12 November: Artillery Mishap
”Red 6, Phantom 6. I want you to move to a position where you can observe the city. Ramrod 6 wants you to call for indirect. Adjust your first round. After that, it’s ‘Fire for effect. Drop 50, fire for effect. Drop 50, fire for effect. And just keep doing that until someone tells you to stop, Got it?”
Yeah I got it alright. Wipe out a grid square. The task force commander wanted me to level the city. Fire for effect meant to tell those hard-of-hearing, powder-eating, ram-rodding, 13-series gun monkeys to fire all the guns for which I had priority. And once those rounds hit, I was to shift the impact area by 50 meters and do it again. And just keep walking the rounds until somebody up higher was satisfied. This was going to turn the last of Fallujah into Swiss cheese. Off to my left was the open desert on the eastern side of southern Fallujah. If I positioned myself out there, I could see elements of the task force established north of the last kilometer of the city. And I could watch the rounds come in and walk them south easily. I drew my whole platoon out into the sand but I kept the Bradleys close to the rest of the task force. SSG Terry followed me into the desert as we pulled around and faced due west, staring at the city in front of us. The first line of buildings which we had skirted along this morning were now 500 meters away from me. I was surrounded by open desert.
“Let’s get some room between us and Terry, Mew. Take us left and get up on that high ground."
In the desert, “high ground” is a relative term. Just a hundred meters south of my position, the ground was just a few feet higher. But in the open flat desert with visibility at 20 miles, those few feet make all the difference in the world. It’s what we call an IV or intervisibility line. From where we were, we couldn’t see anything past that little rise and it was only a few hundred meters away so it made sense to get on top of it. And because visibility was so good, I didn’t have to stay close to Terry. I just had to be able to see him and know where he was. Mewborn put us in position and we were ready to call for fire.
“Oh man, this is gonna kick ass.”
“We’ve just been ordered to level the city.”
“Get ready for a show.”
“Hey Sir, check this shit out. Look at all those tubes on the rooftops,” SGT P called out.
In the GPSE, I saw hundreds of tubes like PVC piping on all of the balcony walls. And they were all pointed out into the desert, at us.
“Goddam! Rockets. Like 57mm. Can you hit ‘em, SGT P?”
“Yeah probably.”
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r. The coax started chattering as SGT P hosed down the tops of the buildings. A few rockets exploded right in there tubes. Others just fell over as the mud and brick crumbled below them. Some flared up and burned for a good while like those little Volcano fireworks on the 4th of July. Those were the most entertaining. SGT P and his coax were like a firefighter and his hose. The way the wall was falling it was like the bullets and tracers were a jet of water just dissolving away a mud wall.
“Hey, do you think this’ll set off any those rockets? What if some shoot back at us?” SGT P asked.
“Meh,” I swatted my hand at the air, “57mm rockets are just high explosive, not penetrating. It won’t do anything to a tank.” Especially since we had our frontal armor facing the threat too.
SGT P continued to take out as many rockets as he could until he got bored with that. There were just too many. Each house must have had ten to twenty rockets on their roofs and in their windows. The reason was because for weeks prior to the assault, the Marines had conducted a few feigns from here. They never penetrated but they staged a few small attacks moving from south east to north west through the open desert towards the city to keep the enemy guessing.
It was almost lunchtime. Clear as crystal out. We were now just waiting for the green light. Langford and I were up in our hatches, asses on the turret. There was still gunfire and explosions coming from the city. Avenger and Terminator should have pulled back north a little bit by now. They should have been north of where SSG Terry had been shot in the ass. 1LT Boggiano and his Outlaw Platoon were somewhere behind me even deeper into the open desert. They were maybe 1500 meters east of me. Their task was to screen line and observe the tail end of the city. Make sure nobody came in or out. Between us and Outlaw were some Marines. Outer cordon stuff. There were maybe two or four LAVs and a few tanks. They weren’t doing anything. They were part of the Marine element that was sealing off the city. Man, I bet they gotta be bored as hell.
BOOM.
I looked over to my left. About 500 meters south of my position, an artillery round exploded. That’s not good. But no big deal…been closer.
“Phantom 6, Red 6. We just had an artillery round explode 500 meters south of my position. Who’s calling indirect?”
“This is Phantom 6, roger. Get down in your hatches and continue to observe. I’ll get back to you.”
BOOM!
This one was a lot closer. 300 meters closer.
“Jesus Fucking Christ, who the fuck is calling artillery? They aren’t even landing in the city. AND they’re walking the rounds the wrong way. That was like 200 meters from us.”
The second round was north of the first round, and moving towards us in the open desert. We knew they were our 155mms because we could hear the guns firing from Camp Fallujah, the sound of a single sheet of paper ripping(which is what it sounds like when an artillery round passes over your head way up in the sky) and then the round exploding next to us.
“Phantom 6, Red 6. Tell whoever is calling indirect to check their fires. They are walking their rounds right towards us.” I was getting hot. This was ridiculous. Whoever was calling the rounds should have had an observer. Why the hell didn’t they see where that first round went and move the round west, not north?
“Red 6, Phantom 6. Roger, listen. Just get out of there. Don’t worry about the fire mission right now. Everybody in Terminator and Avenger is still in contact. Back away and let me know when you’re good.”
Dammit all. The 200 meter round didn’t scare me. We had been that close to incoming before in a tank and were safe. But I didn’t feel like waiting for the idiot to call “Fire for effect” on the next one.
“Mewborn back it up. We gotta move man. Just back straight up and –“ BOOOOM.
A round exploded 50 meters in front of our front slope.
“HOLY SHIT! BACK UP BACK UP BACK UP!!!!!. JUST GO GO GO!!!!!”
The concussion knocked the air out of my lungs. I felt the soft punch of the air on my face. I didn’t know if more rounds were coming in but the effective kill radius of a 155mm artillery round is 50 meters. And if it was a V/T round(variable time), then it would detonate right above our heads and liquify us. I really didn’t feel like sticking around to find out what it had felt like for those terrorists we had wiped out 3 days ago. I hollered at Mewborn to just crank it in reverse all the way. Langford and I were still completely out of the hatch. The two of us had to see where we were going since we were going in reverse and Mewborn had no visibility. I grabbed the handmike to send a SITREP. Langford guided Mewborn as I talked to CPT Mayfield.
“PHANTOM 6, RED 6. TELL THEM TO CEASE FIRE. WE’RE GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF DODGE. THAT LAST FUCKING ROUND WAS RIGHT ON TOP OF - ”
BOOOOOM!
The whole back left side of the tank exploded. Grey. Black. Smoke. Dust. Sand. It all happened so fast. I see Langford sitting up on the turret with his legs dangling in the hatch like normal. But against a wall of debris at his back. The image is fleeting. He either fell or got blown forward and down into his hole. Langford and I both fell into our hatches at the same time. My seat went into my back as I looked up at the sky through my hatch.
“HOLY SHIT. WE’RE HIT.”
"THEY FUCKING HIT US!"
I reached up flailing with my hands. The handmike was bouncing up and down on the spaghetti cord like a cat toy. I snatched it. I had to let whoever last heard or saw us know we were still alive.
The back end of the tank started turning hard left while we were still in reverse.
“SIR. THE TRACK IS IN FRONT OF US.” Mewborn hollered
“WHAT?!?”
“THE TRACK IS IN FRONT OF US. SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THE TANK.”
I stood up in the hatch. My tank was now pointing north. And where we had just been, my left track was laying out in all of its glory. Broken. With only the right side of track on, the tank could only turn left and go in a circle. It was like being in a rowboat with just your right oar.
“STOP STOP STOP. Is everyone ok?” Everybody sounded off and I knew we were fine.
”Phantom 6, Red 6. We just got hit with an indirect round. Everyone is ok. But we threw track and we’re going to need recovery assets.
Yeah I got it alright. Wipe out a grid square. The task force commander wanted me to level the city. Fire for effect meant to tell those hard-of-hearing, powder-eating, ram-rodding, 13-series gun monkeys to fire all the guns for which I had priority. And once those rounds hit, I was to shift the impact area by 50 meters and do it again. And just keep walking the rounds until somebody up higher was satisfied. This was going to turn the last of Fallujah into Swiss cheese. Off to my left was the open desert on the eastern side of southern Fallujah. If I positioned myself out there, I could see elements of the task force established north of the last kilometer of the city. And I could watch the rounds come in and walk them south easily. I drew my whole platoon out into the sand but I kept the Bradleys close to the rest of the task force. SSG Terry followed me into the desert as we pulled around and faced due west, staring at the city in front of us. The first line of buildings which we had skirted along this morning were now 500 meters away from me. I was surrounded by open desert.
“Let’s get some room between us and Terry, Mew. Take us left and get up on that high ground."
In the desert, “high ground” is a relative term. Just a hundred meters south of my position, the ground was just a few feet higher. But in the open flat desert with visibility at 20 miles, those few feet make all the difference in the world. It’s what we call an IV or intervisibility line. From where we were, we couldn’t see anything past that little rise and it was only a few hundred meters away so it made sense to get on top of it. And because visibility was so good, I didn’t have to stay close to Terry. I just had to be able to see him and know where he was. Mewborn put us in position and we were ready to call for fire.
“Oh man, this is gonna kick ass.”
“We’ve just been ordered to level the city.”
“Get ready for a show.”
“Hey Sir, check this shit out. Look at all those tubes on the rooftops,” SGT P called out.
In the GPSE, I saw hundreds of tubes like PVC piping on all of the balcony walls. And they were all pointed out into the desert, at us.
“Goddam! Rockets. Like 57mm. Can you hit ‘em, SGT P?”
“Yeah probably.”
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r. The coax started chattering as SGT P hosed down the tops of the buildings. A few rockets exploded right in there tubes. Others just fell over as the mud and brick crumbled below them. Some flared up and burned for a good while like those little Volcano fireworks on the 4th of July. Those were the most entertaining. SGT P and his coax were like a firefighter and his hose. The way the wall was falling it was like the bullets and tracers were a jet of water just dissolving away a mud wall.
“Hey, do you think this’ll set off any those rockets? What if some shoot back at us?” SGT P asked.
“Meh,” I swatted my hand at the air, “57mm rockets are just high explosive, not penetrating. It won’t do anything to a tank.” Especially since we had our frontal armor facing the threat too.
SGT P continued to take out as many rockets as he could until he got bored with that. There were just too many. Each house must have had ten to twenty rockets on their roofs and in their windows. The reason was because for weeks prior to the assault, the Marines had conducted a few feigns from here. They never penetrated but they staged a few small attacks moving from south east to north west through the open desert towards the city to keep the enemy guessing.
It was almost lunchtime. Clear as crystal out. We were now just waiting for the green light. Langford and I were up in our hatches, asses on the turret. There was still gunfire and explosions coming from the city. Avenger and Terminator should have pulled back north a little bit by now. They should have been north of where SSG Terry had been shot in the ass. 1LT Boggiano and his Outlaw Platoon were somewhere behind me even deeper into the open desert. They were maybe 1500 meters east of me. Their task was to screen line and observe the tail end of the city. Make sure nobody came in or out. Between us and Outlaw were some Marines. Outer cordon stuff. There were maybe two or four LAVs and a few tanks. They weren’t doing anything. They were part of the Marine element that was sealing off the city. Man, I bet they gotta be bored as hell.
BOOM.
I looked over to my left. About 500 meters south of my position, an artillery round exploded. That’s not good. But no big deal…been closer.
“Phantom 6, Red 6. We just had an artillery round explode 500 meters south of my position. Who’s calling indirect?”
“This is Phantom 6, roger. Get down in your hatches and continue to observe. I’ll get back to you.”
BOOM!
This one was a lot closer. 300 meters closer.
“Jesus Fucking Christ, who the fuck is calling artillery? They aren’t even landing in the city. AND they’re walking the rounds the wrong way. That was like 200 meters from us.”
The second round was north of the first round, and moving towards us in the open desert. We knew they were our 155mms because we could hear the guns firing from Camp Fallujah, the sound of a single sheet of paper ripping(which is what it sounds like when an artillery round passes over your head way up in the sky) and then the round exploding next to us.
“Phantom 6, Red 6. Tell whoever is calling indirect to check their fires. They are walking their rounds right towards us.” I was getting hot. This was ridiculous. Whoever was calling the rounds should have had an observer. Why the hell didn’t they see where that first round went and move the round west, not north?
“Red 6, Phantom 6. Roger, listen. Just get out of there. Don’t worry about the fire mission right now. Everybody in Terminator and Avenger is still in contact. Back away and let me know when you’re good.”
Dammit all. The 200 meter round didn’t scare me. We had been that close to incoming before in a tank and were safe. But I didn’t feel like waiting for the idiot to call “Fire for effect” on the next one.
“Mewborn back it up. We gotta move man. Just back straight up and –“ BOOOOM.
A round exploded 50 meters in front of our front slope.
“HOLY SHIT! BACK UP BACK UP BACK UP!!!!!. JUST GO GO GO!!!!!”
The concussion knocked the air out of my lungs. I felt the soft punch of the air on my face. I didn’t know if more rounds were coming in but the effective kill radius of a 155mm artillery round is 50 meters. And if it was a V/T round(variable time), then it would detonate right above our heads and liquify us. I really didn’t feel like sticking around to find out what it had felt like for those terrorists we had wiped out 3 days ago. I hollered at Mewborn to just crank it in reverse all the way. Langford and I were still completely out of the hatch. The two of us had to see where we were going since we were going in reverse and Mewborn had no visibility. I grabbed the handmike to send a SITREP. Langford guided Mewborn as I talked to CPT Mayfield.
“PHANTOM 6, RED 6. TELL THEM TO CEASE FIRE. WE’RE GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF DODGE. THAT LAST FUCKING ROUND WAS RIGHT ON TOP OF - ”
BOOOOOM!
The whole back left side of the tank exploded. Grey. Black. Smoke. Dust. Sand. It all happened so fast. I see Langford sitting up on the turret with his legs dangling in the hatch like normal. But against a wall of debris at his back. The image is fleeting. He either fell or got blown forward and down into his hole. Langford and I both fell into our hatches at the same time. My seat went into my back as I looked up at the sky through my hatch.
“HOLY SHIT. WE’RE HIT.”
"THEY FUCKING HIT US!"
I reached up flailing with my hands. The handmike was bouncing up and down on the spaghetti cord like a cat toy. I snatched it. I had to let whoever last heard or saw us know we were still alive.
The back end of the tank started turning hard left while we were still in reverse.
“SIR. THE TRACK IS IN FRONT OF US.” Mewborn hollered
“WHAT?!?”
“THE TRACK IS IN FRONT OF US. SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THE TANK.”
I stood up in the hatch. My tank was now pointing north. And where we had just been, my left track was laying out in all of its glory. Broken. With only the right side of track on, the tank could only turn left and go in a circle. It was like being in a rowboat with just your right oar.
“STOP STOP STOP. Is everyone ok?” Everybody sounded off and I knew we were fine.
”Phantom 6, Red 6. We just got hit with an indirect round. Everyone is ok. But we threw track and we’re going to need recovery assets.
posted by REDSIX at 1:15 AM
35 Comments:
I've had to talk to the media a few times since I've been back and there are still more sessions to come with them. I have learned one thing: I don't know what to say to them. My favorite question was..."What was combat like?" Oh man that's Pulitzer interviewing right there.
Ok I feel bad that I said that. That was kind of snooty. But you guys understand, right? How do you answer that question? Anywhoo, more videos to come, not just music videos but I'm trying to dig up Roby and the corn syrup, me and the tobasco, and I think i will put up some of the video journal entries I took of me and my guys during Fallujah,
Great to see you're back posting, can't wait for more.
Welcome back to the Blog! Don't feel bad about saying that, be more concerned with using the word "anywhoo". Yech!
- Big G
I almost gave up the faith!! I thought you were never going to pick up posting the blog again. Welcome back and I can't wait for more stories. I'm sure all of your fans feel this way. I just couldn't reread your old posts for the 10th time. I had to draw the line some where. Thanks for all of your hard work..
I think you've earned the right to say whatever you want, including "anywhoo" ;)
Thanks for the post! How was the wedding?
Welcome back! I was really wondering how you were doing - I'd got used to reading this blog.
On the question of what was combat like... Yeah, it's a tough question to answer, and not exactly a penetrating question, but think of it this way: especially in the days of a volunteer military, very very few members of the public (or, for that matter the media) know what its like. So, while the question is so simple its silly, it's one that lots of civilians would ask. They genuinely want to know. They want to understand what their soldiers are doing.
It's very difficult to describe combat to someone who has never been there. It's not snooty, it's just that they have no point of reference to compare it too. It's similar to trying to describe the Grand Canyon to a person who has been blind from birth.
You the man! Welcome back.
I am very glad to have you back relating your experience. Are you back in the states now?
Speaking of experience, the "What was combat like?" question is about as lame as a question can get.
Trust you had marvelously hedonistic honeymoon.
I'm absolutely riveted by your accounts of fallujah. Glad your back to telling us about it. How about an update on being back home, your wedding...etc. Thanks for your service and thoroughly enjoyable posts.
Ray
Welcome back. I hope the German beer and brat is treating you well!
Damn that was an intense post!
Nice to have you back, Neil. I've really missed your blogs. As a former reporter, my advice to you is not to worry too much about how you answer dumb questions. When I was a journalist, I knew a lot of the questions I asked were dumb right after I asked them.
All I can say dude, is "WHOA... HOLY CRAP!" That's one hell of a post, bro.
I can't begin to fathom that experience. But I sure as hell bet, it scared the living shit out of you and damn near everyone else involved.
I'm sure glad you made it out of that one and safely, Redsix.
Good LORD, Red 6!!! Who was calling that artilliry, Osama?!?! A few feet over, and we'd be missing a blogger! Sheesh!
Glad you made it out OK, and that your posting again!
Not only is it fun to read, but I do think it's an important part of the historical record - what really happened, from the perspective of the people on the ground who actually **did** it.
Wow again. Wow, wow, wow. Oh, and welcome back.
Love this post and welcome back. I had just about given up too. Tell the journalist that if they want to get some understanding of what combat is like, they should read your blog and those posted by other soldiers. I've learned so much from them. Understanding (as much as someone can who has never served nor been in combat) helps me appreciate what you've been through and increases the respect I have for you warriors even more. It also makes me pissed off that I didn't join up after college.
Some wedding and post-Iraq details would be good to hear. Did you have any decompression issues? I wonder if it is different for a tanker compared to infantry. Regardless, great to have you back.
so glad your are back posting...your writing and descriptions of action are the best..
stephen
Neil, it's so good to see you "back." Like others, I was starting to wonder...thinking of nagging you by email again, haha! And I also second the request for wedding and reintegration stories if you are willing! :)
But it's great to read your stories again. What a post! All of you are so lucky. Whew!!
YAY!!!!!
Neil... I was so happy when I hopped over and saw that you were posting again. The pictures are outstanding.. and of course so is this story. "what is combat like?" LOL.... isn't that like asking a baseball player "what is it like to win the World Series?"
It's just one of those "had to be there" experiencese I would imagine. A few words couldn't possibly explain it.
Which, for us, is a good thing- because I love reading about your experiences and if it only took a few words to describe them... it wouldn't be nearly as interesting or compelling.
You should put up some wedding pix!!!
Like some others, I wonder if you ever found out who was bombarding you, and also if this gives rise to bad feelings later... In the end, they could've just as easily killed you, so I would guess you would be slightly pissed off at that person/team/whatever.
Sir,
Can't wait to get through Armor OBC and do what you're doing. Thanks for the inspiration and welcome home.
Updates... SWEET!
An unexpected suprise, I had been checking back every now and then in hope.
Welcome back
You can't just leave us hanging like that. Whose ass did you kick when you got back to camp? Seriously. You just told the guy on the radio that you were about to be killed by friendly fire (Did it feel friendly?) and he blew you off. Please tell us the rest of the story.
Don't worry about the fire mission right now? Yeah, right.
Was it 1/6 FA?? Those guys were not the best gun-bunnies I ever worked with. We did a mission with an FO with 1/6 down RTE Detroit, and those guys were WAAAAY off. Thank God it was just illum, cuz they were RIGHT on top of us. Shoulda been 4k to the East.
You guys are doing a great job in Iraq.no mater what the MSM says,your doing great!
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