If you’ve ever heard the phrase, “Embrace the Suck” and wondered what it means, here’s a little story to put it into context. The story below wasn’t the worst experience ever; it wasn’t the Battle of the Bulge, or the rains and fighting on Cape Gloucester, but it sucked none the less. For some, it was an introduction to being in a really uncomfortable situation while lacking the ability to do anything about it.
In the song, “Make It Out Alive,” the War Hippies sing, “Never know if you’re gonna live or die, it can sure wage a war in a young man’s mind.” I believe that’s half the stress of serving in a war zone, you just never know what’s coming next, and you have very little control over it.
MISSION: 1st Platoon executes nighttime dismounted patrol vicinity village of Tarmiya, in order to assess Sons of Iraq (SOI) posture and readiness as well as village conditions during hours of darkness.
After grabbing a bit of dinner at the Camp Taji chow hall, we all headed back to our living areas to get our gear on and make final preparations for a night patrol through our company’s area of operations (AO).
While I was checking the batteries in my night vision and laser, I confessed to my roommate, Leo, that I’d been thinking a lot about this patrol since our platoon leader had briefed the plan. We’d only been in Iraq for a few weeks, and we had only run a handful of patrols since we assumed control of the area from our predecessors. “I don’t think we’re gonna get blown up or anything, but I’ve got a feeling that something is going to happen,” I told him.
As we tossed the essentials into our assault packs and double checked our gear, I attached an infrared (IR) strobe light to my vest, and threw extra batteries, chem lights, and even a VS-17 signal panel into my bag. I pulled apart my M4 and my 9mm pistol and wiped the moving parts down with a light coat of oil before reassembling everything.
Hearing the bolt carrier group slide home on my M4, Leo peaked around the corner of his locker in our room with an eyebrow raised. “You really are worried about this patrol, huh?” he asked.
“Yeah, man. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve had this fucked up feeling all day,” I answered.
I lifted my body armor and slid my head through the hole at the top, then wrapped the side panels around my abdomen, securing the Velcro strips that hold it all together. Bouncing up and down a couple of times, I shrugged my shoulders and pulled at the collar, adjusting to the weight and making everything as comfortable as possible. I threw my assault pack over one shoulder, grabbed my helmet and rifle, and headed out the door.
As I walked toward our vehicle staging area, I knocked on my soldiers’ doors. “2nd Squad! Time to go, fuckers,” I shouted.
My Stryker, “2 Vic,” had been in the shop, but it was back from the mechanics, and I was happy to be rolling out in my own truck again. I walked up the ramp, ducking my head as I stepped into the passenger area and moved to the middle of the truck, next to the gunner’s seat. I dropped my gear under the squad leader’s hatch and plugged my headset into the comm’s box. My driver, Specialist Carpenter, also known as “Crapenter,” and my gunner, Sergeant Taaga, were busy making last minute checks.
“Hey, T. What else do you guys need before we go?” I asked.
“Hey Sergeant Taylor. We’re all set,” he replied.
I liked having Sgt. Taaga as my vehicle commander. He was responsible, hardworking, and one hell of a soldier. I always knew that I could count on him.
My squad arrived moments later, and we did our final checks and inspections. Sgt. Bridges and Sgt. Fraleigh, my two team leaders, went around to their soldiers, making sure each man had the equipment he was supposed to have: ammunition, water, dog tags, ID card, batteries, night vision, weapons, etc. I made spot checks as well.
It was about 7:30 P.M. when we finished our patrol brief and got everyone loaded up. After doing our usual commo checks on the platoon and company radio frequencies, we got word to roll out.
We were still on our way to the gate when Lt. Schardt got a call from battalion headquarters asking us to return to the tactical operations center (TOC), so we found a place to turn around and headed in that direction. When we turned around, our vehicle shuddered a little and started making some unusual noises. I called Lt. Schardt and told him something wasn’t right with our truck still, and he directed me to stop by the motor pool and see if a mechanic was available to look at it.
The rest of the platoon headed toward the battalion TOC while we made a quick stop in the motor pool to get it checked out. Luckily, there were still a couple of General Dynamics guys there working, and they came out and looked. They told us to go ahead and roll, but they suggested that we get it back into the shop as soon as possible.
We left the motor pool and caught up with the rest of the platoon just in time for an intelligence briefing. We were told that battalion had received intel about a possible ambush aimed at a supply convoy that was currently underway on Highway 1. In an effort to confirm the information, a drone had been launched, and its operator had spotted a group of armed individuals in a palm grove on the east side of the highway. The drone was still on station, and the operator estimated that there were 12 to 15 of them gathered there.
The briefing continued, “Elements of Charlie Company are currently operating in the area. They have one patrol southwest of Mshahdh (Moo-Shah-Duh) and another to the east toward the Tigris River.”
If intelligence was correct, our planned patrol to 14th Ramadan would have had us pass through the insurgents’ kill zone ahead of the supply convoy. An infantry platoon is a much harder target than a line logistics trucks.
Lieutenant Colonel Boccardi, the battalion commander, changed our plans. He ordered us to roll out and clear along the east side of Highway 1 where the gathering had been spotted. He wanted us to find the ambush before the ambush found a convoy of coalition forces. 2nd platoon would roll with us and clear the west side of the highway as well.
Initially, we were told that we would be dismounted, walking through the palm groves looking for the group of insurgents, but that changed before we even got outside of Camp Taji. Someone at HQ had decided that we should remain in our vehicles when we reached the ambush site. We were supposed to drive slowly up the northbound lanes of MSR Tampa, while 2nd platoon stayed a couple hundred meters behind us driving in the southbound lanes. In addition to our plans changing, we were informed that the gathering had grown from about 15 to nearly 30 people, and that they had started walking to the south after spotting the UAV circling above them.
We are going to roll right into a complex ambush, I thought. As we rolled out, I was just imagining that there would be IEDs on the highway, and small arms fire and RPGs from the palm groves immediately following the detonation. 2nd platoon is going fishing, I told myself, and we’re the bait.
We exited the gate at Taji and headed north on Highway 1. It wasn’t long before we’d passed through Mshahdh and were nearing the target area. The temperature had dropped to just below freezing, which made standing in the top hatch of a Stryker almost unbearable. My face was red and aching, and the wind was cutting through my uniform, chilling me to the bone. We all had plenty of cold weather gear with us, but we couldn’t really wear it when we were out on patrol. If we made some sort of contact and had to be out on the ground moving, we would easily overheat if we were wearing extra layers of clothing. As a result, we just dealt with the cold.
We reached the area where the insurgents had been spotted, and Lt. Schardt had his driver, Spc. Eichler, slow down to almost a crawl. The rest of our drivers followed suit, and we crept through the suspected kill zone, scanning the roadway for IEDs and watching for movement off to the sides. We didn’t see a thing. Lt. Schardt reported back to the company that there was no enemy activity in the area.
We stopped on the highway and waited for further instructions. Cpt. Veath finally gave us the go ahead to proceed with our originally planned patrol to Tarmiya. My soldiers were clearly disappointed. They had been pumped up thinking we were going out hunting for a platoon-sized group of insurgents, and it was a real let down when we didn’t find anything. All that excitement had been for nothing.
Our patrol through Tarmiya was quiet. After we walked the loop around the village and checked in with the SOIs, we loaded up in our Strykers for the return trip to Taji.
I checked my watch as we turned west down a dusty canal road toward Highway 1. We were running a little later than we had initially planned, but it looked like we would be back into Taji around midnight. I wasn’t even mad, considering all the changes that had come down from higher.
The ride back was cold and quiet. For the most part, we were alone on the highway. There really wasn’t any radio traffic to speak of, and the guys had all come down off of their adrenaline rushes from earlier. Most of them were dozing under the dim red glow in the back of the Stryker. We had rigged some wiring to connect an iPod to our vehicle’s communication system, so those of us wearing headsets or combat vehicle crew (CVC) helmets were listening to music on the way back. After all the excitement, I think everyone was looking forward to getting back and calling it a night.
The main gate at Camp Taji had just come into view when Lt. Schardt announced over the radio that we had another change of mission. “Battalion wants us to proceed north to the Iraqi Army (IA) checkpoint near Tarmiya and link up with a platoon from Charlie Company. How copy? Over.”
They say that soldiers aren’t happy if they aren’t bitching. I can assure you that we had a happy platoon that night. We were all cold and tired, and we were all pissed that we were being called all over the place for nothing.
We made a U-turn right in front of the gate and headed back to the north. 30 minutes or so later, we pulled off to the side of the road just south of the checkpoint and waited for the platoon from Charlie. When they arrived, Lt. Schardt went and met with their platoon leader to find out what exactly was going on.
The latest intel’ said that the group of insurgents that our UAV had spotted earlier, had entered a house on the west side of the highway. This platoon from C Co. was going to surround the house and call the inhabitants out. It was going to be a sort of knock and search. They needed us to set up blocking positions to the south and west, to make sure that no one tried to escape from the house as the men from our sister company approached. Our job was to capture or kill anyone who fled from the home.
It was after 1 A.M. when the platoon from C Co. was in position and ready to execute their mission. We dismounted on the highway and walked west through some tall grass and open fields to the south of our target. We skirted around another house and crossed a canal, and then we turned north to find a spot with a good view of the target house and its surrounding fields. It was a shitty location. We were backlit, and there was absolutely no cover or concealment. Thankfully, our Stryker crews, still parked on the highway, could see us with their thermal sights and were able to offer of some rear security so we could focus most of our attention on the target.
We were tired, and the night was growing colder. Still, we all hoped for some action.
Soon after we set into our blocking positions, we saw lights moving around the target house, and it looked like someone was searching for something. We called up what we saw, so that it could be passed on to the Charlie Company guys. It turns out that it was the Charlie Company guys. They had gotten two of their Strykers buried in the mud, and they were trying to get themselves out so they could finish setting in around the house.
I heard the call to Lt. Schardt come across the radio, “Bushmaster Red 6, Dragon 6 says to hold your position until dawn. Over.”
Fuck! I thought. We are going to sit here and freeze our asses off. Half of our platoon is sleeping in their Strykers with the heat on, and we are stuck out here without any snivel gear.
“Roger that,” Lt. Schardt replied.
He walked over to give me an update, but before he could even say anything, I started bitching, “I know, Sir. I heard the call. What the fuck are these guys supposed to do out here in the cold? None of these guys have cold weather gear out here, and the B.C. is sipping coffee and watching this shit on a big screen in a heated TOC. What the hell is Charlie doing up there, anyway?”
He called Sergeant First Class Arambula and told him that we may need to figure out a way to rotate soldiers, or at least get our assault packs brought out from the trucks.
I briefed my team leaders on the situation and told them to be sure they are checking on their guys. Sgt. Bridges and I walked around talking to the men and making sure they were okay. We also made some minor adjustments to our security perimeter since we were now planning to stay put for longer than we had initially anticipated.
Pfc. Colleran was already hurting from the cold. He was tall and skinny; not really the ideal body type for being in the cold without extra layers. Sgt. Bridges sat down with him, and I walked over to talk with some of the other guys in Sgt. Fraleigh’s team.
When I came back around, Sgt. Bridges and Colleran were still talking about how cold it was. Colleran kept repeating, “this sucks. It really sucks. This sucks so bad.”
I sat down with them, because I was a little concerned he was going to freak out while we were sitting out there.
Dogs had been barking around us since we first moved out into that area, and they were getting closer. Just as I sat down, one ran by really close to us. We joked about skinning it so we could have something to keep warm with. Then we decided we would be better off if we could catch it, tie its legs, and tape its mouth, so that we could take turns cuddling with it for warmth. We joked too, about how we might react in the morning if we found a cobra snuggled up to us, using our body heat to stay warm. We sat there quietly talking and telling jokes, trying to keep Colleran’s mind off the situation.
Colleran finally said, “I wish someone would just shoot me.”
Sgt. Bridges replied, “I just wish we could get some mortars coming in. We could run around and get warmed up.”
Bridges and I could not stop laughing at Colleran’s discomfort. He couldn’t figure out why we thought the situation was so funny, so we explained to him that he just doesn’t have as much experience in the suck as we do.
“One day, Colleran, you’ll be used to the suck. When things get bad, you’ll just laugh at it,” I told him.
“Embrace the suck,” Bridges told him. “I’m glad I can be here to share your first sucky experience.”
I chimed in, “Hey, at least we’ll be up in time for breakfast.”
“At dawn, they’ll probably tell us we have to stay until noon,” Colleran moped.
Bridges replied sarcastically, “Holy shit! Have you done this before?”
It was around 2 A.M. when Charlie Company finally approached the target house. They shined bright lights across the front of the house and called on a loud speaker for the occupants to come out. The family that lived there came out, and they were willing to cooperate.
It was bad intel’. There weren’t 30 people there. It was just a family. Charlie Company soldiers searched the entire home and found nothing.
Once the search was complete, we were told we could return to Camp Taji. We started walking back toward our Strykers a little after 4 A.M.
We arrived at Camp Taji a little after 4:30 A.M., and we headed to the fuel point. After our vehicle crews topped off on fuel, we linked up with a heavy wrecker and headed back out onto the highway again. We had to escort the wrecker up to the C Co. Strykers that were stuck in the mud near the target house.
They had managed to pull the Strykers out of the mud, by the time we got there, but we sat nearby until they had all of their vehicles back on the hard pavement again. Once all their vehicles were on the blacktop, we headed south again, toward Camp Taji.
It was a little after 6 A.M. when we arrived back at Camp Taji. We finished up some after-patrol business and went to bed. Just three weeks later, I’d lead the assaulting element of a raid at this same house. We didn’t afford them the courtesy of a “knock and search,” and we found everything that we were looking for. Read more about “A February Raid in the War on Terror” in No Shit Here I Am: A Soldier’s Stories of Life During and After the War on Terror
15 years later, prior to sharing this post, I spoke with Colleran about this night. He was a young soldier then, and I was a grouchy NCO on my fourth tour in the War on Terror. I’d been in shitty situations plenty of times before, and I knew exactly how he was feeling sitting there in the cold with no control over the situation. I can still remember my first experience with that level of misery too.
We’re Sean and Jarrod now, no longer staff sergeant and private first class. We’re just a couple of guys who went through some shit together. This night was nothing compared to what we’d face just a couple months later.
Sean says, “I still remember that night like it was yesterday. It has truly changed me. I definitely embrace the suck, and as messed up as it sounds, I enjoy other people’s suck. I often talk about it with a coworker who spent some time in the Guard. He kind of gets it, but you can tell he still thinks there’s something wrong with me. The ability to embrace the suck, that you and Bridges taught me that night, as well as the rest of our time together, has gotten me through some tough times with a smile on my face.”
Read more veteran stories here.