Chapter 52
TWOFER
One day we were out on an op near Sunset and another street, which came off on a T intersection. Dauber and I were up on a roof, watching to see what the locals were up to. Dauber had just gone off the gun for a break. As I pulled up my scope, I spotted two guys coming down the street toward me on a moped.
The guy on the back had a backpack. As I was watching, he dropped the backpack into a pothole.
He wasn't dropping the mail; he was setting an IED.
"Y'all gotta watch this," I told Dauber, who picked up his binoculars.
I let them get to about 150 yards away before I fired my.300 Win Mag. Dauber, watching through the binos, said it was like a scene from Dumb and Dumber. The bullet went through the first guy and into the second. The moped wobbled, then veered into a wall.
Two guys with one shot. The taxpayer got good bang for his buck on that one.
The shot ended up being controversial. Because of the IED, the Army sent some people over to the scene. But it took them something like six hours to get there. Traffic backed up, and it was impossible for me, or anyone else, to watch the pothole for the entire time. Further complicating things, the Marines took down a dump truck suspected of being a mobile IED on the same road. Traffic backed up all over the place, and naturally the IED disappeared.
Ordinarily, that wouldn't have been a problem. But a few days earlier we had noticed a pattern: mopeds would ride past a COP a few minutes before and after an attack, obviously scouting the place and then getting intel on the attack. We requested to be cleared hot to shoot anyone on a moped. The request was denied.
The lawyers or someone in the chain of command probably thought I was blowing them off when they heard about my double shot. The JAG-Judge Advocate General, kind of like a military version of a prosecuting attorney-came out and investigated.
Fortunately, there were plenty of witnesses to what had happened. But I still had to answer all the JAG's questions.
Meanwhile, the insurgents kept using mopeds and gathering intelligence. We watched them closely, and destroyed every parked moped we came across in houses and yards, but that was the most we could do.
Maybe legal expected us to wave and smile for the cameras.
It would have been tough to go and just blatantly shoot people in Iraq. For one thing, there were always plenty of witnesses around. For another, every time I killed someone in Ramadi I had to write a shooter's statement on it.
No joke.
This was a report, separate from after-action reports, related only to the shots I took and kills I recorded. The information had to be very specific.
I had a little notebook with me, and I'd record the day, the time, details about the person, what he was doing, the round I used, how many shots I took,
The head shed claimed it was to protect me in case there was ever an investigation for an unjustified kill, but what I think I was really doing was covering the b.u.t.ts of people much further up the chain of command.
We kept a running tally of how many insurgents we shot, even during the worst firefights. One of our officers was always tasked with getting his own details on the shooting; he, in turn, would relay it back by radio. There were plenty of times when I was still engaging insurgents and giving details to LT or another officer at the same time. It got to be such a pain in the a.s.s that one time when the officer came to ask the details on my shot, I told him it was a kid waving at me. It was just a sick joke I made. It was my way of saying, "f.u.c.k off."
The red tape of war.
I'm not sure how widespread the shooter statements were. For me, the process began during my second deployment when I was working on Haifa Street. In that case, someone else filled them out for me.
I'm pretty sure it was all CYA-cover your a.s.s, or, in this case, cover the top guy's a.s.s.
We were slaughtering the enemy. In Ramadi, with our kill total becoming astronomical, the statements became mandatory and elaborate. I'd guess that the CO or someone on his staff saw the numbers and said that the lawyers might question what was going on, so let's protect ourselves.
Great way to fight a war-be prepared to defend yourself for winning.
What a pain in the a.s.s. I'd joke that it wasn't worth shooting someone. (On the other hand, that's one way I know exactly how many people I "officially" killed.)
CLEAR CONSCIENCE
Sometimes it seemed like G.o.d was holding them back until I got on the gun.
"Hey, wake up."
I opened my eyes and looked up from my spot on the floor.
"Let's rotate," said Jay, my LPO. He'd been on the gun for about four hours while I'd been catching a nap.
"All right."
I unfolded myself from the ground and moved over to the gun.
"So? What's been going on?" I asked. Whenever someone came on the gun, the person he was relieving would brief him quickly, describing who'd been in the neighborhood, etc.
"Nothing," said Jay. "I haven't seen anyone."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
We swapped positions. Jay pulled his ball cap down to catch some sleep.
I put my eye near the sight, scanning. Not ten seconds later, an insurgent walked fat into the crosshairs, AK out. I watched him move tactically toward an American position for a few seconds, confirming that he was within the ROEs.
Then I shot him.
"I f.u.c.kin' hate you," grumbled Jay from the floor nearby. He didn't bother moving his ball cap, let alone get up.
I never had any doubts about the people I shot. My guys would tease me: Yeah, I know Chris. He's got a little gun cut on the end of his scope. Everybody he sees is in the ROEs.
But the truth was, my targets were always obvious, and I, of course, had plenty of witnesses every time I shot.
The way things were, you couldn't chance making a mistake. You'd be crucified if you didn't strictly obey the ROEs.
Back in Fallujah, there was an incident involving Marines clearing a house. A unit had gone into a house, stepping over some bodies as they moved to clear the rooms. Unfortunately, one of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds on the ground wasn't dead. After the Marines were in the house, he rolled over and pulled the pin on a grenade. It exploded, killing or wounding some of the Marines.
From then on, the Marines started putting a round in anybody they saw as they entered a house. At some point, a newsman with a camera recorded this; the video became public and the Marines got in trouble. Charges were either dropped or never actually filed, since the initial investigation explained the circ.u.mstances. Still, even the potential for charges was something you were always aware of.
The worst thing that you could ever do for that war was having all these media people embedded in the units. Most Americans can't take the reality of war, and the reports they sent back didn't help us at all.
The leaders.h.i.+p wanted to have the backing of the public for the war. But really, who cares?
The way I figure it, if you send us to do a job, let us do it. That's why you have admirals and generals-let them supervise us, not some fat-a.s.s congressman sitting in a leather chair smoking a cigar back in DC in an air-conditioned office, telling me when and where I can and cannot shoot someone.
How would they know? They've never even been in a combat situation.
And once you decide to send us, let me do my job. War is war.