Clear Thoughts
As I reflect upon my experience in the Persian Gulf War I can recall the
fighting all too clear. The time was 2110 hours on 16 January 1991. The ground
war had been underway for five days and I was mentally exhausted. My platoon had
been assigned the duty of clearing bunkers. During the last portion of our
briefing we were given explicit instructions to ensure that we all made it back
alive. We were also instructed to take prisoners if we could, if not, do what
you were trained to do, "kill". Those orders will always remind me of
the reason I am alive today.
Within minutes of receiving our order we were headed to what was going to be a
turning point in my life, front line combat. After walking almost an hour a
member of my team detected movement about one hundred meters straight ahead. I
halted my squad, grabbed the radio from Pvt. Tucker and warned the remainder of
my platoon. I whispered into the handset, " Rock six, Rock six, this is,
rock two Charlie, we have positive contact". Without hesitation, the
commander ordered us to engage. Sparing no hesitation on my part, I directed two
members of my squad to wait at the right side of the bunker, the other three men
were to follow me. We dropped into the prone position onto the cold, wet, Saudi
Arabian sand and began to crawl toward the left side of the bunker. While
crawling, I realized that we could be killed within seconds; it was my job as
squad leader to insure that wouldn't happen. Was it fear, excitement, or perhaps
a mere lapse in concentration? I wasn't certain if I could, or even had the time
to weigh the feelings I was having. I halted my men, regained my focus and
re-clarify the importance of our mission. Upon completion of our final plan of
attack we continued to crawl toward our objective.
As we approached the bunker, I realized that it was not only a bunker, but a
trench line as well. I crawled back and radioed the commander of my findings. He
began to repeat his last order, "Rock two Charlie, engage your
objective", when a new order was given. That order was to send one man
inside to investigate. At that very minute, my world stood still. I had to make
a decision. Which one of my warrior brothers was going to be the unlucky man?
The decision was simple, I'll send myself. Without notifying the commander, I
slid into the trench as silent as I could possibly be. Once inside the trench, I
looked to my right and then to my left. No one was there, at least not in the
trench. I began to move toward the bunker when an Iraqi soldier, like a ghost
appearing out of a fog, stepped out of the bunker. I knew that our orders were
to take prisoners', but the decision was his; would he die today, or would he
surrender? With one look at the American flag sewn on the left sleeve of my
uniform, he laid down his rifle. I motioned for him to walk towards me and to
climb out of the trench. With his hands above his head he proceeded up the side
of the trench, only to be detained by my men.
My mission wasn't over yet; I still had to clear the bunker and survey the
remainder of the trench. I began to move toward the bunker at a slow and steady
pace. As I approached the entrance of the bunker, I noticed a soldier lighting a
cigarette. Taking full advantage of the light provided by the match, I could
make out three figures standing in the darkness, there were no weapons in sight.
Without delay I said a short prayer and committed to the task at hand. I ran
inside shouting some words that I understood to be their native language. But
the men simply stood there looking at me with tears in their eyes. In disbelief
I shoved one of the men against the wall of the bunker. The other men ran up to
the wall and stood next to their friend. Their surrender was in parallel to the
hundreds that had surrendered the night before. While inside the bunker, I
visually inventoried the contents. I was surprised to find twenty-four large
wooden boxes containing enough explosive material to level two city blocks.
After my brief inspection of the bunker I thought to myself about the pathetic
condition of our so-called enemy and how eager they were to lay down their arms
and surrender.
Later that night, I sat and pondered the evening's chain of events. I recalled
the brief lapse in concentration that had saved our lives. If I would have
ordered the destruction of the bunker, or had I chosen another man to enter the
trench, the entire platoon could have been vaporized by twelve tons of
explosives stored inside.
I am so grateful to have remembered the advise of my grandfather. Gramps always
said, "Son, take your time with the difficult tasks because when you rush
you act with haste, so slow down and think things through". This time his
advice really paid off!
Essay written by Thomas L. Kelley
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