to get within 1,000 yards of the aluminum-skinned AAVs, they could have turned the "Tuna Boats" into flaming coffins for 18 to 20 Marine riflemen packed into each AAV.
Cpl Ramen M. Spears from Brentwood, Calif., answered the call for help. Spears, who normally rode in TOW-6, a humvee mounted with the TOW antiarmor missile, in the antiarmor platoon second section, was temporarily assigned to Alpha Co for the invasion. "As my assistant gunner [PFC Gregory Y. Wilkinson] and I ran down the rear ramp of our trac, the sky was all lit up with .50-caliber tracers and 40 mm grenade fire."
Kneeling well beyond the range of the enemy's 100 mm main gun, Spears lifted the weapon to his shoulder and took aim at his target. When ready to fire, the Javelin makes a sound like a toilet flushing, but Spears said this one did something it wasn't supposed to do.
"It started taking off without me even pressing the fire triggers," said Spears.
Fearing the $75,000 missile might blow up and kill him and his assistant gunner, Spears let go of the triggers when a light on his CLU, the Command Launch Unit, indicated he had a problem.
"PFC Wilkinson was as white as a ghost when I put the missile down and yelled to the platoon commander that there was no way I could take the shot and told him he needed to get my other team out of another trac. The two-man team was seated in the front of the troop compartment and had to be passed over the heads of Marines.
Take the Shot
Listening to radio transmissions, you could sense the urgency of the situation as Apache 6 implored the Javelin team to "Take the shot! Take the shot!" But the gunner said he ignored the order. Cpl Jason K. Lee said he took the shot when he was certain he could knock out the tank.
When Apache 6 radioed, "One Javelin away," the gunners were able to reach the safety of their amtrac before the missile blew the half-egg-shaped turret off the Iraqi tank and killed its four-man crew.
Spears was told the next morning that there wasn't much left of the tank or the crew.
Spears smiled as he told how the 14-pound tandem warhead drilled a hole into the turret and then exploded inside the crew compartment. It was a historic moment for the Marine Corps: the first Javelin kill in the history of the new weapon.
The tank that Cpl Lee knocked out was more than 3,000 meters away and even farther from the M1A1s from Alpha Co, 2d Tank Bn that were in the area. The main battle tanks were able to close the distance and destroy the other two T-54/55s.
First Lt Keith M. Montgomery's tank "Titan" was the lead element for 1/5 as the battalion crossed the border. When Titan couldn't identify what was to its front, Montgomery ordered his crew to recon by fire.
"We fired an MPAT [multipurpose antitank] round and destroyed an Iraqi T-54/55," said Montgomery.
Gunnery Sergeant Michael P. Woods from Kansas City, Mo., killed the other T-54/55. The Co A, 2d Tank Bn detachment was broken down into two sections. Montgomery, the platoon leader, commanded the first section. Woods commanded the second section. Together, they provided an iron wedge for 1/5.
Woods gave the order for his tank "Beligerent" to fire when his tank crew came across the breach and acquired a positive silhouette on a T-54/55 at about 1,000 meters. (The tank's name was misspelled in order to fit the word on its bore evacuator.)
"We observed secondary explosions after we hit the target," said Woods. But his gunner, LCpl Christopher B. Brumlow from Spartanburg, S.C., wasn't certain the Iraqi tank was manned at the time.
"We thought the tank was traversing on us, but we didn't want to take any chances in the dark, so 'Gunny' Woods gave us the fire command," said Brumlow.
Some people in Alpha Co claim the Iraqis staged tanks there like decoys to get U.S. forces to deploy early, but Brumlow said he would rather take a shot at an abandoned tank and live another day to fight than not take that shot and risk letting the tank engage his crew, killing him and his fellow Marines.
The antiarmor platoon still was trying to move forward to provide suppressing fire for Alpha Co when the Javelin fired by Cpl Lee hit the T-54/55 at 9:27 p.m.
Eight minutes later the antiarmor platoon's lead vehicle crossed through the north berm into Iraqi territory.
Two weeks later, 1/5's antiarmor platoon and 2d Tank Bn would lead a bloody assault across the Saddam Hussein Canal in south-central Iraq, one of several speed bumps on the "Road to Baghdad."
Editor's note: Ross W. Simpson is a nationally known radio broadcaster for the Associated Press Radio Network in Washington, D.C., and a long-time contributor to Leatherneck magazine. This is the second in a continuing series of articles where Simpson will report on 1/5's operations in Iraq.
The very strange point is that almost this same article (just with little differencies) appeared in Soldier Of Fortune magazine 10/2003, author Dale B. Cooper :| (?)
On the night of March 20, 1st Battalion, Fifth Marine Regiment broke through the berms and became the first U.S. force to invade Iraq. It crossed into southern Iraq from a dispersal area in northern Kuwait nine hours earlier than planned.
"We can't wait any longer," said Lieutenant Colonel Frederick M. "Fred" Padilla, the battalion commander, as junior officers gathered under the camouflage netting covering the assault amphibian vehicles (AAVs).
Known on the battalion radio net as "Hondo," LtCol Padilla had just received word from his higher headquarters, Regimental Combat Team 5, First Marine Division, that Iraqi troops across the border had begun torching oil wells. It was midafternoon on March 20, and RCT-5, with 1/5 in the forefront of one attack, would be first across the international border, which was the line of departure.
Keeping Track of Events
In order to keep an accurate account of the assault into Iraq, I dictated notes into my tape recorder the night 1/5 entered southern Iraq.
March 20, 2003
7:45 p.m.: Tracs from Charlie Company are working their way around some barbed-wire barriers on the Kuwait side of the border.
8:45 p.m.: Vehicles ahead of us and beside us are getting stuck trying to climb over sand dunes. We fell face-first as our humvee climbed over a sand dune and plunged nose-first into a deep ditch. An AAV next to us is stuck, so is a British "breadbox," a large canvas-covered truck that is traveling in our column.
9:00 p.m.: I can see green chemical light sticks on poles as combat engineers mark lanes to the south berm.
Quite a pounding of targets across the border. No rest for the Iraqi army.
9:02 p.m.: We have just crossed the Kuwaiti side of the border and head out across "no man's land."
—Ross Simpson
At least three wells were ablaze by the time 1/5 began to cross the desert and sand berms on the border. A natural-gas separation plant and aboveground pipelines at a pumping station also had been set afire.
Hondo told the four embedded civilian correspondents with his battalion that they could call their home offices in Washington, D.C., but couldn't tell them the invasion of Iraq was about to begin. Once into Iraq, Padilla said the correspondents could report that U.S. Marines had just "kicked in the back door to Saddam's house and were coming for him."
Lance Corporal Allan L. Chitty from Sacramento, Calif., and Corporal Russell D. "Russ" Barajas Jr. of Clinton, Wyo., were the first Marines to cross the border. They operated ACEs (M9 armored combat earthmovers) from 1st Combat Engineer Bn. But they didn't have to punch holes in the Kuwaiti berm. Plow-equipped tanks of the 7th Kuwaiti Tank Bn pushed through the berms and then retreated through Marine lines.
Unlike AAVs and tanks that have three- and four-man crews respectively, the earthmovers have only a single cupola for the driver.
"It's lonely in there," said Cpl Barajas. "Other than that, it was cool."
Barajas' dozer broke down in Saddam City just before 1/5 moved through the streets of Baghdad.
Of the two earthmovers, only "Annabelle," Chitty's ACE, survived the 400-mile cross-country trip from Camp Coyote to the banks of the Tigris River. Annabelle had a hole right beside her name from an enemy bullet.
Barajas didn't name his earthmover, but he painted ducks beneath the bulletproof glass in the armored cupola where he sat. "Just like little ducks at the carnival that go ching, ching, ching when you hit 'em," said Barajas, who felt like a duck in a shooting gallery as enemy bullets bounced off his turret.
Private First Class Thomas A. Dowler, an engineer from Farmville, Va., was one of the first Marines to set foot in Iraq. Dowler rode into Iraq in an AAV before dismounting to help guide the rest of the battalion into enemy territory.
"It was pretty cool knowing we were ahead of everybody," said Dowler. He and fellow engineers stood in the open hatch of their AAVs and watched artillery shells burst in the air ahead of them in the darkness.
"We had to wait for the dozers to knock holes in the north berm before we could mark the lanes with green-colored chem lights," said Cpl Dylan T. Richardson, another combat engineer from Ontario, Calif., who found himself playing traffic cop inside the border.
"Warpath … Warpath … Warpath, this is Geronimo. Bravo Command, prepare to move," blared a voice on the battalion radio being monitored by First Lieutenant Jeremy M. Stalnecker of the antiarmor platoon commonly known as Counter Mech Platoon.
"Geronimo" was the tactical call sign for Headquarters, 1/5. "Geronimo 3" was the call sign for Major Stephen P. "Steve" Armes, the battalion's S-3 or operations officer.
Other units in the battalion had similar cowboy- and Indian-related call signs. Co A was "Apache." Co B was "Blackhawk." Co C's call sign was "Cherokee." Second Tank Bn was "Ironhorse." The 81 mm Mortar Plt in Weapons Co answered to "Mohawk," while the antiarmor platoon, the other half of Wpns Co, went by the handle "Tomahawk."
Major General James N. Mattis, commander of the 1stMarDiv, had scheduled coalition air strikes to begin at 8:30 p.m. on March 20. Artillery preparation fires would begin at 9 p.m. Almost 1,200 men and women truck drivers in the logistics train would begin crossing the border at 9 p.m.
The plan called for combat engineers to cut through an electric fence the Kuwaitis had built after the Gulf War. The fence was located in no man's land, a strip of sand about three miles between the north and south berms. Engineers were to cut through the fence no earlier than 4 p.m. Even the best-laid plans are subject to change, and this one changed dramatically.
Weather Goes South Again
The weather turned sour on the day before the invasion. Visibility was poor, as high winds drove dust and sand into eyes and every body crevice. Marines spent the day hunkered down in their high-mobility, multipurpose, wheeled vehicles (humvees) and armored vehicles. Everyone spent a miserably cold night huddled in poncho liners and bivy sacks, as all tried to sleep sitting upright in their vehicles.
Iraqi soldiers across the windswept border must have been as miserable as the leathernecks because at 2:30 a.m. Hondo announced that 30 to 35 Iraqis had surrendered to Marines. However, it wasn't until 6:20 a.m. that everyone learned the war with Iraq was under way.
Word of the war beginning came from the BBC on a shortwave radio. As was customary with Wpns Co, reveille sounded at 4:30 a.m. Between reveille and 6 a.m., Marines in the battalion were ordered to "Stand To." Fully dressed in combat gear, they sat in their vehicles, motors running, waiting for the signal "Oscar Mike" (on the move), conveying the orders to move.
Sergeant Steven D. Oldham from Portland, Ore., the MK19 gunner in 1stLt Stalnecker's command vehicle, held the shortwave radio next to his chest mike and keyed in the battalion frequency so everyone in 1/5 could hear live reports from the BBC.
A few minutes later the battalion listened intently as their Commander in Chief addressed the nation from the Oval Office, officially announcing that U.S. and coalition armed forces were attacking Iraqi targets.
The Marines couldn't hear the bombs falling on military targets in Baghdad. Nor could they hear an estimated 1,000 Tomahawk missiles that were fired from U.S. Navy warships operating in the Persian Gulf and surrounding area. One of the Tomahawks took out an Iraqi 155 mm GHN-45 towed howitzer that was capable of hurling high explosives 20 miles into the 1/5 herringbone formation in northern Kuwait.
As President George W. Bush concluded his remarks, Cpl Ryan L. Gillard from Tri Cities, Wash., touched his good-luck charm on the dash of his humvee and asked if everyone was ready to go. Stalnecker said yes, as up in the turret Oldham replied, "Always; let's rock 'n' roll," as he worked the bolt back and forth in his 40 mm grenade launcher.
Before leaving the dispersal area, Sgt Oldham took the AP correspondent riding with him aside. "I know you guys in the media are noncombatants, but there are no such things as noncombatants on the battlefield," he said as he pulled his 9 mm Beretta pistol from his leg holster and removed the magazine.
"Do you know how to use one of these weapons?" asked Oldham. "How about an M16? Keep the selector switch on semiauto and pick your targets just like you did in basic training." Oldham gave a quick brief on how to load the 40 mm grenade launcher.
"I know you guys aren't supposed to carry weapons out here," said Oldham, "but if this crew were to be killed in battle, you're gonna have to decide whether to surrender and run the risk of being tortured or pick up a gun and defend yourself." The choice was the correspondent's. Oldham provided assurance that he and the other leathernecks would defend the correspondent if he were wounded and hoped the correspondent would return the favor.
Many Marines sat down to write a last letter and told someone where to find the notes on their bodies in case they were killed. Knowing they had "taken care of business" was comforting. Many whispered a final prayer, adjusted their chin straps and gave their gear one last glance.
Being a big Clint Eastwood fan, Oldham suggested they name Gillard's vehicle "Pale Rider." After all, Oldham was the gunslinger, and Stalnecker was the preacher. Stalnecker, the son of a Baptist minister, was just a few months away from getting out of the Marine Corps and entering the ministry in Oceanside, Calif., where his wife and two children were waiting for him to return.
Crossing the Line of Departure
As the battalion bounced across the barren desert toward the south berm, Marine artillery batteries from 3d Bn, 11th Marines on the far right flank of 1/5 opened up. Bright reddish-orange flashes of light and the deep, throaty boom of the "one-niner-eights" (M198s) was heard as they belched out 155 mm artillery rounds in the direction of the burning oil wells on the horizon.
Visibility was becoming very limited. Huge clouds of talcumlike dust were being kicked up by the tracked vehicles in front of the antiarmor platoon. By the time they reached the south berm, all were covered with dust. The first section of the antiarmor platoon, led by Stalnecker, was in direct support of Alpha Co, one of three infantry companies in 1/5. Staff Sergeant Bryan K. Jackway was put in command of section two supporting Charlie Co.
By the time 1/5 moved toward the Iraqi border, a "Blood Moon" hung over the battlefield.
"Good fighting weather," commented SSgt Patrick L. "Pat" Keister, the platoon sergeant of the antiarmor platoon. Keister rode into battle in a high-back humvee. In the back under the canvas covering, he carried enough meals, ready to eat for several days and 5-gallon plastic jerry cans of water. Keister also carried a pigeon in a cage. "Sally," the pigeon, was supposed to warn the platoon if Saddam's troops used chemical or biological weapons. It was the responsibility of LCpl John Staples, the driver, to keep the pigeon well fed and watered.
In keeping with the battalion's cowboy and Indian theme, Keister's call sign was "Stagecoach," but Marines could easily ruffle his feathers if they called him "Chuckwagon" or referred to his vehicle as the "Bread Truck."
Keister took their ribbing, but was deadly serious when he told his young Marines to keep their heads on a swivel when they crossed into Iraq.
"All I want to see and hear are rounds going downrange and enemy vehicles lighting up," said Keister, whose career began as a light machine-gunner in Bravo Co. Keister had seen the intelligence reports and knew what was waiting across the border. A brigade of about 800 Iraqi soldiers was reported to be lurking in fighting holes and bunkers in the oil fields.
Stalnecker, Gillard and Oldham were wearing night vision goggles (NVGs), but the dust was so thick that they couldn't see very far. Neither could other Marines going through the breach. LCpl Thomas Webb Jr. from Sacramento, Calif., saw a truck in front of him stop, but when Webb slammed on his brakes, a truck behind him couldn't stop and destroyed the "Water Bull," or water trailer, he was pulling. None of the extra NBC (nuclear, biological and chemical) suits Webb was carrying were damaged, but 400 gallons of good water were lost.
Webb said the dust was so thick he got lost in the convoy. "You could barely see the hood of the truck with NVGs."
Urgent Call for Help
Moments after 1stLt Stalnecker's humvee crossed through one of the lanes cut into the north berm, a radio conversation between Hondo and Geronimo was heard.
"I hear small-arms fire about a klick or two away from my current location at Relief Point Bravo and see tracers in the vicinity of Apache's [Company A's] position," said Hondo.
"They are developing a situation and will call back when they have more information," replied Geronimo.
"Break, break. Ironhorse, Ironhorse. Blackhawk," radioed the commander of Bravo Co.
"Ironhorse should be able to address that," said Stalnecker, as the first section of nine humvees in the antiarmor platoon passed an Iraqi border post just beyond the electric fence.
Although Alpha Co appeared to be in trouble, Stalnecker wasn't too worried.
"They have tanks out there," Stalnecker told his crew. A moment later "Apache 6," the commander of Alpha Co, came up on the radio to say that his assault amphibian vehicles were heavily engaged with at least three T-54/55 tanks and dismounted Iraqi infantry. The battalion commander called for 2d Tank Bn and Javelin teams to come up quickly.
If the Iraqi tankers had managed to get within 1,000 yards of the aluminum-skinned AAVs, they could have turned the "Tuna Boats" into flaming coffins for 18 to 20 Marine riflemen packed into each AAV.
Cpl Ramen M. Spears from Brentwood, Calif., answered the call for help. Spears, who normally rode in TOW-6, a humvee mounted with the TOW antiarmor missile, in the antiarmor platoon second section, was temporarily assigned to Alpha Co for the invasion. "As my assistant gunner [PFC Gregory Y. Wilkinson] and I ran down the rear ramp of our trac, the sky was all lit up with .50-caliber tracers and 40 mm grenade fire."
Kneeling well beyond the range of the enemy's 100 mm main gun, Spears lifted the weapon to his shoulder and took aim at his target. When ready to fire, the Javelin makes a sound like a toilet flushing, but Spears said this one did something it wasn't supposed to do.
"It started taking off without me even pressing the fire triggers," said Spears.
Fearing the $75,000 missile might blow up and kill him and his assistant gunner, Spears let go of the triggers when a light on his CLU, the Command Launch Unit, indicated he had a problem.
"PFC Wilkinson was as white as a ghost when I put the missile down and yelled to the platoon commander that there was no way I could take the shot and told him he needed to get my other team out of another trac. The two-man team was seated in the front of the troop compartment and had to be passed over the heads of Marines.
Take the Shot
Listening to radio transmissions, you could sense the urgency of the situation as Apache 6 implored the Javelin team to "Take the shot! Take the shot!" But the gunner said he ignored the order. Cpl Jason K. Lee said he took the shot when he was certain he could knock out the tank.
When Apache 6 radioed, "One Javelin away," the gunners were able to reach the safety of their amtrac before the missile blew the half-egg-shaped turret off the Iraqi tank and killed its four-man crew.
Spears was told the next morning that there wasn't much left of the tank or the crew.
Spears smiled as he told how the 14-pound tandem warhead drilled a hole into the turret and then exploded inside the crew compartment. It was a historic moment for the Marine Corps: the first Javelin kill in the history of the new weapon.
The tank that Cpl Lee knocked out was more than 3,000 meters away and even farther from the M1A1s from Alpha Co, 2d Tank Bn that were in the area. The main battle tanks were able to close the distance and destroy the other two T-54/55s.
First Lt Keith M. Montgomery's tank "Titan" was the lead element for 1/5 as the battalion crossed the border. When Titan couldn't identify what was to its front, Montgomery ordered his crew to recon by fire.
"We fired an MPAT [multipurpose antitank] round and destroyed an Iraqi T-54/55," said Montgomery.
Gunnery Sergeant Michael P. Woods from Kansas City, Mo., killed the other T-54/55. The Co A, 2d Tank Bn detachment was broken down into two sections. Montgomery, the platoon leader, commanded the first section. Woods commanded the second section. Together, they provided an iron wedge for 1/5.
Woods gave the order for his tank "Beligerent" to fire when his tank crew came across the breach and acquired a positive silhouette on a T-54/55 at about 1,000 meters. (The tank's name was misspelled in order to fit the word on its bore evacuator.)
"We observed secondary explosions after we hit the target," said Woods. But his gunner, LCpl Christopher B. Brumlow from Spartanburg, S.C., wasn't certain the Iraqi tank was manned at the time.
"We thought the tank was traversing on us, but we didn't want to take any chances in the dark, so 'Gunny' Woods gave us the fire command," said Brumlow.
Some people in Alpha Co claim the Iraqis staged tanks there like decoys to get U.S. forces to deploy early, but Brumlow said he would rather take a shot at an abandoned tank and live another day to fight than not take that shot and risk letting the tank engage his crew, killing him and his fellow Marines.
The antiarmor platoon still was trying to move forward to provide suppressing fire for Alpha Co when the Javelin fired by Cpl Lee hit the T-54/55 at 9:27 p.m.
Eight minutes later the antiarmor platoon's lead vehicle crossed through the north berm into Iraqi territory.
Two weeks later, 1/5's antiarmor platoon and 2d Tank Bn would lead a bloody assault across the Saddam Hussein Canal in south-central Iraq, one of several speed bumps on the "Road to Baghdad."
Editor's note: Ross W. Simpson is a nationally known radio broadcaster for the Associated Press Radio Network in Washington, D.C., and a long-time contributor to Leatherneck magazine. This is the second in a continuing series of articles where Simpson will report on 1/5's operations in Iraq.
The very strange point is that almost this same article (just with little differencies) appeared in Soldier Of Fortune magazine 10/2003, author Dale B. Cooper :| (?)