In the dead of night we had moved to within a few miles of the border of Iraq and Kuwait with 3rd Battalion 11th Marines, an artillery battery. We were attached to them from 1st Battalion 7th Marines in order to provide security well they accomplished their mission.

Peering through our thermal optics we saw the hazy red outline of Safwan Hill. We sat in front of the artillery providing security for them as they were moving into their gun line behind us. We gazed at the little red helicopters circling the hill in front of us like angry gnats. Their blazing red gunfire glowed brightly through our optics. The howitzers behind us roared sending streaking bolts of death into the air. We could see the artillery rounds through almost their entire trajectory, from the muzzle flash to the distant horizon where they exploded in a dazzling light show. This was one of the best firework shows that I had ever seen.

Instead of a harmless explosion in the air, however they were raining death upon the citizens of Iraq up to fifteen miles away. The crackle of the radio brought us back to reality. “We have 180 T-72s, enemy tanks, outside of Safwan.” We quickly mounted our trucks: I hopped in to the vehicle commander chair, Dan in the gun and Jake into the drivers. We got into position for our trek to link up with the rest of First Battalion Seventh Marines. Our ordered movement quickly disintegrated into chaos in the pitch-black night. Jake smashed into a berm when he left the tracks of the trucks we were following. We made it over but TOW two, an anti-tank truck, who was behind us got high sided on the berm.

We slowed our pace while team two tried to get their TOW truck free but the rest of our platoon called CAAT Blue kept on moving they were soon lost from our sight. Gun two quickly pushed their TOW truck over the berm with minimal damage to it. After this little adventure, I decided it would be safer and more efficient if I took over driving. In the darkness we hauled ass, traveling about fifty mph through the wide-open desert. We finally found the tracks left by the other trucks in our platoon.

Eventually the tracks turned into an unimproved road allowing me to drive even faster. That turned out to be a misjudgment. As we spotted the power lines that would lead us to our unit, we came upon a road that ran perpendicular to the one we were traveling on. Now with night vision goggles on, no one has any depth perception, so when we hit the road there, was a little drop off. When you are going upwards of fifty MPH little drop offs can turn very violent. The drop off caused us to catch some air and almost threw Dan from the turret. Consequently, he was shaken up a bit and very angry with me for my recklessness but for the most part unhurt. We finally made it to our Battalion’s position and fell in line to prepare our defense.

Back in California on Jan 28, 2003, about two months before I entered Iraq. I celebrated my twenty first birthday. It wasn’t a very fun birthday I never expected to spend it on standby for our deployment to Kuwait and so we spent the somber night sitting in the communal TV room drinking cases of beer. This journey began the next day in 29 Palms CA. In the middle of the night we said goodbye to our friends from our sister battalion AE, who were leaving for Kuwait that night. The next day we awoke with hangovers and staged our gear for our own trip down to March Air Force Base and then onto Kuwait. We got to the Air Force base in the middle of the night where we were processed into the system and told to standby for our flight. Unfortunately our plane hadn’t even landed yet, so there we sat all night long in a cramped hanger, getting what little sleep we could on the concrete floor. When morning finally came, our plane still had not landed and they needed space in the hangar for more marines that had come down, so they kicked us out onto the hot black asphalt of the tarmac. We sat in the sweltering heat, sweating, waiting for a plane to take us to our new home in Kuwait. Finally, after what felt like years, our plane landed, and we loaded our gear into its belly. There was no relief from the heat of southern California when we got on the plane. Not ten minutes after finding my seat on the government contracted 727, the air-conditioning quit working. Now there were two hundred marines who had been sweating all day on the hot tarmac crammed into this plane with no air-conditioning the plane quickly began to stink and the stewardesses began to run out of water. After another hour of sitting on the stifling plane it finally took of and began its twenty-hour flight to Kuwait. In the middle of the night on February 2nd we finally landed in Kuwait.

We were each immediately issued two magazines full of live ammo. This was no longer playtime, it was business now. At the airport we transferred to buses that were waiting to take us to our new home, Living Support Area Ripper. We arrived after two hours of driving through a depressing landscape. My first impression of the Kuwaiti countryside was that of the biggest kitty litter box in the world. The home of CAAT, Combined Anti-Armor Team, Blue now consisted of a large canvas tent with a plywood floor in which about eighty marines lived. After about a week of living in this kitty litter box, we got to eat something besides a MRE or meal ready to eat. After waiting in line for about two hours to get our first hot meal in Kuwait, we got to the tent where chow was served. I was served a small bowl of rice with two chicken nuggets thrown on top of it. Eating utensils were no longer important. “Gee thanks, glad I’m hungry,” I said sarcastically as I walked away from the chow line. The chow didn’t improve much in our month and a half stay at LSA Ripper.

Due to the cramped living conditions and the poor hygiene facilities available, disease quickly spread through the ranks. The first major problem that struck the Marines of First Battalion Seventh Marines was pink eye. It started off with two Marines and soon spread to about three quarters of our tent. The worst case happened to my friend Justin who had both eyes swollen shut for about two days. The second situation that struck the Marines of 1/7 was emotional stress. There was very little to do to keep us occupied. With war looming on the horizon Marines soon started breaking down emotionally from the stress caused partly from the fear of death and from missing their wives and children. The marine who I think had the most trouble dealing with these stresses was Staff Sergeant. He began taking his pain out on us by making us stand guard in full gear that weighs about fifty pounds. It is not very fun to stand around for two hours at a time with that much weight dragging you down. To help occupy us and to give him a power trip, he made us take all our gear out of our tent and put it back in again, just so we’d know that he was in charge. Our daily routine consisted of morning runs when we had water, getting our vehicles ready for the impending invasion, and the most beloved daily gas mask drill. The gas mask drill consisted of someone sounding a siren then we would quickly throw our gas masks on and go sit in our tents until the all clear order was passed.

Sometime during the first week of March, I took my last shower for the next ninety plus days. We were getting ready to go out on perimeter security on the morning of March 16 when our morning routine was bitterly interrupted. The resounding cry came: “Saddle up, we’re going to war!?” We immediately began working in an organized fashion, loading our remaining personal gear onto our trucks and picking up the rest of the ammo, which consisted mostly of explosives and grenades. We drove over to where 3/11 was staging when the load out was completed. There we received the last mail we’d see for the next two months. I got a letter from my Mother asking when I’d pay her back the money I owed her, not something I really wanted to think about on the eve of going into battle. During the night we moved up to within three miles of the Iraqi border, directly south of Safwan Hill. We were in the middle of nowhere, nothing but sand and huge lizards roaming the barren desert. The artillery batteries positioned themselves into their gun line and began prepping for the hour of firing that was to ensue. We officially entered the DMZ in the morning. I’d never seen such a deserted, sad looking town in my entire life. Donkeys roamed the abandoned freeway. It dawned on me as I was looking down the barrel of my rifle pointing at a donkey, that we weren’t just practicing anymore. This was the real thing, some people were already dead, and a lot more were going to end up dead before the journey was completed.

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