Terrorist Dead: Another One Bites the Dust
Once again, we mounted up for a late night mission to a small village in the middle of western Iraq. Through the darkness we moved, the engines of our Iron Camels roaring, unaware of what awaits us at our destination.
Intermingled inside of an Iraqi convoy, nothing stopped us as we blazed down the highways. We sped past checkpoints, through towns, and watch as civilian vehicles pull over and keep their distance from us. Inside our Humvee, the radios are quiet. Everyone was tired and hot. It was a long day that parleyed into a longer evening.
An hour later, our convoy, 30 vehicles strong, poured into this tiny village, quickly followed by another convoy almost as large. In the distance, the surreal vision of vehicles covered in high powered lights, searched the nooks and crannies of the roadway looking for IEDs.
By 2:00 am, we were on foot following behind the Iraqi General leading the mission. As he walked down the street, he acted as if he owned them hands behind his back, chin held high, conversing with his staff and an American Colonel.
As we advanced down the street, his soldiers entered homes. First knocking on doors, then, if no one answered, they would let themselves inside. After a quick and not very thorough search, the soldiers would move to the next house and the next one after that. Throughout the garbage laden streets they did the same thing, over and over all night long. I looked around trying to find anything suspicious. It’s a weird feeling walking the streets of a neighborhood in a foreign country filled with people that want to kill you. It’s so easy to be taken out. You can never see into all of the dark corners. You can only do your best. But there is that one time that your best might not be good enough, and it only takes once.
When the general reached the end of the street, we all stood around a hole. The hole was about three feet deep by about 4 feet across. The general reached in, pulled out some plastic, and discussed the story around the hole.
The day prior, an individual was emplacing an IED and it went off. It blew the guy up right in the middle of the street and killed him. Good. Another one bites the dust. I hate terrorists. They’re pussies. The search we were doing was a simply a reactionary measure to see if we could find anything else in the village related to the IED.
By daybreak we were finished. The General broke for breakfast and then returned to the village to retrieve his soldiers. There was one arrest of a thief was made based off of information totally unrelated to the IED. The General’s soldiers displayed about six illegal rifles they found throughout their searches.
Anti-climactic and unceremoniously, we left.