Force Iraq, are unsatisfactory. âThree AIF detained, seven AIF KIA. Two LNs WIA and one TCN WIA requesting MEDVAC, nine-line to follow.â Three insurgents captured and seven killed; two Iraqi civilians and one third-country national (meaning a civilian who is not Iraqi or American) need to be brought to the hospital.
Roger. Outstanding. What the fuck over.
IED was the deadliest abbreviation. The improvised explosive device. The roadside bomb. The cause of over 60 percent of American casualties. I wanted to understand the IEDâthe Eye-E-Dee in Eye-Rackâso I put in requests to embed with the guys who go looking for them.
Scott Johnson and Jack Tapes helped me pack for my first embed. I looked through the equipment we had in the bureau: a collection of helmets, eye protection, and body armor that had piled up in the house since the war started. There was a heavy blue vest that had a high collar to protect the neck and a piece of material that hung down to protect the groin. It came with a Velcro sticker that announced PRESS across the chest. Tapes told me that the neck collar and groin cover probably wouldnât actually stop any shrapnel. He also pointed out that there was no need anymore to announce you were press, as that wouldnât prevent anyone from shooting you. He recommended a new set, which we had in brown and blue, that was about four or five pounds lighter. It had two ceramic plates, one in front and one in back, that could stop an AK-47 round. It also had thin material on the sides that could stop 9mm bullets. I chose the brown one. Tapes took a piece of silver electrical tape, wrote my blood type on it (O POS), and stuck it on the front of the vest. Then I chose a large black helmet, Wiley X eye protection, and loaded my Sony Vaio laptop with software for the BGAN, a satellite modem that looked like a small gray box and could get a high-speed Internet connection from almost anywhere, as long as there was nothing obstructing the signal. I brought my phones: an Iraqna, a small gray Nokia that worked only on the local network; my T-Mobile, which worked internationally; my BlackBerry, which also worked internationally; a reliable Thuraya satellite phone for a backup. I brought my Sony digital tape recorder, my seven megapixel digital camera, five notebooks, and a half-dozen pens. I threw in two pairs of jeans and two pairs of Old Navy khaki cargo pants that Iâd bought with Andi in New York, five white T-shirts, a towel, four pairs of hiking socks, four pairs of boxers, three long-sleeved button-down shirts, a pair of shoes, and a pair of lightweight hiking boots. I found a silver sleeping bag. I packed the electronics, along with chargers for all of them, into a black Victorinox laptop bag, and stuffed the rest of my gear into a purple North Face bag.
I tried it out to see how it felt. Wearing the body armor and helmet, with the North Face pack on my back, and the laptop bag slung over my shoulder, I could barely move.
Scott took one look at me and said, âDude, youâre bringing way too much stuff.â
Tapes gave me a smaller backpack that heâd used in the Royal Marines. It was black, compact, and looked much cooler than my purple North Face rack. I got rid of a bunch of my extra clothes, my pair of shoes, and a medical kit (it took up space, and I figured Iâd be with military guys who would have that). Tapes helped me jam everything else into his pack.
The next night, eleven days after Iâd arrived in Iraq, I was riding in a Buffalo on my first combat patrol. I was with the Desert Rogues, of the 1st Battalion 64th Armor Regiment, out of FOB Rustamiyah in southeastern Baghdad. The Buffalo is a massive armored vehicle, built originally for minesweeping. It weighs more than forty thousand pounds and has an excess of video cameras and mechanical arms, traveling on six giant tires. To get in, you climb up a ladder on the back, then step through a small door into a
Roger. Outstanding. What the fuck over.
IED was the deadliest abbreviation. The improvised explosive device. The roadside bomb. The cause of over 60 percent of American casualties. I wanted to understand the IEDâthe Eye-E-Dee in Eye-Rackâso I put in requests to embed with the guys who go looking for them.
Scott Johnson and Jack Tapes helped me pack for my first embed. I looked through the equipment we had in the bureau: a collection of helmets, eye protection, and body armor that had piled up in the house since the war started. There was a heavy blue vest that had a high collar to protect the neck and a piece of material that hung down to protect the groin. It came with a Velcro sticker that announced PRESS across the chest. Tapes told me that the neck collar and groin cover probably wouldnât actually stop any shrapnel. He also pointed out that there was no need anymore to announce you were press, as that wouldnât prevent anyone from shooting you. He recommended a new set, which we had in brown and blue, that was about four or five pounds lighter. It had two ceramic plates, one in front and one in back, that could stop an AK-47 round. It also had thin material on the sides that could stop 9mm bullets. I chose the brown one. Tapes took a piece of silver electrical tape, wrote my blood type on it (O POS), and stuck it on the front of the vest. Then I chose a large black helmet, Wiley X eye protection, and loaded my Sony Vaio laptop with software for the BGAN, a satellite modem that looked like a small gray box and could get a high-speed Internet connection from almost anywhere, as long as there was nothing obstructing the signal. I brought my phones: an Iraqna, a small gray Nokia that worked only on the local network; my T-Mobile, which worked internationally; my BlackBerry, which also worked internationally; a reliable Thuraya satellite phone for a backup. I brought my Sony digital tape recorder, my seven megapixel digital camera, five notebooks, and a half-dozen pens. I threw in two pairs of jeans and two pairs of Old Navy khaki cargo pants that Iâd bought with Andi in New York, five white T-shirts, a towel, four pairs of hiking socks, four pairs of boxers, three long-sleeved button-down shirts, a pair of shoes, and a pair of lightweight hiking boots. I found a silver sleeping bag. I packed the electronics, along with chargers for all of them, into a black Victorinox laptop bag, and stuffed the rest of my gear into a purple North Face bag.
I tried it out to see how it felt. Wearing the body armor and helmet, with the North Face pack on my back, and the laptop bag slung over my shoulder, I could barely move.
Scott took one look at me and said, âDude, youâre bringing way too much stuff.â
Tapes gave me a smaller backpack that heâd used in the Royal Marines. It was black, compact, and looked much cooler than my purple North Face rack. I got rid of a bunch of my extra clothes, my pair of shoes, and a medical kit (it took up space, and I figured Iâd be with military guys who would have that). Tapes helped me jam everything else into his pack.
The next night, eleven days after Iâd arrived in Iraq, I was riding in a Buffalo on my first combat patrol. I was with the Desert Rogues, of the 1st Battalion 64th Armor Regiment, out of FOB Rustamiyah in southeastern Baghdad. The Buffalo is a massive armored vehicle, built originally for minesweeping. It weighs more than forty thousand pounds and has an excess of video cameras and mechanical arms, traveling on six giant tires. To get in, you climb up a ladder on the back, then step through a small door into a
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