If you want to know what Iraq is like right now on the ground, you owe it to yourself to read the entire entry from ginmar's Live Journal titled: The Alamo is over-rated as a tourist attraction, dammit.
Excerpt:
We faced a force of four to five hundred rebels, with mortars, RPGs and various handheld weapons. There were four US soldiers---myself and the other people in my team----about twenty coalition soldiers, and thirty or so scared British and Aussie expats, including the British governor. The coalition soldiers had a couple tank/hybrid vehicles, but they didn't have much ammo for them. By midnight, everyone was running out. We kept impressing this on Higher, and they just couldn't get that through their heads. What the fuck good are they? We are running out of ammo. We will be over-run if light hits this place in the morning and finds us still here.No air cover? No ammunition? No EVAC?More than that, it was the concrete reality that you were going to die. I felt that a few times yesterday, last night, and this morning. Escape attempt after attempt fell through, and those mortars started hitting the grounds, the gate, the vehicles. The enemy sent word that when darkness fell, they were going to over-run the compound and exterminate everyone there. The whole Iraqi security force just up and quit. One guy claimed that his mother had had a heart attack and he had to go home. I heard that on the radio myself. It's the dog-ate-my-schoolwork excuse as applied to battle.
Fallujah was on everyone's mind, but nobody---thank God----said it.
I can't even grasp that we lived through it. I don't think it's hit me yet.
What makes it worse was that we kept trying to get reinforcements and air cover and evac, and eventually we had to do it ourselves. We called up around 1500 because it became apparent that we weren't going to get out, requesting air cover. We thought it would be over by 1700. By then, though, we realized something else was going on---darkness falls at seven. We heard that the whole province was under control, and that Sadr's representatives had offered a cease fire while they negotiated. No other government building in the province was not under his control. Our little force, outmanned and outgunned, held him off for better than twenty hours, and then slipped out under his nose.
He wanted to keep us there, be his bargaining chips while he tightened his fist around the province. And that fucking governor went along with it. We eventually found out the governor was contacting the command and telling them, no, no Evac behind our backs. He wanted US Marines dropped off and the civilians put in the helicopters while they secured his villa and offices. His own people were running around trying to arrange Evac, and kept counter-manding him. Then he'd go on the air and countermand them. I kept overhearing conversations I wasn't supposed to hear.
I can't describe what it's like. You're wearing twenty pounds of gear in helmet and vest, and the sound the bombs make screeching in seems not so much audible as it sensory. You feel it first. You know what sound a bullet makes going through the air? SWWWWWiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssssssssssssssshhhhh. It seems to burrow through the air with an odd slowness, as if it were greasy and that makes it slip through the air. If I were 11 Bravo, I'd have earned my combat infantrymen's badge, except of course the fact that I'm a woman means I don't get stuff like that. The way the Army has it set up, it doesn%u2019t matter if you do the job, if you're a woman----you're not supposed to do it, so you don't get acknowledgement if you do.
Right now, downstairs, the usual passel of pundits are sifting through the catbox of the 9/11 Commission's "very important work." Right now, in Iraq, there's a shortage of ammunition. And our soldiers in harm's way.
Pointer via: LGF .
Posted by Vanderleun at April 8, 2004 9:50 AM | TrackBack