Pull the Pin

“When outnumbered and amongst a people you can’t trust, you must emit the craziest of aura’s to ensure the safety of your men.” ~ The Legend

“Drill Sergeant, what happens if you fall asleep on watch in Iraq,” a private asked during basic training in the summer of 2004.

“I’ll show you, private.  Shut the doors,” Drill Sergeant Scarecrow boldly ordered.

DS Scarecrow showed us a video of an independent contractor in Iraq that fell asleep in a bad part of town.  He was on Al-Jazeera and masked men slowly severed his head with what seemed to be a dull sword.  The image of the man’s face going from fighting for his life, to fear of death, to the exact moment he was gone is forever ingrained in my head.  It taught me to always have your head on a swivel and watch your own back no matter what.

Now speed up to early 2010 in the village of Tibij, Iraq in Diyala Province not too far from the Iranian boarder.  This last tour was the mind-fuck of all tours.  We were in the process of handing over control to corrupt Iraqi Security Forces (ISF) with our hands tied behind our backs regarding the rules of engagement and posture while on patrol.  We felt like we were soldiers trapped in the position of rent-a-cops.

“If you guys can make it out of this year without losing your mind, you can mentally make it out of anything,” I’d constantly tell the fellas.

We did a whole lotta walking in Tibij.

Immense boredom brought the complete opposite of vigilance and offered constant opportunities for the enemy to commit sneak attacks such as dressing up as ISF to hit us hard.  There were and still are several green on blue attacks throughout Iraq and Afghanistan.  Green on blue refers to forces that are supposed to be our allies turning on us with no warning.  These are people we have to trust with weapons and go on joint patrols when they are influenced by the enemy or they are themselves an infiltrating enemy with nothing but the worst intentions.  My brothers in Crazyhorse Troop who served in Afghanistan last year will always be heart broken over such a betrayal they suffered.

With the threat of green on blue always on my mind I tried to keep a comfortable distance from any Iraqi forces while on patrol.  On one mission we were to link up with an Iraqi army company and do a dismounted patrol thru Tibij.  Tibij was a dustbowl and located near a dead lake that we suspected Al-Qaeda was using as both transportation and a hideout.  White Platoon and our Iraqi counterparts were to collect intel from as many people as possible on anything suspicious in the area.

Why was this idea not going to work?  This was a shanty town and what few people lived there were most likely threatened by any “new neighbors” that might have strolled by with an arsenal.  They weren’t going to talk to us, but hey, what the fuck else do we have to do?  I was given control of a squad of Iraqi’s whose leader was nicknamed “Machine Gun.”  I’m guessing it was because he was carrying a… MACHINE GUN.  Some jackass soldier probably called him that and now this dipshit thinks it’s an awesome name.  You might as well call yourself “stinky bastard with two arms and legs.”

Machine Gun had a brown-nosing buddy I’ll call Pip.  Pip was a scrawny, hyperactive guy who was always in my face trying to tell me things like, “mistah, over here, no good.”  To which I would reply, “Yes, Pip, blood on the wall, no good.  Good job, guy.”  I noticed every time Pip tried to get me to investigate something, Machine Gun was stoically posed on the back of an Iraqi pick-up truck and yes, he still had his machine gun and Rambo style head wrap.  Pip had to look back at Machine Gun while flailing his arms in frustration when I refused to go anywhere with him while Machine Gun just stared.  This behavior was a red flag to me.  Why was Pip so upset and why was he always trying to get Machine Gun’s attention?

On the back of an Iraqi army pick-up. Notice how I'm in control of the big weapon
and how this bastard is holding his AK-47...  not safe... not ever. And yes, I was
probably talking shit.

Later in the patrol I found myself on the outside of a cluster of dirt hut homes while the platoon attempted to make nice with the locals.  I was over it so I joined our guys on the outside when Pip frantically came up to me gesturing to follow.  I told my guys to stay back and decided to follow Pip to the end of the cluster.  I stopped so my soldiers could still have eyes on me only 50 meters away.  At that point Pip pointed down a nasty back ally next to Machine Gun’s truck.  The wind picked up and we already had overcast skies.  This didn’t feel right.

Pip changed his innocent tone and grabbed me.  With all my gear on he couldn’t succeed.  I noticed his men started to circle and Machine Gun aggressively jumped off his truck to walk towards me.  This prompted me to swat Pip’s grip from my arm.

“Sergeant Vance?!” a soldier yelled from the cluster.

“Stay back!” I hollered in fear that this was about to go south.

I needed my guys at a safe distance to possibly light these fuckers up after they lay waste to me.  If White came closer, they would be at risk as well and that would be selfish on my part to invite them into whatever was about to happen.

As Machine Gun closed in more, Pip jumped at me and violently grabbed my vest to drag me in a certain direction.  Then I saw the opportunity I was looking for.  In moments like this you think, “Just shoot them!” but you have to understand that you don’t know the language and it might be a legitimate threat Pip is trying to tell you about.  It still just didn’t feel right.  In that particular moment I decided to send a message to the Iraqi’s to stand down or I’m going to kill everything.  Yes, even those chickens roaming the streets that won’t shut the fuck up, adding to the commotion.

Pip was wearing two grenades on his vest.  Can you see where I’m going with this?  As his men drew closer and I was fearful of being dragged away to be decapitated on Al-Jazeera, I grabbed one of the grenades and slipped my index finger thru the safety.  Pip’s men instantly stopped and his face turned white.  I smiled.  Pip thought for a second and smiled back.  I took this as him thinking I was bluffing, so I widened my eyes and grabbed the same grenade with my other hand to get a better grip on the safety pin.  I then dropped my smile and pulled the pin halfway out.  It’s pointless to be taken alive, because they are just going to torture you and kill you very publicly.  If I’m going out, I’m taking as many enemy units as I can with me.

“No, no, NO! MISTAH NO!” Pip squirmed and squealed.

“Back the FUCK UP. YELLA!” I barked.

You don’t have to speak English to understand when an American soldier isn’t playing around, but I reinforced it with “Yella” which is Arabic for “Go away.”  All the Iraqi’s backed up with hands in the air as my guys came flying up for intimidation.  Perfect timing.  I pushed the safety pin back into place, Pip gave a big sigh of relief as we all slowly dispersed and higher ups on both sides came to investigate.

What Pip didn’t know is that I was prepared to give everything in service to my country and to protect my brothers.  I had to show the enemy that was disguised as a friend that we were lunatics, thus making them think twice before messing with an American they now called “Crazy.”  Everyday after that when we had joint patrols, we all kept our distance as I smiled and shouted “Machine Gun!” he would hesitantly smile and shout back, “Crazy!”  Burn in hell after you rot in Tibij, buddy.

My mentality while overseas is tattooed on my ribcage…

“God,

help my men today,

help me be strong to protect them,

if anyone should fall let it be me.

Thank you.”

Marinate on that the next time you think radicals are the only ones prepared to die for a cause.  My cause is protecting my people.  Deuces.

Song Du Jour

Sadam's famed Cross Sabres over his parade field right outside F.O.B. Union III           

I encountered all kinds of music from various comrades while serving.  I got into country because it relaxes me.  I got into heavy metal because the growling, longhaired and heavily pierced screamer that sounded like a constipated bear bellowing "KICK THE PUPPIES, EAT THE BABIES," actually made sense to me in the middle of a firefight. Then there is music that nobody understands why I listen to it.

           

Crazyhorse Troop had been going balls to the wall for over 9 months when we finally got a time to rest in the land known as “The Green Zone.” Holy shit this place was paradise.  People that were there for the duration of their time in Iraq had no idea how nice they had it.  We got to stay in an old administrative building near the Bath Party Headquarters on F.O.B. Union III that was half collapsed in the middle from a bomb during the invasion.  We stayed on the second floor and spent down time smoking cigarettes and playing the guitar.  Occasionally we would be entertained by people running and screaming for shelter.

            “What’s that noise, Puppet?” I asked.

            “I think it’s an alarm for incoming,” Puppet replied.

We never had the luxury of a warning before.  We knew the incoming rounds weren’t going to land on the F.O.B. that day, because we didn’t hear the whistle the rounds make if they are close.  However, the people who never went outside the wire sure as hell didn’t know that.  They were screaming and scurrying like scared squirrels to find a hard shelter while dawning green helmets and black protective vests.  They had no idea where they were going, but it was fascinating to see people freak out when the danger was so far off.

            “The fuck are they doing, Vance?” Puppet asked.

            “I can’t breathe!” I laughed.

            You’ll have to forgive us for being so desensitized.  Actually, don’t.  Just get used to it. 

            Our tempo slowed to just two missions or patrols a day and spending a week at a time at C.O.P. Remagen then going back to missions for a couple more weeks.  After mission we would go to the open area created by the invasion’s blasts.  There was a local guy that was allowed to come in, set up a kabob stand and sell cheap food to some stinky soldiers.  We simply referred to the area as “The Hodgy Stand.”  The local guy also set up a small tube TV with a Jerry-rigged antenna that would make even McGuiver jealous.

            The TV in the Hodgy Stand would only show 3 channels.  One was news in Arabic.  Another was an Arabic music video station.  The third showed American music videos.  The thing about that channel is that it showed the same three videos all-day, everyday.   So after mission we would run to the Hodgy Stand to eat kabobs, drink stale Pepsi from tiny 8 oz. cans, smoke and watch these videos to relax, but what was so special about these videos?

            Before I reveal these videos I feel the need to ask you to imagine our mindset.  We had been living like savages and this was the first nice place we came to.  It was the summer of 2007, we hadn’t seen a female since the previous summer and we stunk like shit.  We smelled so bad that we could be walking and as the wind picked up, we'd sniff something wonderful, stop dead in our tracks, simultaneously turn and BAM!

“Chicks dude.”

           

            Back at the Hodgy Stand we sat in awe as Rihanna’s “Umbrella,” Avril Lavigne’s “Girlfriend,” and Fergie’s “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” echoed throughout the accidental courtyard.  White Platoon found an escape.  These songs brought us such happiness that we were there almost everyday.  Rihanna was in sparkling silver body paint sounding like a stuttering badass with her “ella, ella, ella, eh, eh, oh.”  Avril was running around in a schoolgirl outfit being chased by a hotter version of herself.  Fergie was rockin’ tight jeans and a pouty face while leaving her man.  That’s right, Fergie, leave that asshole and find a better man.  I’m single.  Just saying.  No?  That’s cool.

Me jammin' and smokin' between missions with a shaved head.

            Those videos created a memory of my brothers just relaxing in a world of madness and a time where we weren’t screaming obscenities at each other and the higher ups left us alone.  It was peace during war.  It’s a great memory.  Memories like this one help all of us deal with the bad ones.  I always urge veterans to think like this, because I’ve seen too many good men be swallowed by grief.  We’re lucky to be alive… now live!

            After getting out of the military I had a long wait before I could start contracting overseas so I picked up two local jobs to pass time and pay the bills.  I started serving tables at a neighborhood bar, Ramparts, and drove for a catering company delivering food all over DC.  I would be cruising thru South East at 5 am in a really bad part of town and stop at a red light when I saw my surroundings and realized a decision had to be made.  There were gang members plotting some kind of early morning shenanigans and mean mugging me while completely stopped.  What do you do in that situation?

            I’ll tell ya what to do.  You act crazier than them to secur your life for another day.  Now how do you act crazy?  You crank the radio and sing as loud as you can while smiling and staring right back with the windows down.  What song happened to be playing on that fateful morning?

“Hey! Hey! You! YOU! I wanna be your girlfriend!” and the crowd dispersed.

            Whenever I hear those three songs come on the radio you can bet everything on me turning it up as loud as I possibly can and smiling for the duration.  I don't care who's watching and I obviously have no shame.