Part 31 (1/2)

All of a sudden, two more vehicles appeared behind them in hot pursuit.

The Marines looked at me.

”Those two are not mine,” I told them.

”What do you want us to do?”

”Pull your Hummer out and train that .50 on them,” I yelled, pulling up my M-4.

I jumped out in the roadway, gun raised, hoping that would get their attention.

They didn't stop.

Behind me, the Hummer had pulled up, and the gunner was locked and loaded. Still unsure whether I was dealing with a kidnapping or just some stray vehicles, I fired a warning shot.

The cars veered off and hauled a.s.s the other way.

Thwarted kidnapping? Suicide bombers who'd lost their nerve?

No. Come to find out, these were two friends of the vice president. He'd forgotten to tell us about them.

He wasn't too pleased. My command wasn't too pleased, either. I got fired from my PSD job, which wouldn't have been all that bad except that I then had to spend the next week sitting in the Green Zone doing nothing.

My platoon leaders.h.i.+p tried to get me back for some DAs. But the head shed had decided to stick it to me a bit, and kept me twiddling my thumbs. That is the worst possible torture for a SEAL-missing out on the action.

Luckily, they didn't hang on to me for too long.

HAIFA STREET

In December 2005, Iraq geared up for national elections, its first since the fall of Saddam-and the first free and fair ones the country had ever held. The insurgency was doing everything it could to stop them. Election officials were being kidnapped left and right. Others were executed in the streets.

Talk about your negative campaigning.

Haifa Street in Baghdad was a particularly dangerous place. After three election officials were killed there, the Army put together a plan to protect officials in the area.

The strategy called for snipers to do overwatches.

I was a sniper. I was available. I didn't even have to raise my hand.

I joined an Army unit from the Arkansas National Guard, a great bunch of good ol' boys, warriors all.

People who are used to the traditional separation between the different military branches may think it's unusual for a SEAL to be working with the Army, or even the Marines for that matter. But the forces were often well-integrated during my time in Iraq.

Any unit could put in an RFF (Request for Forces). That request would then get filled by whatever service was available. So if a unit needed snipers, as they did in this case, whatever branch had available snipers would s.h.i.+p them over.

There's always back-and-forth between sailors, soldiers, and Marines. But I saw a lot of respect between the different branches, at least during the fighting. I certainly found most of the Marines and soldiers I worked with to be top-notch. You had your exceptions-but then you have your exceptions in the Navy, too.

The first day I reported for my new a.s.signment, I thought I'd need an interpreter. Some people like to hara.s.s me about my Texas tw.a.n.g, but these hillbillies-holy s.h.i.+t. The important information came from the senior enlisted and the officers, who spoke regular English. But the privates and junior guys straight out of the backwoods could have been talking Chinese, for all I knew.