Part 11 (1/2)

We creep forward. AKs crackle in the distance. We pick up speed, clearing the suspected ambush spot. We pa.s.s two black dogs humping in the ditch by the road. Then a billboard of a grinning Saddam.

aHey, anybody got a Sharpie?a Person asks. aWe should do some bathroom art on him, like draw a c.o.c.k and b.a.l.l.s going into his mouth. Iam serious, letas stop and do it.a He starts laughing.

aShush, Person. Take a deep breath,a Colbert says indulgently, like a kindergarten teacher with an unruly child.

aI canat help it,a Person says. aIam running solely on Ripped Fuel tonight.a The sun is now a red disk perched just atop the horizon to the left. Several kilometers ahead, a ma.s.sive fireball erupts, sending a mushroom cloud into the sky. The radios come to life, everyone debating what it is.

We stop, and for several moments the distant fireball burns more brightly than the setting sun. Now the feeling of being on a 1950s sci-fi movie is complete. Surrounded by the red, bermed fields, strange huts and now what look like two suns setting simultaneously, itas like weave arrived on the alien planet.

A FEW MINUTES after the double sunset, the Marines are ordered to be on the lookout for a downed American aircraft. Later, the BBC reports that a Navy F-18 was shot down, leading Fick and others to surmise that the brilliant fireball wead seen had been that jet crash.

We drive for several hours in the darkness, dogged by sporadic mortar fire and enemy forces that keep lighting up the sky with illume flares.

Around midnight the battalion stops a few kilometers south of Al Kut and digs in. The ca.n.a.l is a couple hundred meters to our right, and the ground here is saturated. Boots sink ankle-deep in the mud. It takes twenty minutes just to find a spot dry enough to dig a hole. With enemy mortars and illume flares still going off nearby, Colbertas team excavates a ma.s.sive hole, big enough for everyone, in the event of a bad artillery attack.

Machine-gun fire across the ca.n.a.l is heavy at times. RCT-1 is on the other side, and they are moving into position to a.s.sault into Al Kut. Low-flying American jets crisscross overhead. Bombs and artillery rumble.

I sit in the mud, eating an MRE ration I saved for dinner. After squeezing the contents from the foil pack into my mouth, Iam too tired to discern what it tastes likea”a spaghetti dinner, chicken breast or chunked beefsteak. Thereas not enough light to read the packaging and figure out what these chunks of food in my mouth are. Itas the first time existing in total darkness has bothered me.

The dark and sleepless conditions under which Marines operate have already caused several fatalities. Two men sleeping near their Humvee in another unit were crushed to death by a tracked vehicle, and a third was paralyzed. An infantry Marine crawled into his hole after watch and fatally shot himself in his sleep with his SAW.

Nearby in the darkness, Marines in Bravo pa.s.s around these stories. Some of them now bring up another nighttime activity: acombat jacks.a Theyare trying to tally whoas m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed the most since the invasion started. During long, fatiguing hours of watch, some Marines beat off just to keep awake and pa.s.s the time. aDog, after that first ambush,a one of the men says, referring to a fevered night of combat jacks after the attack at Al Gharraf, aI get into my hole, and I had to go three times, bam, bam, bam! Couldnat stop. Hadnat happened like that since I was seventeen. I thought something was broken.a ON THIS NIGHT, April 2, five kilometers south of Al Kut, First Recon is alone on the western side of the ca.n.a.l. Given the fact that Al Kut is home to thousands of Republican Guard forces and is now being bombed from above by American aircraft while being attacked on the ground by RCT-1 (as well as other Marine units from the west), commanders in First Recon are concerned that enemy forces, fleeing the city, might overrun its encampment on this night of chaos. The battalion pushes foot patrols out beyond the perimeter in order to set up observation posts and watch for approaching Iraqis. Kocher, who spent the previous night reconnoitering the ruins of Al Muwaffaqiyah, now leads a patrol out.

The moon hasnat risen yet. Creeping through a field in near-absolute darkness, Kocher and two of his men spot an Arab through their NVGs about twenty meters away. The Arab, wearing a robe, is sitting cross-legged in a low spot between some broad, undulating berms.

Kocheras first impulse is to shoot him. Heas upset about Pappy being hit the night before and wouldnat mind exacting some revenge. But as he later explains, Kocher doesnat shoot for fear of giving away his position. Iraqi soldiers are still launching illume flares less than a kilometer away, presumably looking for Americans.

With two of his men covering him, Kocher approaches the lone Arab, confident the guy canat see him in the darkness. Speaking rudimentary Arabic, learned from his Marine cheat sheets, Kocher tells him to put his hands up and stand.

The Arab complies. As he rises, an AK slides out from under his robes and clatters to the ground. Kocher draws nearer. Then he hears footsteps, someone shouting aAhhh!a Captain America runs past, making a bayonet charge for the Arab. He slams him in the chest, and the two of them tumble over with a meaty thud.

aI f.u.c.ked that guy up!a Captain America shouts, rising triumphantly.

Kocher is p.i.s.sed. Itas not just that his commanding officer is running around in the darkness, screaming and bayoneting a prisoner who had been completely under control. Now Kocher figures heas going to have to get out his medical kit and render aid to the Arab if heas not dead.

He rolls the Arab, zip-cuffing his hands behind his back, then spins him around to examine his chest for wounds. Heas unharmed. The Arab wears a chest rig beneath his robe, loaded with ammo. Captain Americaas bayonet smashed apart a rifle magazine in the Arabas vest but failed to penetrate his chest.

aNice going, Captain,a Kocher says. aYou missed him.a aThat guy was resisting,a Captain America says. aI just wanted to jab him.a Kocher strips off the Arabas ammo vest and pulls him to his feet. Captain America curses and tries kicking the Arab in the groin. Instead, he hits Kocher in the stomach.

af.u.c.k! Did I hit you?a aYeah,a Kocher says. He doesnat say anything else. Kocher finds that speaking with his commander just adds to the aggravation. Following this nightas latest escapade, some of Kocheras men begin fantasizing about capping their captain, talking about it openly among themselves. Kocher doesnat. He tries to maintain a balanced view of his commander. aHeas got personal problems,a he says. aIave got no problem with being aggressive, but heas bloodthirsty toward the wrong people, unarmed people.a THE BOMBARDMENT OF AL KUT continues into the morning of April 3. RCT-1as advance into the city is well under way on the other side of the ca.n.a.l. We hear Amtracs clanking past, machine guns, explosions. Some are less than a kilometer away, but from where weare sitting the nearby action has a remote feel, similar to being in a cheap multiplex where you hear sounds of a war movie seeping out from the next theater. First Recon is sitting out this a.s.sault.

Within a couple of hours, the Marines in RCT-1 blast their way to the main bridge over the Tigris. But as soon as they reach it, they will pull back and depart the city. Their mission and First Reconas in Central Iraq will be over. After having sent them all the way here, Maj. Gen. Mattis has decided not to seize Al Kut. First Recon and RCT-1 are ordered to turn around and leave.

First Reconas entire campaign since leaving Nasiriyah has been part of a feinta”a false movement designed to convince the Iraqi leaders.h.i.+p that the main U.S. invasion would be coming through Al Kut. The strategy has been a success. The Iraqis left a key division and other forces in and around Al Kut in order to fight off a Marine advance that now has been abruptly called off. With so many Iraqi forces tied down near Al Kut, Baghdad has been left relatively undefended for the combined Army and Marine a.s.sault now gathering on the outskirts.

Mattis, a key architect of this grand diversion, later boasts to me, aThe Iraqis expected us to go all the way through Al Kuta”that the adumb Marinesa would fight their way through the worst terrain to Baghdad.a While the plan worked brilliantly, Mattis adds, with characteristic modesty, aIam not a great general. I was just up against other generals who donat know s.h.i.+t.a The Marines have known nothing about this feint strategy until the past couple of days, when Fick began guessing that this was his platoonas purpose, based on hints head received from other officers.

Now, midmorning on April 3, while RCT-1 is still pulling back from its diversion into Al Kut, Fick gathers the men by Colbertas vehicle in their muddy encampment and explains whatas going on. aBy coming up here, weave tied down two Republican Guard divisions,a he says. The swagger he had up on the bridge outside of Al Hayy is back. aAnd for most of the way we were out in front, rolling into these villages and towns ahead of every other American. Often, it was you guys in this platoon at the absolute tippity-tip of the spear. Not to rest on our laurels now, but every one of you should be proud.a aBut what about Al Kut?a Garza asks. aAfter coming all this way we ainat going to Al Kut?a aNo,a Fick says. aThe feintas over. Weare pulling out of here later today.a Garza, sitting by a hole, etching lines in the mud with his boot heels, digests the news. He twists his head up, annoyed. aWe just spent a week getting shot at, bombing everything, all based on a f.u.c.king wrong turn?a

TWENTY-SEVEN.

EVEN THOUGH THE IRAQIS have been beaten in Al Kut, theyare still dropping mortars around First Reconas encampment, where it has remained through the morning of April 3. In the opinion of the Marines, Iraqis donat fight very hard, but the men are beginning to notice that Iraqis never really seem to completely surrender, either.

ad.a.m.n,a Person says after another blast. aDidnat RCT-1 already kick their a.s.s once today?a Everyone is waiting for orders to begin the march to Baghdad to join the final a.s.sault. Itas grown into a hot day. Earlier, Marines were ordered into their rubber MOPP boots in case of a gas attack. Still, n.o.body minds the added hards.h.i.+p too much. The platoon was resupplied with food today. Colbertas team sits around their Humvee in the mud, gorging themselves on MREs.

Ha.s.ser is still not talking. He leans against the front wheel, writing an after-action summary on the shooting of the man in the blue car, which Fick told him to hand in in case thereas an investigation. Person walks over to him and starts dry-humping his shoulder like a dog.

aHow you doing, Walt?a aGet out of here.a Fick walks up. aWalt, when you finish that, weare going to see if thereas a better way to stop these cars.a aWaltas got a great way to stop cars,a Person says. aShoot the driver.a Behind Ha.s.seras back, his buddies all talk about him in worried, hushed tones, trying to figure out if heas okay. To his face, they tease him unmercifully. For the Marines, this is their attempt at therapy.

Espera comes to Ha.s.seras defense. aMaybe you were a hair too aggressive yesterday, but these motherf.u.c.kers are trying to kill us. We canat get soft now because of a few mistakes. Iam lighting up any motherf.u.c.ker who comes within one hundred meters.a SIGNS OF THE REGIMEaS unraveling greet the Marines as they pull south, away from Al Kut, later in the afternoon. We drive on a straight, narrow asphalt road through an utterly flat, thinly populated area of croplands. On the way, we pa.s.s a truck full of naked Iraqi men, waving underwear as surrender flags. They say they were robbed of their clothes by fleeing soldiers. Farther along thereas a car with two fatally shot men in it. A guy cowering by the road tells a translator the men were killed by rampaging Iraqi soldiers, who in defeat have become bandits.

First Recon sets up a camp twenty kilometers south of Al Kut. The next morning, April 4, the men confront a new, ugly side of war. Refugees begin streaming up to their roadblock on the northern end of the highway.

Second Platoon is tasked with escorting the refugees through First Reconas lines, along a three-kilometer stretch between their roadblocks on the highway. About fifty refugees are gathered by the roadblock when Colbertas team rolls up.

Many of the refugees have been on the road for three days now, walking and hitchhiking all the way from Baghdad, about 250 kilometers from here. The men wear Western clothesa”dusty suits and sleek loafers, shredded from three days of walking. The women, mostly in black, carry infants and are surrounded by small children. Many carry sacks of grain, bags of clothing and other household possessions. Thereas one little boy, maybe six, in a black and gold-lam suit with a bow tie that makes him look like a miniature Las Vegas lounge singer. It was probably the most expensive thing he owned, and his family had likely dressed him up in it as a means of transporting it out of Baghdad. He smiles at the Marines, almost self-consciously proud to be greeting them in his finest suit. They laugh and give him candya”unlucky Charms, of course.

When the men begin to escort the first group, with the Marines on foot and in Humvees creeping behind, the little cavalcade has an almost carefree air. Thereas an extremely beautiful woman among the refugees, who wears a bright green scarf. In her later twenties, sheas a biologist from Baghdad who speaks fluent English. Her name is Ma.n.a.l, and her beauty isnat something thatas entirely objective. In the squalor of her current circ.u.mstances, she radiates calm and high spirits that seem almost mischievous. She accosts one of the Marine escorts with a beguiling smile and asks, aWhy did you Americans come here?a aWe want to help you, maaam,a the Marine answers.

aI love my city very much,a Ma.n.a.l says, referring to Baghdad. aYou are bombing it, and it will be worse.a aWhy do you think we came here?a the Marine asks.

aOur country is very rich, and our president is very stupid,a Ma.n.a.l says. aMaybe you came for the liberation. I am not so sure.a The exchange is cut short when the Marine notices one of the babies being carried by another woman has blood streaming out of its mouth. A little horror has returned to the war.

aCan you ask her whatas wrong?a the Marine says to Ma.n.a.l.

She turns to the woman, whoas shus.h.i.+ng the bleeding baby even though it isnat crying. She and the babyas mother exchange a few words. Then Ma.n.a.l reports. aHer baby is sick.a She scolds the Marine. aAll the mothers have been walking for a long time with no water or food.a Colbert comes over to help. He instructs the mother with the bleeding baby to sit by the road, and summons a corpsman over. The bleeding, the corpsman believes, is a result of dehydration. Several other mothers come over with their sick babies. Itas already in the low nineties. Colbert dabs the infants with water, trying to cool them down. Soon, more mothers are handing him their babies, perhaps thinking heas a doctor. One baby has chicken pox. Colbert takes the infant, kneels down and rocks him. aIs there anything we can do?a he asks the corpsman.

aNothing, man,a he answers. aThey just need lots of water.a Colbert now wears an expression that Iave come to see more frequently. He looks helpless. When confronted with these small human tragedies up close, some Marines shut down. Their faces go blank. Despite his Iceman reputation, Colbert doesnat hide his feelings very well. In combat he looks almost ecstatic; now he appears overwhelmed, though still trying to deal with this situation. He hands the baby back to the mother, along with a water bottle. aPut water on the little one,a he says, speaking English into the motheras uncomprehending face. She nods gratefully, perhaps thinking heas done more than he actually has to help. Despite the water the Marines hand out, Doc Bryan estimates that a quarter of the infants may die in the next twenty-four hours.

In the s.p.a.ce of an hour, two to three hundred refugees show up at the northern roadblock. Marines, who initially vowed to keep their distance, now load rotund old ladies in black robes into the backs of their Humvees and drive them the three kilometers through their lines. Others carry sacks of rice and bedrolls on their heads and shoulders. One of the men on Esperaas team, twenty-three-year-old Lance Corporal Nathan Christopher, walks down the road, crying, while carrying a baby. He later tells me what got to him was seeing the mother, weakened from days of walking, almost drop the infant. Despite bawling his eyes out, Christopher tells me helping the refugees has afforded him his best moment in Iraq. aAfter driving here from Kuwait, shooting every house, person, dog in our path, we finally get to do something decent.a Lt. Col. Ferrando makes an appearance by the northern roadblock. Greater numbers of refugees are flowing in. aWeare going to have a f.u.c.king humanitarian disaster on our hands if we stay here,a he says. aWe donat have enough food and water for ourselves.a An hour later, First Recon clears out of its position. Ferrando has finally received orders. First Recon Battalion is instructed to hightail it to Baghdad for the final a.s.sault. To get there, the Marines will backtrack down Route 7, then cut west on a circuitous path that covers nearly 300 kilometers.

THE BATTALION SPENDS two days on the road. Huge, cheering crowds turn out in towns Marines smashed through just days ago. Kids run around in muddy lots beside the road, playing soccer, screaming aBus.h.!.+ Bus.h.!.+ Bus.h.!.+a or aAmerica! America!a Itas the Marinesa moment to be hailed as conquerors, or liberators or heroes. No oneas really sure what they are. Adoring as the crowds are, Marines know that at any moment seriously bad things can happen. As we drive past the insanely chanting mobs, Colbert waves at them, repeating in a mechanical voice, aYouare free now. Good luck. Time for us to go home.a During the two-day journey the men continue to wrestle with the issue of deadly roadblocks. Marines in Alpha Company have also inst.i.tuted what they hope will be a less lethal approach to warding off traffic by firing smoke grenades. In one of their early attempts to employ the new technique, a team in Alpha successfully stops a civilian pa.s.senger by launching a smoke grenade. Before they can call the effort a success, however, the Marines watch in horror as a second smoke grenade fired by the team skips off the pavement and, against all odds, slams into the face of an Arab walking by the road carrying a white flag. He goes down hard, dropping from their view. The men are ordered forward without having a chance to examine the guy or render aid. Later, men in the unit are told by their superiors that the man they hit in the face with the smoke grenade was okay and was even observed eating a meal when they left him. After hearing this good news, one of the Marines says, aThat probably just means someone threw an MRE next to the guyas body as we drove past.a FIRST RECON REACHES the outskirts of Baghdad early in the morning of April 6. Hastily erected oil pipelines zigzag along the highway. They were built by Saddam to flood adjacent trenches with oil so they could be set ablaze. As a result, smoke hangs everywhere. Saddam intended these flaming oil trenches as some sort of half-a.s.sed defense, but their only effect is to add to the general state of pollution and despair. The dust storm caused by thousands of vehicles rolling past has coated all of the wrecked buildings with a thick layer of tan powder. Even the dogs running through the ruins are the color of dust.

Dead cows, bloated to twice their normal size, lie in ditches. Human corpses are scattered about as well. Itas the now familiar horrorscape of a country at war. Just before reaching the final Marine camp outside Baghdad, Esperaas vehicle swerves to avoid running over a human head lying in the road. When the vehicle turns, he looks up to see a dog eating a human corpse. aCan it get any sicker than this?a he asks.

Person, however, has an entirely different reaction. Set back from the highway, gleaming like some sort of religious shrine, there is a modern-looking gla.s.s structure with bright plastic signs in front. Itas an Iraqi version of a 7-Eleven. Though looted and smashed, it gives Person hope. ad.a.m.n!a he says. aIt looks almost half-civilized here.a BY THE EARLY HOURS of April 6, some 20,000 Marines have begun gathering on the outskirts of the city for their a.s.sault. The Army has already begun breaking off pieces of Baghdad to the south and west. Two days earlier, elements of the Armyas 101st Airborne Division seized Baghdad Airport, fifteen kilometers south of the city. The Marines, now moving to within about ten kilometers of the eastern edge of Baghdad, are gearing up for their a.s.sault to begin within the next forty-eight hours.

First Recon settles into a field of tall gra.s.s next to some blown-up industrial buildings. Marines stretch out in the greenery, resting after their two days of nonstop movement. American artillery booms continuously, a distant, throbbing rhythm. Towers of smoke rise over Baghdad in the distance. Following this last stretch of the journey, where everyone had seen the wild dogs chewing on the entrails of dead humans and livestock alike, Marines now discuss their rechristening of Iraq. They call it aDog Land.a Reyes explains, aFor the wild dogs, war is a feast.a Itas a feast for some commanders as well. Later in the day, after the teams have set up their positions on the perimeter and dug their holes, Ferrando circulates among the men. He drops in on Colbertas team and offers rare praise. aTheyare speaking pretty highly of First Recon at division headquarters,a Ferrando says. aThe general thinks weare slaying dragons.a aIam pleased to hear it, sir,a Colbert says.

Ferrando turns to leave, then hesitates. He has something to confide in Colbert, one of his top team leaders.