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March 2006
The search for one missing soldier
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Jeremy Redmon
Cpl. Iain Hammond, 23, of Cornwall, England, (left) and Lance Cpl. David Berry, 23, of Coventry, England, used a radar device in early March to help in the search for Sgt. Keith 'Matt' Maupin, who has been missing since April 9, 2004.
Al Amiryah, Iraq — American military officials have assigned a special team of investigators to search for the remains of a soldier captured nearly two years ago in Iraq, accepting the grim possibility that he is dead.
Based on tips from Iraqi sources and other information, the investigators have searched 74 areas across Iraq for the body of Sgt. Keith “Matt” Maupin.
Since early last year, the team has been concentrating their efforts in the Baghdad area where Maupin was captured and near Fallujah west of the capital. More sites in those two areas are scheduled to be searched.
“We just want to provide some closure for the family back home,” said Sgt. 1st Class James Haftmann, 37, of Charleston, S.C., a member of Multi-National Corps Iraq, a major U.S. military command here.
Maupin has been missing since April 9, 2004, when his supply convoy was attacked near the Baghdad International Airport. The military said nearly 200 insurgents assaulted the convoy with small arms, rocket-propelled grenades and improvised explosive devices. Maupin is the only service member listed as missing since the 2003 invasion of Iraq.
Last summer, militants released a blurry video they claimed shows Maupin’s shooting death, but the victim’s identity and the video’s validity have not been verified, Haftmann said.
Maupin’s father, Keith, praised Haftmann for his work but said he is “wasting his time.” He said he believes his son is still alive, although he has no facts to support his belief.
“There is no doubt in my mind. I have faith in Matt,” said Keith Maupin, 55, of Cincinnati. “I’m not going to give up on Matt. I told [the military] I will breathe my last breath before I give up on Matt.”
Basrah-based British engineers who specialize in finding and disabling roadside bombs are helping search for Maupin. During a recent hunt south of Fallujah, the British used a radar device to detect disturbed soil as much as 100 feet below the surface. For two days, they dragged the suitcase-shaped contraption across the desert floor while eyeing a computer display for indicators.
“It’s massively important to us. We are all a coalition here. The Americans would do the same for us,” said Lt. Chris Elworthy 26, of the Joint U.K. Explosive Ordnance Disposal Group.
On March 4, the search team detected bones after being led to a hilltop site by an Iraqi source who said the body of a Westerner had been buried there, Haftmann said. The tipster marked the spot with a stone, he added.
After digging up three sites in that area, Haftmann’s team located two sets of remains. Haftmann turned them over to a Marietta-based Marine Reserve unit responsible for retrieving human remains.
The Marines later determined one set of remains is from an infant who appeared to have been wrapped in a white shroud. The other set appeared to have come from an adult male whose remains had been burned.
The Marines shipped the remains back to the United States for identification.
Lance Cpl. Simeon Merid, of College Park said he was proud to participate in the hunt for Maupin.
“It could finally bring closure to the family,” said Merid, 20, who was studying criminal justice at Georgia Perimeter College before he deployed. “They will be able to bury him in his hometown instead of in a foreign country.”
However, a spokesman for the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology in Washington confirmed in late March that the remains do not belong to Maupin. He declined further comment. A Marine Corps news report said “test results confirmed that several partial sets of remains that were recovered were not American.” If the remains are of Arab descent, they will be returned to the Iraqi government, according to the military.
“The search will continue and at least now we know where he isn’t,” Haftmann wrote in an email. “We still have a few sites that haven’t been exploited that we will visit in the coming months, so we are still hopeful.”
Keith Maupin said the military contacts him once a week about the search for his son. He was glad to learn the Marines and British are helping.
“What is impressive to me is it crosses [military] branches,” Maupin said. “I would like to see everyone of them and say thanks.”
Packing up one last time
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Baghdad, Iraq — One day after Charlie Company completed its last combat patrol, the walls were bare at the unit’s headquarters and soldiers spent the better part of the day stripping their armored vehicles.
• Photos
By Friday morning, the classified military maps of western Baghdad and Abu Ghraib had been taken down and rolled up. Bulletin boards were cleared of countless Army memos and soldiers in the supply section were busy going through inventory in the shipping containers.
Most of the soldiers of the Gainesville-based Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 121st Infantry Regiment, spent hours under the hot sun dismantling the Bradley Fighting Vehicles that had been their home out on the streets of Iraq.
But no one minded the sweat and grime. They were going home.
Reactive armor plates had to be unbolted and readied to hand off to the next Bradley company that will inherit them. The guns were disassembled and cleaned and all the ammunition and radio equipment taken off the vehicles.
The 14 Charlie Company Bradleys will head to Kuwait aboard heavy equipment transportation trucks, where they will be thoroughly cleaned and put on ships back to the United States.
They will eventually end up with another brigade since the Georgia Army National Guard’s 48th Brigade Combat Team will begin transforming to a light infantry unit once the Iraq deployment is over.
Once the Bradleys are gone, Charlie Company soldiers will have to start packing their personal gear. For some, that’s a task that will take days; their trailers are chock full of things accumulated over the last 10 months they have spent at Baghdad’s Camp Liberty. Many plan to sell big-ticket items such as refrigerators, microwaves and television sets.
Charlie Company will be one of the first 48th Brigade units to fly home to Fort Stewart next month. Most of the brigade’s soldiers will be home by mid-May.
Charlie Company’s last patrol
'It's been a long 18 months'
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Baghdad, Iraq — A little after noon on Thursday, the soldiers heard the familiar rumble for the last time.
The earth trembled. Then, the tan, “armored beasts” emerged from the clouds of dust swirling about them.
Two Bradley Fighting Vehicles thundered into a motor pool at Baghdad’s Camp Liberty, back safely from their last patrol in the war-ravaged Iraqi capital. For the first time in days, it had been an uneventful mission.
“That’s a perfect way to end our patrols — with nothing,” said Staff Sgt. Jerry Bowling , a firefighter in DeKalb County.
The crews stuck their heads out of the hatches and cheered. Their fellow Gainesville-based soldiers on the ground stood in formation and saluted.
Never again would the roughly 135 soldiers of Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 121st Infantry Regiment see combat in their Bradleys.
After 10 grueling months and an especially hair-raising last two weeks, the mission in Iraq for this Georgia Army National Guard unit was finally over.
The soldiers can now concentrate on going home. The unit, which is part of the 4,400-strong 48th Brigade Combat Team was the last from Georgia to do combat patrols in Iraq. It is scheduled to leave here in about three weeks. Until then the soldiers will clean and repair their Bradleys and pack for home.
When the last Bradley arrived on Thursday, Charlie Company soldiers hugged each other, celebrated with non-alcoholic beer and collectively sighed in relief.
“We’re done!” yelled Sgt. George Branson , a Fayette County deputy sheriff, standing atop his Bradley in a black Batman T-shirt.
Charlie Company had looked forward to this day for so long that some were left incredulous when the moment arrived.
No more hunting for insurgents. No more kicking in doors or riding down bomb-laced highways and into impoverished neighborhoods not knowing what enemy lurked around the corner.
“There’ll be no more contemplating mortality,” said Sgt. 1st Class Patrick Eaton, a full-time Guard soldier from Athens. “No more chasing ghosts.”
“I feel overwhelmed,” said Sgt. Guy Serapion , a student at West Georgia College, who just the night before sat in the gunner’s turret for four hours in front of a crumpled car thought to be rigged with explosives.
“Last May, I never thought we’d make it here. I’m just letting it all set in,” he said.
Capt. Anthony Fournier , the Charlie Company commander, toasted his troops and handed out specially made pewter coins that bore the name and insignia of the company, its platoons and the brigades it has served under.
On one side, it said “The Lost Company,” a moniker adopted by the soldiers because Charlie Company has been detached from the rest of the 48th Brigade since its arrival in Iraq.
“It’s been a long 18 months,” said Fournier, a schoolteacher from Augusta. “I feel a great weight lifted off my shoulders.”
He paused and then added that the feeling hadn’t quite settled in yet; that perhaps it would sink in the next day when he didn’t have to put on pounds of body armor and drive out onto the streets of Baghdad.
“It feels weird,” he said.
Weird, too, because the last patrol meant that soon, the soldiers would all go their own ways and be separated from the men they have shared their lives with since December 2004 when the 48th Brigade was mobilized.
“I’ll miss the camaraderie,” said Sgt. 1st Class Michael Sonen , a furniture maker from Dahlonega. “The experience of what we’ve gone through together — it’s like trying to explain what it feels like giving birth to a child. Unless you’ve experienced it, you can’t really understand it.”
When Charlie Company first arrived, the soldiers provided security for the main highways. In the following months, they began patrolling areas of eastern Abu Ghraib, where they came into close contact with Iraqis.
It was during an Abu Ghraib raid that they discovered Baby Noor, the Iraqi child with spina bifida who was then flown to Atlanta for critical medical care. The Gainesville soldiers won worldwide acclaim for their efforts to save the little girl.
In the last few days, the soldiers routinely came under small arms fire and got caught up in attacks against Iraqi security forces. They were called to the scene of grisly execution-style killings of Shiite men. Two Bradleys were hit by roadside bombs.
Everyone was weary. Everyone was anxious.
“I’m tired of seeing dead bodies,” said Spc. Jose Resto , a Clayton County police officer.
In the final days, the soldiers talked little of the looming dates - the day of the last patrol; the day they would kiss Georgia soil. Instead they took turns rolling out, sometimes non-stop for six hours at a time.
The soldiers took few risks. They had made it through the deployment until then without any casualties. It was unthinkable to lose one of their own so close to the end.
“Thank God we’re in the Bradleys,” the soldiers said. With the situation deteriorating in Baghdad, no one wanted to go “out there” in a more vulnerable Humvee.
The officers of Charlie Company worried about all the insurgent activity over the last few days.
“Our number one goal was to do the best in our missions,” Fournier said. “Our number two goal was to bring everyone back.”
On Wednesday night, Eaton rolled out of the gates of Camp Liberty for his 99th and last patrol.
“Shall we dance?” Eaton said, as he always does when his crew rolls out.
His crew was pumped up. They decorated their Bradleys with the black flag of third platoon and a slogan in Latin that read: “Don’t mess with us.”
The soldiers wrote “Last Patrol” on the side of the vehicle with broken chemical lights.
“This is it,” Eaton said in his patrol briefing. “The last one. This is 18 months of your lives coming down to the last six hours.”
Ten months ago, the Georgia soldiers were new to Baghdad. They rolled out into the capital with trepidation. The terrain was strange; the culture foreign. Then, there was the fear of the unknown.
The crews patrolled for 12 hours, sometimes longer, in complete silence. Now, with just a few remaining hours, there was chatter on the internal radio — and even the occasional iPod.
“We used to patrol in silence. Not a word was said,” Eaton said. “I let them play music now. They are all so tired.”
“Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive, staying alive.” The Bee Gees hit screamed into headsets. Everyone sang the chorus. It was all about staying alive on that last night.
The next morning, Eaton rode with 1st Lt. Jeff Moran , another full-time Guard soldier from Ball Ground, in the back of one of the Bradleys for the celebration at the motor pool.
They both knew this would be their last ride in the tracked metal boxes that had saved their lives so many times. When the 48th Brigade returns to Georgia, it will begin its transformation from a mechanized unit to light infantry. That means Charlie Company will no longer ride in Bradleys.
That everyone in the company is going home alive from a violent and random war, said Eaton, is testament to the fortitude of the soldiers.
“I think I speak for everyone in that this war is so difficult to define,” he said.” And the tangible successes — they seem to blur, one patrol after another.
“In this place, we can never seem to arrive at a sense of accomplishment,” he continued. “For us the last patrol provides a finality to the 18-month ordeal. The last patrol gives us that tangible we sought.”
Stoicism gives troops ‘armor for the soul’
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Curtis Compton/AJC
Reading material helps Pvt. Shane Berry (top) during Stoic Resilience Training. Capt. Thomas Jarrett uses the works of ancient philosophers.
Baghdad, Iraq— Sgt. Rustin Kilburg sat in the patient’s chair, his head down, his anguished face perched between his hands.
He told the three medics before him of sleepless nights — he was angry with his commanders for putting him “out there,” exposed to suicide bombers and roadside bombs day after day.
The anger within was consuming. He was miserable. He was afraid it would interfere with his soldiering abilities.
The medics attempted to convince Kilburg that he should not dwell on what he could not control. Rather, he should focus on what he could do to make the circumstances less troubling to him.
The training session borrowed heavily from the discourses of Greek philosopher Epictetus: “Of things some are in our power, and others are not.”
Call it armor for the soul.
Soldiers in Iraq are finding that the basic tenets of Greek and Roman stoicism can help relieve stress in the combat zone. That self-control and detachment from distracting emotions can allow clear thinking and levelheadedness.
The soft-spoken Kilburg, who serves in a Gainesville-based infantry unit, was acting the part of a distraught soldier in one of Camp Liberty’s medical centers during a training session for medics who counsel their peers in the war zone.
In the end, Kilburg said, the principles of stoicism — character, strength and resilience — form the essence of a modern American warrior.
Five months ago, Kilburg, distraught over problems with his girlfriend, went to see Capt. Thomas Jarrett, an Army therapist with the 602nd Area Supply Medical Company based at Fort Bragg, N.C.
Jarrett, 44, a longtime student of philosophy, turned Kilburg on to the stoic philosophers, who first appeared in Hellenistic Athens around 300 B.C.
Kilburg became a student and then a peer counselor in the Stoic Resilience Training program, interweaving the principles of stoicism into words of advice for his fellow soldiers in the Georgia National Guard’s 48th Brigade Combat Team.
“Our beliefs are what affect our emotions,” Kilburg said. “And most emotions are needless suffering which comes from distorted beliefs.”
In the past few weeks, soldiers in Kilburg’s unit, Charlie Company of the 1st Battalion, 121st Infantry Regiment, have been frustrated over the changes in their timeline to go home. Kilburg, however, has remained calm.
“You’ve got two choices,” he said. “Be frustrated or understand that you cannot control it.”
He said stoics believe there are only four things a person can control: their own actions, emotions, thoughts and desires.
“I cannot control the fact that I am in Iraq right now,” Kilburg said. “I can be miserable, or I can take the view that this is some sort of test that will strengthen me.”
“I came to a war, but this is one of the better things that has happened to me,” said Kilburg of his exposure to philosophical thought.
New career path in mind
He now thinks of returning home and pursuing a degree in philosophy.
Kilburg joined the military in 1998 and has been in an out of college since then. His superiors here call him one of the toughest soldiers in the company; the soldiers on his team respect him and have at one time or another been enlightened by Kilburg and Jarrett and their passion for philosophy.
Stoicism is not new to military culture. The teachings of Epictetus, Cicero, Seneca, Marcus Aurelius dovetail well with the military ethos.
Retired Adm. James Stockdale, perhaps best remembered as Ross Perot’s vice presidential running mate in 1992, was a student of philosophy who leaned on stoic beliefs to keep himself sane during the seven years he spent as a prisoner of war in Vietnam.
Author Nancy Sherman interviewed Stockdale for her book, “Stoic Warriors,” a look into how stoicism helps soldiers get through the psychological hardships of war.
Kilburg said some people mistake stoicism for the “suck-it-up” and feel-nothing mentality of the Army.
“It’s the Army’s motto, but there’s no method for people to do it,” Kilburg said. “It’s not like [stoicism is] telling you to not feel any emotion. The idea is that there is a bandwidth of emotions.
“The stoic approach would be to say, ‘Hey, I know it’s difficult’ but the level of difficulty depends on how I see the problem. You can put me in the trench lines for 72 hours, but I can be stronger for it. It can be a true test for our souls.”
A calming factor
The No. 1 problem Kilburg hears about is marital woes. He tells his soldiers they cannot control the actions of a spouse back home.
“You can either accept it, or you can move on with your life,” he said.
Kilburg is known to be high-strung at times, a man “who can fly off the handle,” a description he dismisses as a façade.
The study of stoicism has helped calm him, he said. And he has become much more tolerant of people and circumstances.
“Sure I’d love to go home and see my family, but ultimately what benefit is there to get frustrated about it?” he asked.
Kilburg lives by the rule that a true warrior prays for peace but trains for war.
Inner strength and resilience are often lost in today’s military establishment, Kilburg said
“I don’t think we train warriors anymore,” he said. “We’ve completely lost the spirit of a warrior and glorified all the ugliness of war.”
Georgia troops called to grisly scene
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Baghdad, Iraq - The waning days of combat patrols for a Gainesville-based infantry unit proved particularly grisly on Tuesday when soldiers were called to the scene of execution-style murders in western Baghdad.
Iraqi police found the bodies of 13 men - all Shiites - who had been blindfolded and shot in the back of the head, their hands bound.
The identities of the men was not known but Iraqi police told the soldiers of Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 121st Infantry Regiment that the dead were Shiites who had been killed by Sunnis.
The bodies were found on the side of a road in a mostly Sunni neighborhood in western Baghdad. The area is wide open with few trees and buildings widely spaced.
“There had to be malicious intent,” said 1st Lt. Will Phillips, whose team was at the scene to provide security as the bodies were loaded up in pickup trucks.
“The thing that amazed me was that it happened in broad daylight,” Phillips said. “It was so open. [The killers] have gotten very bold.”
Sectarian violence has escalated in Iraq in the aftermath of the bombing of a Shiite mosque in Samarra on Feb. 22.
Elsewhere in Baghdad on Tuesday, masked gunmen kidnapped 24 Iraqis from a currency exchange and two electronic stores, the Associated Press reported.
In an effort to stave off a full-blown civil war, Iraqi political leaders are trying to demonstrate a united front and form a government representing Shiites, Sunnis and Kurds. Shiite leaders walked out of negotiations on Monday but even as they returned to the table on Tuesday, the bloodshed continued.
Charlie Company soldiers, who were called into western Baghdad to beef up security, have helped round up bodies for the last few weeks. Monday, they assisted in recovering four dead Iraqi Army soldiers. One soldier commented that they were all out of body bags.
Hundreds of bodies - some mutilated and bearing the signs of torture - have been discovered in Iraqi villages and cities in the past few weeks. More than 1,000 Iraqis have been killed since the mosque bombing.
The retaliation killings of Iraqis have started to overshadow those by insurgents against U.S. forces, although Tuesday, a Charlie Company Bradley Fighting Vehicle rolled over a roadside bomb that damaged the armored vehicle beyond repair.
No one was hurt in the blast, but the incident shook up the company, which which is expected to go on its last combat patrol later this week.
Charlie Company is scheduled to return to Georgia in mid-April.
Movie theater a popular hangout for soldiers
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Curtis Compton/AJC
Sfc. Melvin Reese, 38, Thomson, Ga., enjoys a bowl of Baskin Robbins ice cream as he enters the Sustainer Theatre for the opening of the movie Larry The Cable Guy: Health Inspector.
Balad, Iraq — Sgt. 1st Class Melvin Reese sat on a red vinyl and chrome couch and dug into his pecan ice cream. He was waiting on his friend to show up for the premiere of “Larry the Cable Guy: Health Inspector. ”
In the halls of the Sustainer Theater, people milled about before the show. Some stopped at the concession stands — ice-cream, soft drinks, candy, cookies and even Subway sandwiches. The green marble tiles in the theater were spotless; big heavy red drapes flowed from the ceilings to the floor and crystal chandeliers dangled from the balcony level.
“This is nicer than the theater we have in Thomson,” said Reese, 38, comparing the 750-seat movie theater at Camp Anaconda to the small one in his hometown in Georgia.
Reese, who serves in the 1st Battalion, 17th Field Artillery Brigade based at Fort Sill, Okla., said the theater is a popular hangout for soldiers.
“I’d probably be going to talk to someone in mental health if I sat in my trailer all day,” Reese said. “This kind of helps keeps spirits up.”
The movie theater at Anaconda is well known among soldiers in Iraq. It’s the only one on an American base that has the look and feel of a theater back home. It even has a real marquee outside.
Inside, it’s hard to tell you’re on a military base in the war zone.
Manager Angel Santana, who runs the facility for AAFES, said all the movies are free. There are four shows on Fridays and three on other days. Recently, soldiers packed the halls to see “King Kong.”
“Larry the Cable Guy” opened here the same day it opened in theaters in the United States. Usually, it takes a few weeks for movies to make it to the war zone, but it beats watching pirated DVDs on a small computer screen.
“Life can drag on here,” Reese said. “This definitely helps the time go by.”
Life in war zone means dealing with death
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Camp Taqaddum, Iraq — The two Marines arrive at midnight, carrying a black body bag on a stretcher.
They put it on a stand over a pile of sawdust, placed there to absorb spills. Inside the bag lies a young American killed in combat. His hands are draped across his chest, almost as if he were sleeping. Lance Cpl. Chris McGlauchlen, 19, of Morgan County, Ga., straps on a light blue surgeon’s mask, turns to another Marine and asks, “Are you ready?”
For these Marine reservists from a Marietta-based unit, life in the war zone means dealing with death on a daily basis.
Their Personnel Retrieval and Processing Company, the first of its kind, has the emotionally draining job of collecting the bodies of service members, cataloguing the remains and shipping them back to the United States for burial or cremation.
In past wars, most Marine units recovered the bodies of their own troops, a stressful task that can delay their missions. Now, these Marines free up their comrades to focus on fighting.
While they are not in front-line combat, these Marines must deal with other risks, most of them emotional.
Some say they feel alienated from other Marines because of what they do. They say troops from other units give them strange looks, avoid them or refuse to enter the building where they handle the remains.
For others, it’s the difficulty of dealing with the finality of death.
“The thing that bothers me is I have to know their names. And my memory is really good. I don’t want to know their names,” said Pfc. Vincent Carroll, 20, a construction worker from Dallas, Ga.
Carroll inventories body parts and personal belongings of the dead. He deals with the details of a dead person’s life: dog tags, family photos, wedding rings.
“For me, we are the only family they have right now,” he said. “We are trying to get them ready so they can go home as soon as possible.”
Since arriving in February, these Marines have handled more than 25 sets of human remains at this sprawling air base and at two other camps in western Iraq’s violent Anbar province. The dead have included U.S. and Iraqi troops and civilians, even insurgents. Some died from grisly, catastrophic wounds. Others appeared unscathed.
Carroll and his fellow Marines say they are handling the stress better than they expected. They heard horror stories during training at Marine Corps Base Quantico, Va., in January. Their instructors warned them not to make emotional connections with the dead so they wouldn’t later grapple with haunting memories.
But one Marine now associates the smell of diesel with dead bodies because his unit stores corpses in large refrigerators powered by the fuel. He also found himself identifying with a dead man who was carrying love notes from his girlfriend.
After viewing the dismembered, headless body of a man killed by a roadside bomb, a second Marine dreamed of dodging bombs with his own wife and infant daughter and stepping over the man’s corpse. He said he hallucinated the next day, seeing a stray part of the victim’s body that wasn’t there.
A third Marine had trouble after seeing an officer pray over a dead Marine he commanded. The image was too personal for him.
“Sometimes, to me, it doesn’t even look real. I picture that I am back in training and it isn’t real. I guess that is my defense mechanism,” said Lance Cpl. Adam Dierks, 23, of Virginia Beach.
Their officers are trying to keep their spirits up while making their headquarters appear less gloomy.
They have remodeled the inside of their building, a former Iraqi hangar. For privacy, they built plywood walls around their lab. They installed more lights inside to rid the place of its shadowy atmosphere. They removed green sandbags from the roof that spelled out: “No One Left Behind.” And they have stopped a longstanding practice in Fallujah of writing on a wall the names of all dead U.S. service members they send home.
“You talk about tormenting yourself. That is a self-inflicted wound,” said Maj. Eric Young, 33, of Pittsburgh, an energetic officer who is trying to keep his Marines mentally fit while preserving the dignity of what they do.
“It’s what you make of it, and if you want to hang your head, you could bring a lot of people with you and leave here with some real issues.”
The Marines assigned to this unit try to ensure that each set of remains is treated with dignity. But the bodies of dead Americans are given special honors.
The ceremony for the dead Americans begins as soon as the Marines learn that another body is on the way.
One Marine removes an American flag from a plastic bag and spreads it across a makeshift plywood table, meticulously smoothing out the creases and wrinkles. The flag is then starched and ironed before it is fitted over a silver, coffin-shaped case that will hold their “angel,” their name for dead service members.
And then they wait for the remains to arrive in a still, nearly soundless airplane hangar, quietly bracing themselves for what they will see.
Once the remains are removed from the body bag, one Marine begins an inventory of the man’s personal belongings. He spreads them across an examination table. Dollar bills, credit cards, an identification card with the man’s photo.
A noncommissioned officer from the dead man’s unit quietly steps into the lab to identify him. “How are you doing? Do you need anything,” Young asked the man.
“I’m fine,” the man replied before confirming the victim’s identity and fading into the background. With the inventory complete, the Marines zip up the body bag.
“One, two, three,” McGlauchlen says as he and others lift the bag and place it in the transfer case. They also tuck the man’s personal belongings and some official documents into the case.
A Marine reaches out and smoothes some faint wrinkles forming on the flag atop the case. The men crowd around it, their heads bowed. A chaplain steps into the lab.
“Oh, God of grace and glory,” begins 1st Lt. Aristides Fokas, 42, a chaplain from Lancaster, Pa. “We thank you for giving him to us, his family and friends, to know and to love as a companion on our earthly pilgrimage. In your boundless compassion, console us who mourn. Give us faith to see in death the gate of eternal life, so that in quiet confidence we may continue our course on earth, until, by your call, we are reunited with those who have gone before.”
Led by Cpl. Mike Cullinane, 37, of Marietta, six Marines lift the metal case and march with it into the early morning darkness outside. Two others open the doors to an immense white refrigerator, almost the size of a tractor-trailer. Several stand at attention, solemnly watching the ritual, their faces bathed in bright light pouring out of the cooler.
With the body safe inside, the Marines break formation, filing quietly back to their headquarters. Some linger outside, dragging on cigarettes to combat the stress. Others crash hard on couches in a dimly lit dayroom, quickly falling asleep.
They will not rest long. They are about to repeat a similar ceremony for the same man at the airfield. A plane is coming to take him home.
Watching their March Madness brackets — from Baghdad
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Curtis Compton/AJC
Spc. Alfred Watkins, 25 (left) and Cpl. Derrick Hood, 24, both are Duke fans.
Baghdad, Iraq — March Madness.
Even in Iraq, soldiers of the Georgia Army National Guard’s 48th Brigade Combat Team have been finding some time to satisfy their sports cravings.
Most of the soldiers in Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 121st Infantry Regiment are more into football than basketball, but a couple of Atlanta soldiers have cable hooked up to a TV in their room so they can catch the Sweet Sixteen games this weekend, including action in Atlanta.
“I go on patrol six hours a day and watch sports four hours a day,” said Cpl. Derrick Hood, 24, a driver for FedEx in Atlanta.
Hood is rooting for any team from the South — his two favorites are Duke and LSU. “UConn is a team that’s overrated,” he said.
Back home, Hood would be plastered to his couch or lying on his mom’s bed all weekend watching basketball.
Here at Camp Liberty, where the Gainesville-based infantry unit has been stationed since last June, Hood shares a trailer with Spc. Alfred Watkins, 25, an Atlanta police officer. The two have been patrolling the streets of western Baghdad in their Bradley Fighting Vehicles.
They are able to get the games on the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service in their room. The service replays games three or four times so soldiers can watch them in their downtime.
Other soldiers keep up with the scores on the Internet or watch games on giant television screens at the recreation facilities on base.
For 1st Lt. Jeff Moran, a fulltime Guard soldier from Ball Ground who grew up in Southbury, Conn., basketball is all about powerhouse UConn.
Maybe if Georgia Tech or Georgia were in the thick of things, more Charlie Company soldiers would get into it.
Or as one soldier pointed out, referring to the patrols into menacing Baghdad neighborhoods: “Yeah, we’re in March Madness all right. It’s out there.”
Barbecue fetes Charlie Company
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Curtis Compton/AJC
Staff Sgt. Christopher Pitts,32, Douglasville, (left) and Sgt. Frank Fortner, 34, Royston, Ga., spice up hot dogs and hamburgers.
Baghdad, Iraq — With the end of a grueling, year-long deployment in sight, one platoon of a Gainesville-based infantry unit decided to celebrate with a good old-fashioned American barbecue.
Soldiers threw hot dogs and Bubba Burgers from Georgia on the grill that stood between rows of trailers that Charlie Company of the 1st Battalion, 121st Infantry Regiment calls home at Camp Liberty here in the war zone.
The familiar aroma of grilled meat wafted through the air as the sun set behind the living area. Soldiers heaped potato salad, cole slaw and chips on their plates and settled for soft drinks and non-alcoholic beer during the gathering thrown by the non-commissioned officers of 3rd platoon.
The party was a show of appreciation for the soldiers of the Georgia Army National Guard’s 48th Brigade Combat Team who have been patrolling in the Baghdad and Abu Ghraib areas since their arrival in June last year. They are the only 48th Brigade unit still out in the neighborhoods and streets of Baghdad, where the security situation has worsened since the bombing of a Shiite mosque in Samarra in February.
The shindig provided a little taste of home just weeks before Charlie Company is scheduled to board a plane to fly back to Fort Stewart.
All they lacked was Georgia greenery. And some cold Budweiser.
Photo essay: Day in the life
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Keith Hadley/AJC
Staff Sgt. Michael Griffin (right) has just received an Army Commendation Medal at Camp Adder in Iraq. • MORE PHOTOS
Life in a war zone is largely a daily pattern of rituals and routines. Whether it’s washing the grime off a Humvee, analyzing intelligence data about insurgents with the help of sophisticated computers, welding protective steel plates onto trucks or preparing for another combat mission, soldiers find some comfort in the rhythm of their jobs.
At Tallil Air Base in Iraq, AJC staff photographer Keith Hadley recently spent a day observing the jobs and lives of 48th Brigade Combat Team soldiers of the Georgia National Guard.
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Families say welcome home to 100 troops
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
FORT STEWART — After nearly a year in Iraq, about 100 citizen-soldiers from the 48th Infantry Brigade of the Georgia National Guard returned home before dawn Monday to cheers and tears from their families.
The returning troops, from units across Georgia, make up the advance party for about 4,300 members of the 48th Brigade due home between mid-April and mid-May. It was the first homecoming for the brigade, and a sign of many more to follow soon.
“It feels good to be back,” said Sgt. 1st Class Don Whitmire, 48, of Bainbridge. “I hate leaving my guys back there and they’re still running combat missions, so they’re working it hard. But they’ll be joining us soon.”
More than 60 family members waved flags and signs and cheered the troops when they walked onto the Fort Stewart parade grounds at 5:50 a.m. After a brief ceremony, the soldiers’ wives, children and parents rushed the field for their reunions.
Many had stayed up all night without sleep.
“We did lay down for two hours, but we’re very excited,” said Sandi Kicklighter of Glennville, who came to meet her husband, Staff Sgt. Mark Kicklighter. “It seems like it’s been longer than a year.”
Sgt. Emory Morris didn’t have to look too hard for his wife, Julie, and children Ashley, 23, and Chuck, 21. He could hear them calling him.
“Emory Morris, where are you at?” Julie Morris shouted through the crowd.
“Right here!” he called back, from about 20 feet away, raising his arms and waving.
Morris, a 56-year-old truck driver from Thomaston, wrapped his family one at a time in a big bear hug, tears streaming down all their faces.
“It’s great. It’s just great,” he said.
His wife agreed: “He looks like he did well over there. It’s great to see him again. He looks like he’s ready to be home.”
The soldiers were greeted by cool, breezy weather just before sunrise, something they’re not used to. Even walking on the grassy field felt different.
“What’s strange is that right now, at this very moment, we’re walking on grass,” said 1st Lt. John Avera, 36, a software designer from Jacksonville, Fla. “One thing we’d say to each other over there is we’re tired of walking on rocks and sand.”
The 48th Brigade deployed to the Middle East in May 2005 after several months of training at Fort Stewart. It is the largest combat unit of the Georgia National Guard to deploy overseas since World War II.
Charlie Company accustomed to being in the thick of things
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Curtis Compton/AJC
Lt. Col. Kevin Brown, the battalion commander, said soldiers have been pulled in many different directions.
Baghdad, Iraq - It’s good to feel needed, but the “special” capabilities of a Gainesville-based infantry unit have made for a grueling deployment in Iraq.
From day one in the war zone, Charlie Company of the 1st Battalion, 121st Infantry Regiment has been separated from the Georgia Army National Guard’s 48th Brigade Team to which it belongs, and attached to other units fighting in the western Baghdad and Abu Ghraib areas.
Charlie Company soldiers currently fall under the 10th Mountain Division’s 1st Brigade, 2nd Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment. Lt. Col. Kevin Brown, the battalion commander, said the biggest challenge for that Georgia unit has been that its soldiers have been pulled in so many different directions.
“It’s because they are special. Different,” Brown said.
Special because Charlie Company is the only mechanized infantry unit in the 1st Brigade. Whenever their 25-ton Bradley Fighting Vehicles are needed to supply some muscle to an operation, the Georgia soldiers are called on, Brown said.
“For your local Abu Ghraib terrorists, seeing, feeling and hearing a Bradley Fighting Vehicle roll up on you is flat more intimidating than an [armored] Humvee. That’s just a fact,” Brown said. “The ground rumbles. It’s big, loud. It’s got a big gun on it. If you’re an insurgent, you don’t want to hang around.”
Brown said when his battalion arrived in Baghdad last September, Charlie Company’s main task was to secure the highways in the area. But he said his goal was to get all his soldiers to own a piece of territory that they could get to know well.
Brown put Charlie Company in charge of an eastern Abu Ghraib neighborhood known as White Gold.
“We’re going to get into the neighborhoods where the people are,” Brown said recalling what he told his company commanders. “We’re going to find out what they’re all about. We’re going to find out what they know and we’re going to root the insurgents out from inside the neighborhoods.”
Charlie Company fared well there, Brown said, because the soldiers had already been on the ground for several months. He said he often relied on the opinions of Charlie Company’s commander Capt. Anthony Fournier, a social sciences teacher from Augusta.
It was in a house-to-house search in Abu Ghraib that Charlie Company soldiers discovered Baby Noor, the Iraqi child with spina bifida who was sent to Atlanta for medical care.
Besides patrolling, Charlie Company has also been on call for protection of the Abu Ghraib prison, a top priority for U.S. forces in this area. The Georgia soldiers are also called on as a quick reaction force when things heat up in other areas.
“If a platoon gets into a tough fight or there are casualties, Charlie Company is the unit that gets called out,” Brown said. “They have to be ready just like that, at a moment’s notice.”
Fournier keeps soldiers ready at the western gates of Camp Liberty, sitting in their Bradleys, waiting for that call.
Now, with the end of its deployment in sight, Charlie Company has been called out to support patrols in the western Baghdad neighborhoods of Gazaliyah and Amariyah.
“It’s been tough on these guys,” Brown said. “Quite honestly. Talk about a precious commodity. Everybody wants to make use of that Bradley company. That’s easy for me to say, hard for these guys to do.
“They’ve done an outstanding job,” he continued. “They are great people. Very mission focused. Very professional.”
The Georgia soldiers said they were thrilled to have had the opportunity to work with such a storied Army division as the 10th Mountain, based in Fort Drum, N.Y. Brown said his battalion treats Charlie Company just like any other active duty unit.
He said the only distinction between a National Guard and an active duty soldier was the amount of sacrifice the Guard soldiers have had to make, giving up their families, jobs and civilian lives and being away from home for 18 months.
“I signed up to this every day,” Brown said. “[Their] level of sacrifice should not be lost on anyone. They’re doing their bleeding and fighting like everyone else.”
Watch duty in Iraq fires out cultural lessons
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Moni Basu/AJC
Sgt. George Kofa of Georgia's Army National Guard helps train Ugandan Guma Kayondo David (left) in Baghdad.
Baghdad, Iraq — Guma Kayondo David and Erimu Moses scanned the date palm groves and dirt roads from high in their watchtower.
Southwest Baghdad is far different from their home in Kampala, Uganda, where warm, tropical climes keep the landscape lush.
The two Ugandans were scared when they first landed at Baghdad’s airport in late February. Not that war was new to them — they had seen warfare and atrocities in their native land — but because the temperatures were so chilly then.
“It was shocking to us,” said David, 26. “Everyone was shivering. I have never been out of Uganda. I have never seen a desert before.”
The two former Ugandan army soldiers are more comfortable in Iraq now that the weather has warmed. They stand guard on 12-hour shifts at one of many watchtowers that surround the Camp Liberty complex.
Late last week, they took over the watchtower duties from Georgia Army National Guard soldiers who have been training the newcomers the past few days.
“They are very motivated,” said Sgt. George Kofa, 32, a Morehouse College student who serves in Charlie Company of the 48th Brigade Combat Team’s 1st Battalion, 121st Infantry Regiment. “They are doing good.”
The Ugandans are contract workers for the EOD Technology, a Tennessee-based company that specializes in unexploded ordnance cleanup and security services for the military. Putting them on guard duty frees American soldiers for missions outside the base.
The Ugandans said their initial contract is for six months, but many of the 400 former soldiers would like to stay longer. David said most took the job in Iraq for the attractive salaries.
“If possible, I would like to stay here,” said David, who runs a small retail shop in the Ugandan capital, Kampala.
David left his home during the Ugandan elections in February that kept President Yoweri Museveni in office for a third term. Since Museveni grabbed power in 1986, rebels of the Lord’s Resistance Army have been fighting a brutal war in the northern part of the country that has displaced 1.5 million people.
Both David and Moses were deployed to northern Uganda during their army days.
“Iraq is a dangerous place,” said Moses, 32. “But we don’t fear.”
The Georgia soldiers have been training the Ugandans to use M-16 rifles instead of the AK-47s they are accustomed to. They have been taught how to scan the area, radio in what they see and fill out official reports. The Ugandans were curious, too, about the relationship between U.S. soldiers and their Iraqi counterparts.
Occasionally, mortar attacks or roadside bomb explosions shake the area.
Gunfire near the walls of Liberty made David do a double-take recently.
“Whoa,” he said, thinking there might have been an attack.
The Georgia soldiers assured him it was the Iraqi Army firing out, not insurgents firing in.
For Kofa, a native of Liberia, hanging out with the Ugandans has been an interesting experience. He said they spent hours discussing African politics and differences between East and West.
“People from New York and L.A. don’t look at life with the same perspective,” Kofa said. “The same with people from West Africa and East Africa. I’ll miss talking to these guys.”
The Ugandans have also been eager to learn about American culture.
“Things in Uganda are quite different. For example, we have bride pay,” said Moses, referring to the three cows, the wad of cash and the house he built in order to marry his wife.
“You pay much because you need her,” he said with a laugh.
Then, there are the differences in culinary tastes. David said he misses eating cassava, bananas and traditional Ugandan dishes.
Instead, they have been adventurous in the mess hall, feasting on hamburgers, French fries and barbecued chicken for the first time.
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‘The day we got attacked’
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Keith Hadley/AJC
"It's like your drunk uncle," Monté Franks, 36, a career soldier and father of two from Rockmart, said of the recurring nightmare.
Convoy Support Center, Scania, Iraq — In his nightmares, insurgents are crawling over Sgt. Monté Franks’ tank.
His tank commander and loader are dead. He can hear his driver hollering over the radio, but he can’t make out what he is saying.
Franks raises his pistol to defend himself. A rifle barrel inches through a hatch above him. The muzzle flashes. And that is when Franks wakes up, gasping for air.
“It’s like your drunk uncle,” Franks, 36, a career soldier and father of two from Rockmart, said of the recurring nightmare. “You know he is going to come around and you don’t exactly look forward to it. But you just try to deal with him the best you can and get him out of the house the fastest way you can.”
Franks traces his nightmares to one day last summer in Yusufiyah, a city about 25 miles south of Baghdad in the violent, Sunni-dominated region known as the Triangle of Death. Soldiers with the 48th Brigade Combat Team refer to it simply as “August Fifth” or “The day we got attacked.”
Insurgents made an all-out assault that day on the 1st Battalion, 108th Armor Regiment Task Force’s base in Yusufiyah. Such attacks are extremely rare in Iraq, where roadside bombs are the preferred weapon of the insurgents. Soldiers can serve a whole year here and never see the enemy.
More than six months after the attack in Yusufiyah, soldiers who fought that day still dwell on it. The 108th has been moved to this rest and refueling point for truck drivers in southern Iraq, where insurgent attacks are infrequent, but soldiers still suffer from nightmares, sleeplessness, guilt and regret. Many have sought help from combat stress specialists.
The Aug. 5 attack lasted less than an hour. But the combat was sustained and intense. It was particularly disturbing to some soldiers because of the up-close fighting and the relentlessness of their enemies.
Soldiers who fought that day say they were changed forever. They say they will never forget the day they came close to death, the day they finally got to fight their shadowy enemy face to face.
‘Scary as hell’
It was near dusk when the bombs started raining in Yusufiyah. Franks was on the telephone with his wife. He asked about their 9-year-old son, Tristan, and 6-year-old daughter, Rose. Both were in school.
He was looking forward to going home in a few days. They were planning what they were going to do. Should they hang out at home or take trips to places like Six Flags Over Georgia?
Things were going well for Franks. His life was back on track after a marriage that ended in divorce. He had been married to his second wife seven years and they were happy. “I missed them as much as I do now,” said Franks, who grew up on a farm outside Birmingham, the son of a homemaker and a World War II veteran. “I was juiced because I was a few days from going on leave.”
He was sitting at a desk in a dark, cavernous building when the explosions began. The blighted warehouse was a potato processing plant before the U.S. invasion. It became home to Georgia and Alabama National Guard soldiers with the 1st Battalion, 108th Armor.
Franks didn’t think much of the first three explosions. The soldiers in Yusufiyah were used to getting fired on by mortars several times a day.
But then Franks heard a fourth explosion, quickly followed by two more. He climbed under the desk. He told his wife he loved her. And then he hung up the phone.
Bullets slammed into the building. Shards of glass crashed in on the soldiers.
Franks had been in the Army 17 years and served as a tank driver in the Gulf War but had never been in such intense, direct combat.
“I was wondering what the hell was going on. How are we going to handle this?” he recalled thinking.
Several soldiers took up positions behind sand-filled barriers, returning fire. Several were still in their athletic shorts and T-shirts. They could see insurgents firing from the rooftops of neighboring houses.
A mortar round exploded inside the base, destroying a Humvee. It appeared as if the insurgents were trying to overrun the base.
Franks and 10 others ran toward their tanks as bullets whined around them. The men scrambled to unlock the hatches and climb in. What took a few moments seemed like an eternity.
“It was as scary as hell. There was so much stuff flying around out there,” Franks said.
Three tanks rolled out the gate with mortar rounds exploding around them.
Yusufiyah appeared deserted except for a suspicious-looking man in a blue sedan parked in a traffic circle. The car exploded as the soldiers approached it, engulfing one of their tanks in flames. The soldiers inside said they could feel the heat through the tank’s thick armor. The explosion left a 10-foot wide, 5-foot deep crater, but did little damage to the tank.
The tanks proceeded to an Iraqi Army checkpoint at a bridge spanning a canal. The post appeared on the verge of being overrun. Two Iraqi soldiers lay dead there. Three more were seriously wounded.
Franks’ tank pulled in front of a bunker to shield the Iraqi soldiers taking cover inside.
Franks could hear bullets hitting his tank with a “ting, ting, ting.”
“It was like everybody who owned a gun was shooting at our tank,” Franks said. “I was scared but I was calm. I was a lot of things at one time.”
Franks spotted two men firing at his tank from close range. He said he shot them with his machine gun and watched them fall.
The tanks rolled over the bridge and into the town of Mullah Feyyed, a Sunni-dominated area at a crossroads for people heading to and from Baghdad.
Franks heard an explosion to his right and saw two men firing at his tank. He dropped them with his machine gun.
“They stepped right into my [sight],” Franks said. “I remember thinking how stupid they were for shooting at a tank with AK-47s.”
Three more men armed with AK-47s were running in a field toward a house to the left of the tank. Franks started shooting and said the first two fell; the third dropped his weapon.
The barrel of Franks’ machine gun became so hot a round exploded inside. Debris sprayed into Franks’ left eye, temporarily blinding it. A small fire broke out inside the barrel, terrifying the crew. Franks slapped at it with his hand until it went out.
The battle was so intense, Franks said, that he contemplated loading and firing the tank’s 120mm main gun.
Franks’ loader, Sgt. Lynn Whitlock of Woodstock, tried to fire his machine gun at the attackers, but it malfunctioned. Whitlock popped up in his hatch and started firing his rifle instead. He ducked back down to reload.
When Whitlock came back up, he noticed the protective shields of ballistic glass around his hatch had been hit with bullets. His machine gun, an ammunition container, a water cooler, smoke grenade launcher and an equipment box had also been hit.
Whitlock refrained from looking at his tank for two days after the firefight. It made him think of his own mortality.
“I just got married in March. Seeing these holes in that ballistic glass — I was kind of uneasy about it,” he said. “I didn’t want to look at the tank. I was not ready to.”
Whitlock is also having recurring nightmares, about his machine gun malfunctioning during the battle. In his dreams, he feels regret for not killing the insurgents in his sights.
“The body and the brain have a lot of secrets we don’t know about,” said Whitlock, 28, a technician at a Woodstock engineering firm. “That day I was the closest to death than I have ever experienced. Aug. 5 will be a day I will never forget.”
Sgt. Steven Gay was among a group of Alabama National Guard soldiers following Whitlock’s tank in Humvees that day. They saw a group of men dressed in black and armed with AK-47s pile out of a van and run into a house in Mullah Feyyed. Gay said he shot down three men running out the back.
“It was kind of like a turkey shoot,” said Gay, 29, a construction worker from Helena, Ala. “It was a good day, knowing you got back at them. You were actually seeing who you were dealing with, knowing who you were fighting. That’s a good feeling.”
But in the days after the battle, Gay dwelt on his feelings.
“I wouldn’t say I’m a good Christian, but I’m trying. You know killing is wrong, but it is different for a soldier. War is different,” said Gay, the father of a 3-year-old son. “These days all I think about is getting home to my little boy.”
Military officials say 20 mortar rounds and rockets landed in and around the base in Yusufiyah. No U.S. soldiers were seriously wounded. The 108th’s soldiers said they were unable to get an accurate count of suspected insurgents they killed because the enemy dragged their bodies away, leaving only blood trails.
The 108th’s top officers still don’t know what prompted the attack. But they say its coordination and complexity point to violent outside insurgent groups, such as al-Qaida in Iraq or Ansar al-Sunna.
“It was not local insurgents. They were foreigners,” said Lt. Col. John King, 42, commander of the 1st Battalion, 108th Armor. “The level of sophistication we saw that day was better than any of the attacks we had seen before and any time after.”
Big picture obscured
Franks returned home for two weeks’ leave four days after the battle. But he wasn’t ready. He was still processing what happened the day of the attack. He did not have enough time to talk about it with his buddies.
He remembers the night he broke down crying on his front porch in Rockmart. He wanted to be home with his family. But at the same time, he wanted to be back with his unit in Iraq.
“I didn’t want to come back but I knew there was no way I was going to not come back. All my buddies were over here,” he said, tears welling in his eyes.
“It’s just screwed up. We don’t get to see the big picture a lot. We do what we are told so we can go home. That’s all we want to do is go home.”
The nightmares started while Franks was home on leave. He said he didn’t tell his wife about the dreams because he didn’t want to upset her.
The nightmares persisted when he returned to Iraq and he started to feel guilty for having them. He said he didn’t believe he had the right to those nightmares, because veterans from World War II and the Korean War, such as his father, had experienced far more intense combat.
“I’m a man who knows his limitations. And it got to be too much,” he said.
Franks sought help from combat stress experts after his return. He said they helped by giving him an opportunity to talk about his problems. They reassured him that his symptoms were normal for someone who had such an abnormal experience. And they helped him see that shooting the insurgents was not wrong.
“They are like us. They have families. But I would rather it be them than me,” Franks said of the insurgents. “They were trying to kill us.”
During the five months 108th soldiers were in the Triangle of Death, they suffered six fatalities and 86 wounded, including 40 sent home for combat wounds or noncombat-related medical problems.
Many soldiers who had grown accustomed to large doses of addictive adrenaline in the Triangle of Death say they hate the boredom here at their new base in southern Iraq and want to be back up north, fighting insurgents.
“They kind of went through a slump when they first got here. It took them a while to adjust to being here. I have heard a lot of them say they would rather be in the combat zone than be bored,” said Sgt. Markaye Staruk, a mental health specialist with the Fort Bragg, N.C.-based 528th Medical Detachment, Combat Stress Control.
Staruk was among the combat stress experts who worked with 108th soldiers.
“It took me a while to adjust, too,” Staruk said. “There, you had a mission. You had a purpose. You felt like you were accomplishing something. But after being here awhile I see there is a mission here. There is a purpose.”
The day after Thanksgiving, Franks was back on the phone with his wife. He said she asked for a divorce. He agreed. He declined to say exactly what brought it about, but he said his long deployment contributed to their breakup.
“The separation brought a lot of things to light,” he said. “It made us realize we were working very hard trying to fix something that couldn’t be fixed.”
Franks, Whitlock, Gay and the rest of the 108th are scheduled to leave for home in early May. Franks wants to stay in the military. But he wants a new job that would allow him to stay close to his children and not have to go back to Iraq.
“Bottom line, I will not come back over here,” he said. “Never. Never. Never.”
Homecoming delay hard on 48th
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Curtis Compton/AJC
Strain shows on the face of Sgt. Michael Flynn, a Paulding County corrections officer at home but a gunner in Iraq. "You really have to readjust yourself," he said. And not just him. His wife has made and canceled five hotel reservations in anticipation of his return.
They were planning a “last patrol” celebration this week. After almost 11 months in Iraq, Gainesville-based soldiers of the 48th Brigade Combat Team were ready to go home.
But over the weekend they were told they would have to put their celebration on hold.
The soldiers who won acclaim in December for finding Baby Noor, the Iraqi child with spina bifida, and helping get her to Atlanta for critically needed medical treatment learned they would be staying in Baghdad at least one more month.
Capt. Anthony Fournier, 38, commander of Charlie Company of the 1st Battalion, 121st Infantry, said military officials told him the unit was needed to help combat escalating violence in the capital.
Charlie Company was anticipating leaving Baghdad later this week for reassignment to an area in Iraq considered less dangerous before being sent home about April 15.
Instead, on Sunday the Georgia Army National Guard unit of about 130 soldiers began patrolling treacherous neighborhoods in western Baghdad. About 70 Iraqis were killed that day across the country, including 58 who died in the capital in an assault in the Shiite slum of Sadr City. At least 11 more people died Monday.
Fournier said the timeline for Charlie Company’s return was “still up in the air.”
There was no indication from brigade officials that Charlie Company’s delayed departure would have any impact on the return dates for other 48th units, which are expected to begin coming home around April 20.
Fournier, a social sciences teacher from Augusta, said his soldiers were still motivated to do their job but that several changes in their date of departure had left them frustrated.
Sgt. Michael Flynn, 34, a Paulding County corrections officer from Jasper, said the delay was difficult for the Georgia soldiers, who have been constantly patrolling in their Bradley Fighting Vehicles since they arrived at Baghdad’s Camp Liberty in June.
“You really have to readjust yourself,” Flynn said. “I really don’t think the guys are so much stressed out [from combat]. It’s more of an aggravation with the date change. That’s the worst part for me.”
Flynn said his wife had made and canceled five hotel reservations in the Fort Stewart area in anticipation of his return.
Although Charlie Company is part of the 48th, it has been separated from the brigade and attached to active-duty battalions since the start of the deployment. It currently falls under the 10th Mountain Division’s 2nd Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment, which patrols in armored Humvees and relies on Charlie Company’s Bradleys for various types of mission.
“It’s good to feel needed, but eventually we’d like to get back home to Georgia,” said 1st Lt. Billy Chau, 30, the company’s executive officer and a fulltime Guard soldier from McDonough.
Fournier said the Iraqis requested a stronger U.S. presence in Baghdad neighborhoods hit especially hard by violence after the bombing of a Shiite shrine in Samarra on Feb. 22.
“Those Bradleys are a powerful presence out there,” said Staff Sgt. David Squires, 47, who works for a hearing aid company in Gainesville.
The Baghdad neighborhoods are new to Charlie Company, which operated mostly in the Abu Ghraib area west of Baghdad during its first eight months in Iraq. The streets are more congested and there are more buildings in the capital.
“It’s hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys,” said Flynn, who constantly scans the road from his gunner’s turret. “That’s really stressful.”
Starting all over again in unfamiliar territory has been nerve-racking for soldiers so close to going home.
Sgt. Terry Hawkins, 35, a deputy sheriff in Forsyth County, pondered that very thought in the back of a Bradley.
“If I get killed after the rest of the brigade goes home, I’m going to be [angry],” he said.
Bonuses prompt hundreds of 48th GIs to reenlist
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Keith Hadley/AJC
Spc. Cora Wilkerson will use $15,000 to make down payment on house. Spc. Brad Shawhan Jr., a model from Atlanta, plans to sink his into a savings plan. • Photos
Convoy Support Center Scania, Iraq — Sgt. Vincent Ferrara stood beside a U.S. flag on the rooftop of his unit’s headquarters here recently, raised his right hand and swore to defend the Constitution.
The oath took less than half a minute. In that time, Ferrara pledged six more years to the Georgia Army National Guard and netted a $15,000 bonus — tax free because he re-enlisted in a combat zone.
Ferrara is among more than 700 soldiers of the 48th Brigade Combat Team who have reenlisted since the unit went to Iraq last June, said 1st Lt. Selena Owens, a spokesman for the brigade.
Despite the risk of death or serious injury and the hardships of a year away from friends and families, soldiers are reeinlisting in part for the money that for some will mean a down payment on a home, a new car or a nest egg for the future.
Soldiers who re-enlist for six years while in a combat zone can get $15,000 tax free — an incentive that may soon be bumped to $20,000. A three-year re-enlistment nets the soldier $7,500.
Although Georgia National Guard officials were able to verify only 235 of the re-enlistments with bonuses totaling nearly $3 million, they said there is often a time lag between the signing and verification of it when a unit is deployed.
Since December 2004, when re-enlistment bonuses were tripled, more than $7 million in bonuses have been handed out to 48th Brigade soldiers, said Sgt. Maj. Jeff Dawkins of the Georgia Guard’s Recruiting and Retention Battalion.
Military recruiters say they have not surveyed soldiers about how much the bonuses are influencing their decisions, but they believe the money obviously helps fence-sitters make up their minds.
Ferrara, who has already served nine years in the military, said he would have re-enlisted without the bonus. But he can use the extra cash now.
His family — with five children ages 3 to 13 — is operating on one income since his wife is studying to become a nurse. And, Ferrara said, his civilian employer, Delta Air Lines, has slashed his pay because of financial troubles.
“I need the bonus,” said Ferrara, 40, of Augusta, who works as a Delta reservations supervisor. “We have been taking pay cut after pay cut for the past few years.”
Persuading soldiers to re-enlist in the Guard is an ongoing effort, even in a combat zone.
“We’ve had nothing but a huge success over there,” said Sgt. Maj. Anthony Weeks, also with the Georgia Guard’s Recruiting and Retention Battalion. “The numbers are extremely good.”
On a recent dreary night at Tallil Air Base in southern Iraq, several 48th Brigade soldiers showed up at the post chapel to listen to two recruitment officers. The recruiters make their pitch twice a day at various military bases hoping to persuade deployed soldiers to give a few more years of their lives in service for their country.
The bottom line, they tell the soldiers: “It’s government money. It’s free. Take it.”
“The bonus plays a significant part. I kid you not,” said Sgt. 1st Class Jerrell Wright, an Arkansas National Guard soldier. “The financial incentives are definitely there. But then there’s pride, integrity.”
The Army’s retention efforts, said Wright, were “vital” and “essential.” Especially so since the war in Iraq has apparently kept young Americans away from the military and the number of new Army recruits has dwindled. In the last fiscal year, the Army fell more than 6,000 recruits short of its goal of 80,000, the largest deficit in 26 years.
But record bonuses have helped convince soldiers already serving to reenlist, despite the knowledge that they might someday be sent back to Iraq.
“The risk went up dramatically when they deployed. The reward needed to keep pace with the increased risks we are asking of an American soldier,” said Lt. Col. Mike Jones, deputy division chief for Army Guard recruiting and retention at the National Guard Bureau in Arlington, Va.
Nationwide, National Guard reenlistments increased by 26 percent in the first year after Congress tripled the bonuses, according to National Guard Bureau figures. Those numbers have been aided by the fact that soldiers are now able to reenlist up to their 21st year of service and still be eligible for the bonuses, something they were not able to do prior to this year, said the 48ths Owens.
“They are very effective. Soldiers often cite those bonuses,” said Maj. Gen. David B. Poythress, commander of the Georgia National Guard. “I don’t think there are any of them who signed up purely for the bonuses. But the bonuses make it a lot easier to sell to parents or to the spouses. The fact that it is tax free makes it that much sweeter.”
Spc. Cora Wilkerson, 23, of Portal, agreed.
Wilkerson, a soldier in the 648th Engineer Battalion and a criminal justice student at Georgia Southern University, wants to become an officer. She said she would use the $15,000 to make a down payment on a house when she returns to Georgia.
The bonuses are tax-free for soldiers as long as they reenlist in a combat zone. They are supposed to get the money within 90 days of the end of their current contracts. And the cash can be directly deposited into their checking accounts.
But many of the Georgia soldiers are not eligible to reenlist while deployed since they have to be within one year of the expiration dates on their current contracts, said Owens, the 48th Brigade spokeswoman.
Spc. Brad Shawhan Jr., a model from Atlanta, plans to sink his $15,000 into a savings plan.
“Not that $15,000 is a lot of money, but it’s an opportunity to get it tax free,” said Shawhan, also a soldier in the 648th.
Immediately after reenlisting, many soldiers cite their sense of duty and their bonds with fellow soldiers.
Shawhan, a former Marine, said it was important for him to stay connected to the military, even though his parents were not entirely pleased about his reenlisting.
“The bonds you make here are unlike those in the civilian world,” he said. “I have been shot at with other people. That brings you closer together. I feel almost obligated to my fellow soldiers.”
Jeremy Redmon reported from Iraq, Moni Basu from Atlanta.
Doctors remove fluid near Noor’s brain
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Surgeons at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta operated successfully this morning on Noor al-Zahra, the Iraqi infant brought to metro Atlanta with a severe form of spina bifida.
The hospital said in a statement that the baby was resting comfortably, with plans to stay overnight for observation.
Doctors inserted a shunt to drain a build-up of fluid beside Noor’s brain, the hospital said. Doctors were prepared to insert the shunt after they performed life-changing surgery on Noor two months ago, but they did not find a fluid build-up in the weeks after that operation. A routine check-up this week detected the fluid.
Georgia-based National Guard soldiers with the 48th Brigade Combat Team encountered Noor while raiding a house near Baghdad in December. Moved by her plight, the soldiers made connections that led to a rare trip out of Iraq for the baby, her father and grandmother.
The medical care was arranged by Childspring International, a charity that arranges medical care in the United States for sick children from abroad.
“The family was disappointed with news of more surgery, but they understand and are very grateful that Baby Noor is receiving excellent medical care and support,” said Christina Porter, Childspring’s USA director.
Bombs silence joy of once-hot resort
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Keith Hadley/AJC
"This place used to be full all the time, and now it's empty," said Dr. Dhiaa Forhan Al-Jumaily, recalling the heyday of Iraq's Tourist City. • Photos
Habaniya, Iraq — The blue-green waters of Lake Habaniya lap the shore next to a darkened and desolate discothèque. A rusting Ferris wheel stirs in the wind. Thick layers of dust coat the billiard tables in the hotel.
Before the U.S. invasion in 2003, getting a reservation at this sprawling lakeside resort required some influence. Known as Tourist City, this French-built getaway was a favorite destination for vacationers, including Saddam Hussein’s son, Udday.
Now, the pink and cream-colored cabanas are forlorn and empty save a handful that are home to 27 refugee families from the nearby city of Fallujah.
Tourist City, according to its managers, is a victim of this country’s continuing instability, terrorism and chronic power outages.
The refugees who live here claim their homes were destroyed or they were forcefully evicted from their houses, said the U.S. soldiers who patrol this area. It is unclear how they are living at the resort for free.
Meanwhile, even though the hotel has no guests, the Iraqi government inexplicably continues to pay the salaries of 229 workers, including cooks and restaurant managers.
“We used to get a lot of visitors. The employees are lonely. There is no work. Nobody comes here,” said Amir Hameed, 49, of Ramadi, the resort’s general manager.
A many as 500 guests from Europe and other Arab countries showed up at the resort every day after it opened in 1979, Hameed said. They would hang out at the tiki bar on the beach, stroll through the shopping center or watch a show at the outdoor theater.
Now looted and empty, Tourist City resembles the film set for a post-apocalyptic movie. But the gulls wheeling overhead and the sounds of the lake give the resort the feel of an oasis in Iraq, albeit one with a distinctly polyester style.
“At one time, this was a happening spot,” said Staff Sgt. James Buol, 31, of Madison, Wis., whose platoon patrols this area in the Al Anbar province. “It almost makes you think you are not in Iraq.”
Buol is a member of the Urbana, Ill.-based 2nd Battalion, 130th Infantry Regiment, which is assigned to Georgia’s 48th Brigade Combat Team. The 130th patrolled parts of the Baghdad area — including the Abu Ghraib neighborhood — before moving to Camp Taqaddum in November.
Since their arrival, soldiers have found two roadside bombs planted at Tourist City. Blast craters mark the spots in the parking lot where they were discovered.
A public health clinic operates out of the resort, and Dr. Dhiaa M. Forhan Al-Jumaily pleaded with soldiers for medical supplies, especially water purification tablets. He said he has treated many cases of chronic diarrhea and vomiting caused by water-borne illnesses.
Al-Jumaily, 32, spoke some English, but he also communicated with Buol’s men in Arabic through their interpreter, Basim Bahia. Bahia said he and his wife had their wedding at the resort the year it opened in 1979. They had 200 guests. Bahia remembers dancing in the discothèque.
“I swam with my wife in the lake. She was wearing her clothes, and I pushed her in the water. I was just making fun. She still remembers that,” said Bahia, 55, of Baghdad.
Bahia said his family and the rest of the other resort guests were forced to stay indoors for 48 hours when Udday showed for a visit with an entourage of 60 people.
“I felt disturbed. My wife told me, ‘Let’s go back home.’ I said no,” Bahia recalled.
As the U.S. soldiers patrolled nearby, Bahia stood outside the empty discothèque, dragging on a cigarette. He said he has happy memories of his wedding here. But he is sad about what has become of Tourist City.
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Unit has nose, knack for finding weapons caches
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Keith Hadley/AJC
Spc. Jeffery Lane, 33 of Pana, Ill., uses a metal detector to search for weapons. • Photos
Habbaniyah, Iraq — First, the Illinois National Guard soldiers found the “father load” of all insurgent weapons caches.
There were dozens of assault rifles and bombs, some rocket propelled grenade launchers, and scores of hand grenades. And that doesn’t even cover a quarter of what they found here in late January.
Five days later, they found the “mother load.” Hundreds of mortar rounds, some rockets and land mines, a 5-foot-long rocket and much more.
The Illinois soldiers stationed here have developed a talent for finding where the enemy is hiding weapons. Many of the soldiers are police officers and sheriff’s deputies back home, so they have experience gathering evidence.
Since Dec. 10, the 2nd Battalion 130th Infantry Regiment, which is attached to Georgia’s 48th Brigade Combat Team, has discovered 17 sizeable weapons caches in the Euphrates River valley between Habbaniyah and Fallujah where the insurgents are extremely active.
“We took a lot of their tools away from them. This is the stuff you see in coordinated attacks,” said Capt. Kurt Merseal, 35, of Steelville, Mo., commander of the 130th’s Charlie Company. “There is no doubt the people in this area are tied to al Qaida in Iraq.”
Insurgents often bury their weapons in plastic bags, wooden crates and barrels near clearly visible landmarks, sometimes within a few hundred meters of their homes. They keep them at a distance from their houses, Merseal said, so they can deny owning them.
Merseal’s men can identify potential hiding places by simply studying landscapes and street systems. They say insurgents like to bury their weapons in earthen berms accessible by roads.
One of Merseal’s platoons discovered a weapons cache over the weekend that consisted of 27 mortar rounds, two rocket propelled grenades, three rolls of fishing line that could be used for tripwires and three pressure plates designed to trigger roadside bombs.
Before they arrived here in the fall, Merseal’s men uncovered 17 major weapons stashes over two months in the Baghdad area.
First Lt. Russ McKelvey is known among his troops as one of the best at finding caches. He attributes much of his success to the soldiers he led in Baghdad. He added that learning some Arabic helped him gather tips.
“We were respectful of the local people,” said McKelvey, 25, a stockbroker from Roswell, who volunteered to lead a platoon of Illinois soldiers. “It builds good will with the people. They seem to trust you more.”
Sometimes the search for weapons caches is tedious and frustrating. First Lt. Robert Cosgriff’s platoon spread out across an open field south of Habbaniyah last week and scanned the earthen berms there with a metal detector. They searched along some railroad tracks and beside a murky canal. Their unit had found weapons in that area before. But they struck out this week.
“It’s hit or miss. You never know when you are going to find something,” said Cosgriff, 35, of St. Louis.
But at least his men know where not to look — for a while.
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