From A Good Gunslinger In Iraq

[thedrifter]

06-28-2004

From A Good Gunslinger In Iraq



This is from Stony Smith working somewhere around Baghdad. He?s working as a security contractor/bodyguard and has some ground-level observations on what is really going on in Iraq.

To help put things in context, Stony is a very intelligent and talented former West Point trained Army Ranger who speaks and reads a little Arabic, too.

Stony had the privilege of serving as one of MSG Randy Shugart?s platoon leaders back in the 2d Ranger Battalion. Randy was one of Stony?s squad leaders. MSG Shugart later became one of the Delta Force operators who sacrificed their lives in Mogadishu in 1993, while saving a wounded comrade. For this, Randy received the Medal of Honor ? posthumously. This was the rescue immortalized in the book/movie ?Blackhawk Down.?


Subject: Iraq Update: 16 June (Pour Yourself an Adult Beverage, This is a Long One)

Greetings from Baghdad.

I had delayed writing because I didn't think I had enough material to warrant another installment of "The Adventures of Gringo Infidel in Iraq". Now I am struggling with what to include and what to delete. It's hard to believe that almost a whole month has gone by since I last wrote.

First of all I am going to preface what I say with a little background information. Hopefully you will undergo a paradigm shift as Stephen Covey calls it.

Here we operate under the premise that every phone call we make and every e-mail we send or read can be read by the bad guys. For those reasons, I often am not specific about dates, times, locations or even identities of people. Not even my parents know where I go or when until after it has already happened.

The bad guys continue to kill Iraqis seen as collaborating with the coalition. An Iraqi woman who worked within the palace of the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA) was shot and severely wounded. Her father was killed in the attack. How cutting someone's hair or giving an $8 pedicure to an infidel is a traitorous act worthy of punishment by death is beyond me. For this reason I won't state the name of my driver or show you a picture of the two of us together.

It is also for this reason I don't state the name of my client company or exactly what they do. Just this week a three vehicle convey was hit with a car bomb that was loaded with 1100 pounds of explosive. That's over half of a ton! It literally blew the lead vehicle over to the other side of the road, flipping it onto its roof and setting the vehicle afire. It killed three clients and two PSD's (Protective Service Detail) inside. Amazingly enough, the occupants of the number two and three vehicles lived. Eight Iraqis who were mere bystanders weren't so lucky. There's no telling how many were severely injured and maimed

Imagine every time you get into your car spending 5-15 minutes to inspect your car for IED's (improvised explosive device) or booby trap to the rest of the world. You wear body armor and have a loaded weapon in your hands. You have an assigned sector to watch. A car coming up fast on your tail is a potential threat. This isn't a once in a while event. It happens each and every time you get into your vehicle and go out into the streets. This is my world folks and it causes me to look at things differently.

Have you shifted paradigms yet? If not, that's okay. Now for some anecdotes.

Several weeks ago a few of my clients had to go to one of the ministry buildings out in Baghdad. Because of the peculiarities of their contract, my client company cannot hire their own personal PSD team. It has to be provided by the Project Management Office (PMO). Is this a jacked up arrangement? Yes. Do my clients like this arrangement? No. What's my job? I'm a Security Manager (air quotes here). They're allowed to have that under the conditions of their contract. Basically I'm PSD with additional duties, but not the backing of a team.

So the PSD team rolls up to pick up my clients. As my clients are boarding the fully armored SUV, the team leader asks me if I'd mind riding along as an extra shooter. This is akin to asking a little kid if he wants a lifetime pass to Disney World. I'm in the tail vehicle as the left passenger seat gunner. I like this position because I'm right handed and it allows me to shoulder my weapon into my right shoulder when I'm in firing position. For those of you who know me, it really doesn't take much to make me happy.

Let me give you a little background about this particular PSD team. Most of the members are South African Special Forces. Unlike how they're portrayed in "Lethal Weapon II" not all South Africans are bad guys. One of the members of this team, Brad (fictitious name) was a sergeant major in the British Special Air Squadron (SAS) and as you might have surmised, is British. This is the unit that inspired the creation of the US Army's own SFOD-D, Delta Force to most of you. They are like our Special Forces (Green Berets to most of you) and Delta Force combined. In other words these guys are not rookies and know their stuff. I'd team up with them anytime and really enjoy working with them.

As we're rolling out of one of the checkpoints of the Green Zone and into "Indian Country" Brad, the section leader, riding in the front passenger seat of my vehicle announces "windows down, safeties off". Yeah folks you read it right. Some of you might be wringing your hands. "Stony, weapons are icky to begin with, but riding around in a car with your safeties off, isn't that really dangerous." Well, gentle readers, let?s examine this. First of all, any shooter worth his powder keeps his damn finger off the trigger until his sights are on target. Secondly, it's supposed to be dangerous, but not to us, but to the bad guys. We don't "flag" each other with our muzzles. It's the shooter's equivalent of passing gas loudly at an opera. We keep our weapons pointed out the window of our vehicle. Thirdly, in the case of this PSD, they are armed with the ubiquitous AK47 with folding stock. When the stock is folded, it covers the safety. Also, although extremely reliable, the AK is not ergonomically friendly. In other words, when milliseconds can mean the difference between life and death, the AK is slow to put from "safe" to "fire" and then engage a target.

So here is our merry little band of shooters with our precious cargo whose lives are entrusted to us. Lead vehicle blocking traffic at intersections, second vehicle passing, third vehicle assuming the block as lead vehicle reassumes the lead position. All the while scanning your sector. Left to right. Near too far. Repeat. Don't fixate on any one person or object. Less than five-seconds, preferably less than three on any one location. A guy with his head under the hood of his car. Possible car bomb? Sights on target. Assess, Pass by without incident. Over and over again. Eyes open. Ears tuned to the commands of the section leader and any info he receives via the radio. Interspersed with command from Bruce such as "brace for bump" as we jump a curb to keep moving in traffic. All the way to the ministry.

Upon arrival at the ministry we exit our vehicles and form a 360 degree perimeter around the vehicle containing our principals as clients are often called. Our eyes are still scanning. Looking for those who would do them harm. I escort them into the building and to their meeting. In my next update I'll address the challenges of these situations, but for now let's move on to another excursion I had.

Days after this adventure four of my clients needed to go to Baiji to assess one of the facilities up there. This is our first trip out of Baghdad and we're looking forward to getting out into the field. My role includes not only coordinating the security of the travel to and from, but also while there. Even though a PSD team will be taking them and be with them, my guys insisted I go along. Even though there is going to be two SUV's literally packed with shooters, they want yours truly along to safeguard them. This is a two edged sword though. It's flattering that they have the kind of confidence in me that compels them to want my presence, but talk about pressure! This is what I want. I want my clients to think "Stony is going to keep me safe." "Stony is going to make sure that I go home alive and in one piece." But as the saying goes "watch out for what you wish." The brief ego gratification and satisfaction of accomplishing a goal is quickly eclipsed by the responsibility this implies. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to shirk this responsibility, but it is what I would call a bittersweet burden.

I literally spend hours bouncing around what I now refer to as the Puzzle Palace, which is the CPA headquarters. I know that there is a military Forward Operating Base (FOB) in the vicinity of Baiji but I don't have a map coordinate, name or phone number. Trying to ascertain this information is akin to being a kid with a severe inner ear infection and vertigo playing pin the tail on the donkey, but not even knowing if it's a donkey or if you're in the right room. I bounce from office to office being told some variation of "we don't handle that, you have to go to so and so in room such and such." And that's from the cooperative ones. Every once in a while I run into some smarmy, smirking Air Force puke who is not only useless, but needs to have a trauma induced attitude adjustment. But I'm in my "be nice and play well with others" mode, so I go from room to room trying to unravel this Gordian knot of mission coordination without resorting to Alexander the Greats solution.

Finally, an Army Staff Sergeant in the Joint Operations Center (JOC) offers me some assistance. Several phone calls later, I'm talking the right people out in the field. Mission parameters are given and as much that can be accomplished over the phone is achieved.

On the day of the trip, I'm at my client?s dorm area waiting for the PSD to arrive. I've taken the Army operation order format, which is the basic outline used to describe the mission and how it will be accomplished. SMESC is how I remember it. Situation, Mission, Execution, Service Support and Command and Signal. This basic format is used for everything from an eight man squad conducting a simple mission, to a division invading a country. I use this to let my guys know what the game plan is for this trip and what we'll do when we get to the site that is to be assessed.

The PSD shows up shortly after this and it's a different South African PSD team from the same company. I've worked with these guys before and it's good to see them. The team leader has added extra members from another team for this trip. Ostensibly it's so that they get the experience of going to this location and know the way. I think it's because there has been enemy activity along the highway the past few weeks and a few extra shooters never hurts.

I'm given a Motorola with ear bud (those things you see sticking in the ears of Secret Service agents) and told I'll be the vehicle commander for the fully armored vehicle carrying my clients. The driver is a South African who I observe still is a good boy and drinks his milk. He has a juice box sized container of flavored ultra high thermal pasteurized milk on the console.

The condition in which we carry our weapons is juxtaposed to that in one of the paragraphs above. Because the vehicle is fully armored, the glass is literally inches thick and cannot be rolled down. Also shooting through the glass is not an option. Such a foolhardy act would result in a bullet ricocheting around the vehicle. Talk about a party foul! So the driver and I have our weapons on safe with empty chambers.

Getting out of the Green Zone and Baghdad is a nightmare. We are turned back at two of the gates. The third gate is clogged with traffic. Several times we take advantage of the high ground clearance of our SUV's and hop the median to exploit an opening in traffic. Being stopped in traffic is annoying when you're in the United States, but in Iraq it can be downright dangerous. In tactical situations speed is often security. Being stuck in traffic reduces one's security. Just as a shark needs to keep moving in order to live, a PSD team strives to stay mobile when in a vehicle. Stillness can mean death. What if someone walks by and rolls a grenade under your vehicle or sticks a shaped charge to your door? Yeah, definite buzzkill. In situations like this your head is on a swivel. You look at peoples hands. Can they be seen? Is there something in their hands? What is it? This and scores of other instantaneous mini situation assessments are made. The aging process is probably accelerated 10 times in these situations.

Finally, we break out onto the highway and accelerate our way towards Baiji. There are numerous checkpoints manned by both our Army and Iraqi Police which is a comforting sight even if it means decelerating to 65 mph. Near one such checkpoint, in the opposite lane we see a tractor trailer pulled over to the side and numbers Iraqis sprawled on the ground, hands behind their heads as they are being restrained with flex cuffs. Flex cuffs are one time only handcuffs that resemble electrical zip ties. Later I read in a threat update that the truck was found with 165x155 mm artillery shells. The bad guys have no functional howitzers or cannons so artillery shells are useless in that role. But they make for incredibly devastating IED's. There's no telling how many car bombs or ambushes were thwarted with that seizure.

We finally arrive at the FOB only to be turned away at the gate by soldiers on the ground with an M1 Abrams backing them up the way a protective big brother watches over his sibling the first day at a new school. Who are we to argue? We are redirected to another gate on the other side of the FOB that takes us around the outskirts of Baiji.

Upon arrival within the FOB, the PSD team leader, the lead member of my clients and I go to the tactical operations center (TOC) and meet with the Battle Captain. Kind of like how someone has the con in the Navy, this is the Battle Captain's role. He monitors all the ongoing operations for the unit from this nerve center. We find out that the reason we were turned away is because there was a VBIED (Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Device) pronounced Vee Bid detonated at the gate an hour or so prior to our arrival. In my strange little universe here, a car bomb is called something that sounds like a computer part. The S-3 or Operations Officer with whom I had spoken on the phone is at this site picking up body parts as we speak. This particular VBIED was targeted at Iraqis who were coming into work at the FOB. If I recall correctly 11 or more of them were killed. Once again, some poor schmuck trying to buck the 65% unemployment rate and put food on his family's table is killed by a fellow Muslim. Remind me again how this is the religion of peace.

The Battle Captain is totally unaware that we were expected. I make a mental note to myself that the S-3 is probably an incompetent. The Battle Captain is nonplused and we sort things out. In the course of our discussion he mentions observing that I wear a West Point class ring. I find out that he is a grad as well and that his father in law is a grad too. I've run into more West Pointers here than any other time since I left the Army. I also find out he's an Ayn Rand fan. We briefly comment on "Atlas Shrugged". Additionally, I learn that he's planning on "punching out", leaving the Army when he's done. Currently, he's a stop loss which means the Army has halted the departure of soldiers. If we weren't in combat operations in Iraq, he's be out by now. I still haven't sorted out how I feel about fellow grads who plan on leaving the Army during this time in our country's history.

He's give us an update on what's going on in the area and the site we want to visit. He can't spare any military manpower and firepower to accompany us. We weren't counting on it, but we wouldn't have turned it down if it had been offered. Anyone who turns down crew-served weapons in preparation for a potential firefight has issues on a Freudian scale.

We scarf down a quick lunch of military rations known as MRE's (Meals Ready to Eat). In what can only be described as GI humor, these are also known as Meals Rejected by Ethiopians. I wouldn't want to have them on a daily basis, but in this case I can honestly say I enjoyed my meal But as I've said before, it doesn't take much to make me happy.

We proceed on to the site for the assessment. We go into the main administration building to meet with the site manager to let him know that we are there and why we're there. You might think it's rather rude to barge in on someone's place of work unannounced, but go back to paragraph three. If we had given advance notice of our arrival this little conversation might have taken place. "Hello Ahmed. Yes I'm fine. How's Ahmed Junior? Good, good. The reason I'm calling is that four infidels are coming to my plant tomorrow to inspect it. They'll have to come along the only road that goes in and out of it. Armored vehicles? I'm sure they have those, but you still have those 25 RPG's (Rocket Propelled Grenades) from Saddam's going out of business giveaway don't you? Yes, yes, something that can penetrate 400 mm of cold rolled steel can certainly do a number on these vehicles. Good it's settled. I won't bother preparing tea for their arrival. You have to promise to let me see the pictures before you send them to Al Jazeera. See you then."

There are about four PSD's including yours truly and my four clients. The look in some of the building occupant?s eyes varies from person to person. Fear, surprise, contrite resignation and hate. I can understand some resentment of armed foreigners in ones place of work. But then again, we're not there to shoot anyone; we just want to make sure that the assessment is accomplished without any interference from "holy warriors".

We are shown into the plant manager?s office. My client who is the lead person explains that they are there to assess the plant so that they can determine what repairs need to be made. The plant manager has tea brought in. As I've stated in a previous e-mail, the Arab culture places a premium on hospitality. I've come to realize that tea is an integral part of this hospitality. Some background information about the facility is gained over tea.

My clients split into two two-main teams to be more efficient in assessing the site. Two of the Iraqi members of the PSD team and I form a triangular perimeter around my two clients and one of the plant employees. Where ever they go, we are there. Watching, scanning, waiting for the bad guys. One of the Iraqi PSD's does double duty as an interpreter

We want to get back to the FOB before sunset so we have to leave before the assessment is complete. It's like being in one of the vampire movies. You want to get off the streets before dark. The incomplete assessment means returning tomorrow. Not an ideal situation. We know there are bad guys in the area. The VBIED is proof positive of that. If we caught them off guard with our unannounced arrival today, they might decide to marshal their forces and give us their idea of a proper welcome if we return the next day. Tomorrow might prove to be eventful in more ways than one.

We head back to the FOB and report back into the TOC. (Sick of the acronyms yet? Think how my parents felt while I spent over 11 years in a military environment!) The battle captain informs me that the FOB mayor still hasn't shown up. The FOB mayor is an officer that literally runs the base. He's the guy who will provide us a place to sleep. In the meantime we can go to the dining facility (DFAC) and grab some chow.

The DFAC is efficient, Spartan but gets the job done. Just what you'd expect from the Army in a war zone. There's a huge big screen television in the corner blaring out Armed Forces Network (AFN) news.

The chow is good and there's packets of food to put in ones cargo pockets for a snack or meal later when one is away from the FOB and can't get to the dining facility. Small packets of beef jerky, trail mix and even pudding cups. If I was a pudding junkie I would've thought I had died and gone to heaven.

When we get back from chow we return to the TOC. Because of the VBIED, the mayor of the FOB hasn't had time to round up our cots that we'll be using in our tent. We're told where our tent is located and we move to there to unload our gear. The tent is nothing like you've seen in MASH. They are referred to as "Fest Tents" because they look like the beer tents you see at an Oktoberfest. The only catch is, there are no frauleins dressed like the St. Pauli girl dispensing tankards of Teutonic liquid carbohydrates. We take what little gear we have inside as the Mayor of the FOB shows up. He tells us that the cots are enroute in the mean time he points out where the shower facilities, gym and ad hoc mini mart facilities are. This place used to be an airbase, so there are plenty of buildings, pavement and area. I ask him about his duties. He also is the one who deals with the Iraqi contractors who work on the FOB. Many of the people who were killed by today's VBIED were people he knew.

After we stake out our turf in the tent and set up our cots, two of my clients and I decide to avail ourselves of the shower facilities. After spending over 12 hours wearing body armor, walking around in some truly oppressive heat and being alert and on edge for the better part of that time, there is something truly refreshing about taking a shower, washing away the grime and sweat and putting on fresh socks and underwear.

Later, the PSD team leader and one of his compatriots ask us if we want to go to the "Hajji Mart". This is the generic term given to the small shops the crop up wherever our military is. If 7-11 sets up here, they'll clean up. Inside we find everything from rugs, plastic chests of drawers one might find in a college dorm, to a glass cooler filled with an array of sodas and even Cuban cigars. Bingo! I buy a couple of Cokes and after conferring with my client, two Cuban cigars. I'm not opposed to it, but I prefer not to smoke alone.

Upon returning to our tent, one of my clients and I sit outside, smoke a cigar and shoot the breeze under an extremely bright moon. Weather and light data is part of the situation paragraph of an operations order, so I know that the moon is at 97% illumination. (Yeah, it's arcane knowledge like this that keeps the chicks flocking to my door.) If you can't have a single malt scotch, small batch bourbon or vintage port with your cigar, Coke is not a bad alternative. My client and I each sip a Coke while we enjoy our cigar. It's a good way to unwind after a fairly stressful day and it helps to bond with my client.

The next morning we return to the site to finish our assessment. One of the workers there shouts out at one of the Iraqi members of our PSD. The Iraqi PSD shouts back. You don't have to understand Arabic to know that they weren't exchanging pleasantries. The anxiety level of the team as a whole goes up a notch. We just want to glide in, finish the assessment and glide out.

Most PSD's will tell you that if they can finish their contract without ever having to fire a shot, that's fine with them. This runs contrary to the rogue, gunslinger image that some people have, but it fits the majority the majority of PSD's. The cowboy who has an itchy trigger finger also tends to have bad judgment. That's a severe shortcoming in this line of work. If I have to shoot, that means my clients are in immediate danger. I don't have any qualms about perforating a bad guy, but I do have major reservations about my clients being in death's path. I'll forego the bragging rights and war stories of dead Muslims I sent to their 72 virgins if it means all my clients return home alive and in one piece.

So we resume yesterday's assessment. The site is loud, grimy and hotter inside than outside. OSHA would have a field day there and probably the EPA as well. My portion of the team finishes up and we return to the main body of the PSD team and vehicles. Upon arriving there I notice the team leader is slightly agitated. I find out that one of the local workers at the facility had gone up to at least one of the vehicles and tapped on the windshield. Big deal you say? Well, in the US maybe. But here that indicates that he was trying to determine the thickness of the glass. Definitely, not a good sign. We're now eager to get out of there. Become mobile and head home. The other half of the assessment team finishes. We give our thanks and farewells to the plant manager who just so happens to still have a picture of Saddam Hussein in his office and get the hell out of dodge.

Fortunately, the ride home is uneventful. I can tell I'm getting acclimated to here because I find seeing the barrels of the AK47's sticking out of our escort vehicles normal and comforting instead of unusual. On the rare occasion we come alongside of them, the muzzles rise up smoothly and in unison like they are a living part of the escort vehicle. As soon as they are clear of us, the muzzles are back down to horizontal. We make it back two hours faster than the trip there.

Our first, of what will probably be many excursions out of Baghdad is now officially history. By my standards it goes in the win column.

It is now 1:02 a.m. and I just finished proofreading this after having spent a 15 minutes stint this evening armored up and armed on the rooftop of my building after hearing multiple shots outside. Things are back to "normal" and I need to get ready for bed.

Believe it or not, you are not caught up with the events of the past four weeks. I will try to bring you up to date within the next few days. This past trip was the proverbial walk in the park compared to the one in my next installment.

Before I close I want to thank those of you who have passed on my missives to friends of yours. It's a pleasant surprise to get an e-mail from a total stranger giving me their response to what I've written. I also want to thank those of you who have asked me if I have needed anything while here. By and large I'm set as far as material objects go, although I've taken advantage of the offer once or twice.

For those of you who have offered or would offer assistance, I will ask this of you. Instead of sending me Slim Jims, magazines, sunblock, skin lotion, etc., please visit the website www.operationiraqichildren.com. If you deem it a suitable cause, spend the money that you would've spent on me on this organization instead. I can live without Slim Jims and lots of other things, but I do think a contribution that promotes the education process of the Iraqi children is far more useful to us all and has potentially greater dividends.

With that said, it's time for me to get some sleep.

Respectfully submitted.

Anthony "Stony" Smith