The mission in Iraq was failing and falling apart. American soldiers were dying over 100 a month. There was a lot of sectarian violence and mass graves of dead people were common.
We got there in April and the heat was brutal. The temps in the day were in the 130s. I didn't know it could get that hot. Plus we wore full body armor, carrying 50 lbs. of gear, clearing houses, buildings and high rises in the worst parts of Baghdad. My uniform was so wet it looked like I had jumped in a pool.
There were times we went a month without taking a shower and days I just did not have time to brush my teeth. It was nasty and everyone had heat rash and everyone was eating MREs (Meals Ready to Eat), sat out on our checkpoints on routes so people couldn’t lay on IEDS (Improvised Explosive Devices) and blow us up.
The operations tempo was extreme. We had 24-hour long patrols and were always tired, filthy, hungry. There was no end in sight.
People shot at us. There were suicide bombers out there that would just blow themselves up and kill innocent civilians and soldiers. And there were a lot of people out there that just wanted to kill Americans.
Nothing the way that day started would have led any of us to believe that it would be different. Wake up, kit up, head out the front entrance of our small “base” in a small neighborhood in Baquba, Iraq.
It was about two to three hours into the mission when the call came across the radio.
“One-Six is down.”
One-Six was John’s call sign.
You don’t use actual names over the radio, but it might have well as been. It still struck with the same shock, denial, and “oh, shit,” feeling.
“Let’s go, we need to get over to John’s Platoon.”
By the time we arrived in our Stryker vehicle, John had already been loaded into the First Sergeant’s Stryker and was making his way back to the main forward operating base. Empty shell casings were everywhere.
We pieced the story together later that afternoon. We had John’s broken rifle and shattered carabiner as a visual testimony of the small firefight he’d been in that morning.
We had our linguist’s story of him returning fire with John’s rifle, giving those around John the time they needed to drag him to safety and render aid. We had the ceramic body armor plate from that same linguist, clearly showing where a round had impacted him as well.
But we still didn’t know if we’d ever see John again.
The night before our mission I had a horrible feeling. For a long time, I had in my mind that I was going to die in Iraq. I didn't sleep that night and a couple hours before sunrise we moved out. On the call to prayer speakers, the words were a call to fight. That's what our interpreters told us. Without knowing the language, we knew that what was being said was not in our favor. We knew they were fortifying their battle positions to attack.
I was crossing through an open area when I noticed that rounds were coming our way. When a bullet is shot at you, you know the sound that it makes, especially a super sonic round. It just zips by you, it’s a distinct sound, and you know you need to get behind some cover.
I started running as fast as I could to get to cover and I was running towards a courtyard with a fence-like structure and right before I turned the corner into the courtyard, a bullet hit me in the right shoulder and it took me off my feet. A sergeant just grabbed me and pulled me in. The medics started to treat me and at that point it got crazy. Everyone was shooting.
I found own way back to Iraq. I was able to get back to my platoon which was a huge morale boost for my soldiers.
I was not focusing on my personal well being but we made it through the rest of the deployment without any more casualties.
Me and this guy got shot on the same day and we both lived.
It was raining and we were at a checkpoint that didn’t have a lot of shelter so I slept under this piece of cardboard.
It was German led regional command. That’s what they fed their soldiers so that’s what we got. Typical German breakfast.
Afghan villagers outside a bakery in Kunduz.
My First Sergeant Twitchel barbecuing. This guy would have given his life for me. I would have done the same. I think it was Fourth of July. It says “Don’t Burn ACUs (Army Combat Uniform)” over the barrel because soldiers kept burning them there when they weren’t supposed to. It would stink up the whole place.
Soldiers rest when they can. A kitten curls up on an exhausted soldier in Kunduz. He didn't care.
A soldier receives a saline infusion to combat dehydration and overheating in Kunduz.
Soldiers build a checkpoint with dirt while under fire outside of Kunduz, Afghanistan, in 2010. The region was heavily controlled by the Taliban at the time.
Early one morning we received an SOS call from an American organization based in Kunduz. After a quick brief of the situation we deployed outer security of the compound while leaving enough combat power to get to the survivors on the roof. All the soldiers were smoking cigarettes to help calm their nerves.
It took a lot of courage to get through the first floor. As we continued to clear upward we had face to face engagements with machine gun fire and suicide bombers . As we moved closer to the roof, more and more death, blood.
We got the casualties evacuated. I’m not sure how many survived but I was glad it was over. I think the entire clearance lasted maybe an hour but it seemed like forever. Getting back to our combat post, we conducted an AAR (after action review). Not sure what we discussed but we knew we would soon get a mission to go deeper into Taliban country.
