AMONGST WARRIORS BOOK CONTENT : simplebooklet.com

2024 © Gregory LealAll rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmit-ted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, at “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at info@devildocpublishing.comPhoto Credits:All Photos, images, and graphics are private photos used with permission, public domain, AI Generated and/or for ‘editorial’ use, unless otherwise captioned. Photos may or may not be historically associated with the stories herein and are used as a reference for geographical location and/or historical inference.ISBN: 979-8-218-36355-0Excerpt Credits:Mathias CantuYolanda MayoRodney TregleScott BrownRick NeilsenFirst Printing: January 2024Devil Doc Publishing PO Box 133Pilot Point, TX 76258-0133devildocpublishing.comOwner | Editor in Chief: Christine Walker Assistant Editor: VL StevensonIntern: Megan SuttorLayout & Design: Christine Walkeri

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This book is dedicated to Lance Corporal Jose Gutierrez, age 22. He was the first Marine killed in action in the invasion of Iraq. He died in a firefight on March 21, 2003 near Umm Qasr, a port city in the Al-Zubair District. Gutierrez and his sister were orphaned in Guatamala when he was 14, and made the arduous trek from Guatamala to the US Border in California. He spent the next 4 years in group/foster homes until his 18th birthday when he applied for residency. He joined the Marine Corps in 2002 and according to his sister, he “wanted to give the United States what the United States gave to him. He came with nothing. This country gave him everything.” And in return, Gutierrez gave his life. iiDEDICATIONSEMPER FILCpl. Jose Gutierrez

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Thank you to Major General Anthony Jackson, Sergeant Major Don Miller, and Colonel Baron Lucas for reviewing and writing forwards in my book.And a very special ‘Thank You’ to my wife Elena, and daughters, Monica and Sonia. I love you!Special thanks to the following:Regimental Combat Team-1 Commanding Ofcer: Col. Joey Dowdy Regimental Combat Team-1 Executive Ofcer: LtCol. Pete OwenMachine Gunner: Sgt. James Lunsford Driver: Cpl. Billy FoyFamily that served in the war.HMC: Frank Gonzales, United States Navy, Afghanistan and Iraq CM3 Susann CM3 Su-sann Gonzales, United States Navy, AfghanistanSFC Larry, Salcido: United States Army PFC, Letty Kornegay, United States ArmyAssistant Editor & Field Radio Operator (Vietnam): Corporal V.L. Stevenson - Thank you for your commitment editing Amongst Warriors.Semper Fi! SgtMaj. Greg LealiiiTHANK YOU!

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ivTABLE OF CONTENTSTHE BATTLEIS THIS THE END?HOW THE HELL DID WE GET HERE?THE BRIDGE AT SAMIRWARRIORSTHE BATTLEFIELDWATCH WHAT YOU TELL YOUR MARINESGROUND ZERO OF THE SOULLOSING A MARINEWHO’S IN COMMAND?THE FALLOUTWALK A MILE IN OUR BOOTSBLIND SPOTTHOSE UGLY WORDS!I COULDNT SAVE HERPORCELAIN DOLLRAGEIN RETROSPECTARE WE ALL JUST DUST IN THE WIND?UNSEEN BATTLE SCARSWISDOM THROUGH SACRIFICETHE WEIGHT OF THE WORLDTAKE THEM TO A SAFE PLACE44WHAT IF I COULD HAVE CHANGED THE OUTCOME?WHERE DO HEROES COME FROM?SHOULD I FALL THIS DAYA MOTHERS SACRIFICEIT’S TIME TO LET IT GO...IT’S NOT YOUR’S TO CARRYWALKING AMONGST THE TOMBSTONESLET HIM WHO BEATS THE DRUM...‘DOC’PAGE # 113212935394347515763697381879397101105109113117121125129133137141147148

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vFORWARDAfter speaking with SgtMaj Leal, I was extremely motivated to read AMONGST WARRIORS.What I found in his work was an extremely personal account of his combat experiences and those of Marines and Sailors he served along side, in Iraq, in the spring of 2003. SgtMaj Leal makes a point of giving high praise to the individual Marine and Sailor, and the Corporals and Sergeants that led them. In addition, he focuses on the consequences of combat and the hardships that post-traumatic stress puts on the individual warrior and those close to him/her. Disturbing in its raw authenticity, if one wants to get an honest rst hand account, from the ground up view of war and its consequences, this is a quick must read.Anthony L. JacksonMajor General, USMC (Ret)

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viAMONGST WARRIORS, by SgtMaj. Greg Leal is an incredibly honest, deeply personal account of one man’s war remembrances and a stark window into the soul of a warrior and leader of Marines. Greg Leal was my SgtMaj. when I commanded Marine Aircraft Group 41 from 2005 to 2006. He is the epitome of a warrior, an exceptional leader of Marines, and I am honored to call him my friend. This book is a must-read for all military leaders and for the elected civilian leaders who form the policies that take our country to war. Semper Fi!Juergen ‘Baron’ LukasColonel, USMC (Ret.)AMONGST WARRIORS is a rst hand account of Regimental Combat Team-1 (Inchon)operations during the initial push to Baghdad in March of 2003. Seen through the eyes of a seasoned, Senior Enlisted leader, it describes the madness, confusion, camaraderie, and despair of ground combat. From training to battle, and the gut wrenching aftermath. It takes into account the real leaders, Non-Commissioned and junior Marines, that adapted to the challenges they faced, and that they deserved the successes. Sergeant Major Leal sees the entire aspect of war, and courageously identies the after effects that so many are in denial (PTSD). The reading of this book is a must for all Marines, especially at the junior ofcer and NCO level. Don MillerSergeant Major, USMC (Ret.)

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viiiPREFACEI look at these men, my men, these Warriors like me, standing tall, lean, and proud. They look upon this desert land, The extreme dry air will soon be lled with the stench of death, gun power and mutilated bodies that are now unrecognizable. These men know they are here to take down the evil dictator who has betrayed the very people who once admired him. These warriors, in their mind win today and every day and to those who chose to enter the battleeld against us, I feel no pity but respect.The Non-Commissioned Ofcers of the Vietnam War taught me, “Respect your enemy,” for he dared to join in this battle. He did not cower behind a desk or stand behind a podium and make meaningless speeches to those who do not know the cost of war, bathing themselves in the foolish- ness of their words. And when asked to join the ght, they quickly cower and speak that they are a peace-loving people and that killing is beneath them.But I look at these men, once my enemy but still warriors like me. They fought the good ght. You are my enemy no more. But as life leaves their bodies, their blood slowly spills onto the ground. I continue to look into the fallen warriors’ eyes and gradually, they start to close, there is a willingness to give in and pass on to the hereafter. “I will respect you; a warrior like me. Take your last breath, my friend. I salute you.” Those who wear the Warrior symbol benet from our heroic deeds.We Warriors stood where the blood-covered sword sunk into the enemy’s chest through his lungs and centered itself in our enemy’s cold black heart.In countless numbers of the dead who only live through hate, we lessen their numbers, and in time, there is no more.-For the rest of my life, the fallen Warrior’s face haunts my dreams because he stood up and faced certain death.Waste not the Warrior, for those politicians who only seek personal gain will nd themselves with no Warriors to protect them. For those who use the Warrior as a throwaway, your life and freedom will be a throwaway very soon.Gregory LealSergeant Major, USMC (Ret.)

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THIS IS THE END?KUWAIT MARCH 2003 As the General speaks to the Marines who will ght this war, his words will fall on deaf ears. With combat only days away, words are nothing... for God and country speeches are of no importance to the trigger puller. Important to the enlisted Marine is that those who have trained them are the Marines standing shoulder to shoulder with him. The point man’s success is mission success! Keeping your superhero safe (Doc, Navy Corpsman) is as important as ammo. Yes, sir we love our Navy Corpsman! Victory is and will always be in the hands of the young, enlisted Marine, anyone everyone else is in support. By using every minute available to ensure his Marines will win the three-block war. Keeping the ammo and water coming is what the trigger puller needs for victory. Once he engages the enemy all intel is useless. He will receive and analyze his intelligence in real time right in front of him. As he will nd out in just a few hours that no one told him about the Nine T-72s that just magically appeared. Talk about bad intel, which was no intel. But rest assured, those in the rear with the gear were already playing the blame game and it was going strong. During this time, team tank decides to refuel all its tanks at the same time. All tanks refueling at the same time? Without Tanks, Two NCO’s (Non-Commissioned Ofcers) on the CAAT-1 (Combined Anti-Armor Team) stepped up and with TOW missile systems ring and Javelin missiles) destroying eight of the nine tanks. It’s not the Generals or his staff, nor the battalion or Company Commander, they are not at the point of impact. Ofcers are the managers of the assets that are provided to their units. The Platoon Commander Positions himself along with his radio operator where he can best direct those assets such as mortars, heavy weapons, artillery, and air. Their concern is beyond 3

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that. Most times their concern is glory (Thank you TBS). However, the re support, be it direct or indirect is with the Platoon Commander and Platoon Sergeant; anything like enemy intel will have little impact because by the time it reaches platoon, squad and reteams, yes, they will hold that intel. The intel he needs is right in front of him. AN NASIRIYAH IRAQ 19 MARCH 2003I remember that day, the last day. Of what we thought we knew and what our reality would be.This was the end of Saddam Hussein’s regime. Yet Saddam believed that Allah would strike down the Indel. Unfortunately, that’s the only plan Saddam had. The Iraqis know they’ve been lied to their whole lives. Now once again just as in Desert Storm, the Iraqi citizens and soldiers will pay. In the end, Saddam will nally pay for all the wrong he has done, and the citizens will rejoice at his hanging. The loyalists will run, and most will be captured, and they too will pay. AN NASIRIYAH I:Written by YM, 4th Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion, USMC“What the fuck, the Army’s 507th maintenance unit just blew passed a line of Company of Light Armored Reconnaissance (LAR) vehicles and headed right into An Nasiriyah! What made things worse was they entered a beehive of Saddam Fedayeen reinforced troops. I’ve spent many years trying to forget... you know we lost Marines - blue-on-blue (self-inicted casualties) fucking A10s! We were helpless. I listened to the entire damn thing on the radio in the Combat Operations Center. Marines pissed... the confusion then anger, then... trying to 4"My words to my troops were and are always the same, never forget where you come from..."SgtMaj. Yolanda MayoSgtMaj. Yolanda Mayo

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casevac (causality evacuation). We couldn’t get any helicopters in or out. I was sick to my stomach... we could see the tracers... hear what was going on ahead of us... it all felt unreal. I know it’s not how you (a reference to myself with Regimental Combat Team-1) experienced the war.It’s different for all of us, each deployment was different. But this was March 23rd the day we lost 23 Marines at An Nasiriyah in 2003. We, the 4th LAR, crossed into Iraq on the 22nd... the 23rd. Then shit got real! As our convoy was nearing the outskirts of An Nasiriyah everything went upside down. Fucking Pfc Lynch’s convoy passed us... then got lost! Worse yet they drove themselves straight into hell. I remember that damn convoy because we had to stop, they were kicking up so much sand we couldn’t see. Our convoy leader called bullshit and just pulled over. Through their actions, the 507th kicked off the battle for An Nasiriyah earlier than planned. The rst contact with the enemy and the battle plan goes right out the window. The only valid part of the battle plan at this point that is left is support. The A-10s ruined the air support. The thing about your experience is that you heard and saw everything in real-time. I was a radio operator, and I heard all the confusion that went on just as if it was a training exercise.”AN NASIRIYAH II:Once the Army 507th contact with the enemy the operations order goes out the window. Task Force Tarawa’s Marines are sent to the rescue as many of the soldiers left behind eleven were killed and 9 were captured. Had the soldiers who were left behind not fought so valiantly the outcome would have been much worse. Why didn’t the Army convoy commander attempt to rescue his men no one knows?It is the Warrior, the seventeen-to twenty-ve-year-olds who make his plan most times in an instant, and 5My Marines trusted me, and I trusted them without hesitation. Trust in yourself and trust in your troops is paramount to success.SgtMaj. Yolanda MayoSgtMaj. Yolanda Mayo

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while running towards the enemy adjusting continuously. Especially in close quarters battle, easily the most intense type of engagement for anyone. Face to face, eye to eye, winning is everything…the only thing! They will face this type of intense mental and physical challenge every day and endure the true hardships of war. There are no fallback positions, or rest areas. They will ght and continue to ght until they break the enemies will ght. They will do more than their fair share of the killing. To the Iraqis, hell is coming and it’s in the form of the Angel of Death.Task Force Inchon’s plan is simple, 3rd Battalion 1st Marines to provide a gauntlet so Light Armored Reconnaissance can lead the Regimental Combat Team (RCT) through the city. Can someone tell me what the fuck happened when we went through the city? What I do know is the ght was hard and heavy. The Marines of Regimental Combat Team-1 fought and adjusted at every turn. My only memory was Colonel Joe Dowdy manning the radio giving out orders, Corporal Billy Foy Driver, and Sergeant James Lunsford manning the 50-cal machine gun. He and I switched back and forth as being the loader or ring the mounted 50 cal. I know everyone I’ve asked about that night doesn’t want to talk about it, and rightfully so. The only response is that it was too horrible to think about. We all wanted to forget the carnage. The screaming Iraqi soldiers and civilians, yelling, gasping for their last breath, pleading for Allah to give them one more chance for life. Unfortunately, Allah wasn’t coming, and this was only day three and the Angel of death has just begun to strike with his might sword. What I do remember is months of training was being tested and it proved our staff non-commissioned ofcers (SNCOs) and non-commissioned ofcers (NCOs) had taught our Marines extremely well. Immediate Action drills are as natural as breathing. These young Warriors are used to adjusting in the attack. For Operations, re-writing the operation’s order is a constant adjustment, but eighteen to twenty-ve-year-6

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olds are making the adjustments that count. They do it as they’ve been trained to do. As they say, war is a young man’s game. We have the right young men to win it. The three-block war is their only concern. Only real time in-your-face enemy action, through the eyes, and ears of the private to staff sergeants is all that matters. RCT-1’s advance through Nasiriyah came to a stop. Up to this point Task Tarawa’s Battle plan was excellent, but then shit really went south and fast. Out of nowhere Russian T-72 Tanks showed. Later the Task Force Commander blamed bad intel from I MEF along with enemy reinforcements that weren’t expected. More Problems, vehicles of all types that were trying to go around broken-down hummers and Army columns that stopped in the middle of the city clogging the main route though the city. This forced TF Tawara lead trace and follow on forces to zig zag, stop, and go, plus pushing them off the main route and onto awaiting ambushes, others were forced off the main roads were pushed into the marsh where vehicles got buried up to the axle. But the Marines fought and pushed and defeated the enemy. At every turn and every obstacle, they overcame it all and they rose to every occasion.Right when you think things can’t get any worse, they do. At some point I hear an ugly familiar sound, looking up, I see A-10s, I get a sick feeling in my stomach. Flash back to Desert Storm 1991, A-10 kills 7 Marines when miss identifying their Light Armored Infantry vehicle.7

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Can somebody tell me what the fuck happened with the A-10s? Task Force Tarawa, Forward Observer not having true situational awareness, in that Tarawa Units were North of the canal. Compounding with Forward Observers shortages caused Marines needless deaths. Task Force FO broke standing orders when using type III air support. In that when using Type III air support, it must be cleared though the Battalion Commander. Had he followed protocol this incident could have been avoided. Not following the policy no matter that the intention was good, still caused the A-10s to run multiple airstrikes on Marines unit that were north of the Saddam Canal. Pennsylvania Air National Guard plus the lack of training, the A-10 pilots would later testify that they had not been properly trained in vehicle identication. That’s the same excuse used in Desert Storm. Sending inexperienced A-10 pilots who by their own admission were not properly trained was obviously a recipe for disaster. Not being able to id vehicles, not knowing or seeing the red star clusters to call off the air strike. Forward Observers not following policy Units not marking vehicles with Air Panels Marines (unit policy). Enemy forces continued to reinforce the city from the North. On the evening of 24 March, LAVs from 2nd LAR pushed north of the Saddam Canal, leading RCT-1 through Ambush Alley. With Alpha Company in the lead, 2nd LAR attacked north on Highway 7, coming under re from a heavily defended compound north of the city. Two anti-aircraft guns protected the approach to the compound. After coming under re from Reconnaissance Scouts, LAVs, M1A1 tanks, Cobra gunships, 8

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and artillery, the Iraqi resistance subsided. As we move deeper into Iraq all eyes are in search of the enemy.It’s not the generals or their staff, nor the battalion or company commander, they are not at the point of impact. Their concern is beyond that. However, the re support, be it direct or indirect is with the platoon commander and platoon sergeant anything beyond that will have little impact because by the time it reaches the platoon, squad, and reteams, yes, they will hold that intel. But by the time it reaches them, it will take different forms.It is the Warrior, the seventeen to twenty-ve-year-old who makes his plan most times in an instant, and while running towards the enemy adjusting continuously. Especially in close-quarters battle, easily the most intense type of engagement for anyone. Face to face, eye to eye, winning is everything… the only thing! They will face this type of intense mental and physical challenge every day until they rotate with another unit. To the Iraqis, hell is coming and it’s in the form of the Angel of Death, the Devil Dog.For Task Force Inchon, (RCT-1) the mission was simple. Make it clear to the 52nd Republican Guard that our only goal was Baghdad and that we would not veer from Highway 7. We would stay on the course until we reached Baghdad. This will allow the 5th and 7th Marines to ank the enemy that is focused on us. This will also allow them to not get bogged down. We were about to turn the corner, right into the enemy’s front door. The question was, would any of us live to see it? We were ready to make the turn into the heart of the enemy.9

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10Looking out into this place, this desert, this hell, you wondered how anyone could exist. How can anyone call this a kingdom? I think about the past few weeks in Kuwait and the sacrices all Marines have made just to get where they are today. Leaving families behind to help people who can’t help themselves. Yet they train hard because their actions in the face of the enemy will have dire consequences. Train, train, and train some more the enlisted leadership have repeated time and again, rehearsing reteam, squad, and platoon tactics. All we know is that the ght will be in the hands of the young, enlisted Marines and they know they will win. While commanders seek glory, they and they alone will face the enemy day and night and endure without rest as we seek to meet our goal to reach Baghdad. They will decide in an instant who lives and who dies. They are the judge and jury. SNCOs and NCOs will give the killing blow. Victory is in their hands. The enlisted man will endure the pain and suffering to ensure the commander’s glory. Yet few will receive any recognition. At the end of their enlistment, they will receive a pat on the back and be sent on their way. On the other side the enemy, just seeing the ferocity that Marines bring to the ght, will turn, and run, others will lay their weapons down and surrender, but those who choose to ght will nd themselves gasping their last breath, some were lucky enough to die instantly. They will have no time to reect on a restart or to rethink their choices. But those who had fought in the rst Gulf War knew what was coming. Why did they stay? As we found out later at the Battle of the Coil just North of An Nasiriyah, most were forced onto buses heading south. When their ofcers were killed during the ght, they were glad because they held guns to the heads of Iraqis and were forced to go South.

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11I remember D-Day minus one. I see and hear Marine Warriors with their heads held high speaking of winning and taking down the evil dictator that has caused so much pain and suffering to the Iraqi people. The sky was a bit hazy with a slight hot breeze coming from the west. The sun was beating the hell out of everyone with 120-degree-plus temps. To add to the miserable day the entire invasion force was in mission-oriented protective posture level-4 (MOPP level 4). Wearing our MOPP-4 minus gloves and gas mask remaining in its carrier worn on the hip. However, our charcoal-lined suits are worn due to the chemical threat in the blazing heat gives us all our personnel sauna. The real heat was on us, to keep the pressure on the enemy, to keep them close, to hide our true objective and that is to destroy them in place.It’s time we got the word to move to our staging areas. This war machine is starting its engines, and once it begins to roll, there’ll be no stopping it until the mission is done. Vehicles of every size and shape with different types of weapons and men who are ready for war manning them. To look at these men, to see their focus, and commitment, to see their drive, it’s truly amazing. Everything that America lacks is in these Warriors. I know it, because their leadership, staff sergeants, sergeants, and corporals, have pounded into their Marine’s heads the Immediate Action (IA) drills that they have done for the last year have made them condent.In the last eight years, on top of Close Combat Training which is highly intense, the Marine Corps added martial arts in the mid 90’s to their already condent, cocky, and arrogant Marines. That added another

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12lethal capability. Unfortunately for the Iraqis, they did not face the same Angel of Death, as they called Marines, in the rst Gulf War. Leaders continuously run through the checklist that they have gone through time and again to the point that it’s as common as shaving in the morning. It’s times like this that we know we have trained them well, but we still wonder in our minds, was it enough? Even though it’s impossible to do, did we plan for every possible scenario? As Marines do their actions in the opening days and beyond quickly reassured us that our Marines were well trained. The constant reinforced training they have received in the last twelve months has paid off. They are ready, success rests on their shoulders, and for the next three weeks and beyond it showed! There is no victory without their face-to-face victory. At times it would be hand-to-hand. They are ready.The Regiment has just completed a long overnight motor march. Reaching the outskirts of An Nasiriyah, Marines and Sailors are ready to get into the ght even though the RCT is just completing an all-night motor march. They say to watch what you wish for you may get it. Soon our wish would come true, and ght we fought for almost all the 21 days it took to get to Baghdad RCT- 1. Then followed by months and years of America’s continuing war in Iraq. Due to its well-trained staff non-commissioned ofcers, and non-commissioned ofcers, the leadership in Regimental Combat Team -1 would become known as “The Running Gun Battle” (Division G-3 gave us this name). Its reputation was set early and would continue to punch the enemy in the face and knock them out. Just outside A Nasiriya the RCT established the order of battle which would change several times due to the enemy situation. Once the battalions were in their defensive positions we looked out to the vast desert and truly wondered if this hot sand was worth the ght.

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APRIL 28, 1937 • TIKRIT, IRAQBeginning in the 1970s, Saddam Hussein ruled the Republic of Iraq with a tight grip. Regardless, he retained control of his country during countless military conicts, including an eight-year war against Iran in the 1980s and the Persian Gulf War in 1991. He also survived a slew of assassination attempts throughout his presidency, and at times he seemed almost invincible. But in March of 2003, U.S.-led forces invaded Iraq and deposed the deant leader. Saddam escaped capture, but after a nine-month manhunt, he was caught, imprisoned, and faced multiple charges relating to war crimes and human rights abuses. Many speculated that the once-invincible ruler would ultimately face the death penalty.Saddam Hussein was born on April 28, 1937, in the village of Al-Awja, near Tikrit, a town just north of the city of Baghdad, in central Iraq. Saddam, which means “one who confronts” or “the stubborn one.”“We are ready to sacrice our souls, our children, and our families so as not to give up Iraq. We say this so no one will think that America is capable of breaking the will of the Iraqis with its weapons.”He joined the political Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party, which had been formed in Syria in 1947 to promote unity among the various Arab states in the Middle East. In Iraq and neighboring countries, the Ba’ath Party had become an underground revolutionary force.Saddam even faced resistance within his own party, and he made it a policy to weed out anyone he viewed as a threat. On July 22, 1979, just days after taking over the presidency, he organized an assembly of Ba’ath leaders and read aloud the names of suspected spies; HOW THE HELL DID WE GET HERE?15

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these people were taken from the room and publicly executed by a ring squad. A few years later, in 1982, he ordered the execution of at least three hundred ofcers who had supposedly questioned his military tactics. He became known for his paranoia, which was justied, considering he had survived at least seven assassination attempts. As a result, he rarely appeared in public. He also slept only a few hours a night, at secret locations, and all of his food was carefully prepared and inspected by ofcial food tasters.CONFLICTS WITH IRAN AND KUWAITOutside of Iraq, especially in the West, Saddam was seen as a dictator whose quest for dominance in the Middle East was viewed with particular concern. In 1980 Saddam proved that such fears were founded when he attacked Iran, an invasion that led to an eight-year bloody conict. Relations between Iran and Iraq had been deteriorating for years and came to a head in 1979 when Ayatollah Khomeini (c. 1900– 1989) overthrew the government of Iran during an Islamic uprising. Saddam worried that Khomeini would set his sights on spreading his radical religious rule to the secular (nonreligious) state of Iraq.Disputes over territorial boundaries led to skirmishes throughout late 1979 and into 1980, and on September 22, 1980, Iraqi forces crossed the Iranian border and ofcially declared war.Over the next eight years, both countries suffered almost irreparable damage, and the healthy economy that Saddam had created during the 1970s was in ruins. Billions of dollars were borrowed from countries such as the United States, Kuwait, the U.S.S.R., and France, to support the war effort. The United States alone gave the Iraqi government nearly $40 billion in food, supplies, and arms. And both sides suffered a tremendous loss of human life. It is estimated that approximately 1.7 million people were killed during the conict. In one battle on March 16, 1988, Iraqi troops attacked the Kurdish town of Halabja, using poisonous nerve gas. Nearly ve thousand people died, most of whom were women and children. Various reports claimed 16

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that chemical weapons were used by both Iran and Iraq, but these tactics continued to raise the alarm that Saddam Hussein was a military threat who could not be trusted.In 1989 the war ended in a stalemate, with no side claiming a real victory. Conicts between Saddam and other nations, however, were just beginning. Faced with the prospect of rebuilding his country, Saddam tried to pressure the neighboring country of Kuwait to forgive the $30 billion loan he had been given. The reason he gave was that the war with Iran had effectively protected Kuwait from an Iranian invasion.Tensions were also sparked between the two countries over territorial boundaries, which were especially important because they involved the control of oil reserves in the area. When negotiations failed, Saddam invaded Kuwait on August 2, 1990.The unprovoked attack was denounced by governments throughout the world, especially the United States. The administration of Ronald Reagan (1911–2004) in the 1980s may have seen Saddam as a potential ally, but after the invasion of Kuwait, President George H. W. Bush (1924–2018) essentially severed all ties between the United States and Saddam Hussein. As a result, when the Iraqi leader refused to leave Kuwait, a combined force of U.S. and United Nations (UN) troops stepped in. The ghting lasted a mere six weeks, but after the Persian Gulf War came to an end, casualties topped over eighty-ve thousand. Saddam was successfully evicted from Kuwait, but the tensions were not over. Bush ordered U.S. troops to protect Kuwaiti borders, and in his March 1991 State of the Union address he told the American people, “We all realize that our responsibility to be the catalyst for peace in the region does not end with 17

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the successful conclusion of this war.” He called Saddam a brutal dictator “who will do anything, will use any weapon, will commit any outrage, no matter how many innocents suffer.”THE UNITED STATES VERSUS IRAQTo control Saddam, the cease-re agreement drawn up between the United Nations and Iraq required the country to destroy all its chemical, nuclear, and biological weapons. The agreement also stipulated that Saddam had to let UN inspectors oversee the efforts. If Iraq did not comply with the agreement, economic sanctions would be imposed, meaning that all trade with the country would be cut off.Throughout the 1990s the Iraqi leader reportedly concealed the manufacture of weapons from inspectors, and the sanctions continued. Cut off from the world, the people of Iraq suffered. Unemployment rose, agricultural production declined, and the majority of the population suffered from severe malnutrition and lack of medical care. There was increased unrest among the many factions in the country, which prompted Saddam to increase his tactics of repression.When George W. Bush became president of the United States in 2001, one of his rst acts upon taking ofce was an attempt to reinstate economic sanctions, which had been lifted by the United Nations in the late 1990s. World opinion opposed the effort as inhumane; the Iraqi people had suffered far too much.Anti-Saddam sentiment only escalated, however, after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. Although the attacks were never linked to Saddam Hussein, Bush insisted that terrorists armed with Iraqi weapons could at any time target the United States. In his State of the Union address in January of 2002, the U.S. president called Iraq part of an “axis of evil,” and claimed that the country “continue[d] to aunt its hostility toward America and to support terror.”Time and again Bush publicly accused Saddam of concealing weapons, and by 2002 he threatened to invade Iraq if UN inspectors were not allowed 18

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back into the country. Saddam countered that there were no weapons and opened his doors. Although UN inspectors found nothing, Bush maintained that inspectors had simply not found the well-hidden weapons yet. By early 2003, war with Iraq was looming. In January of 2003 Bush gave Saddam an ultimatum: either totally disarm his country or voluntarily leave Iraq. If neither step was taken, the United States would attack.In February of 2003, in an unprecedented move, Saddam Hussein appeared on television, having agreed to be interviewed by CBS newsman Dan Rather (1931–). The interview was broadcast worldwide, even in Iraq, which meant that the Iraqi people were given a rare glimpse of their reclusive leader who was rarely seen in person. Saddam accused the Bush administration of being part of a “bandwagon of evil,” and continued to insist that Iraq did not have concealed weapons and that it had nothing to do with the September 11 attacks. He also explained that he would not leave Iraq and that Iraqis would ght to protect their country if provoked. “We will die here in Iraq,” he told Rather. “We will die in this country, and we will maintain our honor.”MARCH 20, 2003Several airstrikes specically aimed at assassinating Saddam Hussein were unsuccessful, and ground troops pushed through the country, heading toward Baghdad, the capital of Iraq. In early April, just three weeks after the invasion, the Saddam regime was toppled. When Baghdad fell, however, the Iraqi president was nowhere to be found. Saddam managed to elude capture throughout the remainder of the year. Reports of Saddam’s sightings popped up occasionally but proved to be false. In addition, audiotapes by the ousted leader were released to Arab television networks. Whether they were truly from Saddam remained in question.High-ranking members of the Iraqi government were caught one by one, but Saddam remained at the top of the most-wanted list. In July 2003, his two sons and political heirs, Uday and Qusay, were killed by U.S. forces. It was thought that perhaps Saddam’s capture would be imminent, but the elusive leader remained on the run for the next ve months. Finally, on December 13, 2003, Saddam Hussein was located just nine miles outside of his hometown of Tikrit, hiding in an underground cavern known as a “spider hole.” Disheveled and dirty, with a graying beard and matted hair, he surrendered without resisting. According to the commander of U.S. forces Lt.Gen. Ricardo Sanchez, as quoted on CNN.com, “He was a tired man. Also, I think, a man resigned to his fate.”The deposed leader was taken into custody by U.S. forces and held in Baghdad until June 30, 19

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2004, when he was ofcially handed over to acting Iraqi government ofcials. On July 1 he faced his rst legal hearing before an Iraqi Special Tribunal. During the twenty-six-minute hearing, he was charged with multiple crimes, including the 1988 attack on the Kurdish village of Halabja, the 1991 invasion of Kuwait, and the killings of political and religious leaders during his thirty years in command. Throughout the accusations Saddam remained deant, claiming that the tribunal was a farce. He also maintained that he was still the true leader of Iraq. “I am Saddam Hussein al-Majid, the President of the Republic of Iraq,” he announced, as quoted in England’s Guardian. “I am still the president of the republic, and the occupation cannot take that away.”Following the hearing, Saddam remained in custody, where he reportedly spent time writing poetry, reading the Koran (the sacred writings of Islam), and tending to a small garden within the walls of his Baghdad prison. There were also reports that the sixty-seven-year-old former president was in poor health and that perhaps he had suffered a stroke. Such reports were denied by doctors. It seemed that Saddam would be well enough to face his accusers in a trial set to begin in January of 2005. Many speculated on the trial’s outcome, but people in Iraq voiced their clear expectations.Shortly after U.S. forces turned Saddam Hussein over to Iraqi ofcials, the Iraqi government reinstated the death penalty, which had been temporarily suspended under U.S. occupation. Hamid al-Bayati, the deputy foreign minister of Iraq, was quoted in the Guardian as saying, “Everyone who lost loved ones to Saddam will want to see this.”20

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It was March 21st, 2003, and I was a 26-year-old Marine Sergeant with LAVAD (Light Armored Vehicle Air Defense) attached to the 3rd Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion in Iraq. I was a LAR vehicle commander along with my driver, Lance Corporal Larry Stultz, and my gunner Corporal Nathan Thomas, we were assigned to Charlie squad. Our call sign was Outlaw 2, and our wingman was Outlaw 3, led by LAR vehicle commander Sergeant Dwayne Surray, rolling with his driver, Lance Corporal Gabriel Williams, and his gunner, Corporal Joe Dominguez. We had spent the entire night maneuvering across the Iraqi desert, and we were exhausted, to say the least. But we continued driving on until the sun came up. So here we are in the blazing sun and burning sand and right around midday into our push, I remember being informed that we were the “tip of the spear.” What that meant was that there was no one else in front of us, we were not only the furthest Marine unit North, but we were the furthest U.S. Coalition unit into Iraq at that point. We also knew that anything coming from the North was the enemy and that made things a little easier. Other than that, just another ordinary day spent on our Spring vacation in hell! We tightened our bootlaces and continued our race across miles and miles of burning sand. Just before nightfall, our convoy was called on and tasked with checking out a bridge that was suspected of being manned by Iraqi soldiers that were dug in. The type of LAR we were rolling in was an Air Defense Variant equipped with FLIR (Forward Looking InfraRed) that provided us advanced optics over other LAR variants. The sun was gone by the time we arrived at our location, and I remember telling my driver, Stultz, to put in our “shbowl,” which would allow us to see out in front of us in the dark. As we drove on, Outlaw 3 casually called out over the radio that they had spotted a white truck driving alongside our convoy. Seconds later, Outlaw 3 called out again in a much more urgent tone “They have guns!” Within seconds of that transmission, we heard the rst crack of a round that deafened the hot, dark desert air, and time suddenly froze. The very rst thing that popped into my head at that moment was that I’m not ever going get to read the letters from my wife that I had just received earlier in the day. When I got them, I stuffed them away with a quick notion that reading letters from home would give me something to look forward to at the end of the day. Just as abruptly as it happened, time unfroze, and my mind was immediately back to the chaos of the ght happening around me. That white truck had been a way for the Iraqis to range our convoy, which was leading us right into an ambush from both sides. Round after round started hitting our THE BRIDGE AT SAMIRBy: Sergeant Mathias Cantu23

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vehicles. With all the chaos going on all around us, we had to calculate the direction of the enemy re so we could repel their assault and silence them permanently. Once we spotted the muzzle ashes from their weapons, they were easy targets. It felt so surreal, it was like a random war movie that I had watched a million times, but now we had the starring roles, and the incoming rounds were for real… we could all die. We came up on the bridge at dusk and one of the Outlaw LAVAD vehicles yelled on the radio that some white trucks were driving in and out of our column. Suddenly we heard they had guns and then all hell broke loose. Gunre was everywhere. We were getting assaulted from both sides. We directed our re to opposite sides of the road just like we trained. You couldn't see the Iraqis, but you could see the muzzle re. Suddenly someone popped ares up in the air, and what we thought were only a few Iraqi soldiers were several different groups. I engaged the closest Iraqi soldier with my M-16 he was less than ve feet from my vehicle and red 3 to 6 rounds in his direction. Once again, time froze as I watched him fall to the ground in slow motion and I waited for him to get back up and walk away. The Iraqi soldier I engaged lurched forward after I shot him and fell to the ground, shook uncontrollably, and then stopped. I knew he was dead, so I went to the next group and that’s when I noticed that the Iraqi soldiers were ring at us from behind civilians, mainly women and children. I remember thinking that these guys were cowards. I watched as these people were so defenseless and Marines were ring at them to try and get the soldiers behind them. I have tried many times to block that part out of my memory, but it is impossible, and it will haunt me forever. I ordered my crew to re, Cpl Thomas was on the Gatlin gun and red a few bursts, and then our weapon jammed. I told him to use his M16 and not let anything come close to our vehicle. You talk about a rude wake-up call! Flares started illuminating the night sky turning darkness into day in an instant. Our FLIR and advanced optics became useless under the strobe-light effect of the ares going up. In the ash, I could now see just how close the Iraqi soldiers were to our vehicles. Time unfroze again and as Marines are trained to do, I automatically went on to engage the next Iraqi soldier and then the next and the next. I remember that as I began to get low on ammo, I could hear my driver, Stultz begging me to let him pop up out of the vehicle and engage the enemy. I initially ignored his pleas, as vehicle commander I knew I was responsible for this young Marine, and I was suddenly overwhelmed with the protective feelings of that of an “older brother.” Stultz continued arguing his case with determination and I began thinking he is a Marine, he had also trained 24

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for this, and I knew at that moment that I had no right to try and take that away from him. I gave him the go-ahead and allowed him to pop up and engage. I was unexpectedly overtaken with the thought that I had just broken a promise that I had made to Stultz’s mom, I promised her that as his Sergeant, I would do everything to keep her “baby” safe over there. As he red on, all I could see were ashes of light as the enemy continued ring back at us. All thoughts and feelings quickly vanished as I heard Outlaw 3 screaming out over the radio, “Sergeant Surray has just been shot!” I automatically traversed my view over to Outlaw 3’s location and was met with the sight of one of my closest friends slumped over his turret. He wasn’t moving, time froze again...I instantly thought of Sgt. Surray’s wife and kids and how losing him would affect them. I was lost in that thought for only a moment as time resumed less than a second later, and I was suddenly focused on Sgt. Surray’s gunner, Cpl. Dominguez. I could hear him yelling out that he was trying to see where Sgt. Surray had been hit. I could see Cpl. Dominguez struggling to get Sgt. Surray back inside the vehicle. I told Stultz to drop back in and pull us up to the rear of Outlaw 3. We were there in what seemed like half a second. I saw Iraqi soldiers beginning to make their retreat and I was about to jump off my vehicle and jump on Outlaw 3’s vehicle. Just as I was about to jump on the back of their turret, I saw Dominguez pull Surray back inside. I turned and ran back from the front of my vehicle as fast as I could. I climbed back into the turret of my vehicle and the commander’s seat. Cpl. Dominguez contacted me on the radio and told me Sgt Surray was shot but he was alive. I told them as soon as we got back to the coil, I would get them help. I was left so out of breath at that point that I couldn’t say anything. I saw Stultz’s face turn to sheer panic, he thought I had been hit too. I caught just enough air to yell out to him that I was ne. Almost automatically, we jumped back in and held our position. I felt like I was running on nothing but my adrenaline at that point. It had held me in there, pushed me so far and so hard that once we were nally ordered to fall back, I was completely spent. We coiled up afterward and we were told to stay in our vehicles until dawn. Everything fell quiet and I was left in what felt like the most excruciating hours of my life, waiting to go check on Surray. Finally, it got to the point where I couldn’t wait anymore, and I went over to Surray’s vehicle to check on him. He had been hit in the lower back and he was in so much pain. While I was there, a Navy Corpsman came over and checked on Surray. 25

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It was decided by the command that Surray and his crew would be moved back to the rear so Surray could get treatment. With Sgt Surray and his crew being moved to the rear that left us shorthanded with only three Outlaw vehicles and with the way they were using us for missions because of the third-generation sights and our FLIR on our vehicles we were continuously going on missions and never getting to rest. It had gotten to the point that we had gone out with every company that pushed forward and had gone over 30 hours plus without rest. The only time we would get a little relief was when the company we would push forward with would be getting their order movement. We asked our platoon commander to inform the command that we needed to rest too but it fell on deaf ears. It felt like this platoon commander was trying to receive the Medal of Honor on every mission we went out on. Great! Another Ofcer willing to sacrice his men for a medal. Ofcers never change. It wasn’t until a ranking ofcer was driving around talking to the Marines that they came upon Outlaw One’s Gunner Corporal Lopez who told the ofcer that we were so tired because we continued to go on missions with all the companies who get to rest, and we haven’t had a chance to. This ofcer saw what Lopez was talking about and called for all the vehicle commanders to come over to Outlaw One’s position. This ofcer asked us why we didn’t tell our platoon commander. After we all told him that the platoon commander had already been told he said he would handle it. About an hour later we were told to load up and we pushed back to go coil up at our perimeter (defensive positions) and told to get chow and rest up for the next 24 to 36 hours. I think about those days, and I am extremely honored to have fought alongside these Marines. They will always be my brothers, my fellow Warriors until the day I die. During the missions we went on I always felt safe because we trained together, and I knew what these Marines were going to do before they even did it. I am alive and here today because of them, and how they performed in combat. Saying all this, I would not wish war on my worst enemy.____WE ARE GOING TO THE DRIVE-IN MOVIESSgtMaj. Greg LealAs we close on An Nasiriya, we see the smoke billowing from the buildings in the town. Marines on the ground had secured one of the two required bridges to continue their mission of taking An Nasiriyah. But things aren’t going as planned. 26"When you're going through hell, "When you're going through hell, it is awesome to know you have it is awesome to know you have Marines on your right and your Marines on your right and your left, with a kick ass Corpsman left, with a kick ass Corpsman who's got your back."who's got your back."SgtMaj. LealSgtMaj. Leal

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Helicopters ying in support of Task Force Tarawa, you can hear the thumping sound that the rotors make. Cobras re rockets into enemy positions.As we sit on Route 7 waiting to get the word to join the ght in An Nasiriya, I look at the town in front of us, and I get a ash across my mind, we are at the drive-in theater. The big screen is the horizon to our north. As we place the RCT in defensive positions it’s as if we're lining up next to the little squawk box, waiting to hear the details on the night’s movie, and to let us know that fresh popcorn and soft drinks are available in the concession stand. In the movie, the enemy has a small town surrounded by all its citizens and it’s time for the Marines to come to their rescue. The only items missing are an ice-cold Coke and some salted buttered popcorn. In their place, a canteen of water and a MRE (Meal Ready to Eat)... the whole scene is surreal. In a very short time, RCT-1 will be in the middle of the madness battling the very enemy that TF Tarawa is now ghting. No drive though, we are pulling into the defensive positions, and its MREs and the squawk box is the radio handset constantly passing information. In turn, we are constantly feeding the bear. The bear being Blue Diamond, (1st Marine Division Headquarters).That was a tough couple of days wanting and waiting to join the ght. Watching the battle before us and knowing the battle space was too small as it was. So, we sat there with our teeth grinding and our hummer tires burning rubber, creating a dust storm of our own. Our trigger ngers pulled almost to the point of no return.____TF TARAWABy Rodney ‘Doc’ TregleWe waited, and waited, soon Marines of the 15th Marine Expeditionary Unit would appear. From the chaos, the smell of smoke and gunpowder was on their bodies with blood on their boots both from the enemy and themselves. Looking into their eyes the “change” had happened. It’s the look as everyone calls it, the thousand-yard stare. They are forever changed, and they don’t even know it. Their lives, along with thousands of others, will consist of frustration and confusion to explain why they exist.The RAS was called forward the day that TF Tarawa took their casualties. I do not remember the date, but it was when we rst pulled up outside of the city. We received a radio call for the RAS to report to the CP. Our forward section moved up the column and met Captain Wicklund on the side of the road. He told us that Tarawa had taken signicant casualties and needed our assistance. We called our rear section forward and tried to pull the CSSC 111 element out of the column, but they were too far behind us to link up expeditiously. HMCS Minkowski's ambulance met up with us and we also linked up with the medical section of an 27

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unattached unit that promptly disappeared down the road never to be seen again. When asked what our orders were, I remember verbatim to this day what Captain John Wicklund told us. "Go down the road until they shoot at you, then pull over and set up." It was at this time the RAS learned that we would be unable to communicate with Tarawa and did not have a grid on where to go. Off we went. I remember distinctly the smoke from the city as we passed our lead elements into the wild west. We made it about 10 clicks up the road or so when a few mortar rounds started dropping in the elds to the right side of the highway... a hundred or so yards away. I remember HMCS Jack Graham smirking at the rest of us. Not much further down the road, a line of tracers zipped over the road just ahead of us. We pulled to the left side of the road down an embankment and continued a hundred yards or so to an artillery battery that was receiving casualties. We fell in and set up there with a battery from 1/10. We took their corpsmen under our wing. We received 20-30 casualties from the ght. Most were civilians coming from the An Nasiriyah Hospital.I remember the rst one off a CH-46 having abdominal staples and drains in. We had no idea they were sending locals to us. We spent 3-4 hours there treating and evacuating the wounded. HMCS Graham met up with the battery command to work their radios for the medevacs. Once we shipped everyone out, we checked in with the battery, determined they no longer needed our help, and returned to the RCT lines.An interesting side note. I met my wife in 2006 after I returned to Louisiana. We were married and not long after, I met her cousin Walker Field who was a Marine Mustang and artillery ofcer. Turns out, he was the battery commander we fell in on in 2003 along the side of the road in An Nasiriyah. Small world.I am still haunted by some of what transpired. That said, we were noble and right in what we did for both the people of Iraq and each other.As we make our way through the city, we can see the death and destruction from both sides. With the 3rd Battalion 1st Marines providing a gauntlet and the 2nd Light Armored Reconnaissance leading the way, we started our journey into the unknown.28

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As he draws his sword, looking up at the horizon with the sun beating down on his face, does the Warrior wonder if before the rst shot in yet another battle is red, does he look at himself as the hero? What he does know is that without his young leadership, there would be no heroes. Unlike most who are foolish enough to think that without him no one will succeed. He knows without their actions there is no victory. He knows there is no rest for those who have chosen this life of protecting those who cannot or will not stand up for themselves.An Nasiriyah, thinking to myself, here we are looking into the Devil's abyss. Watching, waiting for our number to be called. It's going to be a full spirit through the gauntlet. It's the ferocity and commitment of the attack that decides who will be burying the other when the ght is over. Yet as we walk through our self-made nightmare, we come upon those who dared ght against us. Some still barely breathing choking on their blood. At the same time, others call out to their God. Maybe looking for forgiveness so they may enter the kingdom of God. Some step onto the battleeld with one foot already in the grave. They were not so condent in their commitment. We watched them (Saddam Fedayeen) blink and knew it was over before the rst shot was red.In a day maybe two we will meet. Our two worlds will collide on this battleeld. A desert so vast so barren yet we will hit our enemy head-on. Some will cower dropping their weapons and leaving their brothers to face the onslaught of an enemy who is so well seasoned, so well trained that no opposing force will win against them. Some will stand tall and ght to certain death, they will stand and pray to Allah to save them, but their prayers will fall on deaf ears.The Warrior’s body is worn from the scares of war, yet he ghts on. He believes that he ghts for his Homeland, the one place that is true and right. His King sent him to ght for a noble cause. There's no rest for warriors, you can see in his face the toughness, the battle scars. If you look in his eyes you see the horrors of those lives taken and those warriors, he has lost. All those nights he couldn't or wouldn’t sleep. On his face are the scars of war. Yet he ghts on. His men look up to him not for the medals on this chest no sir they look up to him because he is the one with them in every perilous engagement the platoon will take on. He doesn’t care that the nonparticipants take credit for his deeds. He doesn’t need the pat on the back or some general’s speech. Yet he ghts on. His only thoughts are let’s win this bitch and go home and get a beer.It's time, we got the word to move to our staging areas. This war machine is starting its engines, once this bitch gets rolling, they’ll be no stopping it until the mission is completed. Vehicles of every size and shape, with different types of weapons, and men who are ready for war manning them. To WARRIORS31

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look at these men, to see their focus, commitment, to see their drive, it’s truly amazing. Everything that Americans lack, is in these warriors. I know it because their leadership, SSgts, Sgts, and Cpls have pounded into their Marine's heads the Immediate Action (IA) drills that they have done for the last year have made them condent. Though their minds race the checklist, that they have gone through time and again, to the point that it’s as common as shaving in the morning. Its times like this we know we have trained them well, but we still wonder in our minds, was it enough? Their actions in combat will quickly set our minds at ease.To those who have never been a part of the team that ghts for freedom, it leaves a hole in the heart of a man. Take those so-called men now to join their fellow warriors at a place where only men of honor go. To give all is and will always be my most endearing quality in a person. The Warrior does not seek self-notoriety, no banners with his name, no speeches to speak about his courage or his good will toward the weak. The Leader of his men will speak of their deeds for he knows his men sacrice for the good. The Leader knows he is nothing without his men. A hero is not seeking glory. An event takes place in front or near him as if he was chosen to test his medal. I only want true Warriors to share the stage with me.Someone who faced incredible odds. A hero didn't run away at the point of impact so he may see his family once more. Warriors run forward to the sounds of the gun because he wants others to live free to do or not do what they please. He is not a star athlete of any type. We are telling our young that athlete’s actors are some sort of royalty. Some live paycheck to paycheck, they have marriage problems, a car, and a home, and they have other day-to-day problems. They are your average day-to-day person. Trying to nd my way home. There have been a lot of dark days so dark that it seems there would never be light and I begin to doubt whether there was light. I nd that the ickering turned out to be I was chasing a ickering star. In my mind, they are still falling to the ground in slow motion. If they were left on the ground would the soil around them absorb their soul and leave their corpse to rot and be picked at by the vultures ying nearby waiting for the all-clear so they can do their part in the natural cycle of life and death? The foot soldiers of the world meet on the battleeld lesser with men. As my enemy lies on the ground before me, I wonder if he too fought for God and country. Thinking that by the hand of God, he will strike down the invaders, the indel who have crossed that invisible line. I don’t know when this war will end, but it's over for you.Where were you when the rounds started coming down range? Was there any thought of joining those warriors who are now in the ght? Take them, now to join their fellow warriors at a place that only men of honor can go. Those who are warriors have stepped on hallowed ground. This place, this land where men fought to the best of 32

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their ability. They have fought with their heart and soul, believing that theirs was the ght for honor. Their bodies are nothing more than a vehicle to get them through the ght. That's the average man. Not these warriors. They are the true ascendants of the Warrior spirit. Their bodies are the weapon, and the thing in his hands is an extension of the weapon, but their mind is that of the warrior for he is committed to carrying on the spirit of those Marine warriors who came before him. For those who dare face the Warrior, life will end quickly though he will ght his best. About face. I want everyone in a leadership position to go back to your units and put them into formation according to rank. Senior to junior. Walk down the line and look into their eyes. I ask that you see that their bodies are whole. I want you to look at your young men and women. I want you to be honest with yourself did you look at them straight in the eyes or did you look down at them as something less? We all know the "Leadership Traits and Principles." But how many of you actually use them? I would rather have leaders who put their men before themselves, than someone who can recite “Leadership Traits and Principles” and have no idea how to use them. In the end, the warriors will be forgotten. They know their fate is to fade away and be forgotten and disappear into the desert sand. The sand holds its secrets so well that centuries from now those who look for hidden treasures will nd the warriors who as if frozen in time still in the ght. Where were you when the rounds started coming down range? Was there any thought of joining those warriors who are now in the ght? It's the ferocity and commitment of the attack that decides who will be burying the other when the ght is over. Yet as we walk through our self-made nightmare, we come upon those who dared ght against us. Some still barely breathing choking on their blood. At the same time, others call out to their God. Most are missing limbs, their bodies non-recognizable. Maybe looking for forgiveness so they may enter the kingdom of God. Some, step onto the battleeld with one foot already in the grave. They were not so condent in their commitment. We watched them (Saddam Fedayeen) blink and knew it was over before the rst shot was red.On the battleeld, the best of our country is normally the rst, second, and third waves. The rst wave has to see what the true capabilities of the enemy are. They overwhelm the enemy, but leave the stragglers behind, intimately causing hate and discontent amongst those who have doubts about their effectiveness. The second wave is often used as reinforcements, but they take the lessons learned from the rst wave. The third wave has learned the lessons of the rst and second waves.33

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As we walked across the smoking battleeld it was the smell of death that hits us rst, then as the dust starts to clear, we can see the death and destruction that we had caused. Crossing several battleelds before, this one is different in that the amount of death. There is an eerie quiet almost peaceful calm, which is a stark difference from just moments ago when there was yelling and the sounds of gunre and smoke lling every spot on the horizon. From SNCOs and NCOs barking out orders directing their platoons and squads into the attack, to the Fire Direction Center processing requests for artillery support. Yes, it is true, artillery is the king of battle. In some cases, the reght was over in a few hours, and in others just minutes. As I looked at the bodies of men who once were whole, for in most cases were ghting for a noble cause, just as we were. Ours was to free a suppressed people and theirs was to keep their country free from the indel. I often think about why the differences in people’s ideas cause us to clash with one another. To see the broken bodies, most missing arms and legs, others their heads. You have to wonder whose cause was right. The phrase “If God be with us who bet against us” comes to mind. Doesn’t our enemy have their God? Did they make the wrong choice? What is very evident is that they have been left behind. Their comrades in arms slipped out the back door while they weren’t watching. Is it that ours is a stronger nation, because we won, or is it because we are the country with the most natural resources? If you think about it, 3rd world counties are usually those with limited natural resources. However, a county like Iraq, which has what everyone wants, chooses to suppress its people and limit the better things in life to a few. I look at these men, who have chosen to enter the battleeld against us, I have no pity, but I do have respect. My Vietnam Veteran leadership taught me this above all, “Respect your enemy”, for he dared to join in this battle, he did not cower behind a desk, or stand behind a podium and make meaningless speeches, so those who know not the cost of war can bathe themselves in the foolishness of words. They will, when asked to join, quickly cower and speak that they are a peace- loving people and that killing is below them, but I do look as these men, these warriors like me, they have fought the good ght, but now as life leaves their bodies, the blood slowly spills on to the ground, I continue to look into his eyes they start to close, there is almost a willingness to give up and pass on to the hereafter. Others yell and scream ghting for that last breath. The shock of dying is setting in. They want another chance to live. Some will promise their god that if given another chance at life, they will do good instead bad. I will see my fellow warrior's faces for the rest of my life. Some say that the good dye young. If that is true, THE BATTLEFIELD37

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the longer we live the better chance of the rest of us are going to hell. “Yes, rest awaits the dead and dying, so come to me, for I will give you the peace that you have longed for.” Maybe to say that I have succumbed to the fact that my life on earth is done, I have done what I can, good or bad. As I look into their eyes while they are closing, I think about what got them to where they are today. Remembering that we all at some point in our lives had certain innocence. In our childhood days, we ran and played only thinking that what a fun time we were having. We would have played all night long if our parents would have allowed it. Looking for candy was our top priority, not looking for weapons.Now it's over, we cover their bodies with what we have available. Sometimes I think that even though their eyes are closed, I think they’re watching, to see what we will do with time. Will we care for them as humans would, but then there is nothing human about taking a life is there? We won, but were not dancing, why? We have liberated a country, they are dancing, why aren’t we? We don’t dance because we know that the killing isn’t over. In fact, the killing has just begun, there will be more killing in the months and years to come. The people of this country have more turmoil to attend to, but then for most violence is all they have ever known. One day there will be a civil war. Once and for all they will ght each other too, at some point begin anew.There will be chaos in this country for years to come. We as Marines will serve proudly and stand the watch. We stand the watch for people who want and need change. One day the people of this country will govern themselves and we as old men will look back with pride and know that we made a difference.38

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WATCH WHAT YOU TELL YOUR MARINES!They’re coming: Rounds coming down range. Snapping sounds, a zing here and there, dirt kicking up something making holes in our vehicles, it takes a couple of seconds to realize that we're actually being shot at. Once it registers, we’re on line, Marine NCOs are shouting out ADDRAC, every weapon available is cutting loose, except for Cpl Foy. I look over to him and see that he is trying to drive and watch for the enemy at the same time.It’s not a big deal at that time but later when we are in Kut, he when we are having one hell of a re-ght. I look over to see him aiming his weapon, but he is still yet to re. In the meantime, Cpl Lunsford’s 50 cal machine gun is whaling away. He and another machine gunner have their guns singing. Little did I know that Cpl Foy is looking for that well aimed shot, looking for the enemy to stand still so he can place one center mass? Later that day, I get on him and ask him why he hasn’t red his weapon, why do I see every Marine who is not calling in for air support or doing something to suppress the enemy shooting their weap-on except you! He replies “SgtMaj you told the regiment while in Kuwait to make sure took well aims shots, and that you didn’t want to see some wild, wild west shoot out”. “I quickly snapped back at him and said do you know what suppression re is”? He stated yes Sergeant Major, and I said do it then. I did learn a very valuable lesson that day. Make sure you are clear with your commands.Even the simplest ones. Cpl Foy, being the good Marine, did exactly as he was told. Good job Cpl Foy.41

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“I’ve never had a Marine or Sailor let me down in combat.” It’s not the way that the civil war reenactments are done, where in some sick way someone thought it was like a good romance novel. They walk around in their blue or gray uniform with makeup and fake battle dressing and talk about General Grant and Lee as if they were some kind of god…gods and generals, what a bunch of crap! Now back to this thing called reality. We walked across the smoking battleeld, the dust starts to clear, we can smell the stench of death and see the destruction that we have caused. In some cases, the ght lasted for only a few hours, and in others just minutes. What was once a small village has now become a wasteland of death and destruction. There are bodies of the dead and dying strewn across the battleeld and in every direction. What were the thoughts of those who die in their nal seconds? The bullet rips through the skin, in most cases making a not very noticeable small hole. And yet, as it travels through the body... tumbling, grabbing, and ripping at the soul. Your body and your very being now going into shock, trying so hard to protect itself from this foreign intruder, yet it knows that there is nothing it can do. Metal against the esh... and you lose. As it exits your body, creating a gaping hole, it takes with it your thoughts of invincibility. Your condence is gone, and you begin to stagger, looking down at what evil has befallen you. Reaching down and feeling the warmth of your own blood, you look up to the heavens, pointing with your bloodied hand, and ask, “where is my God?” He promised to protect me. He promised me everlasting life. I’ve been the believer that he has asked me to be. Has he, at this critical moment abandoned you? If so, why? Just minutes before their bodies were moving about, oxygen pumping in and out of their lungs. Blood owed through their veins, but now life escapes them. As the Life-blood leaves the body, you see the eyes starting to close, you see them almost willing to give up and pass onto the hereafter. Rest awaits the dead and dying. “So come to me, for I will give you the peace that you have longed for.” Did they say, “I have succumbed to the fact that my life on earth is done. I have done what I can, good or bad.” As I look into their eyes as they close, I think about what got them to where they are today.GROUND ZERO OF THE SOUL45

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Remembering that we all at some point had certain innocence. In our childhood days, we ran and played only thinking that what a fun time we were having. We would have played all night long if our parents allowed it. Looking for candy was our top priority not looking for a weapon. As I looked at the bodies of men who once were whole, for in most cases were ghting for a noble cause, just as we were. Ours was to free an oppressed people and theirs was to keep their country free from the ‘indel.’ I often think about why the difference in people’s ideas cause us to clash with one another. To see the broken bodies, most missing arms and legs, others missing their heads. You have to wonder whose cause was right. The phrase “If God be with us who be against us” comes to mind. Doesn’t our enemy have their God? Why did we have men and women killed in action? Why do innocent people die? Did they make the wrong choice? Is ours a stronger God, because we won, or is it because we are the country with the most natural resources?46

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Thump, thump, thump... the sounds of the CH-46 rotor blades cut through the wind. As I look up and shield my eyes from the sun, I can see the familiar shape coming into view. The helicopter begins its descent, kicking up sand and dirt, and then halts. I do a ashback to Twenty-Nine Palms. I remember Elena and I hearing that sound, and she turned to me and said, “I feel so safe when I hear that sound.” Today on the outskirts of Baghdad, in some way the helicopter is going to take a PFC to a safe place, a nal resting place. A place we all will go someday to get the rest that we so desperately need. It has been hell on earth, but one man will get his rest. It’s the beginning to the end, a start to his other journey, to his nal resting place. Without warning, a shot rings out and in an instant, he falls grabbing at his chest. The call goes out “Corpsman!” Without hesitation, Doc is on his feet with his unit ve strapped to his back. He makes his way to the wounded Marine, but no matter how fast he runs, he is too late. The re team is working on him, doing what they can to help, but it’s too late. You can’t tell Doc that he is dead, because, Doc will go until exhaustion to save his Marine. Doc has been taught if you lose one in combat you fail.Yet in an instant, he is dead. The realization that we have lost one of our own starts to sink in, but no one wants to believe it. How could this happen? Why does this happen? What could we have done to prevent the death of this young motivated Marine? He was here to protect our nation against its enemies. His was a noble cause. The rest of us stand helplessly wanting to do something, but we know that Doc has him and that if anyone can save him it will be Doc. At the same time, the rest of the squad is looking for the sniper. All have revenge in their eyes. It’s payback time and someone’s going to die. No one takes a Marine away from us and lives. As the medical evacuation is being requested, the helo already has an onboard causality that had been shot in the neck and is almost to the CAS (Causality Aid Station) point and it’s too late to turn around. I remember the Corpsman taking such good care of the Marine. Once it was determined that all that could be done to save him had been done, they unfolded an American ag and draped it across his body. By this time the causality evacuation helo has made it back. Four Marines and our Corpsman grab the stretcher he is laying on and began the short trip to the helo. With its rotors turning the helo lands and the ramp lowers. The crew chief races out to assist. He waves at the small group to come to him, and we will take care of our fellow Marine. We all watch to ensure the Marine is getting to the helo. Even then we pray that, by some miracle, he will be saved. That he will just jump up and run back and join his re team and everything will be good again. LOSING A MARINE DUE TO SNIPER FIRE49"Marines don't need heroes, because we have Corpsman!"SgtMaj. Leal

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But we know that it won’t happen. The closer the stretcher gets to the helo the Marines grasp the ag to ensure it doesn’t y off. From the bouncing around due to the uneven ground the dead Marines's right arm extends from under the ag and the corpsman gently grabs it and places it across the Marines's chest over the ag.It’s as if he is giving us his last salute. Marines even know that in dying, always be professional. Once placed in the helo, we watch as it lifts off the ground to take him home. Having served on several funeral details myself, I start to go through the process in my mind. At some late hour, the Causality Assistance Calls Ofcer (CACO) and an assistant will get the call from Headquarters Marine Corps, he gets a lump in his throat, knowing what he will have to do next. As the staff works to ensure they have the correct information, the CACO and his assistant start to get their dress blues on (later changed to green alphas). With the info in their hands, they get into the government vehicle and drive into the darkness of the night. Somewhere on the coast or the farm lands of middle America, mom, dad, a wife will receive the worst news anyone can deliver. Very little is said between the two, there is only the quiet anticipation of what they must do. Gathering their thoughts, they reach the doorstep of the Marine’s home. The ringing of the doorbell sets off the beginning of a dreadful evening. When the door is answered, she knows, and the tears start to ow. All stand motionless as they make their way inside the home. Trying to clear his throat, the CACO speaks out in a breaking sound, what no one wants to say, and no one wants to hear. “Mrs., I regret to inform you that your husband, LCpl [Insert Name Here] was killed in action today in the outskirts of eastern Baghdad Iraq.” He makes a feeble attempt to bring some comfort by adding, “On all accounts of your husband’s action in combat he fought bravely. But the words fall on deaf ears. At this point, there are no words, only tears. She has lost her husband, and we lost a comrade in arms. What people don’t know is that we as Marines all lost a true warrior, a man who was willing to stand up for what is right. We have lost a part of ourselves that will never return. It is said that time heals all wounds, not true. it only dulls the pain, but the memory is forever. Ask the loved one who has lost, ask those who were standing at the grave site, helplessly watching as the cofn is lowered, ask them will the pain go away, and the response without a doubt will be no. Are we all just dust in the wind?50

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Other than the platoon commander, I don’t know of any commander who is truly in command on the battleeld. The true leaders are the Platoon Sergeants, Staff Sergeants, Sergeants, and Corporals. Unless the company commander has a rie in his hand pulling the trigger and joins the ght, he and his staff manage assets in direct support of the ghting units. Any commander that thinks he is the reason for a unit’s success in battle is self-serving. Chances are he held the platoon back so he would have someone to “command” during an exercise. You have to ask yourself when was the last time anyone saw a captain kicking the door down and running into a building to clear it. If he gets himself in that situation then he’s not doing his job. When commanders write books about the battleeld, they can only tell of the accomplishments of their men. Too often when written the Commander writes as if he were in the middle of the reght, when in truth he was miles away, in a combat operations center. How tiring is it to hear a Commander speak as if it weren’t for him, his men wouldn’t have been successful. The reality is, that had it not been for the training at every stage of a Marine’s career, it would be impossible for the Commander to take the credit for success on the battleeld. It’s not the Combined Arms Exercise (CAX) or any exercise of that size that makes the platoon effective, its mount training, patrolling, hand-to-hand combat training, and all the small unit training that makes the unit successful. I’ve always been interested in the young enlisted Marine who has been there and done that. When he speaks, we all should be listening and taking notes.He is going to tell us the truth, the down and dirty of war. The horrors that he has gone through will be told without the romantic lines that those who have been near it and not in it so often do. When we lay them down for their nal sleep, the number of enlisted leaders will far outweigh the ofcer leadership. Yet we place more honor on the ofcer. Were the streets named after enlisted men, where are the VFW post and salutes named for them? It takes an enlisted man to be awarded the Medal of Honor to receive the same honors automatically given to ofcers. When civilians come to visit bases, the grand tour is given, and they are given immediate access to the commander, yet other than a Change of Command (COC) an enlisted Marine will seldom see his Commanding Ofcer (CO) during the entire time he is in the unit. WHO’S IN COMMAND?53

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The commander speaks of his accomplishments in the unit and also recognizes the ofcers in attendance. At some point, he turns to the men in the formation and thanks them for their service. What he doesn’t know is that the enlisted Marines in the formation know that without them, and the hard training they do on their own, that is what gives them the success that they bathe themselves in. What goes on in the mind of someone who knows all too well that there is no glory in combat, but only that death is coming.Yes, there will be victory, but at what cost? As the victorious raise their banner over the defeated, but do they look back to see the human cost of “this thing called war?”54

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WALK A MILE IN OUR BOOTSMoving to our dispersal areas, Marines everywhere are going over the battle plan. They are ready. As this war machine begins to roll, clouds of dust, mixed with fuel make for a nasty stench. But, the stench of dead, decaying bodies would obviously exceed anyone’s imagination and would be much worse.It’s always been known that we look to our leadership for guidance and wisdom. We also look for experience. When we look at our leaders, and often we see the medals on their chest as an indication of their level of experience. What we don’t see is the personal sacrice or what they have gone through to gain that experience.I remember the Vietnam Veterans and seeing the 1000-yard stare; so often referred to as the ‘man who has seen all too many times the horrors of war.’ The pain that they carry is massive! And many times, he caused it; many times, he directed the re by his own hand. The Vietnam war was more personal on a much grander scale. He may have used a knife or pulled the trigger at point blank range. In either case, he more than likely had seen the whites of the eyes of the enemy prior to doing his duty; “for God, Country, and Corps.” When it came his turn, he without hesitation, ended another man’s life.As often as we speak about having been there, done that; nothing compares to the Marine who is doing it now. How many times has the junior Marine heard, ‘ten years ago’ or in the ‘old Corps’, shame on those who think they know what active duty are going through. We have to remember that warfare evolves with each new generation of Marines.Combat stress goes beyond the schoolbook trained psychology. The closest most have come to combat is watching the movie ‘We Were Soldiers.’ What goes on in the mind of someone who knows all too well that there is no glory in combat, only that death is coming. And when it comes, it will come in a rage of fury never experienced by civilians.Only the atomic bomb will surpass the destructive force of Marines on the ground. Their shear ability to focus on the enemy and destroy them is truly fundamental to the Corps itself.Where were you when this county was attacked on 9/11? What did you do about it?59

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Did you wave a ag and say “send in the Marines?” Then at the end of the day, run home and tell your family you love them, all the while holding them tight and feeling no shame in letting others do the dirty work. An American’s ability to be arrogant and ignorant at the same time is in the hands of a few men brave enough to ght for freedom.”“Stop sucking your thumb, let go of your mother’s apron strings. Pick up a weapon, join the men in the trench line, and do something to help keep this country free. For if you do, you will join those who have given their all, who gave their lives for those who cannot.Yet, the sad thing is, our nation didn’t care. Out of sight, out of mind. Can you tell me the name the rst Marine killed in action? Do you even care? His name was LCpl. José Antonio Gutierrez, born in Guatemala and died in Umm Qasar Iraq on March 21, 2003, just four days before completing one- year as a Marine.The problem is the world is full of takers not willing to do their part, yet feel they have the right toenjoy freedoms that they themselves won’t ght for. Enjoy your freedom for free. The things we do for a country that doesn’t care, ours and theirs.I was told by a neighbor that I needed a light on my ag for ying at night. I told him until he ghts for it don’t tell me how to y my ag. For those who have fought for it, freedom has a avor the protected will never know.We Marines will cross this desert land while ghting along the way, an enemy who in some odd way, thinks that through their belief in a god that only their leader has spoken to, has told him that they will win against this invader, this indel will die!We came that day as a force of condent men with only one thought in mind ‘Winning’.I believe in a person who gives it his all and wants nothing in return. To sacrice all for a worthy cause. They do it for the sake of patriotism, but they don’t see the injustice until they have given away their innocence. I have seen good men fall for what they consider a noble cause.Should you fall while trying to achieve greatness, don’t despair at how others will look at you. Know that those who mocked you, know only emptiness in their hearts.And in order to ll that emptiness they must put you down. You are the one who at least stood tall and ran to the sounds of the guns. You ran to the sounds of the guns without hesitation.60

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While cowards lay in their beds hoping and praying that you would put down the tyrant, so he could lay in comfort and not have to ght for the freedom you provide. His freedom is free.Leading men in battle, I sometimes see myself as the dark angel and other times as the savior of the world. While people who think they’re better, will talk, causing other men to look at us with shame. But for the rest of their lives, we will only remember them as shameless cowards.Do men ght with rie in one hand and the good book in the other? Do they believe that their God has brought them here to this battleeld, is this his faith to live or to die? Will he today meet his maker?I am but a warrior, who by the will of others, sends those who ght for the weak, who cannot ght for their freedom. If I should fall on the battleeld this day, I know not what will be remembered. But I do know what I and others have done.By giving our lives we will guarantee the freedom of others. Should I live this day I will keep in my heart those faces of the fallen, for they too had dreams of living. They too gave all, so that others shall sleep in their beds as old men.While other old men will realize their life lived for so long has no meaning. They will wish that they could have been the hero. For those who have fallen, will know that their life, though short, was more fullling.Only the brave who speak the words of freedom; will speak of ghting for it. Fight for freedom! Thank God for the brave!61

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Blind spot, I didn’t see it coming and this wasn’t supposed to happen. I got extremely scared today. So much so that I thought I was going to die a horrible death. As I passed over FM 730 on my way home I thought I heard the horn of a freight train. The noise was so deafening I thought the impact was on me. I was shaking uncontrollably for about ten minutes. I had to pull off to the side of the road until I was able to breathe again. I've had that same experience when passing near DFW airport. But in that case, I knew I was near the airport, but I couldn't associate the noise with an airplane. Each time it happens it's totally unexpected and scares the hell out of me.What if I end up in some horric death that she witnesses? Why, why must she bear witness to my horric end? Life as in death is so unfair. The Angel of Death is now stalking me. Did I see this coming death that awaits me? Maybe it will be the train crash. Have I seen my own death? It appears that I have. I was once the hunter, and now it appears that I am the hunted. Sweet death is coming for me. My nal rest is coming, and I am happy.I tried to tell her, but she didn't want to listen. I can't blame her, she's tired of me and all the crap I've put her through. The fact that she stays is beyond me. I often think our days together are numbered. I sometimes think I should tell her it's over just so I can let her go. At least she can live in peace, rest and not worry about me. What a coward I am. To put my family through all of this bullshit. Don’t tell your mother that I want to kill myself. The writing is on the wall... I should have never come back from Iraq. She waits for the true me to come home, but I never will, at least not like I was before. I know she doesn’t deserve to be put through all my craziness. The secret is in my eyes. No one will ever know the secrets that I will carry to my grave. They may see that there is an emptiness as they look at me. They wait to see if I’m okay. I then give a reassuring smile, a nod, and maybe a wink. Just so I can make those around me feel that I am okay, but I know that they see in my eyes that I am not okay. So, both sides, the caring and the one holding the secret know that death is near.It's never going to be okay. I'm going backward. I'm reverting back to the day that I came home from the war.Coming home with a broken or damaged heart... It may pump blood to the vital organs but now it is tainted and weak, infected with a disease of war. Your mind and body are not built to see or deal with the extremes of the dead. I know what the moral issues are. Let he who is without sin cast the rst stone.65

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In yesteryear, the warrior raised his mighty sword pointing to the sky and his shield to his side. Today the warrior raises his automatic weapon and wears a vest made of kevlar. Majestically, in war the two transform modern day warriors into killing machines. No one will kill the warrior for he is already dead inside and has been for longer than he knows...Don’t tell me about morals until you’re aiming a weapon at a civilian or an enemy when in a millisecond you have to decide to pull the trigger and let that round go down range. Seeing the mutilated bodies is overwhelming no matter who you are.The ending of human life is the cost of your death. Now it’s time to pay the price for taking life, with your own. I’m looking forward to death, I don’t want to get older. Getting older just means more pain. It seems that very few survive the horrors of war. It’s just a matter of time. Many veterans, regardless of their moral position on the war, fought and now struggle with a moral conscience after ghting.I’m trying to run away from myself, what I have done, and who I have become. You can try to run from yourself, but you’ll run right into the truth that you are just a shell of who you once were and completely unrecognizable.Idle hands do the devil’s work. So, I ride with the devil. The way it should have ended… I want everything to turn black. Just black. Only my brothers, the fallen and no one else deserve color. No war shades of gray just bright colors.I’m tired of being tired both physically and mentally. My brain is reacting ahead of reality. Thus, causing confusion and distrust in what I see and hear. I feel like my head is underwater and I can’t seem to nd my way to the surface. Through the water, I can see the sun as it sets. I wonder if my time is near. Will this be my last sunset, or will I make it to the sunlight of the dawn? I want and need the warmth of the sun.It’s time to let it go....People believe that the eyes are the window to the soul. This is true because people cannot hide behind the look of joy, despair, indifference, pain, and anger. I also believe the hands give us insight... the warmth, the feel, and the smooth comfort through a touch.When we were young, we were so dumb and naive, now we are older and wiser. Ignorance benetted us then, but now it’s the life lessons learned that show us it’s not about the destination so much as it is the journey that will account for our successes and failures. I face my demons every day. Slay the dragon. I am starting to see the horizon as in the good old days. I remember those days of true joy and laughter, not the constant hiding from those around me. I’ve been hiding from myself for so long it’s hard 66

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to nd me. But I know I will never be the same old me, whatever and whoever I was. I guess I’ll be a new me better, maybe stronger hopefully. I remember I was good once.I continue to function pretty regularly on a daily basis because my brain is trained to function under high- stress situations like combat. So, the normal day-to-day task is not an issue unless someone hits the wrong button then I go into a blind rage.I want the VA doctors to recognize what I'm going through and my family doctor does.What do I know? Who needs to know it? Have I told them?I’ll be your crying shoulder will you be mine? Even if it breaks your heart, and if your heart breaks so will mine...When I was your man…I held you rst. I loved you rst. You will always have a special place in my heart. Love, DadI won’t give up!The triumph of the spirit to overcome all odds is and will always be the center of focus for those who gave it their all. Knowing they might not survive so others may live, has a special meaning all its own. And for those who survive, they bear witness to their fallen and will safeguard the memory of the Warrior ....67"Your overwhelming desire to win will overcome any obstacles standing in your way to victory."SgtMaj. Leal, USMC (Ret.)SgtMaj. Leal, USMC (Ret.)

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THOSE UGLY WORDS"I regret to inform you..."It’s the worse day in anyone’s life... death notication. There she stands at the front door wondering what this white van is doing in the neighborhood. They look like they are lost. She starts getting the feeling that there is something wrong. I’m sure sometime earlier that day, there was a smile and thoughts of him coming home in time to see the birth of their rstborn. But at that moment, two Marines step out of the car and start to approach her door, her smile turns into a sad and desperate look. As her mind races, she hopes that there is a mistake. She thinks to herself I just talked to him yesterday and everything was ne. They laughed about how he was due to rotate soon, and they would again be together. She looks at them, surely, they're not coming to her door? Surely, they are lost, surely, they have come to her door for directions. But she knows, deep inside, that they have come to see her, they have come to rip her heart out, and destroy her life. As the men approach the door they too, know that no matter what words they speak or the message they hold in their shaking hands, her whole world will stop. They know that the young woman will wish, she too was dead. What they don’t know is that she is carrying the child of a Marine who while defending freedom in a foreign land died, so others could live free. As the senior Marine stares at the message, he has had in his hand for the last hour, “Mrs. "____.” I regret to inform you that your husband was,” her head starts to spin, and she falls to the ground. They place her on the couch, one runs to get a glass of water while the other, tries helplessly to assist. It's times like these that strong men lose their hardness, the coldness to feelings, that have been pushed down due to years of training not to care. And it now gives way under the weight of tears and uncontrollable sobbing. It is at that point that the Marine family and the civilian family unite as one.Although she has suffered a tremendous loss, she too begins to realize that these men have lost their brother Marine in Arms. At present, this scene has been repeated 8,492 times, and with the winds of war nipping at our heels yet again, they will not be the last. When I get to heaven, I will say to Saint Peter “One more Marine Reporting Sir, I’ve served my time in Hell.”71

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Unless man has empathy for those innocents caught in the middle of conict, he is no better than the tyrant he has come to remove.Walking into the Hell of our own making.As we made our way to the North side of An-Nasiriyah, we saw the burning Amtrac hulls and destroyed vehicles of every sort. Charred bodies beyond recognition, many others blood and guts, body parts, pieces arms here legs there you name it, it was everywhere. Some enemy soldiers still manning their positions indicating that they had never seen the killing blow coming. The Iraqi soldiers knew they were dead the minute the Marines crossed into Iraq; some ran but others stayed anyway.We came upon a mother and a baby who were presumed dead. I remember that everything had turned into slow motion, all heads in the vehicle turning away and wishing that they had not seen the two bodies lying there. As we went to investigate, we discovered the baby was still alive.We were relieved, but the mother was dead. More than likely, she sacriced herself trying to provide shelter for her infant child. As we scanned the area, bodies, so many bodies, and body parts were strewn across the engagement area. We could not take a body count even if we wanted to. We would have to literally get online as if to conduct a police call to check each one. However, our priority was the safety of the invading force. Securing the area to ensure that the enemy lost its combat effectiveness and willingness to ght, so as not to try and reform to attempt a counterattack.I remember all those innocent men, women, and children lying on the ground. Amongst them were the dead and dying, Iraqi soldiers and the Saddam Fedayeen who forced them out of their homes so they could cower behind them to be used as a human shield.In the desperate hours I remember some more than others. At night when I’m alone with a couple of shots of Tequila to keep me company, she comes for me. In her eyes I see the shock, the innocence; she knows she is going to die. But I don’t know why she is worried because I will save her. In my mind, she is running toward me. She is wearing a white nightgown, her hair owing in the night breeze. I ask myself why did I not save her, why didn’t I save her from the onslaught of the wave of human destruction that was all around her?While this concentration of insane repower we cannot even begin to know why some live and others die. We can say a greater power has allowed them to continue in this craziness. I’m one of those who was chosen to live wished they would die so as not to continue this hell on earth.In the desperate hours they come, oh yes, the demons come with ery blood-red eyes. In your sleep, they own your very soul.My rst nightmare. At least that I remember. Elena told me I have had many others. I dreamt of cutting I COULDN’T SAVE HER…75

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my arms off last night in three different dreams. My arms are black because they were burned by the re of an explosion. I can only remember the charred bodies from the nighttime engagement with the Saddam Fedayeen reinforcements that came from the North to help bolster the Iraqi forces.This memory is about something that happened just north of Nasiriya. All day my senses give way to the smell of death. I keep looking over my shoulder as if the demons are standing behind me waiting to take me away. I must stop them. They have already taken my thoughts and now they want to take me as their permanent slave. They do not sneak around because they own the night, they do, however, laugh and mock me. One day soon they know they will own me.Some of the dead have a look in their eyes as if desperately asking why. They cannot see, they have no eyes, they cannot speak, they have no lips. They cannot do anymore for their God, he has taken them home.There is only one way to stop the demons who are now visiting me in the night. They will take me to a hell of my own design, yes, my own, for they ran through my mind as if it is a Devil’s treat. When they nd me, they take great joy in constructing their playground and my hell. It is time to realize my fate. In fact, I can let go at any time, but I stay clenched by my own desire to suffer. I stay so I may suffer and feel life again. The demons know I will never feel life ever again. They laugh hysterically as they begin to rip the skin off my body. My black charcoal arms are next. They wave them in my face and laugh. My legs are soon to follow. They are now nothing more than bone. They yank my tongue out as if a sh had a shing hook in its mouth.Yes, I feel the pain and see the things the demons have done to me. The only time I am not screaming is when my soul is taken. Now I know I am truly dead. I think their game is over but as soon as it is over, I relive the entire nightmare again. I have only completed the circle once. I will relive the nightmare until I wake. In the desperate hours, the demons come again and again. There is only joy for the demons. I have received my prize. Not until you have seen death through the eyes of a child you will know the psychological trauma.I am haunted once again by my demons. For some reason, I am on my riding mower in a dark cave as if I were mowing the yard. Elena is following me watching me making sure I am okay. My demons will not let me go. As I drive deeper into the cave, I’m not mowing but now I am chopping something. In a split second, my demons are back grabbing at me. I turn to the left and right trying to run over them with the blades of my zero mower. But it does not seem to be working. I wake up seething and in a panic. Elena had been awakened by my thrashing around in my sleep. She asks me if I am, okay? I pray if they should nd me, I will be nothing, nothing more than dust. I will be nothing more than an afterthought.I had forgotten that years ago the RCT (what is an RCT?) Gunner had given me a CD of photos of the invasion of Iraq. She was there. She was in this little mud puddle. Yes, she was dead and that is why I could not save her. It was her innocence that stayed with me. She died that fateful day, but she will live with me forever.76

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I’m sure somewhere amongst the sea of dead, broken, and bullet-riddled bodies are her parents. For about a minute I think we should look for them. But where do we start and how would we know here in this sea of death? We start walking online to ensure none of the enemies are lying in wait to perhaps make a desperate last stand to kill the Indel who now rules over him and heknows that he has failed Allah and that there will be a price to pay in the afterlife. It’s somewhere after midnight, the RCT has been scratching, clawing, and ghting its way through the gauntlet at An-Nasiriyah. The hell we just passed through was only the beginning of the running gun battle that the regiment would be known for. The 1st Marine Division G-3 gave us that nickname.The gauntlet became the tactical norm, a blueprint that would be used to expedite our race to Baghdad. I can only describe it as being ushed down the toilet and straight into the rest of the shit owing in this septic tank called war. Somewhere in the darkness, the sun rose, and we rolled into the 2nd Light Armored Recon (LAR) infamous Battle of the Coil. Unbeknownst to Saddam’s Fedayeen was the 2nd LAR already north of An-Nasiriyah, they also didn’t know that Marines were lying in wait.Needless to say, no one slept that night or any night for that matter. Maybe we did not. But on 26 March 2003, we were pushing north on Route 7. All that day we pushed farther north.Sometime that morning we found a little girl on the side of the road. If she were left on the ground, would the soil around absorb her soul and leave her corpse to rot? Only to be picked at by the vultures ying nearby waiting for all to clear so they can do their part in the natural cycle of life.I couldn’t save her.At night during the darkest time, you know that time of night when the ambient light is nonexistent. That is when she comes to me. She knows I am all alone but, in my mind, it’s dark and lonely.In her eyes I see only innocence; she wears her clean nightgown. She looks at me with a sad look asking why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t I save her from the onslaught, the wave upon wave of destruction? Just the sheer exchange of madness. The hail of bullets and the sheer volume of a LAR unit created a steal curtain that no one could survive.I could save her, she was just an arm’s length away but, I couldn’t save her why? I could not save because I did not run fast enough, was it because of my combat load? So, I return to the line of departure (LOD) and drop my combat load. Just like the Combined Armed Exercise in 29 Palms CA., you fucked it up and back to the starting point until you got it right. Now armed only with my pistol and shotgun I start again. Once again, I failed. I think again and ask why I did not use my Hum-V. I again return to the LOD. I put the pedal to the medal and went racing toward her.She again is running towards me with her arm reaching out towards me and once again I fail. I try and try again, and each time I fail. For years, this nightmare continued. Night after night I asked myself why didn’t I save her and why didn’t someone else save her? I looked at the other Marine's faces and 77

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they had blank looks on their faces, and they are looking down. I could not save her, nobody could save her because she was already dead. I couldn’t save her. In my mind, those who died that day in the An-Nasiriyah Battle of the Coil are still falling. The bodies of small children are still falling to the ground. They fall ever so slowly to the ground in slow motion. If they were left on the ground would the soil around them absorb their soul and leave their corpse to rot only to be picked at by the vouchers ying nearby waiting for all clear so they can do their part in the natural cycle of life and death?After years of being totally dysfunctional and almost paralyzed the realization was that she was already dead. After years of nightmares, I nally gured out why I could not save her because she was already dead.Years ago, the Regimental gunner had given me a CD with photos of the Invasion of Iraq. Not wanting to see blood and guts pictures, I put it away and forgot about it. She was there but not as I had envisioned her in my dreams. Yes, she was dead, and that is why I could not save her. She was in this little mud puddle. Her body was covered with a poncho. She and many like her in the days and years to come would lose lives and those who were lucky or unlucky to have survived lost their innocence. I couldn’t save her in my mind they are still falling. They fall ever so slowly to the ground in slow motion. In my mind I see her hitting the ground with a bounce. I could not save her because she was already dead. After years of being dysfunctional, I realized that she was already dead. I have Dr. Tania Glenn to thank for bringing that memory to the surface.78The Marines thought it was a body part until it moved. The RCT Surgeon, Chief, and a few Corpsmen worked to stabilize her. One leg and part of the other were missing. She looked to be maybe 3 or 3 1/2 years old. They stabilized her. Marines stood guard over her on the side of that road, to make sure no one mistakenly ran her over. Someone had given her his poncho liner to keep her warm.The Air Ofcers tried in vain to get an air medevac, the weather had set in, and no air was available. We passed her off to CSSC-111, RCT-1 XO said, “Gunner, there are days I’ll never forget,” looking at the little girl, “and this is one of them.” Me too, I often think of her. I doubt I’ll ever know what became of her.The only thing I learned in being a man who swore to defend the Constitution of the United States of America was that politics is the guiding force, not the will of the people. We Marines, Sailors, and Soldiers spend our time destroying our fellow human beings. Yet we continue to ght knowing the futility of war. No matter what, we the warriors of the world will lose. We lose to those who care not of the common man, but only of their self-interest. Yet we, the warriors of the world, will lose not to our enemies, not to the enemy who we can see? We will lose to those that speak to the masses of those who stand for nothing but want everything.My Achilles heel is and will always be the senseless loss of civilians, especially the children.

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79IT WAS JUST A DREAM!When the Iraq war was behind him and he was discharged from the Corps, Cpl. Scott Brown had formed a country band called the Scooter Brown Band. While on tour, occasionally Scott’s thoughts would drift back to the Invasion of Iraq, where he served was a Scout in Alpha Company 1st LAR. The shock of hearing about the rst combat casulty, LCpl. Gutierrez in Umm Qsar. He knew the enemy was going to die, but to lose one of their own so soon; it had a major impact on him. One night while on tour, Scott had a dream that would haunt him for years to come. In Scott’s dream, he was back in Iraq. And while clearing a vehicle and moving bodies, he uncovered his two daughters lying in the midst of the rubble, and they too were dead. That thought has never left Scott’s mind. The strangest thing about the dream was, he wasn’t married and had no children at the time.Today, Scott is married with four children, two being adopted, and enjoys major success with the War Hippies (warhippies.com). Scott is also the Vice-President and Co-Founder of Base Camp 40: Warriors in the Wild, an organization that provides all-expense paid wilderness adventures to Veterans. bc40hunts.orgStory used with permission. Scott Brown (USMC | OIF) & Donnie Reis (US Army | OIF)Corporal Scott Brown, USMCAlpha Company 1st LAR Battalion

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PORCELAIN DOLL: MY NIGHTMARE"I remember that day, my last day."Today my porcelain doll will cease to exist in the human form, in my mind she will live forever. She will remind me for the rest of my life that by my hand or by those I command, she will no longer exist for I am the Angel of Death. I will not use my staff, no not today, today I will use the evil weapon that shoots out a re of hot steel. This evil weapon that only mankind can make spits out hot lead at a cyclic rate not ever seen before. My porcelain doll, come to me!The combat load that my Marines and I have been carrying for weeks now, don’t seem as heavy as regular days, but then what the fuck is a regular day? Downtown Baghdad check point DELTA is in the midst of being removed. It’s blazing hot, soon the sun will go down and we will get some much-needed relief from the heat. It’s about 4:00 pm on day 20 of the invasion of Iraq. In seconds the quiet turns into chaos, Marines are yelling out, trying to get a small white car to stop. They yell back to warn the Marines behind them, CAR BOMB, CAR BOMB!Interpreters are yelling in Farsi. They too are trying to get the driver in the vehicle to heed the warnings to stop or they will be shot. In an instant gun re erupts, I hear the fty-caliber machine gun open up. The fty-caliber machine gunner hits the vehicles engine block and instantly the vehicle stops.Other Marines have red at the vehicle as well pop, pop, pop as the Marines pull the triggers on their M- 16s. Wow fucking Baghdad we made it. Now as the white vehicle was slowly approaching the Marine check point, we looked and then as our minds start to kick into high gear, I began to think. I yell to myself go, go, go, as we run to the oncoming vehicle. My heart is racing like it is going to jump out of my chest. Fuck! Another fucking car bomb... fuck! Running towards the car, I’m yelling at myself “pull the trigger, pull the trigger, pull the goddamn trigger you dumb fuck!”Then I pulled the trigger, and I knew at that time my life would never be the same. She wasn’t the rst person I killed but she was my last. The entire reaction to the car bomb is basic. Immediate Action (IA) is based on previous car bombs on our nice little stroll to Baghdad. The decision to re is made in a split second. I’m constantly looking, looking for the day that I will nd the release of this 83

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excruciating pain. The screaming (in my head) that sound, that God awful sound, please make them stop screaming. The darkness and wickedness of death has returned.Almost in a ash I’m back to day one. The ght begins for Baghdad. As we wait for our turn in the shoot, the air is lled with the sounds of gun re. Even in combat you can make out the difference in the types of weapons being red. Even though the air is lled with the smell of gun powder, there is the smell of death. Death is not only ugly but the smell and the look on the nameless and faceless, now forever chiseled in my brain and in my senses. As we run to the vehicle with our weapons up at the ready, the smoke starts to clear. We cautiously approach the vehicle, (maybe another car bomb) from the passenger side I see an elderly man (turns out to be the father), he is wounded but he is worried about his daughter.I look across to her and its then that I see, what I will for the rest of my life, call the “porcelain doll”. I stare at her face, its perfect, but because she was hit with gun re on the right side of her face it appears as if her face has moved forward no more than one inch. There isn’t any blood, anything, just an empty space, and her face perfect in every way possible.Her eyes are open staring forward with a look of shock. Her mouth slightly opened. As we made our way to her side of the car, everything that was in her head had sprayed out though her blown out window, and when I say everything, I mean everything.The images of the bullets hitting her skull run through my mind. First hit... second hit... third...thump, thump, thump. The sheer impact of the third shot is just as devastating as the rst. When the rst round hits her skull, I can see in slow motion as on the other side of the car the rst round exits her skull with it comes blood, brain matter, bone hitting the glass all of this coming out in a blood red spray, and as if that isn’t enough, it happens two, maybe three more times. What I can’t gure out is how the rounds are lined up. The car was moving fast, she died that day and so did I. There was such emptiness inside me, nothing, death has reached inside me and took my very soul. But this wasn’t the rst time I felt like I had died, but it would be the last time.The blood bath in Nasiriyah was the rst time that too set deep inside me, waiting to come out and hit me like a sledgehammer. Years later I gave Elena (my wife) a set of porcelain face masks (Known as the comedy and tragedy mask). She thought it to be an odd gift and it was. It wasn’t until I told her this story that she connected the dots. The comedy represented the dead woman’s life before we killed her, and tragedy was her death. Years later I was painting my daughters’ room with a paint sprayer, she wanted it red. After a few minutes of using the paint sprayer a mist began to form.84

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85It was at that time the images of the porcelain doll came back and I remember the vision of the woman in the car getting hit and the spray of her blood coming from her side of the car, I can hear the sharp breaking sound of glass, I feel the recoil of the rie into my shoulder ring! ring! ring! At the vehicle and I don’t know why I would feel this because I am not the one who shot at the vehicle. That day I was carrying a Benally shot gun just as I had on most days.I stopped painting and ran outside. I died again. What makes this event worse, her father when asked why they didn’t stop he says, it’s because they were afraid that they would get into trouble because they had stolen some items that meant nothing. The Regiment had just made it to Baghdad, and we had received no word on what to do with looters. There was nothing in the ROE (rules of engagement) that said what to do with looters. As far as we are concerned the Iraqi people can take what they want. They have been denied just the basics. For the rest of my fucking life, I will pay for wanting to be that guy, the guy who has seen it all and done it all. My wish has been fullled and I will remember for every second of every hour of every day for the rest of my fucking life that I am the angel of death! When Cpl, Foy and Sgt Lunsford got to the site she was already dead.After years of having this event spinning in my head like a movie that was in loop and constantly playing and blaming myself for her death. It nally hit me. I took the blame of her death, because it was my Marines that killed her. She died by the hand that I command.

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RAGEWebster’s dictionary denes rage as ANGER, fury, indignation, ire, mad, wrath, agitation, perturbation, upset, and other one-liners. What it doesn’t say is the why? Rage in my view comes from an event that exceeds a person’s ability to comprehend said event, and reasonabley control thier behavior. It can be said that terrorist are in a rage against western civilization. Terrorist allows him or herself to lose site of the true goal, victory. We are just lost souls trying to make it back to center. What we don’t know is that we will never nd center ever again. We the lost souls, have been forced to move from center not only by our actions in combat, but also by those who don’t care to understand, because they will never understand, by not doing that god awful deed, yes killing.89

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ARE WE ALL JUST DUST IN THE WIND?As we grow up to be young men and women, at some point in our life something so horrendous causes you to think, why are we here? What makes our lives so signicant that we push for more, or strive for less? More is better, better is better? Quality not quantity. Less is better. You can go for days on end, all the time saying you’ve heard it all through your life. At some point, you decide what is good for you.You’re a self-made person. Living in a palace or a trailer park you’ve decided you’re happy. But somebody forgot to tell you the rules, and that is that there are none. Life will throw you a curve and it’s going to hit you in the head and you will wonder what the hell just happened. I was so happy and then this bullshit came along and turned my perfect world upside down.95

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"Our Core Values are Honor, Courage "Our Core Values are Honor, Courage and Commitment, and if you are to and Commitment, and if you are to become one of us, they will be the become one of us, they will be the values you live by and fight with as values you live by and fight with as well. They are the building blocks well. They are the building blocks that will aid you in making the that will aid you in making the right decisions at the right time, right decisions at the right time, both on the battlefield and in our both on the battlefield and in our Nation's communities."Nation's communities."UNITED STATES MARINE CORPSUNITED STATES MARINE CORPSCORE VALUESCORE VALUES

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WISDOM THROUGH SACRIFICEIt’s always been known that we look to our leadership for guidance and wisdom, and we also look for experience. Politicians have eliminated trust, condence and common sense. So when we look at our leadersship in the Corps, oftentimes we see medals on their chests as an indication of what their experience level is. What we don’t see is the personal sacrice that he or she went though to gain that experience. I remember Vietnam Veterans and seeing the Thousand-yard stare that it is so often referred to; the man who has seen too many times the horrors of war. And in many cases, he’s cause it by his own hand. He may have used a knife or pulled the trigger. In either case, he more than likely saw the whites of the eyes of the enemy before doing his duty, “for God Country and Corps”. When it came to his turn, he, without hesitation ended another human life.Battle worn, and yet still motivated with the overwhelming desire to win at all costs. Battling the enemy in front of them and the enemy at home. Constantly being placed in impossible situations.What those Veterans also taught us, if you go to war... have a plan to kill and do it without hesitation, for if you do, you’re a dead man. In the blink of an eye, without hesitation, he’s done his duty and he’s ready to do it again. I remember the Vietnam veterans telling us young punks to never pray for war. They said to try something else, and then try again, and if that doesn’t work then do it again. For those who pray for war, they will get their wish and they will pay for it the rest of their lives. Do you think we listened, not even close? We were supermen, men of steel that thought we were bulletproof. And how many times did I hear the statement “I was near the action!” If you aren’t pulling the trigger of anything smaller than a heavy machine gun or the recipient thereof, then you’re not in in the action.In many cases, our enemy fought bravely. And we as warriors owe him respect. We owe them the same respect we owe our own. Even though we had our own killed in action, it doesn’t excuse us to mishandle prisoners of war or the dead. It’s that honor that sets us apart as Marines. The battleeld is often referred to as hallowed ground, I now know why. 103

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THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLDDuring war especially, Wives carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.Wondering, is he coming back alive? Or will there be a knock on the door, with those ugly gut-wrenching words? "I regret to inform you...”An honor guard of Marines escorting his remains in a cofn. She has seen other Marines come back this way. She cries for them and prays she isn't the one that one day while sitting by the grave site of her Marine. Waiting for the honor guard carrying her husband to his nal resting place. Once there they will fold that ag. That ag that he stood and fought for. That ag with the stars in blue, with the red, white stripes. The one that stands for freedom. That ag back in one piece. Will he come back; does he want to come back? The trigger pullers never really come back, at least not to their former self. If he comes back in one piece, will he survive the horrors of war? The nights that she lays next to me, checking, watching to see if my chest is rising. Taking in that breath, wondering if it will be my last.Just to know that I am alive. She worries because I have such a shallow breath. She knows, but to see that I am breathing gives her comfort. Then comes the hell of those days of war. Those days of killing the young the innocent that the enemy threw in front of him so the enemy, the coward could run away. Those memories will haunt him, in the day’s, months, and even years ahead.This woman that walks next to me. She holds my hand providing me comfort.She holds me and tells me everything is going to be okay. She gives me comfort. I wonder how many times did she cry alone? How many times while standing next to him, did she wonder is he back is this a good day, or the last day that she will see him or is he already gone? I can only imagine what she goes though everyday of her life supporting me. Providing me comfort in this world that doesn't understand him or even her. The life's that we live is so much different than theirs, so very different.107

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This man isn't the same man he was before the war.He's stronger yet at the same time he is weaker. His many years of experience only helps him cover the hurt and pain inside him. She knows this, because she loves him. She will do whatever it takes to support him. No one needs to tell her of his experience, his countless time away from home being forward deployed. In those places that most people couldn't pronounce or point out on a map. she was there, in his heart. She has lived in his heart. I know of no better woman then this woman who lays next to me.Sometimes I see her looking at me while I sleep. I wonder why this beautiful woman wants me. In my mind I am nothing more than a simple man, but to her I'm more. It's that look that makes me the simple man try harder. It’s that smile that makes me the do better, for I am a simple man, but she sees more. She loves a simple man, but to her she sees more than a simple man.To her the simple man that she loves is not dened by the medals on his chest or his good deeds. To her he, the simple man that he truly is. To her this simple man is more.I love u booty boo;-)108

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TAKE THEM TO A SAFE PLACETake our dead and wounded to a safe place where they can be whole again. Take them where they can live again.Take them, so we the living can honor them, for they have given their all. Give them eyes to see their young again.Give them the ability to talk to them so they can give those words of comfort to their young. Give them arms so they can hold again.Give them hands and ngers so they can hold their wife, sons and daughters to their chest and provide the comfort they all so desperately need.Give them the ability to walk alongside their sons and daughters so that they can hold their hand and walk next to them.Take them to a safe place so all can take joy in their return.111

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FORTY-FOUR44 is what they say 44 will die today.44 lost to suicide is what they say 44 gone every day.44 great men and women gone today 44 now have no say.44 who fought so hard the demons late at night 44 ght, ght, some will win some will lose 44 why is this so high 44 men and women gone.44 when will we pick up the phone and make that call.44 when will we check on our brothers and sisters in arms44 when will this number change.44 when Warriors stand up and extend our hand this number will change44 Warriors pick up that phone. 44 Make that call, extend your hand, and save our fellow Warriors.44 Warriors trust Warriors.44 we Warriors must ght to change that number 44.115

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WHERE DO HEROES COME FROM?When darkness comes, he appears. He knows he must step forward from the shadows. And at all levels his leaders have instilled into him, winning! Winning is everything, the only thing that matters. When history looks back on this war, it will speak of the winners, not the losers.He has it, power, the power that comes from those of small unit leaders, from reteams, squads, platoons, Companies, Battalions. But not until the rounds start coming down range that he will step forward. If you wonder, why he waits until the Armies of the world meet on the battleelds… It is up to that point no one will listen to reason. He lets those who call themselves the negotiators exchange words that to the Warriors are wasted speak. The hero does not thirst for war, but he knows that if and the time comes all sits on his shoulders.Once the wasted words of reason are complete, he stands in front of those Warriors he has trained and draws his sword.It is regardless of training at the point of impact when your average person nds out who they are. We give our Marines the advantage.It starts at boot camp. We place our Marine recruits on a 79-day stress test. From the constant in their face, and extreme physical training we make them perform under pressure. That’s just the start of making Marines. They are not given a choice to fail. They will fall, but they will learn to win! From this they learn to overcome fear and to perform or die.Once a Marine graduates from boot camp, all Marines are basic qualied in many skills to include basic infantry.123

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Never lose your honor! Taught to each and every Serviceman and woman. The Marine Corps adds special emphasis KEEP YOUR HONOR CLEAN!For all the good that we expect from this phase, it can also destroy a Marine. The world sees Marines as knights in shining armor.Corpsman have a special bond with Marines...At the end of it all, he steps back into the shadows and waits until he is called upon again.He doesn’t expect any type of recognition, a handshake or award will mean nothing. His thoughts are on those Warriors who didn’t make it home. With this thought he considers the whole deployment a failure and he will consider himself a failure.He will continue to step forward and step back until his dying day. He is a Warrior124

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SHOULD I FALL THIS DAY (PROMISES MADE PROMISES BROKEN)Should I die this day bury me with my fellow warriors. Men who fought the good ght. Men who made no excuse not to go forth and face their nation's enemies. Men like me who stepped onto the battleeld and gave the Warrior across from him his due. Ensure that my funeral is a celebration of how I lived as that of a Warrior amongst Warriors. In a pine box, I will go dressed in my warrior's dress with medals on my chest to show the young Warriors to say I too will live the life of a warrior. I too will march on to a foreign land to protect those who are not able to fend for themselves. For Warriors who have gone near and far, place the mighty sword that was given to me from those Warriors of the Highlander name. Do men ght with a rie in one hand and the good book in the other? Do they believe that their god has brought them here to this battleeld? Is this his faith to live or to die? Will he die today so he can meet his maker? I sometimes see myself as the dark angel and other times as the savior of the world. While people who think they're better, it is a lonesome road. Should you fall while trying to achieve greatness know that those who laughed only know emptiness in their hearts. Yet and to ll the emptiness in their hearts they must put the warrior down and tag this as subhuman for killing. Don't despair, others will look at you as the one who at least stood tall and ran to the sounds of the guns. You ran to the sounds of the guns without hesitation. 127

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While cowards lay in their beds hoping and praying that you would put down the tyrant, so they could lay in comfort and not have to ght for the freedom you provide. Stop sucking your thumb, let go of your mother's apron strings, pick up a weapon, and join the men in the trench line and do something to help keep this country free. For if you do, you will join those who have given their all and others who gave their lives for those who cannot do. If I should fall on the battleeld this day, I know not what will be remembered. But I do know that I and others know what we have done. By giving our lives we will guarantee the freedom of others. Should I live this day, I will keep in my heart those faces of the fallen, the warrior, and the enemy for they too had dreams of living. They too gave all, so that others shall sleep in their beds as old men. These old men will realize their lives lived for so long has no meaning. They will wish that they could have been the hero. Those fallen will know with to their last breath, that a short life was more fullling than the old man sitting in his rocking chair regretting not to have made a difference in the world. 128

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A MOTHER’S SACRIFICETo Vicki...A mother’s sacriceThere are no words that can be said or written to help comfort you for the loss of your son Kenny. But do know this... that when he entered heaven he joined a select group of Warriors. This special type of men and women are those who without concern for their personal safety, set forward to stand in harm’s way. To protect those who cannot protect themselves, to give a voice to those without a voice. To ght for those without the right to be free and not fear being set in the chains of the tyrant. You gave your son... and prayed that he was ghting for a noble cause.A Mother’s Sacrice131

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IT’S TIME TO LET IT GO...I’m tired of being tired both physically and mentally. As soon as I said it and was feeling good about it, I had a road rage incident.My brain is reacting ahead of reality. Thus, causing confusion and distrust in what I see and hear.I continue to function pretty regularly on a daily basis because my brain is trained to function under high-stress situations like combat. So, the normal day-to-day tasks are not an issue unless someone hits the wrong button then I go into a blind rage.I feel like my head is underwater and I can’t seem to nd my way to the surface. Through the water, I can see the sun as it sets. I wonder if my time is near. Will this be my last sunset, or will I make it to the sunlight? I want and need the warmth of the sun.Trying to run away from myself and who I have become.You can try to run from yourself, but you’ll run right into yourself.135

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WALKING AMONGST THE TOMBSTONESWalking among the tombstones of the Dallas-Fort Worth National Cemetery. The nicely kept grounds are breathtaking. I look to the hillside and see the huge American ag that continues to wave at the mass.As I walk through row after row of gray headstones, I hear in the distance the rie re from a twenty-one-gun salute. I stop and turn to face the ceremony. As I remove my cover and place it over my heart, I can hear the rst note of the bugler playing taps.While at the National Cemetery, I noticed a quarter placed on one of the headstones. Later I also no-ticed a nickel placed on another stone. I was so touched by this that I took pictures.A coin left on a headstone lets the deceased soldier’s family know that somebody stopped by to pay their respect.Leaving a penny means you visited. A nickel means that you and the deceased soldier trained at boot camp together. If you served with the soldier, you left a dime. A quarter is very signicant because it means that you were there when that soldier died. The tradition dates back to Roman times.As the bugler continues to play, I can only think of the loss that the family and friends have suffered. The ag is now folded and is being presented to the family. Having attended way too many military funerals, family, and friends ask…was it worth it?I continue to walk. Six feet under they lay together as brothers. Regardless of what is chiseled on the headstone. Not by rank, or title. Not by race, creed, color, but forever brothers. Never again will there be prejudice.I look at the many Forgotten Warriors who are now together. As the plots continue to be lled, I won-der how many more men and women will it take to be too many? Once strong bodies fought off the evil Tyrant.We will continue to wage war and we will not have learned anything. We say we have learned from war.They lay there lifeless. Never to breathe. Never again will their lungs ll with that much-needed air. No blood for the heart to pump to the brain, arms, or legs.They are destined to turn into dust. With their death go the hopes and dreams of a family. In some cases, a generation or two is lost forever. It’s amazing what inuences they had on our lives.In their time they can say they lived. They lived and gave all. The weak will bow down to the Warrior, the weak at the end of his life will say “I wish I would have done something with my life.” But, the foot soldiers of the world meet on the battleeld..143

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For every hero that dies another shall rise. No one will know who he is, he may be standing next to you. You may pass him on the street. We will not know him but when he is needed, he will be the person running past you into danger.We will stand there in awe of his efforts. The real question will be, did you join in to help or did you stand there telling yourself that’s not your job?Victory is and will always be in the hands of the young, enlisted man. I see the hero as nonexistent to those who seek self-recognition. The warrior need not prove himself.Those who assign the task of ghting a war, look at killing as a menial task that is beneath them. The self-centered only look to move up in class. The Warrior does the task for those cowards who hide behind their rank or political status and seek to be god-like.The hero runs towards the disaster knowing full well he may die, but he is committed and races on.I see myself as a small beaten dog. But every time I’m needed, I run to the sounds of the guns. Then I’m put away until I’m needed again. Meanwhile, the do-nothings will take all the credit.The Warrior doesn’t want the credit because he likes his little corner. For all the good that we see in our lives, it’s still up to us--I often ask myself why did we waste such good men and women. From the beginning of time, there has always been a Tyrant. Then, at some time, there has always been the Warrior.It’s never a good time to let go... but it’s not good to hold on forever.144

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149LET HIM WHO BEATS THE DRUMS FOR WAR THE LOUDEST... Let Him who beats the drums for war the loudest be the rst to draw his sword and lead the warriors into the fray. Let his sword be the rst to slash though the enemies chest, let him feel with every blow the tearing esh and blood that comes from his enemy on to his face!For then and only then he will see the true cost of war. Let him feel with his nger tips, the blood on his hands and see the wounds of his enemy and to see what he has done. Let him who thirst for war, hear the screaming of men, women,and children who lay on the battleeld Let him turn to see those men now laying on the ground...for those who follow will sacrice all. Let his eyes see that the true cost of war is beyond anything he has ever imagined. Let him now, for the rest of his life, remember this day... everyday If his hunger for war has not been satised by now then he has no soul and his black heart belongs to the devil. Let him who shouts for war yet cowers when asked to join the ght, let him remain silent and forgotten. For his words mean nothing...Let him now, fall to his knees, and ask God for forgiveness Let him now beat those drums of war with more caution and resolve.

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151CORPSMAN UP!As a Corpsman in green and not Navy blue, I offer this poem from a Doc’s point of veiw.We’ve been honored by stories, poems and such. By Marines we have served with and respected so much. They speak of our honor, bravery, and skill, And the cry, “Corpman Up!” still gives me a chill.When a Marine goes down, what will it be?A trache? Tie off bleeders? Start an IV?Only one thing is certain as we rush to the scene, Our ass will be covered by our brothers in green. You see we’re adopted, “Sons of the Corps.”No more “Anchors Away” - “Semper Fi” evermore!Its true when you’re wounded, your life’s in our hands,And we’ll treat and protect you to the very last man.For you are our pointman, our cover, our shield,And we count on your skills all our days in the eld. Many a grunt laid his life on the line,To make sure Doc got to the wounded in time.So, my brothers, I thank you, as all us Docs should.It’s YOU who make us Corpsmen look good! Semper FiWritten by: Doc HutchAnd a special shout out to ‘Doc’ Walker and the Publisher of Amongst Warriors.HMC Gonzalez | 3rd Amphibious Assault Battalion Alpha company | Lima 3rd Battalion 4th Marines | Camp Coyote, Team Ripper.Rodney ‘Doc ‘ Tregle & his Team | RCT1

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152When you hear the word “Doc” yelled out in just about any setting can be unsettling; especially when you nd yourself in a hostile environment and the Marines you got to know have become your brothers. It doesn’t matter how well you do in Medical Corps school or how many FMF training scenarios are hurled at you, your stomach sinks and your mind races with every possible horric scene, and all I thought of is “One of my brothers is hurt, and I’ve got to do everything I possibly know to make sure he makes it out alive.” I got that call many times and it never got easier. When I got my rst call, we were engaged with enemy re and I was actively sending rounds into a building with insurgents, when I heard that call “Doc”; I turned my head back, I could see a Marine ofcer (I still remember his name) that was walking like he was lost or just like a leisure walk in a park. And I thought “what in the hell is he doing, he’s going to get his ass hit” but he was holding his right arm, or at least the rest of it. That’s when I realized he was in shock, and he needed help. Apparently, the vehicle he was in was hit by an RPG. I don’t know who called “Doc”, but there was three of us (HM3 Menchaca, HM2 Strahl and myself) that responded. “DOC!” is the 911 alarm that any and all corpsmen will respond to; it’s like a dog whistle. THEY CALLED FOR ‘DOC’Written by: Rick ‘Doc’ Neilsen

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153I immediately redirected my attention without reservation of the incoming enemy rounds coming our way. It was like I blocked out the situation I was in and focused on this Marine. By the time I got to him they had got him to the ground before we became casualties ourselves. HM2 Strahl immediately took control of the wounded arm, stopped the bleeding and bandaging. Menchaca assisted me with prepping for his IV bag and I started his IV. We all knew what to do, almost telepathic, very little was said to each other. I remember looking at his face, he was confused but he knew he lost his hand and arm to his elbow. He just kept saying “am I ok, is it bad?” and I just told him to just stay calm. I couldn’t believe I said that but it was all I could think of at that time. A “9 line” was initiated to get him to a higher echelon of medical care (Shock Trauma Team 7), which came fairly quickly. After we had MEDIVAC’d him; a ood of emotions came rushing to my body. I could feel my pulse and chest pounding, I remember being very alert or pumped up, like I was running for my life. It seemed like forever for that feeling to go away, but he’s alive.To this day, I often think of those I’ve treated and wonder what they’re doing, if what they remember of that moment what impact we as corpsmen hold in their lives. Not that I’m looking for notoriety, but maybe an occasional thought. Did they feel safe or relieved as we tended to them. I can still remember vividly of the moments that I was called; and how I felt this huge weight of getting it right and bringing our brothers home safe and alive. I was honored to have been able to be a part of those lives that know when they can call “corpsmen up, or doc” that they were our absolute priority, our family of brothers that would never feel like they were alone. We were with them. Semper Fi‘Doc’ Neilsen

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FROM THE PUBLISHER: First and foremost, it has been my utmost honor and privilage to take on SgtMaj’s book project. I know it has been a very long road for him, but I also know that what we have accomplished is incredibly special. I served as a Corpsman at Lejeune NAVHOSP during and after Desert Storm, and while I may be a publisher now, I will always consider Marines, my Marines. I rst met SgtMaj Gregory Leal on social media and he shared Porcelain Doll with me. I knew that it was a gutwrenching story that would need the right enviroment and mindset to read it. Yes, the story was heartbreaking, but I was blown away with his ability to recall and put to paper something so raw and vulnerable. I asked if we could publish it in our Veterans magazine, and although it took some time, he placed his trust in me personally and in the integrity of our publication.Over time, SgtMaj would allow us to publish story after story and when he suggested getting an outside editor for his book, my protection mode kicked in. Sometimes freelance editors will water down and almost rewrite copy. We talked and agreed we’d take on the project. We enlisted the editing skills of our Assistant Editor, VL (Les) Stevenson, a Marine who served around the DMZ, Vietnam as a Field Radio Operator from 66’-68’. It was absolutely imperative that we maintained SgtMaj’s voice and ensured that the nal outcome would not only honor him, his Marines, and 1st Marine Division, while maintaing the raw reality of war and the fall out, but that it would also ensure to represent the core values of the United States Marine Corps; Honor, Courage, and Commitment with excellence throughout Amongst Warriors. With much Love & Respect...Semper FiChristine WalkerOwner | Editor in ChiefDevil Doc Publishing | AT EASE! Veterans Magazine155

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Sgt. Maj. Gregory Leal was born and raised in Abilene, Texas and enlisted in the Marine Corps in May 1976. Over the course of his exemplary Marine Corps Career, Sgt. Maj. Leal participated in Operations: Desert Shield, Desert Storm, Joint Task Force-6 Counter Drug Operations, Anvil 2, Desert Fox, Southern Watch, Enduring Freedom and Iraqi Freedom. His personal awards and decorations include the Legion of Merit, Bronze Star with Combat “V” Device, Meritorious Service Medal, with one gold star, the Navy Achievement Medal with two gold stars and the Combat Action Ribbon. He currently holds a 2nd-degree black belt in the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program.Sgt. Maj. Leal is married, has two adult daughters and Chuey, his service dog.amongst warriorsamongst warriors9 798218 36355053 9 0 0 >ISBN 979-8-218-36355-0$39.00Devil Doc PublishingPO Box 133Pilot Point, TX 76258-0133Amongst Warriors is a collection of short stories and poems that chronicles the raw experiences of Marine Sergeant Major Gregory Leal. Born in Hell, the book delves into the days leading up to the ‘Shock and Awe’ of Operation Iraqi Freedom, the chaos and intensity of combat for the 1st Marine Division, the gut-wrenching weeks on mission and the subsequent decades lled with memories, nightmares, and the impact of PTSD. Amongst Warriors, Unapologetically dives into the darkness of a combat veteran's heart and guides readers through the long and arduous healing process using the power of writing.Disturbing in its raw authenticity, if one wants to get an honest rst hand account, from the ground up view of war and its consequences, this is a quick must read. ~ Major General Anthony Jackson, USMC (Ret)This book is a must-read for all military leaders and for the elected civilian leaders who form the policies that take our country to war. Semper Fi! ~ Colonel ‘Baron’ Lukas, USMC (Ret.)Sergeant Major Leal sees the entire aspect of war, and courageously identies the after effects that so many are in denial (PTSD). The reading of this book is a must for all Marines, especially at the junior ofcer and NCO level. ~ Sergeant Major Don Miller, USMC (Ret.)“““