Chapter 38: Yankee North

Sunday, September 17, 2006

In mid-September things got a lot more interesting. Unfortunately, in combat, interesting was not really what you wanted. The rest of Second Brigade showed up in Baghdad and got their assignments. Fourth of the Fourth had done such a bang-up job on Route Indigo, that the rest of the brigade was going to do the same thing. They were going to go from north to south, starting out somewhere up near Fallujah on Route One and then running south into the Triangle of Death towards Jurf Sakhar, which was just north of Outpost Whiskey. They were going to call it Route Malibu. It was more than twice as long as Route Indigo, but Second Brigade still had two available battalions, the Polar Bears and the Golden Dragons, and a big chunk of support personnel deploying with them.

Southerland told us the theory was that the hajjis who were beating on us were now going to have to beat on the rest of the brigade as well. The thinking was that many of the assholes fighting us would now redeploy to fight north of us. There were only so many hajjis and foreign fighters, so the pressure would drop on us. I wasn’t sure how much he believed that, and nobody around Anaconda Three was buying it. Still, that was the theory.

Since this was such a great theory, Brigade came up with a wonderful plan. They sent down a major from G-2 in Baghdad, military intelligence, to brief us. He flew in on a Blackhawk along with DeFrank Shaniq and a few others, returning from their leaves. He had a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist, just like something out of a spy movie. We all thought that was pretty silly, since if the hajjis captured him, they’d chop his hand off to get it, and then put his head on a spike anyway. His name was Halstead, and he wore starched and pressed ACUs and often rapped things he was standing next to with his large ring. A couple of guys remarked that he was something called a ring-knocker, which meant he was a West Point graduate.

The guy really thought his shit didn’t stink. After landing he asked for an immediate meeting with Southerland and was not at all impressed when he was told that the lieutenant was on the radio. He was a major and Southerland was just a lieutenant. As soon as he was available, they had a closed-door meeting. I happened to be going through at that moment and noticed the closed door, which was unusual for Southerland. I asked Billy Demick, the Specialist manning the field phone, “What’s up?” nodding towards the door.

“Big pow-wow with that G-2 major who flew in. Beyond that, I have no idea.”

I shrugged and moved on, but then the door opened, and Southerland stuck his head out. “Billy, get Levi in here, and the squad leaders.” Then he noticed me. “Good, Reaper, you’re here. You, too.”

I gave Billy a mystified look and answered, “Yes, sir,” and turned back. Platoon Sergeant Levi was right next door in the commo room, and he was there right on my heels.

I knew there was going to be trouble right off the bat. Major Halstead said, “I don’t understand why we need all these people here, Lieutenant. This is Top Secret!”

“These are going to be the guys who have to go out and do the job, Major. I think they need to know what that job is,” he replied.

Halstead huffed at that.

Levi asked, “What’s up, Ell-Tee? Reaper, you in trouble again?”

“First I’ve heard of it, Sarge. I hope I had fun.”

Such frivolous repartee did not impress Halstead, but before he could complain, Bixley, Ferrucci, and Trudeau came in. Bixley immediately wanted to know what I had done, so I scratched my cheek with my left middle finger, making the others grin. Southerland then said, “If Reaper’s here, we should probably get Jim Bruno, too. Kopemondo and Hargrove.”

Levi stuck his head back out the door and passed it along, and then turned back. “So, this is going to involve Second and Third Squads?”

“I’ll explain in a bit,” answered Southerland.

Halstead protested, “Lieutenant, the ops plan I developed calls for two full squads with a weapons squad as support!”

“Major, I don’t have two full squads and a weapons squad to give you. That’s the entire compound. I can provide two squads, but the rest need to man the walls here at Anaconda Three. If this is as time sensitive as you say it is, this is what we have. Otherwise, you can go back to Baghdad and whistle up a task force.” It was obvious that Southerland had zero patience with Halstead, rank difference or not. Halstead huffed a bit at that, too.

Bruno came in, looking as confused as the rest of us, followed by Kopie and Hargrove, and Levi asked, “So, what’s up?”

Southerland answered, “This is Major Halstead, from G-2 in Baghdad. I had a call from Captain Vernier that the major has a plan that we are to be involved in. According to Brigade, the local Al Qaeda branch is having a meeting a few klicks from here, and we’ve been tasked to go say hello and invite them back to Baghdad for tea.”

“Lieutenant Southerland, this is serious! Your flippancy is uncalled for and out of line!” protested Halstead.

Southerland ignored him. He spread a map out on his desk, and then tapped it with a finger. “The operation is being called Yankee North. This is what Brigade thinks is Al Qaeda Central. The idea is that we go out there and bag them, and that will provide intel as well as draw off any planned attacks on the rest of the Brigade as they move down Malibu. It’s about three klicks past Whiskey.”

“So why call us?” asked Levi. “They’re going to boogie as soon as they see us coming. Why not have a few Predators take them out, or drop a Blackhawk full of Green Beanies on them?” Green Beanies were Green Berets, Special Forces.

“Special Operations troops are all committed, and we want to capture, not kill the insurgents,” answered Halstead. Levi just rolled his eyes. “Instead, I have developed a plan utilizing forces in the immediate area, in this case, Anaconda Three. Your battalion has already been informed.”

“Where’s this meeting taking place? Since we’ve got me and Ferrucci involved, you must be planning on using our squads,” said Bixley.

“This is designated as Yankee Target. This building is on Main Street in Al Qasra.” Southerland passed over an aerial photo. Centered on the photo was a large building, rectangular, and surrounded by wide streets. Levi looked it over and then passed it around.

Halstead decided to finish his briefing. “The operational plan calls for two squads to enter, while the weapons squad secures the approaches. Our best estimates are that no more than a dozen mid- and senior-level Al Qaeda leaders and cadre will be present. They can be taken into custody, and the building swept for intelligence materials.”

“Only, like I said, we don’t have two squads and a weapons squad to spare.” Southerland looked at us. “Bixley, Third Squad will conduct the assault, and Second Squad will be outside security and act as your backup. Sergeant Levi will command.” It was obvious Southerland wasn’t leading us. He had a walking brace on his right foot, from a bad sprain two days ago. He wasn’t able to go anywhere on foot for a few days.

I nodded in understanding, as did the others. Now we knew what we were doing there. Levi asked, “So the question still stands. What makes you think that there will be anybody in this building when we roll up? As soon as they see us coming, they can just walk across the street and be gone.”

Southerland answered, “Actually this part makes sense.” Halstead bristled at the implication that otherwise it was a crackpot idea. “You guys are going to roll up in a standard convoy to Whiskey. However, once you get up there, you break free from the Buffaloes and put the hammer down. It’s barely three klicks further. You can be there in less than two minutes. Even if they bug out, which they might not do, you can still grab any material or computers, that sort of thing.”

Levi shrugged at that. He took back the aerial photo and dropped it down next to the map. We all looked down at the photos and the map. “What’s the construction on the building?” Levi asked.

“Reconnaissance indicates brick and concrete block,” answered Halstead.

Levi grunted and shrugged again. He turned to Ferrucci. “I’ll take Bixley and Third Squad inside while you control the roadway. We’ll want both of your trucks. I want those Ma Deuces.”

Sergeant Ferrucci smiled. “Absolutely!”

While the rest of us used Humvees with a roof mount for a machine gun, Second Squad had a pair of five-ton M-939 gun trucks. These had been armored by the Army, and then more hillbilly armor had been added by us, and they carried a powered turret on the roof with a pair of .50 cal Ma Deuces. They were awesome beasts. One was called Battling Bertha and the other was named The Sperminator; the names were painted on, along with some pretty grotesque artwork.

Sergeant Budreau said, “So my guys will stay here and keep the hajjis from walking in when these guys leave?”

“That’s the plan,” agreed Southerland.

“Then you probably don’t need me. When does this go down?”

“Within the hour. Go out there and tell the guys on Iron Claw and Husky to warm up.”

Budreau gave a nod and left. Sergeant Ferrucci looked over at Levi and asked, “How do you want to position us. We’ve only got the two trucks. Opposite corners?” That would allow each truck to control traffic along two sides but wouldn’t do much for fire support on the building.

Levi grimaced at that. “I’ll go in with Alpha Three.” He hesitated a second and then looked at Ferrucci. “What if we split you guys up? Two each in Bertha and Spermie, and two each in Bravo Three’s gun trucks? You taxi them in and drop them off with Alpha Three, and then you do your thing outside. You can use the Humvees at the corners and position the .50s to hammer the building while we work our way through.” Ma Deuces could fire a heavy projectile right through concrete block and cinder block walls.

“That’s not the plan, Sergeant!” protested Halstead. “We are after prisoners, not bodies!”

“That will be up to Sergeant Levi when they get there. He will be in tactical command. I mean, unless you wish to gear up and go with them. I’m sure we can find some armor and a helmet for you,” said Southerland.

Levi gave Southerland a horrified look, but Halstead ignored the comment. “I am sorry, but I have to forbid that,” said Halstead. “We need prisoners, not dead bodies.”

“Good for you. I need live soldiers,” Southerland replied.

“Our best intelligence indicates minimal and acceptable casualties with the ops plan presented.”

This asshole was really pissing me off. “How about you come outside with me and selecting which of my men will be the acceptable casualty,” I said.

Southerland interrupted us. “All right, that’s enough. This will be up to Sergeant Levi. He will have on-site command.”

“Lieutenant...”

“Major, if you want to do it different, gear up and go with them. Otherwise, we do it our way.” Levi turned back to us and said, “Load up on some AT4s while you’re at it.”

“Lieutenant!” protested Halstead.

Southerland ignored Halstead and sent us on our way, and that’s when things began to move off the rails. Normally Southerland would have been leading a big operation like this, with Levi staying behind, but his bad ankle prevented that. Next to go was Sergeant Ferrucci, Second Squad leader. He had been pale and sweating all through the meeting, and once we got out, he collapsed. He got dragged to a chair inside and propped up. He looked like crap and threw up into a garbage bag. Doc Rodemayer, our medic, ran in and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Sarge just collapsed and started throwing up!” answered Kopie.

“How you feeling, Sergeant?” asked Doc. He put a hand to Ferrucci’s forehead and raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll be fine. It must be something I ate. Get me to my feet.” A couple of guys moved to help him, but Doc motioned them away.

“You have a stomachache, Sergeant?”

“It’ll pass. Move! I have a mission to prepare for,” he protested.

The medic put a hand on Ferrucci’s lower right side and touched him, and Ferrucci almost bolted out of the chair. “Like hell, Sergeant! You are going to Baghdad!” Ferrucci protested but Doc ignored him. He looked at Levi and Southerland. “I might not be Albert Schweitzer, but I can tell a hot appendix when I see one. He needs to get to a hospital.”

“I’ll be okay,” replied Ferrucci.

“Yeah, after you come back from Baghdad,” said Levi. Southerland nodded in agreement.

Southerland looked over at Sergeant Kopemondo, the Alpha Two leader and now the senior NCO in Second Squad. “Kopie, you’ll take over for Ferrucci.”

“I’m on it, Ell-Tee,” he replied confidently. Kopie was a good soldier, but he had been promoted to Sergeant directly from Specialist, and that had happened over here. He had never been to WLC, for instance. Still, he could certainly handle command of Second Squad while they performed stationary support duty outside of Yankee Target.

Ferrucci kept protesting, but Levi told him to shut up and enjoy Camp Victory, and Rodemayer had a couple of guys help him over to the medic tent. A dustoff was requested. The rest of us went about preparing for the mission.

Levi dragged Bixley, Kopemondo, and the rest of us outside. “Bix, load your guys up with flash-bangs and grenades, some flex-cuffs, too. Kopie will secure the perimeter. Nobody gets in or out. Nobody. Grab some AT4s. As soon as we roll up, you continue around to the back and sides, lock it up fast. We’re going to blast our way in quick and clear it out. The only way this works is if we do it fast. Once we get past Whiskey put the pedal to the metal and don’t stop for nothing. Are we clear?”

Everybody said they understood, and Levi sent us off to prep. We were leaving Anaconda Three at 1115. With any luck we could be at Whiskey in an hour, and then race to Al Qasra and Al Qaeda HQ. We might be able to pull it off. We would have four Humvees, and Bertha and Spermie. If we had gone with Halstead’s original plan, we’d have over three times as many vehicles. No way could we manage a surprise with that. I grabbed my guys and told them to gear up.