Task Force Ironhawk

[USMC Chuter]

I operated with these guys quite a bit. They do a great job and deserve some recognition..

October 03, 2005

Tense moments during mission to destroy Iraqi insurgent bombs

By John Carlson
The Des Moines Register


RAMADI, Iraq — The soldiers, an hour away from their late-night trip into Ramadi, are told it might be a wild night.
“We have tips from town that three major areas are bad,” says 2nd Lt. Nick Jones, in a 10-minute pre-mission briefing. “Four IEDs may already be there. These are tips from locals, so you never know. Let’s go see what we can find, folks.”

Jones, 24, of Altoona, Iowa, is about to lead 25 other soldiers from the Iowa National Guard’s 224th Engineer Battalion into what may be the most dangerous territory in all of Iraq.

Their job is to move seven armored vehicles through the streets of Ramadi, locating improvised explosive devices — the homemade bombs planted by insurgents — that kill anybody who gets close. It is the insurgents’ most effective weapon. The bombs have killed or maimed hundreds of Americans and Iraqi civilians. The battalion, nearly 500 men and women stationed in Iraq since January, is assigned to find the devices. They’re the only ones in Ramadi who do it.

Nobody needs to explain the danger. Four soldiers from the battalion have been killed in action and another 21 have been awarded Purple Hearts.

The battalion is surrounded this night by patrols of Marines, moving through the city in Humvees and on foot in total darkness. The Marines job is to protect the battalion from attack, and to seek out and kill insurgents.

The mission might last two hours. Or six. It depends on how many IEDs are located and dealt with. And on how much resistance the soldiers from the Bravo Company’s First Platoon and the Marines meet.

Jones was correct in his pre-mission briefing. It would, indeed, be a wild night in Ramadi, involving gun battles, explosions and rattled nerves. Fairly typical.

Jones is in the “Buffalo,” a giant truck with an extendable arm that digs and attempts to remove IEDs from their holes. First Sgt. Scott Lewis, 30, is in the RG31 vehicle, an armored personnel carrier that’s more of a rolling bank vault. He communicates, sometimes frantically, with the other vehicles in the slow-moving convoy and the roving Marines.

With Lewis in the RG31, are Spc. Brian Schaer, 22, the vehicle driver; Spc. Stephen Troxel, 24, right front passenger seat, spotter and turret gunner; Spc. Jennifer Black, 30, the medic; and a civilian passenger.

The convoy is ordered to leave the camp at 10:15 p.m.

“We do this three days on, two days off,” Lewis says as the vehicles pull onto a Ramadi street. “It never gets routine. It’s dangerous if you think that way. I still get nervous.”

The radio cuts Lewis off. The Marines, already in the city, tell him they’re in a firefight.

“Three of our people are engaged,” the Marines tell Lewis. “Small arms fire. Two RPGs.”

Everybody groans. It’s horrible news. Small arms fire — including the most powerful machine guns — barely scratch the armor on these vehicles. Those inside can survive an IED hit. But a direct hit from an RPG can be deadly.

More radio chatter on the Marines’ firefight. Marines have more engaged insurgents. The battalion is told to hold position.

“God Almighty,” Lewis shouts. Seven vehicles from the 224th are stopped on the street, vulnerable to attack, not yet close to the Marines.

“Troxel, gun,” Lewis yells into the front seat.

Troxel jumps into the turret behind the 240-Bravo machine gun and scans the streets through the green glow of night-vision goggles. The streets are supposed to be empty — Ramadi has a 10 p.m. curfew — so anybody the troops see is a potential enemy.

Schaer watches the street, waiting for the order to go. It’s a tense 15 minutes.

Finally, The 224th was moving. Ramadi’s streets are full of holes and concrete chunks, there from earlier IED explosions. The craters make perfect hiding places for new IEDs. Spotlights are shined into them and on trash where explosives could be hidden. Problem is, trash is everywhere. Bottles, boxes, bags, old shoes, junk of every kind. The soldiers look hard for wires or detonating cord.

IEDs are typically set off by remote control. Often it’s a remote telephone base unit that initiates the blast. The insurgent waits until a target is over or near the hole where the explosive is buried. He then hits the paging button on the phone, detonating the bomb.

“It’s knowing what you’re looking for,” Lewis tells a guest riding in the RG31. “Knowing and being lucky.”

“Buffalo arm is out” says a voice over the radio. It’s Jones in the Buffalo. The soldiers have spotted a possible IED hiding place — a crater hole filled with dirt. Lewis called the Marines to tell them the arm is working, digging. They need to be aware that an explosion is possible.

“Buffalo’s sitting right where that one blew up across from us,” Troxel says, back in his spotter position in the front seat, mentioning an explosion here the other day.

Nothing found. They move down the street. Same thing. Buffalo arm, Lewis tells the Marines, some of whom are shadowing the battalion, some still engaging insurgents. There’s word that the earlier RPG sighting might have been wrong. Good news, if it’s true.

There’s nothing to do but wait and watch while the Buffalo digs. Troxel looks through his night-vision goggles and spots a Marine sniper at a nearby building. Schaer watches a parked car and scans nearby buildings.

Black talks to a visitor about her little girls back in Iowa. Laney is 4 and Madison is 5. Madison just started kindergarten. Her mother was riding in an RG31 in Ramadi when Madison went to her first day of school.

It’s quiet again on the street. No movement. Absolutely dark, except for the Buffalo lights shining on the arm claw that’s starting to dig.

There’s a massive explosion, then a shower of sparks and shrapnel. “Is everybody all right?” Lewis yells on the radio to Jones in the Buffalo.

“Yeah,” Jones answers from the Buffalo. “All OK.”

There’s no way to know if it was a contact explosion or set by remote from an insurgent watching the Buffalo work.

“They want to hurt the Buffalo,” Lewis says. “(If) it’s out of commission, we’re done for the night.”

Not this time. The Buffalo sustains no damage. The search moves on down the street. Marines are moving on foot and in Humvees. The radio reports more small arms fire a couple blocks away. The Buffalo finds an old blast crater filled with dirt. More digging.

“Two men walking south on Cinema (a Ramadi street designation) moving a push cart to the west,” the Marines tell Lewis. Then there’s more talk of another firefight.

“God,” Lewis says. “We haven’t even reached the bad places yet.”

The column of vehicles is stopped for probably the fourth time, waiting at 11:20 p.m., while the Buffalo arm came out and started down.

Another huge expolsion, the shock felt through the 3-inch thick armor of the RG31, maybe 75 yards away, a half-second flash-roar.

“Are you OK?” Lewis yells into the radio.

No answer.

“Green chem light,” Troxel says, watching a flowing green stick fly out of the Buffalo.

It’s a way to communicate “all soldiers OK.” Somebody in the Buffalo tossed out a glowing green chemical stick to get the word to Black, the medic, telling her there were no injuries.

The Buffalo arm is damaged by the blast, described by soldiers who had done this nearly a year as “more impressive than most.” But no Buffalo, no more mission. The vehicles turn around and head back toward Camp Ramadi.

They move maybe a block and the Marines shout over the radio they’re in a gunfight with insurgents.

“Everybody sit tight,” Lewis tells the platoon over the radio. “Troxel gun. We’re in a hornet’s nest. We’re right in the middle of it. Everybody stay put.”

The Marines send an ominous message. They’ve lost contact with a “dismounted” squad, meaning the men were on foot and couldn’t be reached by radio. More chatter from the Marines.

Then it was over. The Marines recover their men. The insurgents were either killed or they ran for it.

“Clear to roll,” they tell Lewis.

“Let’s boogie,” Lewis tells the Ironhawk soldiers over his radio.

“You know, every time we find one of those IEDs I feel like we saved somebody’s life,” Black says on the ride back.

They reach their base at the camp at midnight.

“That first one that blew,” Jones says, “was buried in a hole with some dirt over it. It made like a 4-foot deep crater. The second one was in like a box. I said to move the arm just a little bit and, bang. That was it. I’m thinking it was probably three artillery shells. Oh, well. It happens. We’re done for the night.”

“I’m going to bed,” Troxel says. “Tired, you know?”

All these young soldiers need the rest. Tomorrow night, they’ll have to do it all again.

[USMC Chuter]

More on the Iowa Army National Guard's 224th Engineer Battalion, of which Task Force Ironhawk is a part.. This comes from a blog by a reporter from the Des Moines Register, John Carlson.



:: wed 10.12.2005

Getting from one place to another around Iraq is always a challenge. The convoy or helicopter flight might leave as scheduled. Or not. Things change. Long delays. Sitting around hours, wondering if you’re going to get there today. Or maybe next week.

Tuesday night’s convoy from Ramadi to Balad north of Baghdad was fairly typical. I was hitching a ride with a convoy of Iowa National Guard soldiers from the 224th Engineer Battalion. It was scheduled to depart at 10 p.m. Which it did. On the dot.

Maybe a quarter mile down the road, Wade Warner of Donnelson, a lieutenant with the 224th and convoy commander got a message over the radio. The road between Ramadi and Fallujah was closed. Turn back. Maybe a convoy was attacked out there. Maybe somebody found an IED. It didn’t really matter. We turned back and waited. Started out again an hour later. Didn’t even make it off Camp Ramadi. IED was discovered on the route. We finally got going about midnight and made it through just fine.

Had a great experience with the soldiers of the 224th. They’re X’ing the days off the calendar, waiting until that day in December when they make it back to Iowa. The danger they face is real and is there daily. It’s unlikely to diminish any time soon.

Saw one rather amusing thing today. Spent part of the day at Camp Anaconda, a giant base north of Baghdad. Everybody was walking around either wearing or carrying their helmets and flak jackets. I asked what was up? Heightened threat of mortar attacks, I was told. So everybody has to have the equipment with them at all times. Just in case something happens. Which gave the soldiers who drove up from Ramadi a good laugh. Their base gets mortared almost daily, but people go about their business without lugging around all that heavy gear. They’ve done both — wearing or carrying it all the time — and living somewhat normally without it nearby every second. Can’t imagine a single person in the 224th wanting to deal with that rule.

Will be doing some reporting from the Tikrit area soon. Thought it might be interesting to be in Saadam’s hometown on constitutional referendum day.

I referred earlier to Lt. Warner. That’s because I didn’t notice if he’s a first lieutenant or second lieutenant. But after getting maybe two hour’s sleep, then getting up and hauling me to the Camp Anaconda heliport, he went above and beyond. If he’s not a first lieutenant, they should make him one. Soon.

One final thing today on the 224th. I spent 13 days with the battalion. During that time, the Iowans searching Ramadi and western Iraq found 78 IEDs, including one 12-hour period when they found and disabled 14 of the bombs. That means they saved a lot of lives. They’re very proud of that.

--John Carlson

[USMC Chuter]

Comparing Ramadi and Tikrit
:: thu 10.13.2005

So what is the difference between Ramadi and Tikrit? Ramadi is a city of nearly a half million people and the place the U.S. and coalition forces shoot it out with the insurgents every day and night.

Tikrit is a city of 30,000 where it is remarkably quiet and orderly. At least it looks that way to a person who’s spent a couple of weeks ducking mortars, watching IEDs blow and listening to the evening gunfight in town.

American soldiers and minds are at serious risk each time they enter Ramadi. In Tikrit, they move carefully but with some confidence they can get where they’re going without a couple of buried artillery shells blowing up under their Humvee. The insurgency is here, in Sadaam Hussein’s home area. It’s just not as widespread, not as organized or as motivated as in Ramadi.

The U.S. military commander here is Lt. Colonel Todd Wood, who happens to be from Indianola. He commands the 2-7 Infantry Battalion, a part of the Third Infantry Division. The Battalion is responsible for maintaining order in Tikrit and the surrounding area and seeing to it army and police units are properly trained.

I took a ride downtown today with some of the 2-7’s soldiers and watched as people prepared for Saturday’s referendum vote on Iraq’s new constitution. Kids waved and shook hands and had their pictures taken with some of the soldiers. Shopkeepers were open for business. Things seemed relatively normal.

The gas stations were open as well. About 100 cars were lined up to get gas at one of the stations we passed. There’s not really a shortage of fuel. It’s just that if a station has 10 pumps, only two might be working at any one time. Another reason? People drive everywhere. They might as well. Gasoline is about a dime a gallon here.

Met a senior enlisted man in the Iraqi army today. He told me he used to be in Saddam’s Republican Guard. I asked which is better, Saddam’s army or the one being built today?

“No question,” he said. “Today’s is much better.” I waited for some words on professionalism of a properly trained military, backed by democracy, loathe to terrorizing its own citizens. He may think that. It’s not what he said. Things are better now because of soldiers get paychecks — a much better situation than when Saddam was running things.

Wood also told me about how he introduced the battalion headquarters staff to Cleveland Indians baseball. Not that he’s a big Indians fan. It’s just that Wood’s fellow Indianola native Casey Blake plays for the Indians. So, every day during the baseball season, the 2-7 Battalion’s morning meeting began with the Casey Blake report. Somebody was tasked to find out Blake’s stats from the previous day and they were posted, with Blake’s picture, on the slide show. Wood said Casey’s dad Joe, coached him when he was a kid back in Indianola.

--John Carlson

[Gorilla24D]

Good story,,,sounds very Familiar,,I have been in both a Buff and an RG-31,,,,sounds like a very common Patrol......common being relative to the job,,,,,Essayons.The
224th Mobed out of Ft Sill at the same time we did.
We were Task Force Iron Claw,,,,On Tampa.

[Grimmy]

In all honesty, I have to admit that when I was on active duty I had very little regard or respect for our Reserve and National Guard.

I now understand that I had my head so far up my ass that all I could smell was my own crap. Reserve and NG Soldiers from all branches have stepped up and proved their worth and value.

Sometimes, I am actually glad to learn I was wrong on an issue or opinion, and this is one of those times.

[USMC Chuter]

Thanks, Grimmy. I was force-fed the same opinion when I was on active duty, and learned otherwise in my years on the Reserves. The real eye opener was over there, when we as Marine Reservists were doing the same missions as active duty Marines.. The Army NG was doing the same missions as the active Army. We were hard-pressed to tell the difference, all around.

[Gorilla24D]

I appreciate the respect gentlemen,as would every other reservist......you guys ain't half bad either......


hey Chuter you ever spend ant nights in CSC scania or FOB Kalsu.

[USMC Chuter]

Nope, never made it to either. About the farthest south I ever made it was Mahmoudia. Spent most of my time in the Falloujah/Ramadi corridor, up the Euphrates valley to Al Asad/Hit/Haditha, the borders, and a little bit through Baghdad-up Tampa to Anaconda and Speicher.

[Gorilla24D]

We made many trips to Anaconda.Mostly to rob
parts from the DMRO yard there and to get a bit of a break,Swimming and takin in a Movie...
Sounds crazy but we thought rippind down Sword to the Snake for a 3 day vacation was fun...
Crazy what gets ya wound up when YOU own the road....