Tuesday, April 8, 2008, The Iran/Iraq Border
It was supposed to be a routine mission. For the past several months we had been ambushing convoys of nerve gas being shipped to Ash Shamiyah. It looked like the Republican Guard was onto us, because they had shown up about 20 minutes before the convoy. We were pinned down, taking casualties, and running out of ammo.
I paused to reload and noticed a kid running towards me. He was definitely American but I hadn't seen him before.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"PFC Jack Andrews. You're Sergeant Ginsberg?"
"Staff Sergeant, actually."
"It's an honor to meet you."
We both ducked as an RPG landed a few yards from us.
"Uhhh ... Nice to meet you too, but I'm afraid it's going to be a short visit unless you brought friends."
"No friends, just hand grenades." He showed me a small cache of M67s strapped to his belt.
"Great. You take the convoy and I'll get the rest of them."
We split up and I crawled just within range of the enemy's position. They had taken cover in a ditch running alongside the road. I cooked the first grenade for a few seconds and rolled it into the ditch. When it went off, the survivors scattered. I used the second grenade on their truck and picked a couple off with my pistol before the rest started retreating.
I walked down the road towards the second convoy. Andrews had taken pretty good care of it, and the lead truck was on fire. As I got closer, my eyes started to water and I suddenly found it hard to breath.
I signaled to my platoon to put their gas masks on, and started to put mine on. There was a bullet lodged in the respirator.
By the time I got to Andrews he was doubled over on the ground, puking his guts out. I radioed in for a chopper and tried to drag him out of range of the gas. I could just hear the sound of the rotors by the time I passed out.