AJC.com > Iraq coverage > Blog > Archives > 2005 > December > 14
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Patrols find bombs but win hearts
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Curtis Compton/AJC
Lt. Stephen Johnson, 24, of Rome, gets a smooch from 2-year-old Nada. His squad makes frequent stops by her home near Baghdad, to deliver candy and toys. After more than 20 visits, it was the first time Nada warmed up enough to reward kindness with a kiss.
Baghdad, Iraq — Inside the commander’s turret of his Bradley Fighting Vehicle, 1st Lt. Stephen Johnson of Rome was on high alert.
His eyes scanned the right side of the road and the pavement ahead of the armored vehicle on patrol in Baghdad, looking for mines and bombs.
To Johnson’s left, his gunner, Sgt. George Runkle, 22, a Georgia Southern University student from Lawrenceville, cautiously eyed the median for improvised bombs.
For these soldiers from the Georgia-based 48th Brigade Combat Team, it was just another day in the war. One minute they were looking for roadside bombs, the next, they were trying to win the hearts and minds of the citizens who live along this main supply route.
Up ahead, several children ran to the edge of the pavement, knowing that the passing soldiers would toss out candy and food. Johnson pointed at the children and waved.
“If I had kids I wouldn’t let them anywhere near this road,” he said, shaking his head.
Johnson’s driver, Spc. Jesse Wilkins, 24, a self-employed carpet installer from Covington, had to steer around one of the more aggressive boys, who jumped into the road to snatch the bulk of the goodies before running off.
“I wouldn’t want to ride with anyone else,” Spc. Robert Lloyd, 31, of Sandy Springs, the crew’s radio operator, said of Wilkins. “He’s the best driver in the company.”
As the light began to turn golden over the long, flat, desolate road, the Bradley crew renewed its focus. The patrol’s most dangerous time was fast approaching.
“The sun seems to set much quicker over here,” said Johnson, 24, a Carson-Newman College student. “The activity picks up just before sunset. It seems to be when they are putting them [roadside bombs] out.”
He pointed out a nearby light pole where the crew found a bomb the previous night.
“It was a 155-millimeter artillery round wrapped in a brown paper bag. They know we use this spot to turn around a lot,” Johnson said.
The next day, insurgents planted a daisy chain of bombs at that spot. The four bombs were wired to explode in rapid succession, destroying anything nearby. Another squad out on patrol ran over the bomb, but it failed to detonate.
Although these soldiers from the 1st Battalion, 121st Infantry Regiment, have been patrolling this dangerous supply route into Baghdad for seven months, none has been killed.
“The good Lord is looking out for us,” said Johnson. “Every crew has been hit a couple of times. What makes us successful is noticing the changes. Seeing what wasn’t there the time before. We hope we find the bombs before they find us.”
But it doesn’t always happen that way. Sgt. Leroy Kirkpatrick, 55, a Vietnam veteran from Lawrenceville, was slightly burned on his face and hands when a suicide bomber drove a car into his vehicle.
“The whole Bradley was covered in a ball of flames,” Johnson said.
Kirkpatrick returned to duty a week later.
The Bradleys rolled on, passing farmers irrigating their fields, children playing soccer with a ball that Johnson’s men had given them during a previous patrol, roadside stands hawking gasoline and soft drinks, and a shepherd tending his flock.
“These people live their lives no matter what happens,” said Johnson.
The soldiers have met most of the families who live along their route. They work hard to foster goodwill as they focus on their little piece of the road.
Near one adobe house, the Bradleys pulled off the road. Waiting in the yard was 2-year-old Nada. She had heard the vehicles approaching and came out to greet them.
“This is our favorite little girl,” Johnson said as the Bradleys came to a stop. “We have to stop over here at least once a week.”
The soldiers showered Nada with candy and stuffed animals, then each took a turn holding her in their arms and taking pictures.
It’s a scene that has repeated itself multiple times over the past seven months. But this time it was different. This time Nada kissed Johnson on the cheek as he held her.
For her, and for the Georgia soldiers, it was much more than a kiss.
It meant Nada had finally lost her fear of the American soldiers.
