By mid-deployment we were low on Humvees on our little FOB (Forward Operating Base). This was mostly because we had uncanny ability to use them to detect IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devises). Coupled with those not damaged by IEDs seemed to be the ones with the early bolt on “Up Armor” packages, all of the armor plating added so much weight to the trucks the front ends seemed to fail before we had a chance to get them blown up.
For a few weeks our tasking was to guard one of the ASR (Alternate Supply Routes) – side roads in normal speak. The main routes being called MSRs or Main Supply Routes. We were shuttled out to a patrol base on Amphibious Assault Vehicles, a big, tracked, troop transport, tank looking beast of a vehicle. The AAV would hold a squad of 15ish guys with equipment fairly comfortably or a reinforced squad with nary enough wiggle room to pick your nose.
Now by this point in the deployment the AAV Unit had also lost some vehicles due to damage, and we began to suspect they were breaking them on purpose. To either get a break from the operation tempo or to get sent back to a main base. They really started driving like assholes, the ride was rougher than using a corn cob for toilet paper, it felt like we were inside a can of spray paint about to be used and probably made all our TBIs (Traumatic Brain Injuries) worst. This change in driving behavior was the strongest reason we suspected they were trying to break equipment on purpose. I know I had to bandage more than a few guys up after the rides and at least one Marines had the broom handle broken off his rifle in all the thrashing around that they did.
The other thing this tracked Baja 500 did was kick up an obscene amount of dust, dust that was the consistency of foot powder, dust that got into everything and nook and cranny. Fun times, there is nothing quite like chewing on your air.
When we finally make it out to our destination the AAVs would deposit their load of dusty marines and goofy sailors, picking up the platoon being relieved. Who then got the pleasure of a dusty bumpy ride back. Assignments are divided up and while I was the Doc, I volunteered to go on one of the Listening Post/Observation Posts (LP/OPs) rather than taking a turn on radio watch, almost anything was better than listening to the radio for half the night. Plus, if I was on an LP/OP something might happen. So, I traded weapons with the squad leader, giving him my pistol and I took his rifle.
One other guy and I took off down this berm and nestled ourselves into some rocks. It was a decent night for watching, there was quite a bit of lunar illumination (moon light). Sometime into the watch we started to hear rustling down the same berm we were tucked into. Very faintly at first and heading towards us, and the guys behind us. Ahh! Ninja insurgents were sneaking up, the fun was about to begin!
Now neither of us had a round in the chamber of our rifles. Yes, a mistake, I’m fully aware and I never made that mistake again. During the aforementioned, Marine version of the Baja 500 most guys deemed it safer to not have a round in the chamber. Floating firing pins and all, I agree unless you are riding with your head out of top with the rifle also outside the AAV. Much to our dismay neither rifle would chamber a round! Oh shit, it should have been expected on the rifle I was carrying a M16A4, those stupid things had a chamber tighter than our now puckering corn holes. They are accurate but need constant care to prevent jamming in the fine dust. I had watched the squad leader meticulously cleaning it… before we left, not after the ride. The other guy had an M16A2, with a nice loose chamber, not as accurate but it seemed more reliable just not that night.
A soft crunch, crunch, crunch and a pause came from the ninja, coming closer towards us. As we quietly smashed the forward assist on our rifles. This was considered a major no-no, if the rifle was too dirty to chamber a round and you used the forward assist, it was a good guess the rifle would jam, and you were not likely to get a second shot. One was better than none, we hoped.
As we hoped, the sound came closer. Then a weasel hopped into view at about 10 or 15 yards. I guess our panic was quite at least because it didn’t know we were there until we shifted to aim our now mostly useless rifles at it. I didn’t even know they had weasels in Iraq.
You can bet I never again switched guns without first making sure it was clean enough to work after that. Keep your guns clean and don’t except rides from strange men, it never works out.
-Joseph
Outpost 95 