By: Jean-Paul Courville
Combat; to fight or contend against; oppose vigorously; fighting between groups of armed forces
March 20th 2003, I was in Kuwait listening to a broadcast via a small radio on the BBC from the President of the United States. Third Battalion Fourth Marines (3/4) had been in Kuwait for over two months preparing and awaiting orders to proceed into Iraq to remove a dictator and free its people. President George W. Bush gave Saddam Hussein 24 hours to comply with guidelines or he would face military action. When the broadcast was complete we mobilized at the border of Kuwait and Iraq as the air campaign started.
I was 31 years of age (that July) a Marine Gunnery Sergeant and I had been in the Marine Corps for over 11 years (12 years that September), served in the Infantry, been on SHIP, been called in from leave for hot-spots in Somalia and Haiti, I had been in the Middle East, I was stationed in Cuba, I had completed numerous tactical and weapon specialized schools, and I had been a Drill Instructor for two separate tours but I hadn’t been in combat.
There is a difference in being exposed to danger and fighting in combat.
Infantry battalions have three companies India, Kilo, and Lima, with a Heavy Weapons Company, and a Headquarters and Service Company. I had the pleasure of being in a significant role four consecutive years in 3/4 Kilo Company. We would ultimately serve three “back to back” tours in Iraq (the initial fall of Baghdad and Fallujah to Haditha from 2003-2005). Our unit would be known as the DARK-SIDE, the most deployed Infantry battalion of that era.
We crossed the border (Line of Departure - LOD) on March 21, 2003 in the early morning hours, mechanized in Amphibious Assault Vehicles (AAV) and I was in a “Soft Skin” HUMVEE along with my driver and battle buddy Lance Corporal Martin Everett. He had completed his four-year enlistment but was under the stop-loss order keeping him active duty for an indefinite time. He had found his share of trouble in getting promoted but he flourished in this environment, and we became inseparable. We followed our last AAV in the serial and maneuvered around the battle space where I was directed. I provided communication to the Company Commander, Captain Kevin Norton a prior Artillery Sergeant who fought in the 1991 campaign, he was athletic, confident and sometimes abrasive. Marines thought our styles would clash but I knew my role and have always considered my self a great “right hand man” plus he was the commander and I was one of his two enlisted advisors. I provided logistical resupply with what we called “Kilo Mobile” comprised of my vehicle (K7), one other HUMVEE with our First Sergeant, the M88 Tank Retriever (HERCULES) and an AAV converted into an ambulance for casualty evacuations, collecting Enemy Prisoners of War (EPW), and providing flank security. In my previous years stationed in Guantanamo Bay Cuba I trained and conducted platoon level defensive exercises for an attack on the US Naval Base, this would assist me greatly in Iraq. Our Battalion Commander, Lieutenant Colonel Bryan P. McCoy was an intelligent and disciplined Marine Officer who had a clear blue print to breed success in an Infantry battalion. In Kuwait one of his demands was practicing the actions in the event of a casualty, in full combat gear with our corpsman working along side us while being constantly critiqued and evaluated for improvement.
Our first objective and encounter with Iraqi forces came at the Basara International Airport. We had numerous Iraqi Soldiers barefoot, starving, and barely clothed surrendering while waving white flags much like the experiences in the Persian Gulf War of 1991. Intelligence reports confirmed that the closer we moved to Baghdad the more disciplined of a solider we would encounter like the Iraqi Republican Guard. Kilo Mobile moved as needed to ensure we were near our assault force for casualty evacuations from the point of injury, to transfer, and ultimately to an evacuation. We were also the staging area for all EPW’s and at one point I had 15.
We stored the elements of our Meals Ready to Eat (MRE) that we didn’t want in a box located in our HUMVEE and since these Iraqis were malnourished I retrieved the box of extra MRE contents and distributed them. The Iraqi's began to pass the meals among each other while explosions and gunfire became the music of choice around us. One Iraqi took a bite of rice pilaf then immediately displayed a disgusting look on his face, he looked left and right then tried to hand it off as the others waved him away. He finally looked at me and placed the rice pilaf on the ground. I darted around the HUMVEE an bent over in hysterical laughter, what a message to send the distributors of the MRE. I have to give credit to Everett, he refrained from laughing.
We obtained control of the airport and were quickly relieved by a British unit. Our convoy tactically rolled away from the airport and thru the barren deserts of southern Iraq when Captain Norton ordered me to go back and relay an important message since our radio transmissions couldn’t reach our British counterparts. I was skeptical but it had to be done, Everett and I turned the vehicle around and navigated thru what was "soft" cleared routes but we were alone and it felt strange driving in complete darkness with Night Vision Goggles (NVG's) . We delivered the message successfully and now we needed to link back with our unit who were moving fast in a different direction.
“Which way Gunny?”
I just pointed into the open desert and replied, "straight”. We had navigated over sand dunes for roughly 15 minutes, I felt disoriented so I asked Everett to stop. I removed the NVG's and used a red-lensed flashlight underneath a poncho to review our map. We could hear our company’s radio transmissions and then received a threat of a potential Nuclear Biological and Chemical (NBC) attack, we quickly deployed our field protective mask. I soon became claustrophobic, it affected my ability to read the map combined with the fact we hadn't slept for more than 24 hours. I felt distracted hearing what sounded like snoring, I looked at Everett and snapped "Wake up! you are snoring, stay alert!" Everett replied "Gunny, that was you"...and he was right.
Our battalion employed an “old school” technique using a bird cage mounted on the hoods of vehicles with a pigeon inside for an early warning of such an attack but it wasn't giving me any confidence this night. We drove another 20 minutes, no visibility nor a location of our unit but we maintained radio conductivity.
We traveled in the dark hours (blacked out with night vision googles - NVG's) seeing many shadows in limited moonlight but In the blink of an eye one of those shadows turned into a large sinkhole. We crashed the Humvee completely on its passenger side inside of this deep depression and I was pinned down wearing a flak jacket, a field protective mask and carrier on my leg, M203 grenades weaved into my flak jacket, helmet with NVGs mounted and Everett and I had the new SAPI (Small Arms Protective Inserts) plates in our flak jackets. I began to panic, just a few days earlier a young Marine had rolled a Humvee flipping into a river ultimately drowning to his death. The thought of enemy Iraqi Soldiers moving in on us didn't inspire optimism so Everett came to my aid and he talked me back to calm. He made a radio transmission for assistance and I asked him to scan the area with his weapon and NVG's for any potential threats. Within two hours one of our AAV's located us and pulled us from the temporary grave.
We traveled hundreds of kilometers running into limited and heavy resistance, ambushes, abandoned fighting positions, friendly civilians, and the continuous unsettling sounds of indirect fire. We traveled thru Al Kut, Al Diwyanya, Al Baghdadi, the ancient city of Babylon, and countless villages. One of the most extreme experiences came to us during a biblical type of sandstorm that turned the skies orange for days. With no access to news or current information many of us thought a nuclear bomb was detonated in Baghdad and this was the aftermath. Murphy’s Law was in full effect “what can go wrong, will go wrong” and we lost Marines in gun battles, injuries, and one of our tanks fell off of a bridge (into the Tigris river) due to the poor visibility during that sandstorm killing its entire crew. It was the reality of war, the emotions felt by human nature tell you to stop, reflect, and mourn, but training and muscle memory developed thru repetition push you thru those feelings as enemy forces surely aren’t sympathetic to your grief.
We were nomadic, not sleeping for days, stopping in and around small villages or the open desert and hit by enemy ambushes and driving thru areas where dead bodies lay depicting the scenes from a post-apocalyptic graphic novel. Patrol bases became quite the normal, digging into fighting positions to eat and sleep in with no showers for months but a canteen cup "sprinkle of water" became our luxury. The large facilities supported by big named civilian companies would come later, this was the primitive beginnings.
Our battalion traveled thru Al Kut surrounded by date palm groves a staple trademark for most places in Iraq. In previous villages we would find fighting positions abandoned yet there were signs of recent activity like uniforms left behind, tea still boiling on a flame, weapons left unattended as if the soldiers changed into civilian clothes and ran back into the city. Al Kut was to be different, these fighters stayed in place and they had our convoy in a killing zone.
Gunshots and RPG's from the palm groves!
Our battalion commander is caught in an ambush and makes the choice to point his HUMVEE into the direction of the attack, he knows the ballistic windshield and engine block are a more solid form of protection than the doors on his vehicle. His gunner immediately engages hostile targets while simultaneously Marines from Kilo Company 3rd Platoon led by Lieutenant Stokes and Sergeant Mares deploy into combat formations within a palm grove. Marines throw hand grenades into enemy fighting positions but the Iraqis picked them up and threw them back at us wounding our Marines. Sgt Mares is hit by an AK-47 round lodged into the hand-guard of his weapon and a piece of shrapnel under his eye. Sergeant Major Dave Howell who is Colonel McCoy’s right hand man is taking fire on the opposite side, he is a seasoned Marine, disgruntled, incredibly intelligent, and a lifelong mentor to me. I received a radio transmission from Captain Norton to move thru the enemy fire and link up at Howell’s position for a ground casualty evacuation request, someone was down.
I see Howell along with SSgt Jack Coughlin and others dragging Lcpl Mark Evnin to a covered location. Mark had been shot by enemy fire just under his flak jacket in the lower abdomen, I leaned in to assist. Jack Coughlin (an experienced Sniper) took position with his spotter alleviating the threat one by one. The Corpsman made an attempt to move Mark which caused immediate discomfort and this enraged Howell who stood up and Spartan kicked the Corpsman, another then stepped in to provide triage. Mark Evnin was extremely alert, he looked at SgtMaj Howell and in the most sincere heartfelt delivery said “SgtMaj you know you are an asshole” which lightened the mood and created a chuckle among us all.
We were informed later that evening that Mark had lost his life in transit.
The next few weeks were a roller coaster of emotions after pushing North so quickly. The U.S. and coalition forces were moving so quickly the logistical support that followed couldn’t maintain pace so we were ordered into a 21-day pause while maintaining defensive postures. Kilo company operated in an abandoned land fill with a landscape much like a marsh you would encounter in the Southern USA but without the trees. Flies and mosquitoes became our adopted pets. The area was infested with stray dogs and we were given an order in killing any stray dogs in our positions as the enemy was using them for early warning detection to launch mortar attacks. Leading into the sunset one evening a group of dogs found our location and were aggressively barking, my emotions got the best of me but I leaned my rifle on the unstable door of our vehicle and took a poorly aimed shot. The impact of the gunshot didn’t kill the dog but instead severely wounded it causing the dog to yelp even louder. I covered my ears like a child and felt this cold sensation rush thru my spine, LCpl Martin Everett walked over to me and grabbed my pistol from my holster and with one shot put the dog out of his misery. Later that evening Everett was very poetic as he reminded me a week earlier outside of Al Kut a vehicle sped towards our convoy ignoring our warning shots, I stepped outside of the vehicle and launched a high explosive grenade from my M203 into the car preventing a Vehicle Born Improvised Explosive Device (VBIED) from hitting our troop carriers but then I crumbled in the moment with the dog. He was right, it validated for me that I don’t have a natural “killer instinct” but a “protective instinct”.
In the early mornings and late evenings I would walk the lines to sit with Marines in their fighting positions and have a chat; the common questions were “how long do you think we will be here and do you think the Iraqis have nuclear weapons?” One evening as I arranged a fueling station logistical resupply in the middle of a sandstorm I ran into the Headquarters and Service Company Commander, Captain Morgan Savage, the name of a movie or porn star depending on how you view it. He and I served together at Officer Candidates School prior to this assignment and he would later become our Company Commander for operations into Fallujah. For years to come he would always remind me how I had a smile, was enthusiastic, and motivated even under poor circumstances.
April 6th 2003 we found ourselves at the Diyala Bridge on the Eastern side of Baghdad, this would become the opening for I Marine Expeditionary Force (MEF) to enter the city and our battalion would fight to open this passageway as the Army entered from the Western side of Baghdad. There were two bridges across the Tigris River and one was for vehicles and a foot bridge parallel to it. The vehicle bridge had been totally destroyed while the footbridge had been partially destroyed with sporadic large holes. There was a police station on the lower part of the embankment which gave our headquarters vehicle covered protection and provided observation in the surrounding building rooftops for our snipers and fire support team (FST).
On the opposite bank troops dressed in civilian clothing and black fatigues sporting chest rigs, AK-47s and RPG's were lining the riverbank, cars pulled up with more men, there were palm groves and large partially built buildings on the opposite side and this was their stronghold to prevent us from entering Baghdad. In the distance that recognizable dust cloud of a mortar base plate sinking into the ground began the firefight, we found ourselves involved in a shootout from river bank to river bank, mortar rounds and RPG's detonated near our tanks and AAVs causing only noise and no damage. Quickly one of our platoons congregated next to the headquarters AAV to issue a hasty order, one squad with field engineers displaced to assault over the foot traffic-able bridge, the engineers grabbed planks of wood and metal to construct breech’s across the gaps, Marines established support by fire from the river bank with one squad, a tank, and our snipers from an elevated position, our FST coordinated indirect fires across the river while Marines assaulted to the opposing side. We established a stand but were quickly called back after the immediate side had been cleared and enemy fighters had retrograded. We needed to secure the area for engineers to lay collapsible bridges for the mechanized crossing of so many vehicles. This on and off again fight went on and on for what seemed like days. I had made my way towards the headquarters vehicle and we received information that the nuclear, chemical, and biological threat was removed so we began rotating shifts to remove the cumbersome equipment we maintained thus far.
BOOM!!! An enemy counter artillery projectile landed a direct hit in our HQ vehicle, I was knocked off my feet while losing my hearing for a few seconds. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, large flames and pieces of metal flew thru the air and somehow my body seemed to function without my brain, I was on my feet again and running towards the center of impact. There were two killed immediately inside of the vehicle, while many lay wounded screaming for help. I ran inside of the vehicle with the assistance of our First Sergeant, Jim Kirkland. We grabbed rockets and ammunition in danger of exploding due to a fire that broke out inside the now carcass of an AAV. The wounded needed to be evacuated, the mission had to continue by getting across the bridge and I knew I needed to remove the remains of those killed from the view of everyone else. This has become the most replayed moment in my head with confiscating body parts and severed heads of the fallen to match the torso while providing support to the wounded. My senior line corpsman (DOC) was a “deer in the headlights”, a man who I was very tough on leading up to the crossing of the Line of Departure (border of Kuwait/Iraq). In the previous interactions, I would yell at him and intentionally try and make him uncomfortable but not today, I asked him to sit aside and gather himself. The Corpsman for our line platoons especially Frank Evans was a life saver along with Russel Snodgrass who assisted me in all logistics and casualty procedures. Marines secured the area, assisted in the clean-up and medical evacuation of all those identified. My good friend Jack Coughlin was with his team on top of the building observing the chaos in real-time and providing a continued over-watch of our people and destroying enemy targets as they tried to maneuver towards us. Two Marines inside of the AAV, Cpl Jesus Martin Medellin and LCpl Andrew Julian Aviles were killed on impact, and six were severely wounded, with countless others negatively impacted in some way. It effected the unit but we learned to focus on moving forward , there would be a time to grieve and mourn later.
From the TV Show "Warrior POV: Road to Baghdad"
Diyala Bridge
Once we crossed the river bank and into the heart of Baghdad we weren’t met with immediate resistance instead we received cheers from large crowds of Iraqis. We were skeptical, previous engagements inside of villages the Soldiers would blend into the local crowds undetected. In one of the Baghdad city squares we witnessed the now infamous statue of Saddam Hussein being pulled down by a tank retriever. This became larger than life in the media but just another scenario in a day full of events for us. It appeared as though the Marines placed the American Flag on the statue to show occupancy but it was the Iraqi crowd who asked to remove the Iraqi flag in place of the American flag. The young Marine (by natural instinct) did just that to give confidence to the large humble crowd, and our commander felt pressure from higher HQ days following.
The beginning of an Insurgency
The next 48 hours changed, locals were looting local banks and universities while we protected and established security measures around the Palestine Hotel in Baghdad where journalists were congregating to report to the world. It felt like the wild west in the wild east at times, the hotel had a café operating where journalist would setup their live feeds and do their research before reporting. We had been living like barbarians and smelled like it, it was surreal to walk into the lobby wearing my entire combat kit, carrying my weapon with live ammunition and grenades on my vest, sitting down and ordering a tea before briefing the BBC and CNN of our outdoor security procedures.
The crowds in Baghdad became hostile, demanding medical attention, money, and answers to questions we didn't have yet while early signs of an insurgency showed its growth. Suicide vests were being detonated near our Marines in the city who were protecting markets or ques for assistance, killing and wounding many as we were providing assistance.
I observed a large crowd standing in front of protective wire become incredibly aggressive by pushing innocent civilians into the wire as the mob rushed forward. No matter the use of loud speakers or with our translators informing everyone to remain calm nothing was working. This is when my good friend and fellow Louisiana native GySgt Tim Leggett (Tank Platoon Sergeant) call sign “Blakula” said to me “give me a minute”. He returned in his M1A1 Abrams tank, he turned the back of the tank towards the crowd and revved the engine! If you haven’t witnessed the power of this 1500 horsepower turbine engine it is like hearing the roar of King Kong in person. The heat is unbearable, the people scattered orderly like cockroaches back into their nearby buildings. Tim sitting atop his tank removed one of the ear pieces above his ear and shouted calmly “ooh-rah!” with a sneer on his face.
There were many men wounded and killed from our battalion whom I didn't mention in this story but their memories live on thru us. The mission was accomplished and we retrograded out of Baghdad were we sat stagnant in a place we nicknamed Al Diarrhea when the entire battalion came down with dysentery and diarrhea before finally making it back to the USA. Less than one month after our return we were back into preparations to deploy, our battalion had many personnel changes and four months later we were in Okinawa preparing for a return trip to Iraq, the worst was yet to come.
Next up: Fallujah, Iraq “The Wild East”
RIP
Books written about our Operation Iraqi Freedom 2003 campaign
Those were wild times...