Then words came to him, one of those far off memories from some distant, hidden place in his mind. It was his voice, speaking to this crew: On the sea the boldest steer but where their ports invite, but there are wanderers o’er Eternity, whose bark drives on and on, and anchor’d ne’re shall be….
Part IV
Objective Babylon
“It’s courage, not luck, that takes us through to the end of the road.”
Chapter 10
“So we’re going to be up front?”
“Tip of the spear, Mister Resel. A-Troop, 1st Battalion, 7th Cav.”
“It’s Todd. No need for formalities if I’m going to be bouncing around in that Hummer with you guys for the next couple weeks.”
“Right… Todd. What paper did you say you were working for?”
“The New York Times.”
Major Jason Philips tightened the strap on his helmet and checked the position of his goggles. Tall, with short dark hair, he was all Army, and his cool efficiency was the reason he was going to be up front that day, right on point.
“Know how to wear one of these?” He tossed the reporter an Advanced Combat Helmet, Generation II, the lightweight model, which weighed a pound less than the standard combat helmet.
“Don’t I get the same kind you have?”
“That’s the lightweight model. Don’t worry, it has the same protection level as mine—just a little easier on the noggin. Believe me, you’ll appreciate that soon enough.”
“What’s this bit up front?”
“That’s the NVG Bracket—for mounting a night-vision goggle.”
“Cool. I get one of those?”
“You won’t need one. We’ll handle the reconnaissance. Now… This is your IOTV.”
“Sure doesn’t look like one.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“You wear the helmet like this, and the chin strap attaches here. You may want to get yourself a haircut. It can get hot under there.”
The reporter ran his hand through his thick, sandy hair, a bit wild, and he got the point. “A little too late for that,” he said.
“Suit yourself. Alright, this is your IOTV, the Improved Outer Tactical Vest—body armor. That weighs under four pounds, but once you rig it out with soft armor panel inserts, ballistic plates, collar and groin protectors, you’re looking at 30 pounds. So you may want to keep the camera equipment you plan to bring to a minimum.”
“Oh, I won’t need that. I brought my own. A buddy of mine in the Marines got hold of one. He calls it the Modular Body Armor Vest.”
“You got one of those? Hell, that’s what 75th Rangers wear.”
“Just sixteen pounds,” said Todd with a grin.
“Good for mobility,” said Philips, “but not as good on protection as this equipment. Your choice.”
“Well,” said Todd. “Seeing that I may be doing more running than fighting, better mobility sounds good to me right now.”
“We’ll issue you a sidearm for personal protection, but no assault rifle for nonmilitary personnel.”
“No problem. I’ll be snapping photos, not shooting at Iraqis.”
“Yup. We’ll do that, and we’ll be kicking ass and taking names, so you’ll have to be near the back of the column if you want to stay safe out there. Ok? Listen up. When we move you need that body armor on at all times, and this helmet. We move fast, but we can stop suddenly to conduct visual reconnaissance. If we come under fire, stay in your vehicle, and stay low. Keep your head down.”
“Well how am I supposed to cover this operation if I’m holed up in a Hummer while all the good photo-ops are happening?”
“Look, if you’re willing to die for a photo-op, be my guest. It’s just safer in the vehicle, but if we determine otherwise, you just do what your corporal says. We’re a pretty wild bunch, which is why we’re up front. Frankly, I’m surprised you even got permission to ride with this troop. If things get hot, stay calm, use your head, and follow orders. The men will be all business, but like I say, we’re the saw’s teeth up here. There will be combat. You’ll probably get a nickname pretty soon, so it may be better to pick one now that you can live with.”
“A nickname?”
“Right. Nobody’s going to call you Todd…. Todd. Let’s see. Your last name is Resel….”
Todd scratched his head. “Weasel,” he said. “Resel the Weasel. That’s what they called me in high school.”
“Sounds good to me. So from here on out, you’re the Weasel. I know you’re here to do a job, but just don’t try to weasel your way into places you don’t belong. And stay with the column at all times. No one’s going to have time to hold your hand, or to go looking for you if you wander off. Stay close, even if you take a piss, because we can move out on a moment’s notice and you’d better be in your vehicle when we do. If you hear someone say we’re Oscar Mike, that mean on the move. Get it? Miss the train and you’ll have to wait for a cab.”
“A cab? Out here?”
“That’s C.A.B.—Combined Arms Battalion. There’s three of them right behind us, Lancers, Stallions and Thunder Horse. This here is the Iron Horse Division, and we move like steel thunder. So if you miss your ride, you’ll have to stick out a thumb with one of those three battalions behind us.”
“Yes sir, Major. Understood… What’s your handle, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“My handle? You mean my nickname? It’s Major.” He looked at his watch. “We roll at midnight tonight, so you may want to catch some Z’s before that. The road is likely to be rough in places, and a Humvee is no limousine.”
“Right… Any idea where we’re going, Major Philips?”
“You can read a map, can’t you? We’ll be on Highway-1, and as far as it goes—all the way to Babylon.”
“You mean Baghdad?”
“Right, but keep that under your helmet, Mister Weasel. By the way, how do you report to your paper?”
“I’m on deep background, so I file my story with the press pool, whenever we find them.”
“So you don’t need to phone home each day?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Good, because they’ll be listening. No need to let them know where we are, and by all means, where we may be going.”
“Right,” said the Weasel. “But Major, I think someone over there will be able to read a map too. This road only goes one place.”
“Oh, it goes a few other places too,” said the Major. “But don’t let that bother your sleep, Mister Weasel. Remember—midnight.”
The world wasn’t going to hear about Operation Able Fire until noon that day, when the president planned to go live for a statement to the nation. In the meantime, the darkness of the Iraqi desert that folded itself over the land was near complete. There was no moon, as it was new that day, and so the stars were the only witness to what was happening.
The Coalition forces were taking two routes east into Iraq. The US contingent had moved east through the long panhandle of Jordan to the Iraqi border where two roads (Highways 1 and 10) threaded themselves east through the desert to Ramadi, a 250 mile march. The first stop was the town of Rutba, 75 miles from the Jordanian border. Leg two, 80 miles on, would take the column to the junction of Highway 21 running south to meet Highway 22, which ran to Karbala from the Saudi border. The roads formed a great letter H turned on its side, with Highways 1 and 22 being the down strokes, and Highway-21 the cross connector.