[Note: I wrote this a couple of years ago, and some of you may have read it before. However, I wanted it to migrate to this blog, so bear with me.]

Bang! Bang! Pop! Pop! I didn’t even hear it, at least not consciously. Spending nearly seven months in Afghanistan had desensitized me to the sound. Most explosions I heard there were controlled detonations set off by explosive ordinance disposal (EOD) specialists. Sometimes, the explosions were landmines, but as long as I heard it that far away, I knew I had not just stepped on a mine so I did not think much of it. This explosion was different. It was quieter…and much closer. Chappy heard it because she was awake using the restroom. Kelly heard it because she was on guard duty at her truck waiting for the word. I didn’t even wake up.

WEEEEEOOOOOOOOOW! The siren started blaring. I heard it. Instinctively, and almost still asleep, I took the protective mask from underneath my head (I had been using it as a pillow) and fumbled in the dark to put it on. The mask had either been attached to my hip or right next to my head every since I arrived in Kuwait. It was never out of reach. I used to joke back in training, and before deploying, that if I was ever in a chemical attack I’d rather die than wear the mask. I hated it. The truth was I was terrified of a chemical attack and would have never dreamed of not donning the mask. I put it on, and put my head back down on the mask carrier to go back to sleep.

I was on the floor. Mike and Chad were too. Our cots were loaded in the back of our truck which was waiting for us…another three hours and we were supposed to be getting up to finish our final load for the drive into Iraq. Not everyone was trying to go back to sleep. People were bustling about. It happened every time the alarms sounded. The radio crackled. It was just an ICOM (one of the hand-held unsecured walkie-talkie types), just a way for Cruz to keep in touch with the Company. He said, “Enemy inside the wire”, but I didn’t hear it. I almost never heard anything. It was a joke among us…I was deaf…and my job depended on my listening skills more than anything else. Carr yelled something but I didn’t hear it. I was too busy wondering why in the hell she had just pulled off her mask. Then someone yelled, “take the masks off…lights out…everyone get down.” It was echoed and this time I heard it, “Enemy in the wire.” I started laughing. No shit, I was laughing. I knew this was bullshit. Total bullshit. What the FUCK was going on? In the dark two men came running by me, it was Stewie and someone else. They got down by the entrance with their guns pointing outward. If someone had walked into the tent they would have stepped right on top of Stewie’s fucking neck. It was stupid really. He couldn’t even see out the door.

I heard it. The metallic grating of dirty M-4s being charged. Ready to fire. I muttered, “Oh damn, someone’s gonna get killed.” I whispered to Mike and Chad, “I’m not fucking moving. These psychos are going to kill someone.” We waited. We waited again. Finally, a description came over the radio. “Two Arab males wearing US military uniforms, one has long hair.” What the fuck? I know this is bullshit! It is bullshit, right? We waited again.

They caught them. The radio crackled. It was Cruz telling the Company Commander and the First Sergeant that they wanted an Arabic linguist at the Brigade Tactical Operations Center (TOC) right away. The First Sergeant yelled, “I need a linguist!” I was still lying in the dark and on the floor. I yelled, “Not it!” No shit, I said, “Not it!” Carr started laughing and said, “Yeah, me too, not it!” The First Sergeant and Commander grabbed an interrogator named Staff Sergeant Carville. He’s trained for this stuff. I’m a voice interceptor…a radio geek. I don’t interrogate. I was relieved. First Sergeant said, “No, I want an LLVI guy to go with them.” (LLVI stands for Low-level Voice Intercept…SHIT, that’s ME!). Sergeant First Class Burdin (my platoon sergeant) said, “Cisco, get up.” FUCK! He heard me say, “Not it.” He always hated that game. Then the First Sergeant said, “In fact, the whole team! Send the whole team for security.” Burdin said, “Team one, get up!” Chad and Mike stood up beside me. All hell had just broken loose and we were going to find out what had happened.

Captain Otto was a small guy. Not just short, but small all around. About 5’4” maybe 5’5”. Nice guy, but not very intimidating. He was the Company Commander for Alpha Company and I hardly knew him since we were Delta Company guys attached to Alpha after we got to Kuwait. He had a John Wayne stagger. It was laughable. He also talked in a way that made him sound as if he was trying too hard to sound tough. He said, “We’re going to move out across the camp in a wedge. I’ll take point.” I looked at Mike and Chad who were looking at me. Point is the guy in front…the guy who gets shot first. We were fine with it. He could have point.

The wedge is just that. A wedge shaped formation of troops. Like a flock of geese. Otto was up front. Carville and his Chief were on the left side with Mike behind them. Chad and I were on the right. I was the tail guy, rear security and furthest from the front on the right hand side. We started moving. It was dark and the hum of generators and helicopters were louder and louder the closer we got to the Brigade area. It was about 800 meters between our living tent and the TOC. It was a LONG walk in such a tense situation.

“HALT!” I heard it and I stopped. No one else did. “HALT!” I heard it again, and this time I saw him. It was a guard behind a concrete slab. He had his Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW) pointed right at us. I looked at Captain Otto. He didn’t hear or see him. “Sir!”, I yelled. “He’s telling you to stop.” As if he had just woken up Captain Otto turned and looked at me, and then turned and saw what I saw. “HALT!” This time he heard it. He stopped. “Identify yourself!” the guard was on edge. “Sir, he’s telling you to identify yourself”, I yelled over the generators. “Captain Otto, A/311^th MI”, he yelled.

This is how the war started for us. Mike, Chad and I were standing in a wedge formation with a captain, a warrant officer, and an interrogator. It was like the set up for a bad Army walked-into-a-bar joke. Standing in the open Kuwaiti desert with a group (there was more than one) of Americans pointing guns at us. It was a long night, but I was not alone.