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March 7 , 2005
[Have an opinion about the issues discussed in this article?
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By
Charlie Coon
Stars and Stripes, Mideast
Edition
TIKRIT, Iraq — “You say a little prayer before going out,” Spc. Hamdan Jaludi said. “After that you just keep your eyes open.”
So begins the Combat Logistics Patrol, which is when heavily armed military vehicles escort a line of trucks that are moving supplies from point A to point B. Civilians drive the trucks, while the military vehicles are manned by soldiers ready to unleash a hail of bullets at anyone who tries to stop them.
It is a tense daily routine — so potentially deadly that “convoy” isn't a word that does justice to the amped-up soldiers who guard it.
Exhausting? Not really, said the 22-year-old Jaludi.
“It's your life you're talking about,” he said.
All the roads in Iraq are strewn with places for insurgents to hide bombs or mount an ambush, which makes for high-sensory paranoia every time the soldiers leave the gate and results in high-fives and sighs of relief every time they return unscathed.
“It's almost addictive, like a drug,” said 1st Lt. Brian Broas, a convoy commander with the 50th Main Support Battalion, 42nd Infantry Division. “No matter how short of a trip, you spend a day and a half preparing for it.
“During the actual convoy it's exhilarating. You constantly have to push other thoughts out of your mind. Your perception is heightened. I can see how soldiers can get addicted to it.”
Tuesday's convoy was typical, it ran from Tikrit to Kirkuk and back, about 65 miles and 2 hours, 45 minutes each way.
The route snaked through downtown Tikrit, Saddam Hussein's hometown, and moved out onto a crusty two-lane road dubbed IED Alley for its history of roadside bombs that have been placed there.
The relatively small 22-vehicle convoy was delivering water, food, mail, vehicle parts and other necessities to Forward Operating Base Warrior, and planned to return other vehicles and payload back to1 the 50th MSB's home base, FOB Speicher, one of the main supply hubs in north-central Iraq.
As soon as it left Speicher, soldiers in one armored Humvee noticed that no Iraqi children were out playing at their usual spot. A single shot was fired from the adjacent neighborhood of shacks. Maybe it was a sniper, maybe just someone harassing the troops, they said.
Troops carefully examined a single, leafy tree in the highway median as they approached, it's an easy spot to plant a bomb.
“They gotta cut that down,” Broas barked over the roar of the Humvee's engine.
The light traffic in Tikrit that morning was a troublesome sign.
Up in the Humvee's turret, Jaludi waves at oncoming Iraqi motorists to pull off to the shoulder. Most do, some don't. He swings his M249 Squad Automatic Weapon around and aims it at drivers who come too close.
The Humvee driver veers toward those who are driving toward the vehicle, and the aimed gun and big Humvee bumper cause the motorists to submit, pull over and stop.
“You gotta play chicken with them,” Jaludi said.
Some trash sitting by the side of the road causes Jaludi to duck down in his turret — just in case.
The convoy leaves Tikrit and enters a barren land of dirt and rocks, hills and crevices and the occasional sheep farmer.
Three men stand in a field. The suspicious Americans watch them closely, trying to determine if they are innocent bystanders or plotting insurgents.
Meanwhile, a piece of cargo comes unfastened from one of the trucks. At the next open stretch the convoy grinds to a halt and the soldiers scramble to set up a perimeter around the vehicles, guns pointing and eyes darting, while others clamp down the cargo.
The engines fire back up and the convoy rolls, and mile after mile each suspicious object and person draws a long hard stare. On the way back from FOB Warrior, a flare in the distance shoots into the sky as the convoy rolls toward it. It might be a signal by insurgents that the convoy is approaching. It might not be anything.
After the convoy, Jaludi, in his distinct New Jersey accent, describes a few of his thoughts while up in the turret.
“I had three of them just staring me down,” he said of the three men in the field. “Three farmers, their faces are covered up. And I look at them, and they're just looking at you.
“The little shack by the side of the road? You see it every time. So maybe today I'm not going to look at it. That's the day someone might be in there.”
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