AJC.com > Iraq coverage > Blog > Archives > 2005 > October > 05
Wednesday, October 5, 2005
Puerto Rican ‘Caribbean Pirates’ part of family
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Baghdad, Iraq — “Vamonos!”
Sgt. 1st Class Hector Perez is calling for his men to move out. The sun is setting, casting an orange glow around Camp Striker. It’s time to go.
Not all of Perez’s men are fluent in English, so he switches between languages throughout the evening.
“Vamonos! Rock ‘n’ roll! Let’s do it!” the former English teacher shouts into the swirling sand.
Louie Favorite/AJC
Spc. Luis Mercado of Fajardo, Puerto Rico, rests after completing a 12-hour overnight patrol mission. • MORE PHOTOSAUDIO
• Spc. Cedeno Ricardo of Bayamon prays in Spanish for the “Caribbean Pirates” platoon as the troops prepare to patrol near Baghdad International Airport.
• Spc. Cedeno Ricardo repeats the prayer in English.
• Sgt. 1st Class Hector Perez, “The Beast,” of Aibonito, Puerto Rico, commands his platoon in English and Spanish
These soldiers of Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 295th Infantry Regiment, based in Juncos, Puerto Rico, have 12 hours of tense night patrol ahead. While fighting off sleep, they will hunt for insurgents firing mortars at their base and be on the lookout for terrorists trying to launch rocket-propelled grenades at planes landing at Baghdad International Airport.
Perez and his soldiers are attached to the Georgia Army National Guard’s 48th Brigade Combat Team. Most in the brigade are from Georgia, but in addition to the Puerto Ricans, the unit has added soldiers from Alabama, Illinois, Missouri, Maryland and Rhode Island for its yearslong tour in Iraq.
Perez, a police drug investigator in Aibonito, Puerto Rico, when he isn’t serving with the Guard, says insurgents have put a $50,000 bounty on his unit’s Humvees because it has been so effective. Since arriving here in June, the Caribbean Pirates, as they are known, have captured several terrorists and seized some large caches of weapons.
Before Perez’s platoon pulls out of Camp Striker, he asks Spc. Cedeno Ricardo to say a prayer. Many of the Puerto Rican National Guardsmen are devout Christians.
The platoon circles around Ricardo. Bathed in the glow of a Humvee’s headlights, he prays first in Spanish, then English.
“Give them the strength to continue on,” says the 21-year-old massage therapist from Bayamon, Puerto Rico, “so that we can all go back home to the United States of America, every single one of us, back to our families.”
The soldiers head into the night, driving on narrow dirt roads along deep canals. They are just south of the airport. A chorus of dogs howls under a moonless sky. The soldiers peer into the greenish glow of their night vision goggles. Machine gun fire echoes in the distance.
When not out on missions, some of the soldiers cook traditional Puerto Rican dishes, such as arroz con gandules — rice and pigeon peas — in a large steel pot, using ingredients mailed to them from home.
They say they’re like brothers with the Georgia soldiers. Photographs of several Georgians killed in Iraq hang in their headquarters, beside U.S. and Puerto Rican flags. The Puerto Ricans pay tribute to those who have died by test-firing their machine guns every time they pass the spot where a massive roadside bomb killed four 48th Brigade soldiers.
“We are all the same army,” Perez says. “There is no way to make it back home alone.”
Perez has earned the nickname “la Bestia” — “the Beast” — because he is tough and seems emotionless. A black knife sticks out of his left boot. A tattoo of an eagle with a U.S. flag stretches across his right bicep. At age 42, he has spent more than half his life in the Puerto Rican National Guard.
A Roman Catholic, Perez believes there is good and evil in the world. And the insurgents, he says, are doing evil by indiscriminately killing women and children.
“They do it in the name of Allah. That’s bull. They just want to assume power. Definitely, we are the good guys. Definitely, they are the bad guys.”
Perez says his faith in God grew after he survived a roadside bomb this year. His hearing was damaged, so he now sometimes speaks louder than necessary. He has had trouble sleeping since the blast.
Several other men in his unit have survived similar attacks and firefights. Two have been nominated for Purple Hearts.
Despite his rough exterior, Perez laughs easily, especially at his men’s jokes. He misses making lasagna and rabbit stew at home. He speaks lovingly of his wife, Fatima, and their three children.
“I never thought I could miss my children and my wife so much,” he says. “She is an amazing woman.”
As the sun starts to rise, Perez and his men park their Humvees at an intersection and start searching vehicles that pass through. They pay special attention to pickup trucks, because insurgents often fire mortars from them or pack them with explosives and drive into groups of soldiers.
Several vehicles pass through. Finally, their shift is over. The night was quiet — too quiet for Perez. He senses that something is going to happen.
When they return to camp, they learn that the Humvee carrying the Puerto Rican soldiers who replaced them on patrol was hit by a roadside bomb. It happened just 15 minutes after Perez’ unit left, on a route it had patrolled. None of the five passengers was seriously injured, but the Humvee was totaled.
