That's So Bravo! August 13,2006

That’s So Bravo!
August 13, 2006

For the soldiers of the 101st Airborne Division, who are nearing the end of their deployment here in Iraq, one day is not so different from another. At this point, nothing is new. Many faces are familiar. The soldiers of the 2nd Battalion’s Bravo Company continue to carry out missions with the same diligence, the same attention to detail as always, but they know what they can expect to find at every stop along the way. For the soldiers, a day in Kirkuk can be pretty mundane. For the reporter riding along with them, however, it is always entertaining.
I do not know how many missions and patrols I went on with Bravo Company this week. The days ran together; missions that began late one night ended early the next morning. There was talk of giving me a weapon because I was always around. It made sense to put me to work. Being around the same group of guys all the time gave me a better idea of the nature of their work, which can be very frustrating and tiresome, and a better idea of how they manage to rise above all of this. It takes a sense of humor and a lot of heart, which is the definition of Bravo Company.
One of the ongoing struggles in Kirkuk involves gas lines. Gas is in short supply, and lines at the gas stations are frequently blocks long. The Iraqi police watch over these lines, but occasionally they become overwhelmed, or just tired of being yelled at, so they call in Coalition Forces to help settle things down, making the soldiers feel a bit like bouncers. Highly trained bouncers. On one such call to an unruly line of motorists, the job was as simple as telling people where they could and could not park. And then waiting to make sure they moved their cars. Though the people in the gas lines are impatient, they are generally harmless. But a large crowd combined with a group of soldiers presents a tempting target to a terrorist or insurgent, so Sergeants Eric Caudill and Gary Cunningham pulled security, which meant keeping a careful watch over the area, and joking around with the kids who surrounded them. I don’t know if a soldier’s training involves interacting with kids, but these guys are good at it. They have seen some of the kids many times before, and a rapport has developed that is probably unique to this setting, which in itself is just plain weird. The kids have picked up English from the soldiers and television, and they sound a little bit like extras from The Sopranos.
Another day brought another mission, this time a cordon and knock led by Iraqi Forces (and which required convening with them at 3:00 A.M. for final preparations). I was placed under the watchful eye of Sergeant Darren McQueen. With several Red Bulls under his belt, Darren had more energy than most during this early morning mission. In addition to carrying out his regular duties and keeping me safe, he also wanted to pet a cow before the day was done. The cows fled.
A cordon and knock mission is usually, well, boring. Except for Darren’s cow chase, this one was no different. The mission proceeded smoothly enough, Iraqi Forces working their way from block to block, marking each searched house with a yellow ribbon. Our soldiers thought perhaps the yellow ribbons were meant for them, and maybe in some way they were. The Iraqis did most of the work with the American soldiers playing a supporting role, and a minor one at that, making it possible to envision a day when our help might no longer be necessary.
This week with Bravo Company had everything, but, more than anything, it had comedy. A shift leader at the Arafa Police Station, one the Bravo Company soldiers work with regularly, had been after the soldiers to come for dinner one night. A kind offer, but he may not have known what he was getting himself into. We arrived at the station on the appointed night to find several Iraqi policemen transforming the office into a dining room. About ten soldiers piled into the room, relieving themselves of their body armor and anxiously awaiting their meal. Large bowls of soup, a rice dish called biryani, salad and bread were placed around the table. Clearly, our host understood the appetite of the American soldier. Yes, there were contests to see who could eat the most. And though chai is customarily served after a meal, these soldiers were not content to wait. Sergeant Mike Jones poured, and the tray of tiny glasses went down the table full, then back empty many times. Sergeant Robert Turner drank chai as though his life depended on it. Our Iraqi friends laughed at the savage display, but hopefully they understood all of this fun was thanks to them and their generosity.
In addition to the tedious nature of the gas station visit, the orderly nature of the cordon and search mission, and the slightly chaotic nature of the dinner at the police station, there were missions that involved far fewer players, but which were no less significant. Two of these missions involved one little girl named Banaz, who had been badly burned by a pot of boiling water and needed medical attention. Reluctant to take her to the hospital, her mother brought the situation to the attention of the soldiers, who were in the area on patrol. The soldiers returned with Medic David Jette, and, as always, I tagged along.
The burns covered a large part of the little girl’s chest and left arm, and a portion of her face. She was in a lot of pain and needed treatment before infection set in. David very methodically began to clean the affected area, gently wiping away dead skin, while Banaz did her best to stand up to the pain. Every time she cried out, the soldiers’ sympathy and respect for her grew. After dressing the wound, David gave instructions on how to care for it until we returned.
Two days later, we went back to see how Banaz was doing. David carefully removed the bandages and repeated the process of cleaning the area of the burn, which already showed signs of healing. Once again, Banaz impressed us with her bravery. Sergeants Mike Jones and Jeremy Stearns took turns holding her hand, and Lieutenant Erik Wright took pictures of the poignant scene. We gave Banaz presents, and she hugged the soldiers. It is hard to imagine how it would feel to be in her shoes, suddenly the focus of so much attention and affection from men in uniform, loaded down with body armor. I am sure Banaz will always have a place in her heart for these guys, just as they will always have a place in theirs for her.
Sometimes it seems as though Kirkuk is all right. When nothing explodes for a few days, when Iraqi Forces work alongside ours, when we break bread and share a laugh or a tear with our Iraqi friends, it is possible to imagine a kind of calm could settle here. The soldiers of Bravo Company do everything in their power to give peace a chance, even as they count the days until they can go home. Often their job requires a certain amount of firmness as they train Iraqi Forces to function independently and bring security to the city. But there is a lot more to these guys than meets the eye. The children of Iraq see a side of the soldiers that doesn’t often make it onto the evening news. Though the soldiers will insist they are tough guys, the kids know better. A little girl named Banaz knows what I am talking about. She knows Bravo. shelbymonroe@gmail.com