And There I was # 15

 And There I Was #15

Yet Another Convoy Story

I stared at the seemingly endless stream of traffic coming across the Jadriya bridge. It was early June 2003, and I was leading a convoy to a meeting with the President of Baghdad University. I’d missed the left turn into the University and now we were stopped with traffic building up behind us. I did not want to cross the Tigress and have to rejoin the Qadisiya Expressway retracing my route. That would take too much time and expose my small convoy to more hazard than I wanted. Yet, I needed to complete my mission.

As a major, I had not expected to lead convoys. Lieutenants and Captains led convoys. Majors planned them and occasionally led serials. As both a lieutenant and captain, I’d briefed numerous majors about my convoy plan, enduring the fifty-million questions. As a major, I’d asked those same questions, seeking to ascertain the preparedness of a junior officer. But in all my years, I had never thought that I would be leading small (two to five vehicle) convoys into downtown Baghdad. That was something others would do. Yet, there I was, trying to figure out how to turn around the chaotic traffic.

Once I realized that my mission required making numerous trips into Baghdad, I procured a good satellite image of Baghdad from our terrain team. I’d made good friends with their Warrant and NCOIC when we’d sorted through the issues of C2PC for the command. He’d provided me with a very high-quality photomap, which I kept in a double-sided map case. Since my section had no organic vehicles I was always having to beg, borrow, or steal HMMWVs, drivers, and gunners. Each time I planned a convoy, I marked my route in indelible marker, using the map to brief the convoy. Upon returning to BIAP, I would erase the marked route. The indelible marker left a faint mark on the map-case, which helped me avoid taking the same route. At this time, all convoys had to have at least one heavy weapon. We still cruised around Baghdad in soft top HMMWVs with our boots hanging in the breeze. Normally, I’d plan the route and turn convoy construction over to my deputy, CPT Marvin Bradshaw. Marvin would scare up the appropriate vehicles and soldiers to man them. It amazed me that my boss, the division chief of staff, did not require a convoy brief. All he really cared about was my plan for actions on the objective, in this case, a meeting with the university president to sort out what they needed that we might provide. Each week my duties as an Information Operations officer for the division took me out into Baghdad a couple of times. Not a door-kicker, but in 2003 we were out and about doing “cowboy” things before we really knew what we were doing. 

At any rate, I knew that I did not want to have to take my little convoy across the Tigress and into Qadisiya. But how to turn around on this busy street before the bridge. At this time, driving around Baghdad was a rather chaotic experience. Not only were we subject to a variety of harassing fires and IEDs, but we also faced a populace that took a kamikaze approach to driving. The oncoming drivers knew that we wanted to turn around and head back into the city; however, they did not care. As I looked into the oncoming horde of exhaust belching vehicles streaming across the bridge, I noticed a large, heavily laden truck coming our way. Unable to keep up, the overloaded truck had traffic stacked up behind it and a growing empty spot in front of it. An idea formed in my mind.

The HMMWV I was in carried a .50 cal on a ring mount. At this time, all convoys were required to depart BIAP with a heavy weapon…a SAW counted as a heavy weapon. I yanked on the leg of the gunner and shouted up at him, “When the empty spot in front of that truck hits the bridge, I want you to put a burst into the pavement in front of it.”

“Sir,” the incredulous soldier yelled back?!

“I said, I want you to put a burst into the pavement in front of that truck. Don’t shoot it, just hit the pavement. Make sure he sees tracers. That’ll make him stop.”

“Okay, if you say so,” he calmly replied with a growing smile.

“I say so.” And, when the empty spot in traffic in front of the truck hit the bridge, he opened up with a good long burst. Chips of pavement and tracers flew as links and empty casings rained down around us. The truck slammed to a stop more quickly than I could have imagined, a few bundles rolling off onto the pavement. The traffic around us braked to a halt. Slowly, carefully, we made the “U” turning around and heading into Baghdad University where I met with the people I was supposed to. 

Later that day after returning to BIAP, the gunner came up to me, “Sir, that was the most fun I’ve had since we got here.”