This 4th of July was especially hard, one of those days where the struggle to do anything overshadows everything. I have been out of focus since and ruminating over my recent stay at an inpatient PTSD program and a new meaning unearthed within my War Trauma. The most profound lesson I learned in Iraq was from 5 Marines who made the ultimate sacrifice. I remember the people who gave their lives so that I may go on. For those of us who experience these selfless acts of compassion and unabashed brotherhood; they have forever changed us. Can you imagine what it feels like have someone forfeit their life so you may live? How can one live up to a sacrifice so profound? I carry this weight every day, but this past 4th of July I felt it especially deep and heavy. Through an introspective and haunting two weeks I have came to realize a new personal meaning for the holiday; healing the sense of loss I feel by mourning the Marines who gave their live and honoring their sacrifices.
On or around February 22, 1991 we had been getting reports all day that regular infantry soldiers in Saddam’s army where surrendering in droves, it was the following day when we saw this phenomenon for ourselves. An incredible sight to see thousands of people surrendering and milling about lost in the shimmering heat and billowing clouds rising to a red tinted sky as our tracks rolled by. That night we received an after-action report detailing how a Marine armored vehicle had been hit and five Marines were killed, with the amount of enemy soldiers surrendering no wonder they hesitated. A Marine Stryker brand spanking new out of the box, straight to the sandbox came across an enemy tank with its turret faced in the opposite direction; Geneva Convention Rules of War for “surrender.” When the duped Marine Stryker came into firing range it was outgunned and gunned down, they used a creative and unlawful means to kill my brethren. To say the least I wanted my just dues; I would waste a couple of decades to the futile attempt to keep their memory alive with my anger.
For many years I failed to recognize how their deaths served as a valuable lesson the next night during a convoy down through a wadi; a low lying basin in the desert perfect for an ambush. I kept seeing movement on the left flank and reported to my Track Commander Sergeant T. He acted like he commanded the entire Army and while I hated him for it in garrison; we loved and respected each other in the field. I would have given my life for him if I didn’t kill him first; we had that kind of a private-sergeant relationship. I trained on recognizing hundreds of pages of shapes, the size of dimes for months leading up to the Ground War, as an infantry armored vehicle driver on point for the brigade as I was tightening, buckling and shinning my skills. I was heavily trained and felt invincible, little did I know those tiny silhouettes on the horizon would haunt my sights and nights since that hour of darkness over 20 years ago.
Our first engagement of the war, dubbed Surrender Hill in honor of 5 Marines who never surrendered and my finally coming to terms with that night. Two sides of surrender, one where I will never give up the fight, the other knowing when to love myself and others. With their sacrifice I was able to have the necessary frame of mind to lead a brigade safely through the largest tank battle in the history of war without a casualty. Their loss was necessary to teach me the gravity of the incredible weight I was to bear in the 100 Hour Ground War. The Republican Guards were a highly trained armored mechanized division under Saddam and did not know the meaning of surrender. My vehicle was chosen to lead the 3rd Brigade of the 1st Armored Division to lead 5,000 men into battle. Over 45,000 enemy soldiers were killed in the Ground War; my brigade was attributed with over 20,000 enemy deaths. I was a Mechanized Infantry Soldier driving a Bradley Fighting Vehicle on point for the brigade; my job was to lead our M1A1 Abrams Main Battle Tanks into the fiery fray. I drove for 172 hours straight in the largest tank battle in the history of war, so I saw it all. But, that’s another story for another time.
Read the complete post at http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PtsdASoldiersPerspective/~3/NYXFdXqXow0/under-influence-of-war.html
Posted
Jul 19 2011, 08:27 PM
by
PTSD: A Soldier's Perspective