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« Consecrated Ground | Main | Another Anniversary »

March 23, 2009

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Arizona Memorial

By Greyhawk

An anniversary marked in Phoenix:

Hundreds of people are expected to gather today to honor the late Army Spc. Lori Ann Piestewa beneath the north-central Phoenix peak that was renamed in her honor.

The sixth annual memorial service for Piestewa will recognize fallen military personnel, their families and veterans. Special guests include Piestewa's friend Jessica Lynch and other members of the 507th Maintenance Company.

On March 23, 2003, in the first week of the war in Iraq, Iraqi troops ambushed the 507th Maintenance Company. Eleven soldiers were killed, including Piestewa. Survivors were held prisoner and later released. Lynch was rescued.

Years later, military historian Richard S. Lowry offered this account of what happened that day in Nasiriyah:

At midnight on March 22/23, the 1st Battalion of the 2nd Marine Regiment was preparing to move into Nasiriyah to secure the bridges over the Euphrates River and the Saddam Canal. They had stopped for a short rest only hours earlier at the intersection of Highway 1 (a major Iraqi highway) and a small two-lane road. This Cloverleaf was a modern freeway intersection with on and off ramps to/from the six-lane highway.

South of Nasiriyah, the U.S. Army was using Highway 1 as its ONLY supply route through Southern Iraq. Several Marines described the Highway as looking like I-95 on a Friday evening. The thoroughfare was jammed with thousands of supply vehicles. To the Marines' amazement, the Army vehicles all had their headlights on. In the Iraqi night, a stream of American vehicles could be seen off to the horizon.

The 507th Maintenance Company commander had accurate maps, a computer disk with his orders and more maps, and a handheld GPS device. He could plainly see the convoy on Highway 1. The 507th Maintenance Company was behind schedule and, by the time they reached the Cloverleaf, the Marines were moving up the two-lane road to assume their attack positions. The Marines were hoping for capitulation but expecting a fight.

Lynch's company commander led his vehicles through the intersection and raced past the heavily-armed Marine mechanized infantry battalion. He led his company up the deserted road, over a railroad bridge, which was defended by a company of dug-in Iraqi tanks, through an Iraqi military checkpoint, over the Euphrates River Bridge, through a four-kilometer stretch of the inner city of An Nasiriyah, over the Saddam Canal Bridge, through the northern outskirts of the city, past an abandoned military headquarters, and then past the operational military headquarters. Finally, he decided to turn around.

On his trip north, he had awakened every Iraqi with a gun. At that point, the sun was just starting to rise. The 507th's flight to safety was fraught with gunfire. The company commander got lost again and as his beleaguered convoy was forced to turn around a second time. The vehicle that Brandon Sloan and Sergeant Donald Walters were riding in got stuck in the sand. Sloan jumped from the vehicle into another truck; Walters began to lay down covering fire as his comrades turned their vehicles and fled to safety. In the confusion, Walters was left fifteen miles behind enemy lines.

Sergeant Donald Walters was the Real Hero

Walters resisted for as long as he could. He probably "fought to his last bullet." He was captured alive and taken to an Iraqi stronghold and later murdered. When I last spoke to my source, a criminal investigation was still under way. Our government was helping the Iraqis collect evidence against Walters' murderers in an ongoing effort to bring them to justice.

Meanwhile, the rapidly shrinking convoy raced south. Several kilometers south of the Euphrates River, Shoshana Johnson's flatbed semi-tractor trailer jackknifed and Lori Piestewa could not react fast enough. Her Humvee slammed into the rear of the jackknifed truck, instantly killing the company First Sergeant, Robert Dowdy. Lynch and the other two occupants in the trucks' bed (George Buggs and Edward Anguiano) were tossed about like rag dolls, and Piestewa was critically injured. She and Lynch were pulled from the vehicle and taken to the Tykar Military Hospital, which was only a kilometer or two from the scene of the crash. Piestewa succumbed to her wounds soon thereafter, leaving Lynch alone and near death.

Read the whole thing, which includes this account of why an "immediate" rescue attempt failed:
Shortly after sunrise, an Iraqi in a white lab coat came out of the hospital and asked to speak with the American commander. He gave 2/8's Fox Company commander a letter, which he said was from the head of the hospital. He told the Marine captain that they were treating patients and wanted nothing to do with the fight. As the morning progressed, more and more civilians came up to the Marines to tell them about Jessica's captivity.

Finally, a Marine infantry company was sent to search the hospital. As they approached, gunfire erupted. The hospital was an armed camp. The main buildings had sandbagged fighting positions on their roofs and fighters in nearly every window. A fighting trench completely surrounded the hospital. It took an entire Marine Infantry Battalion more than an hour to silence the Iraqi gunners and three more days to completely clear the hospital of the Iraqi fighters. As it turns out, it was Chemical Ali's headquarters, complete with hundreds of gas masks, protective chemical suits and even a torture chamber.

Some of Jessica's uniform was found in that hospital, along with pieces of other soldier's uniforms. More of Jessica's uniform and some of her personal effects were found hidden in a nearby farmhouse. Jessica had been at the Tykar Hospital, but she had been moved to the main hospital in downtown Nasiriyah sometime during the first day of fighting.



Posted by Greyhawk / March 23, 2009 3:18 PM | Permalink
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November 26, 2010


America@war
[Greyhawk]
I think anyone who's ever pondered the "comment" option - once only available on blogs and bulletin boards, now ubiquitous on almost any web site - will appreciate this:
The so-called faculty of writing is not so much a faculty of writing as it is a faculty of thinking. When a man says, "I have an idea but I can't express it"; that man hasn't an idea but merely a vague feeling. If a man has a feeling of that kind, and will sit down for a half an hour and persistently try to put into writing what he feels, the probabilities are at least 90 percent that he will either be able to record it, or else realize that he has no idea at all. In either case, he will do himself a benefit.

That's wisdom from the past, captured for posterity at the US Naval Institute, shared via the web on the institute's 137th anniversary.

From their about page:

The Naval Institute shall remain

INDEPENDENT - A non-profit member association, with no government support, that does not lobby for special interests;

NON-PARTISAN - An independent, professional military association with a mission, goals and objectives that transcend political affiliations; and shall encourage

IDEAS - Through its respected journals Proceedings and Naval History, its conferences, its books and its online content, in support of those who serve.

"The Naval Institute has three core activities," among them, History and Preservation:

The Naval Institute also has recently introduced Americans at War, a living history of Americans at war in their own words and from their own experiences. These 90-second vignettes convey powerful stories of inspiration, pride, and patriotism.

Take a look at the collection, and you'll see it's not limited to accounts from those who served on ships at sea, members of the other branches are well-represented.

I'm fortunate to have met USNI's Mary Ripley, she's responsible for the institute's oral history program (and she's the daughter of the late John Ripley, whose story is told here). She also deserves much credit for their blog. ("We're not the Navy nor any government agency. Blog and comment freely.") We met at a milblog conference - Mary knew (and I would come to realize) that milbloggers are the 21st-century version of exactly what the US Naval Institute is all about. Once that light bulb came on in my head, I mentioned a vague idea for a project to her - milblogs as the 21st century oral history that they are.

"Put that in writing," she said (of course - see first paragraph above!) - and here's part of the result.

Shortly after the first tent was pitched by the American military in Iraq a wire was connected to a computer therein, and the internet was available to a generation of Americans at war - many of whom had grown up online. From that point on, at any given moment, somewhere in Iraq a Soldier, Sailor, Airman or Marine was at a keyboard sharing the events of his or her day with the folks back home. While most would simply fire off an email, others took advantage of the (then) relatively new online blogging platforms to post their thoughts and experiences for the entire world to see. The milblog was born - and from that moment to this stories detailing everything from the most mundane aspects of camp life to intense combat action (often described within hours of the event) have been available on the web...

And et cetera - but since you're reading this on a milblog, you probably knew that. And you know that milblogs aren't just blogs written by troops at war, that many friends, family members, and supporters likewise documented their story of America at war online in near-real time, as those stories developed.

The diversity in membership of that group is broad, the one thing we all have in common is the impulse to make sense of the seemingly senseless, and communicate the tale - for each of us that impulse was strong enough to overcome whatever barriers prevent the vast majority of people from doing the same. Everyone at some point has some vague idea they believe should be shared - we were the people who, from some combination of internal and external urging, found and spent those many half hours persistently trying to write it down.

*****

But where will all that be in another 137 years? Or five or ten, for that matter. That's something I've asked myself since at least 2004 - when I wrote this:

Closing Blogs is nothing new. So many site's owners just give up on their own. They come and go, you know, these MilBloggers do. Like any other sort of blogger. Many post in the lonely down hours far from home, spill their guts for the world, then abandon their spots when the tour of duty is up. They have lives again somewhere in the world, and no need to share the details. So it goes.

Many are truly gone - no site left at all. "The page cannot be found." Other blogs remain, like abandoned defensive positions in shifting desert sands.

Membership in the ghost battalion has grown in the years since, and an ever growing majority of those abandoned-but-still-standing sites are vanishing. Have you checked out Lt Smash's site lately? How about Sgt Hook's? If you're a long-time milblog reader you know the first widely-read milblog from Operation Iraq Freedom and the first widely-read milblog from Afghanistan are both gone from the web. If you're a relative newcomer to this world you may never even have heard of them - or the dozens upon dozens of others who carried forth the standard they set down.

If you have a vague notion that something should be done about that, (a notion I've heard expressed more than once...) then you and I and the good folks at the US Naval Institute are in agreement. Preserving the history documented by the milbloggers is just one of the goals of the milblog project, the once-vague idea that we're now making real.

And it's a big idea, if I say so myself - too big to explain in one simple blog post, so stand by for more. Likewise, it's too big a task to be accomplished by just one person. So if you're a milblogger (and exactly what is a milblogger? is a topic for much further discussion on its own) I'm asking for your help. All I'll really need is just a little bit (maybe just one or two of those half hours...) of your time, and your willingness to tell the tale.

We've already made history, it's time to save it.

(More to follow...)




Posted 4:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) |

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The Mudville Gazette is the on-line voice of an American warrior and his wife who stands by him. They prefer to see peaceful change render force of arms unnecessary. Until that day they stand fast with those who struggle for freedom, strike for reason, and pray for a better tomorrow.
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The Mudville Gazette is written and produced by Greyhawk, who recently retired from 24 years of active duty in the US military, but will maintain this disclaimer: Unless otherwise credited, the opinions expressed are those of the author, and nothing here is to be taken as representing the official position of or endorsement by the United States Department of Defense or any of its subordinate components.

Furthermore, I will occasionally use satire or parody herein. The bottom line: it's my house.

I like having visitors to my house. I hope you are entertained. I fight for your right to free speech, and am thrilled when you exercise said rights here. Comments and e-mails are welcome, but all such communication is to be assumed to be 1)the original work of any who initiate said communication and 2)the property of the Mudville Gazette, with free use granted thereto for publication in electronic or written form. If you do NOT wish to have your message posted, write "CONFIDENTIAL" in the subject line of your email.

Original content copyright © 2003 - 2011 by Greyhawk. Fair, not-for-profit use of said material by others is encouraged, as long as acknowledgement and credit is given, to include the url of the original source post. Other arrangements can be made as needed.

Contact: greyhawk at mudvillegazette dot com

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*****

Tending Distant
Fires


Far from hearth and home, watching
Cold alone but not alone
On distant shore and only wanting
Safe return and little more

What tales we'll tell
When that time comes
When tales can be told

When things grim
Seem far away
When other fires go cold

Some distant sunset, vision fading
Memories remain
And tired eyes gaze 'pon folded flags
While distant drums beat their refrain

Saluting fallen friends whose names
And youth will never fade
Here's to those on other shores,
for them live well, the price is paid

- Greyhawk,
Baghdad,
December 2004