Memoirs of an Outlaw: Life in the Sandbox

Chapter 7: Staging Point

In the distant background, I could hear a CH-47 passing overhead. The rhythmic thump of the blades as they sliced through the air was soothing as I lay half asleep under our makeshift tent.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”

I was suddenly awakened by a commotion. I leaped out of my sleeping bag and saw Lance Corporal Josh Shearer, the saw-gunner for my team, running away from our vehicle, half naked.

“It’s landing on us. The helicopter, it’s gonna land on us,” Josh said repeatedly.

Apparently, Josh was in a deep sleep and had heard the helicopter in the distance. In his dream, he believed that the helicopter was going to land on us, so he was trying to run away from the vehicle to find some kind of cover so it wouldn’t land on him. But instead of dreaming it, he actually did it.

“Shearer!” I yelled at him after he had run about fifty feet. “Get your crazy ass back here! It was just a helicopter flying overhead.  It’s already gone, dude. Just chill out.” I was trying my best to calm him down a bit.

Shearer started walking back but still appeared shaken. “I coulda sworn it was gonna land on us Corporal Tanner,” he said in his thick Nashville accent.

“You got issues, Shearer,” I said, trying my best to hold back a laugh.

“Shearer, get your ass back to sleep before I put you on fire watch,” Sergeant Krall mumbled from inside his sleeping bag. It was never a good thing to wake up Krall from a deep sleep.

Shearer made his way to his sleeping bag but couldn’t avoid being teased by a few of the others he woke up.

“Y’all can kiss my ass!” Shearer said sarcastically. Once he finally realized the hilarious situation he found himself in, he couldn’t help but chuckle. After we all had a few laughs and teased him a bit more, we went back to sleep to rest for the long day ahead of us.

*****

“Wake up, Tanner.”

Staff Sergeant Randy Phelps was hovering over me with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Get your stuff together and then wake up the rest of the scouts,” he said, cigarette smoke pouring out of his nose as he exhaled.

I stretched to get all the kinks out and then slowly squirmed out of my sleeping bag. I stood up and saw that Sergeant Michael Krall, my vehicle commander, was waking up the rest of the vehicle crew. I gently nudged Josh with my foot to wake him up. 

“Don’t worry, Shearer. There’s no helicopter landing on us…this time,” I said jokingly.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Shearer said before flipping me the bird.

After I was sure Shearer was getting up, I walked around the vehicle to wake the other scouts: Corporal Miguel Forsyth and Lance Corporal Todd Herman.

About a half hour later, the entire convoy was stirring and packing up what little they had taken out to sleep. I ensured that my scouts had packed up their gear and that the scout compartment of the LAV-25 was neat. After the vehicle and my team were situated, we all sat down to eat an MRE (Meal Ready to Eat) while we waited for word to be passed down. As I ate, I glanced around at the rest of the convoy and noticed most of the Marines were doing something to kill the time: hacky sacking, reading, eating, or just chatting away. Eventually, Lieutenant Snipes came back to our platoon’s location.

“School circle at Red 2. Lieutenant Snipes is going to pass word,” someone yelled from the distance.

Everyone stopped what he was doing and started walking over to Red 2’s position. Once we were all gathered and the team leaders and vehicle commanders ensured that their Marines were present, Lieutenant Snipes started to pass word and give us our op (operations) order. In essence, we were told our placement in the convoy, how we were conducting the convoy, and rules of engagement.

In my opinion, our placement made no sense. We were the biggest, most heavily armed and armored vehicles in the convoy, yet they decided to throw us in the middle. To make it even more frustrating, the convoy’s assault and security elements consisted of Humvees. The Iraqi terrain is ideal for LAVs. The vehicles can get up to around 70 mph on the flat, open areas, negotiate any obstacle presented, and maneuver more effectively than a Humvee, but most importantly, the LAV can take a lot of small- to medium-arms fire and unload an immense amount of firepower in return. So the idea of our sitting in the middle of the convoy bothered us all to no end.

The next thing that bothered us and continued to haunt us throughout the duration of the deployment was the rules of engagement. We were not to engage the enemy unless the enemy showed intent to fire at us. We were not to fire unless told to do so. We were not allowed to retaliate unless we could positively identify the combatant. To sum it up, we couldn’t do a damn thing except get shot at and smile. 

Finally, the information that seemed to matter most to us was the future—what were we going to do and how was it going to happen. Lieutenant Snipes informed us that we would travel along MSR (main service route) Tampa for approximately eight hours until we reached our first stopping point, Camp Scania. At that base, we would refuel and temporarily rest for the second part of our journey. When the road march resumed, we would travel from Camp Scania, along MSR Tampa in a northerly direction, until we reached MSR Mobile. Around the intersection of MSR Mobile, we would meet up with a detachment of Army Humvees who would escort us to our final destination: Camp Baharia.

All the team leaders, myself included, and vehicle commanders were busy writing all the instructions down and highlighting the routes on their map boards. When the orders were finished and Lieutenant Snipes felt confident that everyone in the platoon understood the instructions and his duties, he gave the command to mount up.