A Tough Call

It was another typical day at work as part of the quick reaction force (QRF). I’m the truck commander (TC) of a three-person truck team (including the gunner and the driver). My truck ventured off solo on a routine check of an overwatch point some ways from our main camp. So there we were pretty relaxed, just another 120 degree day in the 'hood heading back toward our base camp when my driver noticed something. There were two passenger vehicles parked parallel to one another just off the roadside as we passed. She (my driver) tells me that she saw a local man squatting between the two vehicles with a fuel can and a scarf. You could tell she was trying to cope with what she just saw. My gunner immediately spins in the gun turret to the rear to check it out. Meanwhile she repeats more confidently what she’d just seen.

As soon as what she’s telling me registers, it was like my vision was suddenly coated with a dark tint and the world went bleak before my eyes. Reflexively my mind went into denial and began scrambling for ways to rationalize what it was they were seeing that was surely perfectly normal and non-threatening and how it could be perceived wrong. I asked my gunner to verify what he saw and he assured that indeed there was a man crouched between two vehicles on the side of the road with a fuel can pouring fuel onto a scarf. (For the record, the presumption here is that the scarf is will be used as a fuse for what appears to be a car bomb or worse- two car bombs.) My heart sank.

There we were, a single gun truck away from any immediate support and just outside of communication range of our short-range hand radio. I grabbed the long-range radio (the phone type one that you see me using in two of the photos published here) and tried to make contact with my supervisor but couldn’t reach him. At this point I really started becoming anxious. “Should we turn around and go back[to the scene]?” my driver asked me. My goodness the last thing I wanted to do was order these soldiers to drive us back into the nucleus of a potential major blast area of one or even two car bombs. Those are very slim odds for us any way we approach it and without the ability to contact our people at the camp we won’t even have help on the way. Whatever was going to happen was going to rest completely with us three and us alone. No one would even know anything had happened with us for a long time if things went bad. They wouldn’t be missing us for at the very least another half hour and possibly another few hours.

‘No no no.’ Everything in me said that we were just going to assume my soldiers were just being overly cautious. ‘Yeah that’s it.’ We are only blocks away from the camp. We’ll just continue on with what we were doing and everything will be fine. Besides, I don’t want to make the decision to take these two soldiers with me into a bleak situation. That’s a VERY hard call to make.

But then I had a visualization. What if I’m wrong? What if just moments from now we feel the concussion of a massive explosion only blocks away from our main camp? How many lives will be lost? Could I have prevented it? ------- AW SHOOT!!

“Turn around” I solemnly ordered, careful not to display my great reservation and bleak outlook on what we were about to do. I pulled out my pistol and chambered a round. My gunner heard the action of my nine mil, and I heard the sound of his guns echo the same. ‘What are the infinitely minimal odds that I’d find myself in this position?’ I was asking myself. With my rank, I lead a team in combat operations. Once in a while I will have to fill in for my direct-line supervisor and lead the whole squad. But it would take some dire circumstances for me to find myself leading an entire operation. Heaven knows I absolutely HATED having to take those soldiers into that situation with me.
In reality, even had the other trucks and higher command been with us it is likely that a single truck would have been assigned to do the same thing. So there’d be little difference had I wound up being the one chosen. I guess it’s just psychologically comforting having that safety net of other trucks on standby and higher command calling the shots.

The severity of it all was heightened by the fact that only hours before, when we started the shift, it was put out during our daily brief that just two days prior a convoy had been ambushed only three miles from our location. Fortunately the assailants were killed or captured and the weapons cache they’d used was discovered only one mile from our location. This is a very significant event because the area we are in is pretty heavily guarded so the combatants are managing to breach some of this security.

As we approached the scene again my gunner instructed my driver to pass the two cars, whip around and pull up behind them. Once in place, I saw about three men at the cars stop what they were doing abruptly and face us with “uh oh” expressions on their faces. I opened my door and motioned for the one closest to me to come towards me. He looked at his comrades then looked at me as if to say “who, me?” I repeated the motion more deliberately but careful to maintain as much cover behind my opened armored door as I could.

You could tell he was nervously afraid. He started slowly toward me as I continued gesturing. He would take a few steps then hesitate and look back at his comrades as if second guessing whether he should continue and hoping to be rescued. As he got closer and closer he’d repeat this process. His comrades at first started to join him when they saw his fear but my gunner ordered them to stay back. Once he was within range I asked him if he could speak English. He said no. Typical. So I asked him what was going on using simple words and a lot of body language. In similar fashion, he started explaining something unintelligible to me, as I regrettably expected. I’d hoped to heaven that we could resolve the situation from the limited protection of my armored hummer. But to get to the bottom of this all, I was going to have to expose myself. I instructed my gunner to keep his eyes on the other men and to be ready and vigilant, as I would have to approach the two vehicles and the other men.

As soon as I got up to the cars, the man I was speaking to began trying to explain what I was asking to his comrades and simultaneously one of them put his hand out to shake mine. I certainly was in no mood for hand shaking. But at the same time, I didn’t want to give reason for any more alarm and unease than there already was. So not taking my attention at all off of who I was speaking with and not changing my facial expression at all, I briefly grabbed his hand. They each knew very few words in English and once everyone understood what I wanted to know, they made collective effort to explain. I noticed a spill between the two cars and pointed toward it asking what the liquid was. Beginning to sense what my concern was, they scrambled to put me at ease. Finally one of them remembered the English word they were all looking for. “Water! Water!” “Where is the container?” I asked and illustrated with my hands. They looked puzzled. “Open the trunk,” I demanded as I pointed. The man that had approached me at my truck summoned another man who was sitting at the wheel of the vehicle. That man produced the car keys and passed them back. As the man unlocked the trunk I stepped back and off to the side not sure what to expect to see.

Slowly the lid rose as I braced myself. To my surprise, and delightfully so, it was empty save a ratty empty old container lying on its side in the far corner. “Okay,” I said, “Is that all?” The man replied eagerly “Yes yes.” I moved forward just a bit and caught a glimpse of something else just as the man was shutting the trunk lid looking fearfully relieved. “Wait a minute. Open it back up!” The fear immediately returned to all of the men. By this time I’d noticed in my peripheral vision that my gunner had dismounted the truck and approached halfway between me and the truck on my flank. That was a relieving sight since I’d found myself in such close quarters and significantly outnumbered by the men. The man with the keys re-opened the trunk and watched me carefully. I stepped closer and a second container was revealed. It was sitting upright against the rear wall of the car so that I could only see the nozzle before from my angle. “What is that?” I exclaimed feeling nearly tricked. The man pulled out a blue fuel can labeled “diesel” on its front. I took it from him and gestured back to my gunner asking if this was what he’d seen as we rolled by the first time. He affirmed.

The men erupted in foreign explanation and I overrode their clamor asking defiantly “What is this?” Finally the man recalled the English word that had seemed to quell tensions once already. “Water! Water!” Another man grabbed the container and brought the nozzle to his nose in attempt to illustrate “yes water!” I took the container and put the nozzle to my nose. It reeked of fuel. “This is NOT water!!” I exclaimed defiantly. Whether for communication barrier or intentional deceit, I did not like being lied to and was just about done with diplomacy. One of the men must have sensed the level of my disdain because in a risky move he suddenly stepped forward, grabbed the container from my hand, put the nozzle to his mouth and drank from the container right there. As soon as he did that all the hubbub ceased. I think the men were just as shocked as I was with his desperate attempt.

I can’t remember for sure but I think the shock of seeing the man suddenly drink from a fuel container along with the stunned silence that ensued in such a tense situation forced a quick smile from my face. All I could think was ‘oh my goodness What The Heck…??? This man is crazy.’ It was such a relieving and shocking moment at the same time that I think I actually laughed aloud just quickly. Considering that the guys could be suicide bombers, and therefore willing to drink gasoline, I took the can and smelled it one more time. It still smelled like gas. So I poured some onto the ground and smelled it. It was transparent and had no smell.

An Iraqi man at a short distance had noticed the commotion and joined in the crowd by this time. He was well dressed and probably a teacher, which would mean he probably had some level of English ability. He got the story from the other men and commenced to explain to me in better, though not fluent, English that one of the vehicles had broken down and they were pushing it. The water in the container was for the radiator. He had poured some of the water onto a scarf because it was so hot and they were using it to cool themselves.

We got a good laugh out of that as we headed back into camp. When we were overheard on the radio confirming “no threat” people wanted to know what they’d missed and they got a kick out of the deal too. I think part of the humor was the sheer relief factor. One thing I’m very sure about, as I have always been, I do not like bombs. Give me a small arms firefight any day where I stand a skilled chance, just leave the bombs to the explosive ordinance guys that get the big bucks for it.