u/BikerJedi

For those who don't know me, I moderate and write over at /r/MilitaryStories. This is a true story from Desert Storm, most of which I had forgotten for a lot of years due to PTSD. I've been working hard for almost 30 years to find some of what I have lost. In the last couple of months some of it has come back. Mostly it has been a ton of research. I’ve also done some work on my fucked up brain and recalled some things on my own. Some of this ties into a story I wrote a while back called "Bodies" where I was starting to remember some shit.

I remember enough to tell a tale of sorts.

G+3 – 27 February, 1991

After the capture of As Salman and the airfield there the day before, the French 6th Light Cavalry division that we were with set up a phase line to block any attempt by the Iraqis to flank us from the west. They were done with their portion of the war, and would not advance farther. We stopped making jokes about French Surrender Monkeys after watching them fight. Those two days with the French are a different story though.

Seeing three men roast in a tank and later smelling Long Pork as we passed them isn't what fucked me up. At least, I don't think it is. Those three were actively trying to kill Mac, River and I, so fuck em. It was personal. Nearly dying to that tank fucked me up for sure though, and we are fortunate they didn't get us. That's also a different story.

It was the other bodies, the ones we didn't kill. Hundreds of them that I saw over those days in Iraq. The bodies killed by the French tanks and IFVs, then later the American tanks and IFVs. The attack helicopters. The artillery. The mortars. They got hit hard, and again later, and again later. The Republican Guard wouldn't give up. They were strewn everywhere, like the playthings of some angry god who decided to let them burn while he watched and laughed. I felt I had gazed into the face of God, and there was no compassion there. A wave of cold terror filled me, this was only going to get worse.

I wasn't wrong.

Those bodies on the ground weren't mine. I didn't kill them. My job was to drive the Vulcan and kill the assholes in the sky, but those assholes in the sky were OUR assholes now that we had air superiority. So, all I had to do was drive, stay out as much out of the line of incoming fire as I could, and try not to drive over the bodies. Because sometimes they were on the road, just in the way as I traversed through a burning oil field. We drove around the bodies of dozens of burning Iraqi tanks. Dozens of enemy APCs and other vehicles, sometimes destroyed beyond recognition.

And near each fucked up vehicle - bodies of Iraqi soldiers.

We had some fuel delivered, and the Nasty Track was ordered near the front of the fuel line so we had ADA up during the refuel and rearm operation. A nice big target like a bunch of vehicles being fueled up would be a great win for some Iraqi pilot. I hoped we had counter-battery fire set up in case the Iraqis shelled us. The Americans were all being fueled up before the French. We were being detached and would continue fighting. No rest for the wicked. The French had fought valiantly and well, and although I wanted them with us for the rest, it wasn't to be.

SGT Mac came on the comms. "Cobb, we are the only ADA asset with this group. cut in front of the refueling line NOW."

I smiled. "Heard." I floored the Vulcan, and we kept forward at a staggering 30 mph, driving past 50 or so vehicles lined up for fuel.

As I drove up and cut in line, a few guys yelled at us. SGT Mac got it fixed over the radio, but River and I were flipping off the other drivers anyway. Fuck you clowns - you need us up and running to protect you. As I pulled up next to the fuel tanker, I see "JP-8" stenciled on it. I looked at the PFC who was dragging the hose over to us. "Bro - what the fuck? I'm not a helicopter." He shrugged, not caring what I had to say. Logistics were such that they were having trouble getting diesel fuel in to us, but there was plenty of aviation fuel for the helicopters. The diesel engines in the APCs and other armor could easily run the jet fuel though, so no worries. I hopped down and walked off to have a smoke while we filled up. I took a minute to pee too - I had been drinking a lot of water.

The day prior, our AO had been extended another 70 miles to the east. That is why we were moving – to link up with other units and prosecute that phase of the war. We were assigned to trail a convoy from the 101st Airborne who were headed east to link up with the 24th Infantry Division. From there, we would attack east along the Euphrates River through the Iraqis to seize Iraqi battle positions along the Euphrates River as we headed to Kuwait.

A wicked sandstorm had been up all day, and was still going strong. It seemed the Sand Gods weren't done with us yet. The stormy weather, including rain and hail, the night before had been hard. For most of the drive from the area around As Salman to the east to where we were now, it had been so hard to see in that mess that we didn’t see much. Flashes from the tank barrels showed that the American M1 tanks were easily finding targets with thermal imaging anyway. Occasionally a bunker would go up in a blast of artillery fire, so the spotters were still relaying accurate coordinates. It was like watching a movie through fog or something. One second the picture was clear, then it was hazy and obscured.

By 2200 hours, task force elements ahead of us were heavily engaged with some Republican Guard units. Artillery support was called in, and the 4/41 Field Artillery tore them up. An estimated 49 soldiers and several vehicles were destroyed in the salvo, and the remaining Iraqis gave up and surrendered. This was becoming a pattern. The only ones who gave up immediately were the conscripts we encountered the first day. All of the rest, regular army and Republican Guard, at least fought some before surrendering.

As the sun came up, we were greeted with an apocalyptic scene. Burning tanks and other Iraqi vehicles were littered across the objective, bodies in them burning and bodies scattered on the ground. Seeing random body parts here and there as we drove along just became the norm. In the distance, great gouts of flame and smoke rose in twisting, roaring columns into the sky from burning oil wells. Drops of oil fell from the sky, landing on us and our vehicle. It was lightly raining oil. The ecological damage from this war would be immense.

The pace of the attack was such that Brigadier General Frazier of the 24th Mechanized Infantry was actually setting up supply areas ahead of the advance with only a few soldiers. As we leapfrogged up the Euphrates, vehicles would break off to refuel and rearm as needed as the advance moved in fits and starts, then in great bounding leaps across the desert.

Next up was Talil Air Base. We arrived outside the base around 1300 hours. Enemy fire had been coming from the base, so we had to take that out next. A series of over two dozen sorites from the US Air Force and heavy artillery fire hit the base to soften up the target. Despite 20 foot berms surrounding the facility, our tanks were able to penetrate the main gate. The fights didn't last long, and more Iraqi equipment was destroyed. I watched as more jets and helicopters were destroyed on the ground. More aircraft I wouldn't get to shoot down.

By morning of the 27th, I found myself following the drive to seize Jalibah Air Base. We parked and watched the battle as we ate a quick MRE. By now, enemy aircraft hadn't been spotted in our AO in over 24 hours, and word coming down from command indicated we had total air superiority. In other words, there was nothing for the three of us to shoot down anymore. Still, I ate quickly and never stopped scanning the sky as I did, and we damn sure never turned off the Vulcan, the gun or the radar.

The attack on the airbase was done by 1000 hours. Over 2,000 soldiers were killed. Over 80 anti-aircraft pieces and an entire tank battalion were also destroyed. Further, 20 aircraft on the ground were still sitting there, so those were destroyed as well. Watching hundreds of millions of dollars of equipment go up like that was something else. I didn't think too much about the men we watched die, that would come later. The air base was secure, we could move on. Although we were headed east, away from the United States, we all understood that the road home went east through Iraq and Kuwait, so we moved as fast as we could.

The attack to Basrah was next. As the 24th Mechanized Infantry and 3rd Armored Corps Regiment attacked east, we followed, with not much of a job left. From here on out, I would be a witness only, and not a participant. There was simply nothing else to do, but try to stay alive. As we advanced down the Euphrates River, we took sporadic mortar and artillery fire. It was largely ineffective, and was silenced quickly by our counter-battery fire, but a few rounds still came close. I was getting used to that by now. I drove, and made sure I didn't drive over a body. Not that it would have been a big deal - I was driving a 13 ton vehicle. If I had to drive over a body, I would have, but there were two problems with that. One, any UXO like a hand grenade on the body could potentially hurt our vehicle. Two, I didn't want to hose blood and guts off of my track when this was over, so I drove around the bodies.

It really wouldn't have mattered. The bodies of many of those Iraqis are still laying in the desert, sun bleached bones showing where they fell 35 years ago.

Our move east was opposed by a large force. The Adnon Infantry Division, the Republican Guard Al Faw Infantry Division, and remnants of the badly mauled Republican Guard Nebuchadnezzar Infantry Division were in place and not surrendering as most of the conscripts had days before. During this fight, thousands of artillery shells, bombs and other munitisions were seized. Hundreds of wheeled and armored vehicles were destroyed. Eventually thousands of soldiers gave up the fight and surrendered to us.

Before that though, we witnessed another brutal tank battle. The M1 tanks would shoot from large distances, and and Iraqi tank would go up in huge fireball. The old Soviet tanks had a design flaw that makes it easy to detonate all of their ammunition at once. Spectacular explosions would roair into the sky, sending the multi-ton turrets into the air 20 feet or more. Watching the same thing happen later when Russia invaded Ukraine gave me flashbacks. Most of the crews weren't so lucky, and we watched men burn alive. As the battles ebbed and flowed, we were sometimes dangerously close to the action and could see bodies and body parts strewn about. Other times we were far enough away from the fighting that we could see the battle, but couldn't see details too well.

The bodies were everywhere those two days. Thankfully none of them were ours. It doesn't make it any less haunting. You just don't have a frame of reference for that sort of thing, at least until you do.

By the next morning as we commenced our attack east to Basrah and the end of the war, more horror greeted us. Burning vehicles littered the desert floor. Bodies could be seen here and there. The drive to that killing field is what I had suppressed for so many years. As the media took pictures of the slaughter there and they were released, it made the coalition forces look like the bad guys, and President Bush offered a cease fire.

I was actively hallucinating by that point. The lack of sleep, stress from four days of driving and fighting, lack of regular meals, and way too much caffeine and nicotine had fried my brain. I remember horizons backlit by fires and smoke, and so much death. The smell of it was everywhere it seemed.

Scenes like that are being repeated today, in Ukraine and Iran. I've participated just enough in war to know two things. It is almost always avoidable, and it is never a good thing, no matter the cause. I talk about rebellion and resistance a lot, but I don't want the overthrow of our government to come from force of arms, I want it to come from the voting booth and we the people.

If you have never been witness to war, I hope you never are. I may not remember it all consciously, but it is in my head, and it likes to keep me company at night. Maybe those bodies are the ones I see at night, when I wake up with the smell of oil, sand and Long Pork in my nostrils. Thankfully, after 35 long years, those nights are fewer and farther between.

Thanks for reading.

IFV: Infantry Fighting Vehicle
Vulcan: A lightly armored air defense gun crewed by three men - no longer in use
APC: Armored Personnel Carrier
SGT: Sergeant
ADA: Air Defense Artillery
PFC: Private First Class

How many of you regularly engage with the pigs?

By Dawn's Early Light.