I’ve been told that many people have been asking when the next column would come. Thank you very much for your interest — that alone is validation enough for me.
I wanted to wait until ALL of my Bandits were safely back on U.S. soil before writing this, the final column.
Now they all are.
The journey out of Baghdad seems simple enough: Get on a helicopter, fly to the airport, get on a plane, fly to Kuwait, out-process the combat zone, get on another plane and fly to the states, you’re done. It’s not so simple in execution. Helicopters and planes are in constant use and require maintenance; sometimes they break, and this means everyone in that pipeline halts right where they are and has to wait until they’re fixed or a replacement arrives. There aren’t any “replacement” aircraft just sitting around waiting to be used, just as there isn’t some big warehouse with all the latest equipment just waiting for soldiers to go draw it prior to deploying. You go and you fight with what you have.
Just something that makes me laugh every time I here a senator blast the administration with, “Why don’t our troops have the best equipment available?” Answer: “Because you didn’t authorize money to buy it years ago.” Another favorite of mine is the presidential candidates who claim, “I’ll have everyone home in 60 days after taking office.” It’s ludicrous; it took nine months to get all five brigades of the “Surge” into Iraq. That’s 25,000 troops. There are currently over 150,000 troops in Iraq. To claim you would bring them all home in a matter of months is a blatant lie; it can’t be done with the assets that we now have.
But enough of that. Bandit’s journey home began on or about the 5th of April and the last soldier set foot on Fort Riley, Kan., on the 22nd. All and all, not bad when one considers the movement requirements. I can’t even begin to estimate how many people were involved in support of the movement, but it was a lot. There were the Army aviation units that made the first move, joint (inter-service) coordinators who manifested the movements aboard Air Force transport planes, civilian contractors who housed, fed, and manifested movement aboard chartered planes for the return to the states, Department of Defense civilians who received the unit here in Kansas and our own rear-detachment who had billeting ready and notified family members of who was arriving on what day. My personal favorites are the ones who are not being paid to assist with our return, the Veterans of Foreign Wars in Bangor, Maine.
Our chartered plane touched down in Bangor to refuel and restock the food stuffs; we had about two hours to stretch our legs and roam about the Bangor airport. As soon as we stepped through the security checkpoint there were veterans and veteran supporters from the Bangor VFW (I failed to check the post number and now wish I hadn’t) waiting for us. These men and women were not family members or federally-employed civilians; they were just great Americans proud of the military. Most of these men and women were wearing ball caps that said “Veteran: WWII” or “Korea.” Some of our flights came through Bangor at 2 and 3 a.m., and everyone said that these great Americans were there to greet them. It was truly awesome. They said, “Welcome home; we’re proud of you, and here is a cell phone, use it to call your family.” Can you believe that? They were giving us phones to make long distance calls! I can only imagine how much they have to work to raise the money to support that initiative — truly awesome!
For me, after availing myself of the generosity of the VFW to call my wife Terri and my parents, the next best thing about the Bangor visit was looking over green hills with a piping hot cup of — you guessed it — Green Mountain Coffee Roasters coffee! Yes, I had plenty of GMCR in Baghdad, too, so it must’ve been the view that made it somehow taste better in Maine.
After having been to more than half of the states to include Alaska and Hawaii, Central America, Europe, Asia, and the Middle East, I can now say I have been to Maine and, yes, the view was beautiful! Saying this in print should make my friend Tim Wright of the Black Lions happy.
Well, Waterbury, I’ve enjoyed the few minutes of respite I got from daily missions to write this column to you and I’m overjoyed that you were interested in what and how my Bandits were doing. I have labored to think of a way to end this, but it escapes me. I will simply reiterate what I told my Bandits the last time we all stood as a single unit in Baghdad and then this will be complete:
“Every leadership manual and pamphlet says that I’m supposed to say something profound and moving to summarize your sacrifice here. You all know that I am neither profound nor moving; I’m night schooled. I am, however, a student of history and I will tell you that whatever the outcome here is in a year or in 50 years you don’t need to worry what history says about this campaign. You saw the conditions here when you arrived and no one can say they are not infinitely better now. History called our grandfathers the greatest generation for their efforts in World War II. The European campaign from D-Day to V-E day lasted 11 months and two days. You have just spent every day of the last 15 months in combat. The last 10 of those months you have conducted at least an 8-hour combat patrol every day without exception. Our grandfather’s units came off the line for a month a time to rest and refit; you did not. No one can take away your honor. Hold your heads high for what you’ve done here, now and forever, regardless of what any of those (expletive deleted) back in the states say. You and I know that what you did here was honorable, it was just, and it was the right thing to do. Never forget it. It has been my life’s greatest honor to command you here. I’ll see you all back in the states.”
Thanks for caring. Bandit 6, OUT.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Friday, April 4, 2008
Leaving behind our tour in Iraq
By Shane Sandretto
I write this column from my command post as I monitor two of my platoons on what is the last patrol of our squadron. At 7 a.m. this morning we will be relieved in place by another unit. We have spent the last six days orienting the leaders of that unit to our operational environment and soon it will be time for them to take the lead as our tour, OIF V, the “surge,” is coming to an end.
A second unit will inherit our equipment and has been sharing our living quarters for the past week or so. This morning, as soon as my platoons return from the final patrol, we will put all of our theatre-provided equipment on display and the commander of this second unit and I will inventory it together. Then it will be his.
He will have our equipment, someone else will have assumed our responsibilities and all that will remain is for us to go home.
Just before I began to write this, I was thinking about this tour and comparing it to my last tour, OIF I. Did it mean more this time? Did we accomplish our mission? Have our efforts made a difference? Was it worth the sacrifice my men paid? Will we look back on this with pride? How will history judge this war? What are my wife and baby doing right now? I was thinking of all these things when I heard the tell-tale sound of rockets.
The sound of rockets is a high-pitch as air rushes to get out of the way of the speeding projectile, the thump of an impact and an explosion. Only one of my platoons was on the forward-operating base and its leaders immediately went about getting accountability of everyone. No one was rushing about or getting too excited; it was all very routine.
Soldiers in the new unit that share our barracks were wide-eyed and their commander came to my command post to see what was going on.
“Rockets sir,” replied my senior noncommissioned officer on duty. He looked at me with concern on his face. I waved my hand, shrugged, and pressed play on the DVD I had paused when I heard the first shriek pass over our heads. He seemed less than calmed by my casualness.
Then it hit me, as I sat in my command post wearing slippers, pajama bottoms and a T-shirt: we’re the salty old veterans. When did that happen?
This commander and most of his men have been deployed before. I guess they just aren’t adjusted to the sights and sounds of the battlefield yet? There was some small talk between my men on duty in the command post and his soldiers trying to learn everything they could before we leave. The difference between rockets and mortars — how they sound and how you can tell the difference. Whether it matters ‘cause, “both’ll getcha dead.” How the molten projectile is formed by an explosively-formed projectile and how good the local flatbread can be.
The radio squawked on the squadron net and informed us that the rockets had missed the forward operating base and an accountability report will not be required. Everyone is my command post was relieved, more because they would not be required to wear their body armor to chow in the morning then the fact that no one had been injured. Honestly, I felt the same way.
I went back to the DVD but didn’t really watch it. I was thinking about recent events: Basra, Sadr city and the recent rise in indirect fire. I pondered what it means, still picking at my enemies’ brain and I had less then six hours left to fight him. Is the insurgency gaining steam again? Was the lull just a winter vacation? Had our enemy taken the time to rest and refit? Was this just a send off as if to salute our leaving? Was it an attempt to inflict fear or casualties on the incoming unit? Does this mean we weren’t as successful as we thought? Will time tell? How long will this war be carried on the shoulders of the armed forces alone? Will reducing the number of units after the surge create a vacuum the enemy can fill?
Since I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions that moment I thought of other questions as I passed the time. Did I drop my laundry off yesterday or the day before? Is it really over for me this time? When will I deploy again? How old will my daughter be when I do? Will my wife divorce me if I spend a third year here? Where did I put my cell phone before I deployed? How much will a new battery for my stored car cost me? Will my dress uniform still fit?
My mind was wandering and I didn’t have many answers, but I can tell you my cell phone is in my assault pack; I dropped my laundry off the day before and I’m confident that my marriage could survive another deployment if it has to, but I’d rather not test the theory.
Later today we will be relieved of our combat duties and by the time you read this most of my troop will probably be either in Kuwait or Kansas. We will reunite in Kansas and finish all the post-deployment requirements, health surveys and re-integration training. I wonder how many of my soldiers will come to work telling stories of traffic and how they almost went around it by driving on the sidewalk or against traffic as we do regularly here.
I’m sure that a working stoplight will look out of place to us for some time. But that is another story I will write from the comfort of Ft. Riley, most surely with a cold beer next to my laptop.
Shane Sandretto lives in Waterbury Center. He is commanding a U.S. cavalry troop called the Bandits in Baghdad.
I write this column from my command post as I monitor two of my platoons on what is the last patrol of our squadron. At 7 a.m. this morning we will be relieved in place by another unit. We have spent the last six days orienting the leaders of that unit to our operational environment and soon it will be time for them to take the lead as our tour, OIF V, the “surge,” is coming to an end.
A second unit will inherit our equipment and has been sharing our living quarters for the past week or so. This morning, as soon as my platoons return from the final patrol, we will put all of our theatre-provided equipment on display and the commander of this second unit and I will inventory it together. Then it will be his.
He will have our equipment, someone else will have assumed our responsibilities and all that will remain is for us to go home.
Just before I began to write this, I was thinking about this tour and comparing it to my last tour, OIF I. Did it mean more this time? Did we accomplish our mission? Have our efforts made a difference? Was it worth the sacrifice my men paid? Will we look back on this with pride? How will history judge this war? What are my wife and baby doing right now? I was thinking of all these things when I heard the tell-tale sound of rockets.
The sound of rockets is a high-pitch as air rushes to get out of the way of the speeding projectile, the thump of an impact and an explosion. Only one of my platoons was on the forward-operating base and its leaders immediately went about getting accountability of everyone. No one was rushing about or getting too excited; it was all very routine.
Soldiers in the new unit that share our barracks were wide-eyed and their commander came to my command post to see what was going on.
“Rockets sir,” replied my senior noncommissioned officer on duty. He looked at me with concern on his face. I waved my hand, shrugged, and pressed play on the DVD I had paused when I heard the first shriek pass over our heads. He seemed less than calmed by my casualness.
Then it hit me, as I sat in my command post wearing slippers, pajama bottoms and a T-shirt: we’re the salty old veterans. When did that happen?
This commander and most of his men have been deployed before. I guess they just aren’t adjusted to the sights and sounds of the battlefield yet? There was some small talk between my men on duty in the command post and his soldiers trying to learn everything they could before we leave. The difference between rockets and mortars — how they sound and how you can tell the difference. Whether it matters ‘cause, “both’ll getcha dead.” How the molten projectile is formed by an explosively-formed projectile and how good the local flatbread can be.
The radio squawked on the squadron net and informed us that the rockets had missed the forward operating base and an accountability report will not be required. Everyone is my command post was relieved, more because they would not be required to wear their body armor to chow in the morning then the fact that no one had been injured. Honestly, I felt the same way.
I went back to the DVD but didn’t really watch it. I was thinking about recent events: Basra, Sadr city and the recent rise in indirect fire. I pondered what it means, still picking at my enemies’ brain and I had less then six hours left to fight him. Is the insurgency gaining steam again? Was the lull just a winter vacation? Had our enemy taken the time to rest and refit? Was this just a send off as if to salute our leaving? Was it an attempt to inflict fear or casualties on the incoming unit? Does this mean we weren’t as successful as we thought? Will time tell? How long will this war be carried on the shoulders of the armed forces alone? Will reducing the number of units after the surge create a vacuum the enemy can fill?
Since I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions that moment I thought of other questions as I passed the time. Did I drop my laundry off yesterday or the day before? Is it really over for me this time? When will I deploy again? How old will my daughter be when I do? Will my wife divorce me if I spend a third year here? Where did I put my cell phone before I deployed? How much will a new battery for my stored car cost me? Will my dress uniform still fit?
My mind was wandering and I didn’t have many answers, but I can tell you my cell phone is in my assault pack; I dropped my laundry off the day before and I’m confident that my marriage could survive another deployment if it has to, but I’d rather not test the theory.
Later today we will be relieved of our combat duties and by the time you read this most of my troop will probably be either in Kuwait or Kansas. We will reunite in Kansas and finish all the post-deployment requirements, health surveys and re-integration training. I wonder how many of my soldiers will come to work telling stories of traffic and how they almost went around it by driving on the sidewalk or against traffic as we do regularly here.
I’m sure that a working stoplight will look out of place to us for some time. But that is another story I will write from the comfort of Ft. Riley, most surely with a cold beer next to my laptop.
Shane Sandretto lives in Waterbury Center. He is commanding a U.S. cavalry troop called the Bandits in Baghdad.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
We’re building Iraq’s economy
Sallam H’Lakum (Greetings). I write the fourth installment of this on Valentines Day, my 16th anniversary of service in the Army, after having completed live-fire training on a small arms range that’s been built on our forward operating base.
It took two days to get the entire troop through the training as we still have to conduct combat operations; however, it is essential to keep our skills honed so we set up a range to keep them sharp. Range training consisted of each soldier first confirming the zero of their weapon sight, then each qualified on paper targets and we culminated the event with a stress shoot.
Stress shoots are good training for what a soldier may face in the streets. The idea is to first raise the men’s heart rate and then have them fire at multiple targets from several different positions. The soldiers must run a distance before engaging targets, change magazines, use appropriate firing stances depending on the type of cover provided, move from one place to another and discriminate between hostile and non-hostile targets. The event is timed and a competition between members of each platoon makes it fun.
During this event the men were competing for coins from the Gen. Petraeus, the commander of the multi-national force. Gen. Petraeus’ aide left us a few extra coins after his recent visit to give to deserving Bandits who could not receive them personally from the commander of all forces in Iraq. 1st Sgt. Roark and I decided the best way to determine those deserving was to have the troop compete for them. Sgt. Justin Miller and specialists Samuel Hale, Luke Peterson and Thomas Woods were the “top guns” for Red, White, Blue and HQs platoons, respectively.
After the stress shoot it was back to work in the Muhallas. I put the two platoons that will be securing the area tonight after dark to sleep and sent the HQs section out to our Muhalla to invigorate the economy through our micro-grant program.
The micro-grant system is the program we’re using to boost the economy here so that life may return to normal. The program is really quite simple. Several months ago we approached shop owners whose shops were damaged or small and struggling and offered them a small grant to help their shops improve or expand and receive needed repairs. That’s all it really takes to get the word spread in this culture as word of mouth travels quickly. Soon we had dozens of people approaching us every time we went out asking for an application for a micro-grant so that they could open a shop or repair something essential to their livelihood. We took any and all applications they had.
I went through the applications with 1st Sgt. David Johnson, my fire support officer, who additionally serves as my essential services officer. We compared the type of shop someone wanted to open with the number of similar shops already in business while taking into account the age and experience of the applicant and came up with an order of merit list. After I approved the applications they still had to be approved by three levels of command above me. Once the applications were approved and funded we called the applicants and scheduled a meeting to pay them a micro-grant.
Today, 1st Lt. Johnson is paying out our second iteration of grants. Since our tour is nearly up here we need only pay the grants that have been approved to date; when complete we will have given $105,000 to the people of our Muhalla to boost their economy. The program is showing positive results already as more shops open daily and has proved a huge success in the area controlled by our sister troop, Comanche.
Speaking of Comanche Troop, the people of Waterbury may be interested to know that one of their own is a member of that unit. Gabe Chioniere is a specialist in Comanche Troop; he is a 2006 graduate of Harwood Union High School and serves as a sniper in his commander’s (Capt. Bret Hamilton) personal security detachment.
Getting back to the essential services, one of my Bandits asked me a few weeks ago why are we putting so much effort into improving essential services. When I told him that improving the quality of life for the residents of the city is beneficial to us as it gains their trust and drives a wedge between them and our enemy, he asked, “Shouldn’t there be some other agency that does this kind of work?”
I thought a moment before answering that question as I too wondered if there is or should be a separate American agency whose primary function is to assist friendly foreign nations with establishing their democracy, restoring their infrastructure, boosting their economy and legitimizing their government. I replied, “Think of this as a learning experience. If such an agency did exist and didn’t refer to serving in Iraq as a ‘death sentence’ then you would never have had the opportunity to figure out how a city’s water distribution or sewage system works, or how to fix an electrical power grid that’s been dead for a decade, or how to get fuel from a refinery to the people in an organized and fair fashion without several layers of corruption inflating the prices. If such an agency did come to Iraq all we would have left to do would be to provide security for roughly 5,000 families with 450 men and that would be just boring.”
We both had a good laugh and went back to our simple task of fixing everything … yesterday. But in my mind I had to ask myself if the positive things we’ve accomplished here will last what with our own nation’s “fast food” attitude and black-and-white vision of the world, and it’s urgent desire to “bring the troops home.” Will it be too soon for equality or democracy to take hold here now that we’ve established the security? Ask yourself, “How long does it take to establish equality and democracy?”
Shukron and masalama, hebibi (Thank you and goodbye, my good friend).
It took two days to get the entire troop through the training as we still have to conduct combat operations; however, it is essential to keep our skills honed so we set up a range to keep them sharp. Range training consisted of each soldier first confirming the zero of their weapon sight, then each qualified on paper targets and we culminated the event with a stress shoot.
Stress shoots are good training for what a soldier may face in the streets. The idea is to first raise the men’s heart rate and then have them fire at multiple targets from several different positions. The soldiers must run a distance before engaging targets, change magazines, use appropriate firing stances depending on the type of cover provided, move from one place to another and discriminate between hostile and non-hostile targets. The event is timed and a competition between members of each platoon makes it fun.
During this event the men were competing for coins from the Gen. Petraeus, the commander of the multi-national force. Gen. Petraeus’ aide left us a few extra coins after his recent visit to give to deserving Bandits who could not receive them personally from the commander of all forces in Iraq. 1st Sgt. Roark and I decided the best way to determine those deserving was to have the troop compete for them. Sgt. Justin Miller and specialists Samuel Hale, Luke Peterson and Thomas Woods were the “top guns” for Red, White, Blue and HQs platoons, respectively.
After the stress shoot it was back to work in the Muhallas. I put the two platoons that will be securing the area tonight after dark to sleep and sent the HQs section out to our Muhalla to invigorate the economy through our micro-grant program.
The micro-grant system is the program we’re using to boost the economy here so that life may return to normal. The program is really quite simple. Several months ago we approached shop owners whose shops were damaged or small and struggling and offered them a small grant to help their shops improve or expand and receive needed repairs. That’s all it really takes to get the word spread in this culture as word of mouth travels quickly. Soon we had dozens of people approaching us every time we went out asking for an application for a micro-grant so that they could open a shop or repair something essential to their livelihood. We took any and all applications they had.
I went through the applications with 1st Sgt. David Johnson, my fire support officer, who additionally serves as my essential services officer. We compared the type of shop someone wanted to open with the number of similar shops already in business while taking into account the age and experience of the applicant and came up with an order of merit list. After I approved the applications they still had to be approved by three levels of command above me. Once the applications were approved and funded we called the applicants and scheduled a meeting to pay them a micro-grant.
Today, 1st Lt. Johnson is paying out our second iteration of grants. Since our tour is nearly up here we need only pay the grants that have been approved to date; when complete we will have given $105,000 to the people of our Muhalla to boost their economy. The program is showing positive results already as more shops open daily and has proved a huge success in the area controlled by our sister troop, Comanche.
Speaking of Comanche Troop, the people of Waterbury may be interested to know that one of their own is a member of that unit. Gabe Chioniere is a specialist in Comanche Troop; he is a 2006 graduate of Harwood Union High School and serves as a sniper in his commander’s (Capt. Bret Hamilton) personal security detachment.
Getting back to the essential services, one of my Bandits asked me a few weeks ago why are we putting so much effort into improving essential services. When I told him that improving the quality of life for the residents of the city is beneficial to us as it gains their trust and drives a wedge between them and our enemy, he asked, “Shouldn’t there be some other agency that does this kind of work?”
I thought a moment before answering that question as I too wondered if there is or should be a separate American agency whose primary function is to assist friendly foreign nations with establishing their democracy, restoring their infrastructure, boosting their economy and legitimizing their government. I replied, “Think of this as a learning experience. If such an agency did exist and didn’t refer to serving in Iraq as a ‘death sentence’ then you would never have had the opportunity to figure out how a city’s water distribution or sewage system works, or how to fix an electrical power grid that’s been dead for a decade, or how to get fuel from a refinery to the people in an organized and fair fashion without several layers of corruption inflating the prices. If such an agency did come to Iraq all we would have left to do would be to provide security for roughly 5,000 families with 450 men and that would be just boring.”
We both had a good laugh and went back to our simple task of fixing everything … yesterday. But in my mind I had to ask myself if the positive things we’ve accomplished here will last what with our own nation’s “fast food” attitude and black-and-white vision of the world, and it’s urgent desire to “bring the troops home.” Will it be too soon for equality or democracy to take hold here now that we’ve established the security? Ask yourself, “How long does it take to establish equality and democracy?”
Shukron and masalama, hebibi (Thank you and goodbye, my good friend).
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Gen. Petraeus visits Blue Platoon
1.24.08
Sallam H’Lakum (“Greetings”). I write the third installment of this column after having just coordinated a platoon’s operation via FM radio from my command post on the forward operating base.
Sadly, tonight’s operation did not yield the results we had planned for, but that does not make the mission a failure. What it means is that al-Qaida is thoroughly routed in our area of operations. This was not the case two nights ago when I was out with the same platoon, my third, or “Blue,” platoon. We had intelligence on the leader of an improvised-explosive-device cell and took action on that knowledge. Blue platoon executed an operation that detained the individual with speed and audacity and turned the individual over to me within 20 minutes after the action started.
Blue Platoon is led by 1st Lt. Clinton Merritt of Illinois. He is a signal officer and is branch detailed to armor. What that means is that he begins his career or completes his platoon leader time, as an armor officer. In his case, that means leading a cavalry scout platoon. Afterwards, he will transition to the Signal Corps and become a captain responsible for maintaining communications in another unit.
His platoon sergeant is Sgt. 1st Class William Jones, who has 18 years in the Army and is from Tennessee. Jones, who is 39, holds the distinction of being the oldest man in the troop. Jones is the man primarily responsible for training the platoon to be an effective combat force and is the senior advisor and mentor to Merritt. Together, they are an outstanding leadership team.
Blue Platoon has two sections led by staff sergeants: Crawford of Florida and Zlotow of Illinois. Staff Sgt. Crawford was once a Marine and worked for the National Security Agency. He is now a cavalry scout because, as he told me, “working for the NSA was boring.” I have accompanied several dismounted patrols in the neighborhoods that were led by Staff Sgt. Zlotow and, even though he’s in charge of the patrol, he always takes the “point.” He truly leads from the front.
As I’ve mentioned in earlier dispatches, Bandit Troop secures two muhallas — or Bagdad neighborhoods — nightly. As we have three platoons, there is a rotation: Blue Platoon is the one that works in both. When you add in the third muhalla that my troop operates in during the daylight, Blue Platoon becomes the only platoon in the squadron that has the opportunity to work anywhere in the entire squadron area of operations.
Changing gears a little, we have been visited a lot recently by several high ranking officers, include: Brig. Gen. Hammond, the commander of the multi-national division in Baghdad; Lt. Gen. Odierno, the commander of the multi-national corps; and Gen. David Petraeus, the commander of the multi-national force and senior ranking officer in all of Iraq.
All of these generals have been visiting the Raider Squadron Area of Operations to witness the return of normalcy here. I’d like to take credit for that success, but it was our squadron’s commanding officer — Lt. Col. Crider — and his plan and the hard work of nine platoons like Blue Platoon that has achieved this.
Success is in its infancy and can still be lost. That is why we’re diligent in our efforts to patrol constantly and continue efforts to stimulate the economy and enhance essential services such as getting electricity to the people.
Gen. Petraeus honored two of my Bandits with his personal coin. A Gen. Petraeus coin is a collectable item in the Army and will make a very nice addition to the collections of Spc. Williams, my troop armorer, and Staff Sgt. Butcher from Blue Platoon.
I previously told you about Williams, so all I’ll mention is this: When Gen. Petraeus saw the size of Williams’ arms he asked if he stored those “guns” in the arms room!
Butcher takes leadership classes via video teleconference in a course that is being taught in the U.S. to ensure that he advances with his peers who are not deployed at this time. He will also get to spend time with his father next week, as his father is a captain in the Army currently deployed to Iraq; his father is flying from his post to ours so the two can spend quality time together.
I’ll wrap up on that note as I too look forward to spending quality time with Terri and Alexandra, my wife and daughter, and all of my family, when we return home sometime this spring. Masallama (“Goodbye”).
Bandit Troop would like to give special thanks to the following people who went out of their way to send us gifts during the holiday season:
• Angela Stoddard of Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Vermont.
• Ron Clausen of the Best Western hotel, Waterbury.
• Canus of Waterbury.
• Charles O’Brien of the Veterans of Foreign Wars, Morrisville chapter.
• Dr. Peter Herbert of Waterbury.
• Ms. Cindy Mason of Greenfield, Mass.
• James Adams of the New Hampshire-Vermont district of USPS.
• Staff of the USPS office of Waterbury.
• Robyn Masi of Union Bank in Stowe.
• Linda Lemay of Mary Kay.
• Mrs. Breen of BFA Fairfax Elementary School.
Christmas in Baghad brings soldiers together
12.27.07
Hello again, Waterbury. I write this having just observed my second Arabian Christmas. It wasn’t as bad some might think. Of course I’d have rather spent it with my family. Christmas was always the one holiday I tried to make it back to Vermont to spend with family. In fact, in 15 years I think I’ve only missed three — two in Baghdad and one that my wife Terri and I spent in North Carolina.
This one was, of course, my daughter Alexandra’s first and I’d like to have seen her playing with wrapping paper and smiling for all the cameras that were surely recording the event, but I made the best of the situation. I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas night watching over the mohallas, or city neighborhoods.
Normally when I go on a night patrol I add my truck to the platoons that I send on patrol as an extra vehicle. This gives me freedom of mobility to move between the two platoons I send out nightly. But on these nights I replaced one of my crews and gave at least four of my Bandits a night off to call their families or rest up as best they could. It wasn’t just me giving up a holiday night to relieve these men; my crew was there with me. I’d like to make them the center of this column as not a one of them said a word about giving up their holiday so another crew could stay in.
My crew travels around the battlefield in my vehicle ensuring I get where I need to be safely. They start each mission about an hour before I do. They prepare the vehicle by mounting my .50-caliber machine gun, ensuring the radios have the right loads in them, packing the food and water, cleaning the windshield, and stowing any special equipment I deem essential for each particular mission.
When I show up for each mission briefing, my vehicle is always in running order or “fully mission capable,” as we say. There is often a “little gift” waiting for me in my seat, whether it’s some candy, a cup of coffee, or a rubber chicken. Whatever it is, it either makes me laugh or brings a tiny smile to my face at the least.
Spc. Woods is my driver. He’s responsible for ensuring the vehicle itself is in good working order. He’s a 33-year-old first-termer from California and reminds me of … well, me. That’s because we’re both in our 30s, yet can still hang with the “young bucks.” You’d think that being older than most of my Bandits he’d be more reserved, but he still manages to make sure the mirror on my door doesn’t go a single mission without bumping into something!
Spc. Williams, a 26-year-old first-termer, is my troop armorer. He’s from New Hampshire and responsible for all the weapons in the entire troop, and as such he is my gunner. He has the best view in the truck because he stands in the middle of it with his upper body exposed to the elements (and smells) in the turret. He can slew back and forth and look in any direction ensuring our machine gun, “The Darkness,” as he calls it, covers anything that might be a threat to us.
Sgt. Hartman from Illinois is 24, and on his second enlistment. He is my troop fire support noncommissioned officer. Since we’re in the middle of the city and don’t call for much indirect fire, his main responsibility has shifted to being my “ranger buddy.” That means that wherever I go, he goes, and watches my back. When I dismount the vehicle and patrol on foot with one of the platoons, he’s there with me. When I enter a building to meet with a sheik or interview a resident, he goes first and makes sure it’s safe. He’s always “got my back.” Since he is always with me, he is always “in the know” about what’s going on. This unfortunate fact has gained him another duty of taking care of most of the paperwork I generate when I’m out and about in the mohallas. None of this stuff is what he joined up for, I’m sure, but he gets it all done and doesn’t complain.
The four of us have spent many a night staring out the windows of our truck at the streets of Baghdad, watching for curfew violators, weapons smugglers, people placing improvised explosive devices, or IEDs, or other all-around bad people who might do harm to either us or the residents of the mohalla. Oddly enough, this can get incredibly boring, but boring is GOOD. We pass the time telling tales of girls, school, or playing the “name game” to stay alert.
These three men and I have developed the kind of closeness you can only get from spending eight to nine hours a night in a truck with the same guys. If you think about it for a minute, you’ll see what I’m getting at. There are no rest areas on the streets and Spc. Williams is in a harness that keeps him from falling out of the truck if it rolls over — that’s right — now you get it, no one “goes” anywhere alone.
When a patrol is over and I dismount to turn in a report or start movement on whatever new course of action has developed from this mission, my crew is still hard at work. They have to stow all our equipment, refuel the truck, order or replace any new parts that the truck needs and lock it up safely before our next mission. This can take anywhere from 30 minutes to several hours, depending on what the vehicle needs.
These three men take care of everything I need to go out in the streets and do my job. I couldn’t get anything accomplished without them, and we’re doing plenty, but I’ll save that for another installment. I just wanted to share with you a little something about with whom I spent my second Arabian Christmas.
Hello again, Waterbury. I write this having just observed my second Arabian Christmas. It wasn’t as bad some might think. Of course I’d have rather spent it with my family. Christmas was always the one holiday I tried to make it back to Vermont to spend with family. In fact, in 15 years I think I’ve only missed three — two in Baghdad and one that my wife Terri and I spent in North Carolina.
This one was, of course, my daughter Alexandra’s first and I’d like to have seen her playing with wrapping paper and smiling for all the cameras that were surely recording the event, but I made the best of the situation. I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas night watching over the mohallas, or city neighborhoods.
Normally when I go on a night patrol I add my truck to the platoons that I send on patrol as an extra vehicle. This gives me freedom of mobility to move between the two platoons I send out nightly. But on these nights I replaced one of my crews and gave at least four of my Bandits a night off to call their families or rest up as best they could. It wasn’t just me giving up a holiday night to relieve these men; my crew was there with me. I’d like to make them the center of this column as not a one of them said a word about giving up their holiday so another crew could stay in.
My crew travels around the battlefield in my vehicle ensuring I get where I need to be safely. They start each mission about an hour before I do. They prepare the vehicle by mounting my .50-caliber machine gun, ensuring the radios have the right loads in them, packing the food and water, cleaning the windshield, and stowing any special equipment I deem essential for each particular mission.
When I show up for each mission briefing, my vehicle is always in running order or “fully mission capable,” as we say. There is often a “little gift” waiting for me in my seat, whether it’s some candy, a cup of coffee, or a rubber chicken. Whatever it is, it either makes me laugh or brings a tiny smile to my face at the least.
Spc. Woods is my driver. He’s responsible for ensuring the vehicle itself is in good working order. He’s a 33-year-old first-termer from California and reminds me of … well, me. That’s because we’re both in our 30s, yet can still hang with the “young bucks.” You’d think that being older than most of my Bandits he’d be more reserved, but he still manages to make sure the mirror on my door doesn’t go a single mission without bumping into something!
Spc. Williams, a 26-year-old first-termer, is my troop armorer. He’s from New Hampshire and responsible for all the weapons in the entire troop, and as such he is my gunner. He has the best view in the truck because he stands in the middle of it with his upper body exposed to the elements (and smells) in the turret. He can slew back and forth and look in any direction ensuring our machine gun, “The Darkness,” as he calls it, covers anything that might be a threat to us.
Sgt. Hartman from Illinois is 24, and on his second enlistment. He is my troop fire support noncommissioned officer. Since we’re in the middle of the city and don’t call for much indirect fire, his main responsibility has shifted to being my “ranger buddy.” That means that wherever I go, he goes, and watches my back. When I dismount the vehicle and patrol on foot with one of the platoons, he’s there with me. When I enter a building to meet with a sheik or interview a resident, he goes first and makes sure it’s safe. He’s always “got my back.” Since he is always with me, he is always “in the know” about what’s going on. This unfortunate fact has gained him another duty of taking care of most of the paperwork I generate when I’m out and about in the mohallas. None of this stuff is what he joined up for, I’m sure, but he gets it all done and doesn’t complain.
The four of us have spent many a night staring out the windows of our truck at the streets of Baghdad, watching for curfew violators, weapons smugglers, people placing improvised explosive devices, or IEDs, or other all-around bad people who might do harm to either us or the residents of the mohalla. Oddly enough, this can get incredibly boring, but boring is GOOD. We pass the time telling tales of girls, school, or playing the “name game” to stay alert.
These three men and I have developed the kind of closeness you can only get from spending eight to nine hours a night in a truck with the same guys. If you think about it for a minute, you’ll see what I’m getting at. There are no rest areas on the streets and Spc. Williams is in a harness that keeps him from falling out of the truck if it rolls over — that’s right — now you get it, no one “goes” anywhere alone.
When a patrol is over and I dismount to turn in a report or start movement on whatever new course of action has developed from this mission, my crew is still hard at work. They have to stow all our equipment, refuel the truck, order or replace any new parts that the truck needs and lock it up safely before our next mission. This can take anywhere from 30 minutes to several hours, depending on what the vehicle needs.
These three men take care of everything I need to go out in the streets and do my job. I couldn’t get anything accomplished without them, and we’re doing plenty, but I’ll save that for another installment. I just wanted to share with you a little something about with whom I spent my second Arabian Christmas.
On the frontlines with the Bandits
12.13.07
Greetings, Waterbury. I trust this will reach you all well and safe and hopefully enjoying a beautifully white holiday season.
I recently took command of Bravo Troop (Bandits), 1st Squadron, 4th Cavalry Regiment from FT Riley, KS, currently deployed to FOB Falcon, in Baghdad, Iraq. I thought with the holiday season coming and the emphasis always placed on deployed soldiers during the holidays by the media that I might take the opportunity to write “from the front” about my Bandits and the incredible job they have done thus far in Baghdad as part of “the surge.”
The U.S. Cavalry is an interesting organization as it is not a branch unto itself. It is comprised of a mixture of soldiers from armor and infantry. It is my first experience with cavalry in 15 years of service. Our squadron commander, Lt. Col. James Crider, is an infantryman, while his executive officer is Maj. Timothy Baer, an armor officer. I am an infantryman and command Bandit Troop, one of two CAV troops (there is a third that is infantry) while my executive officer, 1st Lt. Andrew Rinehart, and three platoon leaders, 1st Lt. Travis Myers, 1st Lt. Clinton Merritt, and Sgt. 1st Class Kevin Wheeler are all armor. In fact, there is only one other infantryman in my troop, Pfc. Nikel Badovinac, or “BAD” as we call him.
Commanding CAV Scouts sounded like an interesting challenge when I was first notified about it. The challenge has since proved not to be how to command armor soldiers, but more of how to do more with less, a challenge I lean solidly on my first sergeant, Samuel Roark, to help me accomplish.
Nearly all soldiers who traverse about in the city are being utilized as infantrymen, something I am overly familiar with as this is my second tour in the Rashid Security District. The cavalry is designed to be a reconnaissance asset and therefore has only about two-thirds the number of soldiers I would have if this were an infantry unit.
That has not stopped my Bandits from overcoming all obstacles that stood in their path. These men have fought and bled in places with names like Abu T’shir, Mechanix, Saha, Five Farms and are currently holding securely onto an area called Masafee on the eastern flank of the Doura Market. You may have heard of some of these places recently as Geraldo Rivera, and FOX and Friends recently broadcast live from Masafee and Doura.
Our task is to secure Masafee, on the eastern flank of Doura, which is the primary focus of the entire Army at this time. Securing Masafee was no easy task, but the troopers of this squadron pacified the area in three short months, business is beginning to thrive and displaced residents are returning to their homes again.
My Bandits are responsible for our entire squadron’s area of operation every night. While our two sister troops maintain law and order and restore essential services in one Muhalla (neighborhood) each during the day, we secure both those Muhalla’s at night and a third that we are responsible for restoring essential services to during the day.
As I said, we’re doing more with less. The soldiers in all three troops take great pride in the fact that when they first entered the Hayy (sort of like a borough) of Masafee, AQIZ (al Qaeda in Iraq) was fully entrenched in these neighborhoods. AQIZ was so entrenched that the squadron encountered eight improvised explosive devices, or IEDs, in the first seven days. But with the insight of our leaders and the skill of our men at hunting down insurgents, we’ve all but routed AQIZ and other terrorists from Masafee and haven’t faced an enemy-initiated event in over two months. On top of that, we have nearly an 85 percent conviction rate for detainees — the highest of any unit in the brigade of over 4,000 soldiers.
I am hoping to continue this column to give you an insight to what’s happening here from a soldier’s point of view, and introducing my Bandits to you as I do so. I’d like to take this time to introduce my Bandits who are from Vermont.
First there is 1st Lt. Myers, an Air Force brat and graduate of Castleton, my 1st platoon leader. While he traveled around as the son of an Air Force lieutenant colonel, he considers Vermont to be his home and wants to get a job with the state of Vermont when he gets out of the Army.
Next there is … me!
As you enjoy your holidays with your families — and I stress that, ENJOY your time with family — take a moment to pray for my brave men and remember the three Bandits who have made the ultimate sacrifice: Pfc. Michael Pittman, 34, of Iowa; Pfc. Aaron Genevie, 22, of Pennsylvania; and Pvt. William Johnson, 22, of North Carolina.
Greetings, Waterbury. I trust this will reach you all well and safe and hopefully enjoying a beautifully white holiday season.
I recently took command of Bravo Troop (Bandits), 1st Squadron, 4th Cavalry Regiment from FT Riley, KS, currently deployed to FOB Falcon, in Baghdad, Iraq. I thought with the holiday season coming and the emphasis always placed on deployed soldiers during the holidays by the media that I might take the opportunity to write “from the front” about my Bandits and the incredible job they have done thus far in Baghdad as part of “the surge.”
The U.S. Cavalry is an interesting organization as it is not a branch unto itself. It is comprised of a mixture of soldiers from armor and infantry. It is my first experience with cavalry in 15 years of service. Our squadron commander, Lt. Col. James Crider, is an infantryman, while his executive officer is Maj. Timothy Baer, an armor officer. I am an infantryman and command Bandit Troop, one of two CAV troops (there is a third that is infantry) while my executive officer, 1st Lt. Andrew Rinehart, and three platoon leaders, 1st Lt. Travis Myers, 1st Lt. Clinton Merritt, and Sgt. 1st Class Kevin Wheeler are all armor. In fact, there is only one other infantryman in my troop, Pfc. Nikel Badovinac, or “BAD” as we call him.
Commanding CAV Scouts sounded like an interesting challenge when I was first notified about it. The challenge has since proved not to be how to command armor soldiers, but more of how to do more with less, a challenge I lean solidly on my first sergeant, Samuel Roark, to help me accomplish.
Nearly all soldiers who traverse about in the city are being utilized as infantrymen, something I am overly familiar with as this is my second tour in the Rashid Security District. The cavalry is designed to be a reconnaissance asset and therefore has only about two-thirds the number of soldiers I would have if this were an infantry unit.
That has not stopped my Bandits from overcoming all obstacles that stood in their path. These men have fought and bled in places with names like Abu T’shir, Mechanix, Saha, Five Farms and are currently holding securely onto an area called Masafee on the eastern flank of the Doura Market. You may have heard of some of these places recently as Geraldo Rivera, and FOX and Friends recently broadcast live from Masafee and Doura.
Our task is to secure Masafee, on the eastern flank of Doura, which is the primary focus of the entire Army at this time. Securing Masafee was no easy task, but the troopers of this squadron pacified the area in three short months, business is beginning to thrive and displaced residents are returning to their homes again.
My Bandits are responsible for our entire squadron’s area of operation every night. While our two sister troops maintain law and order and restore essential services in one Muhalla (neighborhood) each during the day, we secure both those Muhalla’s at night and a third that we are responsible for restoring essential services to during the day.
As I said, we’re doing more with less. The soldiers in all three troops take great pride in the fact that when they first entered the Hayy (sort of like a borough) of Masafee, AQIZ (al Qaeda in Iraq) was fully entrenched in these neighborhoods. AQIZ was so entrenched that the squadron encountered eight improvised explosive devices, or IEDs, in the first seven days. But with the insight of our leaders and the skill of our men at hunting down insurgents, we’ve all but routed AQIZ and other terrorists from Masafee and haven’t faced an enemy-initiated event in over two months. On top of that, we have nearly an 85 percent conviction rate for detainees — the highest of any unit in the brigade of over 4,000 soldiers.
I am hoping to continue this column to give you an insight to what’s happening here from a soldier’s point of view, and introducing my Bandits to you as I do so. I’d like to take this time to introduce my Bandits who are from Vermont.
First there is 1st Lt. Myers, an Air Force brat and graduate of Castleton, my 1st platoon leader. While he traveled around as the son of an Air Force lieutenant colonel, he considers Vermont to be his home and wants to get a job with the state of Vermont when he gets out of the Army.
Next there is … me!
As you enjoy your holidays with your families — and I stress that, ENJOY your time with family — take a moment to pray for my brave men and remember the three Bandits who have made the ultimate sacrifice: Pfc. Michael Pittman, 34, of Iowa; Pfc. Aaron Genevie, 22, of Pennsylvania; and Pvt. William Johnson, 22, of North Carolina.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
