Special Forces Join in the Fun
I decided to convince Hussein, the Iraqi squad leader, to add a layer of deception on our next patrol. I thought our patrolling patterns were getting routine and we needed to change things if we wanted to keep the insurgents on their toes. We decided that for this patrol we would head south into the village as we typically did but would cut the patrol short and head north back to the WTF as it was getting dark. This would convince the locals we were done patrolling for the day. Once we arrived at the back entrance of the WTF, which was concealed by a small wadi, instead of calling it quits for the night, we would sneak out the western side of the WTF and make our way to an observation point (OP) five hundred meters north of the WTF on a barren hill that overlooked Boardwalk. The intent of the deception was to trick the insurgents into thinking our patrolling efforts were finished for the night and that they could freely conduct IED activities for a few hours before we sent out the early morning patrol.
Hussein agreed on our proposed plan. He decided to claim the deception tactic as his own idea and explained it to the jundi in the squad. I had no problem with him stealing my intellectual property; this is how the adviser gig is supposed to work. The jundi were excited.
We pushed south into the village area near the WTF at 1800. The sun would set in the next two hours. We patrolled though the village. Everything seemed peaceful and tranquil—something had to be wrong. Even so, we moved north toward the WTF, walking across the tallest hill in the village to ensure we were seen by all the townspeople. We reached the wadi west of the WTF and disappeared inside, covering our movement to the townspeople and insurgents who were certainly tracking our movements. I radioed our situation to Major Gaines. “Sir, we are at the back gate, over.” Gaines responded, “Jamal, I got something for you. The Special Forces showed up and they want to send two of their snipers to the OP with you and the jundi. I’m sure you’d agree these guys are better marksmen than the jundi anyway, over.” I confirmed. “Roger, Sir. Send them our way; we have to wait here in the wadi until it gets completely dark anyway. Out.”
The thought of working with the Special Forces snipers was appealing. While the Hollywood appeal of Special Forces personnel had lessened since I had been working with them, I still thought it might be cool to have Special Forces snipers on our patrol. In fact, I knew this mission would be amazing. I would be the leading tactical adviser on a foreign military patrol in a war zone, speaking a foreign language and fighting alongside Iraqi soldiers as an equal. On top of that we were going to clandestinely move to a hill in the desert overlooking Route Boardwalk under the cover of darkness and hunt insurgents with help from a couple of Green Beret snipers. If this is not living the adventure, what is? I wondered.
The Special Forces snipers showed up at the west gate of the WTF. I sat them down with Hussein and had Hussein explain his plan to occupy the OP. It was a relief to work with the Special Forces. I knew I did not have to explain to the snipers why I was letting the Iraqis lead the show. They understand more than anyone that the role of being a military adviser is to advise, teach, and support—not to command.
Once the plan was in place we moved quickly and quietly into the desert under the cover of darkness. I felt a sense of peace in the silence. The footsteps of warriors walking in the desert broke the quietness. The jundi were not as graceful as I had hoped. On our way to the assembly area I counted five loud crashes caused by jundi who tripped in ditches and small holes in the barren landscape. Despite the racket we continued to push forward without notice. Route Boardwalk was a good six hundred meters away. If anyone had heard our commotion, the people would write it off as feral dogs thrashing around in the open desert.
We approached our tentative assembly area at the base of a small hill from which we would observe Route Boardwalk. From our position, we were not going to get close enough to the enemy to cut his throat, but we would have visibility on the road. At the assembly area the snipers and I had a U.S.-only meeting. We were carrying out a complicated operation and the last thing we wanted was the jundi to mess it up.
I addressed the Special Force snipers. “Listen, you guys know we are dealing with jundi here. I can guarantee that one of them is going to light up a cigarette while we are out here observing.” Both the men nodded in agreement and I continued. “I’m going to have these guys sit at the base of this hill and get into a security posture beneath the hill. They can be the security element for the mission while you guys go up on the hill and observe with your thermal scopes and infrared optics. I’ll be the middleman on the hill. If you guys need support or extra firepower let me know and I will signal to Hussein to rally the jundi cavalry.” The snipers liked my plan. The plan allowed them to observe Boardwalk for enemy activity without having to worry about the jundi compromising our position and ruining the mission.
After explaining this plan to Hussein, we were set to execute. Hussein, a former Iraqi Special Forces soldier with vast experience conducting reconnaissance missions, was the perfect guy to have as the Iraqi squad leader. He set his men into a security posture and prepared them for their duties.
It became apparent that twenty-five years of service in the old Iraqi army was not helping Hussein. Marines know that while in a security position, weapons point outward, sectors of fire are assigned, silence is maintained, and movements are minimized. The Iraqi security posture is different. Their security involves small groups of three soldiers who sit in a circle talking about life and smoking cigarettes while one of the soldiers in the squad keeps a general eye out to see if anything dangerous is on the horizon. Suffice it to say I was glad I let the snipers push to the top of the hill alone. Sending the jundi would have compromised their position and ruined the mission.
Once the jundi were set in their “gaggle” (Marine term for something that isn’t very organized), I crawled on my hands and knees up the hill to check on the snipers through my night vision goggles. I watched their left flank and marked the route back to the assembly area with infrared chemlights so they knew how to get back to the jundi without getting lost.
We sat, sat, and sat some more. I was annoyed that my first chance to live in a Hollywood movie scene was going to end so anticlimactically. All I wanted was to light up insurgents emplacing IEDs along Boardwalk, and we were in the perfect position to do just that. We sat for three hours and watched the villagers carry out their nightly rituals: evening tea with the neighbors, prayer at the local mosque, more tea with the neighbors, and then off to bed.
It was 2200—drop-dead time. I signaled to the snipers that it was time to move back to camp. We approached the Iraqi security circle at the base of the hill, praying they did not shoot us. Our worries were unfounded. Half of the jundi were fast asleep and the other half were smoking cigarettes and telling stories. Any hopes that this would be a clandestine mission were lost. The jundi still awake shouted to me, “Jamal, are we heading back to camp yet? We’re tired and hungry.” My only response was to laugh. These men were not military men, they were children. I found Hussein. He awakened his men and we went back to the WTF. The insurgents would live another day and we would go home empty-handed once again.