Precious Poets Remember Our Troops; Back a Play

There was a young gentleman who read Beyond Glory: Medal of Honor Heroes in Their Own Words by Larry Smith. After reading this book, he felt compelled to write a play about these men and tell their stories in words. It opened in 2004 "on the edge of Arlington Cemetery, at a small theater inside the Women in Military Service Memorial." Eight of these men were chosen of the twenty-four available to represent the men to be honored. There was an apolitical play, meaning this was not about politics. It is about our Heroes.

So how did it Mr. Lang, the performer, come to travel the world performing his play for our men and women in the Middle East, on the DMZ (dividing line between North and South Korea), Europe, and many other places? This is where our precious poets step up to the plate to support our Troops.

Mr. Peede had been asked to direct a new NEA [National Endowment for the Arts] program called Operation Homecoming: Writing the Wartime Experience. Its intention was to help soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan, or their families, to put their experiences into writing--fiction, non-fiction and poetry. The idea was suggested to NEA Chairman Dana Gioia, a poet, by Connecticut poet Marilyn Nelson, who'd recently served as a visiting writer at West Point. Good for the poets.

Reluctant to wait years for Congressional funding or to divert money from other NEA programs, Chairman Gioia sought private funding for Operation Homecoming. Quietly, the Boeing Company stepped up, ultimately giving $1.2 million. The soldiers' tutors at NEA's workshops included writers such as Barry Hannah, Tobias Wolff, Mark Bowden, Victor Davis Hanson and Tom Clancy. The result is a book, "Operation Homecoming" (Random House), which--again some understatement--is breathtakingly good. [Continue reading Mr. Henninger's article.]

It is a wonderful thing that has been done, finally, by the NEA and the Opinion Journal's article. You may purchase Operation Homecoming at Amazon.com. I thought you might like to know. Have a wonderful day! :)

Editor's Note: There will be another open trackback today. If you have an article you've written and would like to share it with others, please feel free to link it here. Just remember to add me to the list of others you've linked. LinkFest is a wonderful new 'station' where we can go to find out who, what, where and how everyone is posting. Well, the people that belong to the open trackbacks! Join up! It's lots of fun. Thank you.



Trackposted by:

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Perri Nelson's Website: Thursday Open Trackback.

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Blue Star Chronicles: Mitt Romney: Peace in Our Nation.

Stuck On Stupid: The U.S. House Members’ Gym Needs an $8 Million Upgrade?

The Pink Flamingo: On the Wings of A Legacy.

Conservative Cat: Adventures with Bruce - In Which I Deny Some Vicious Rumors.

Right Voices: NYT’s: If You Were a Terrorist, How Would You Attack?

Adeline and Hazel: Celebrity Plasic Surgery Video.

The Yankee Sailor: Thursday Open Post.

Thanks to Linkfest Haven Deluxe.

The Lion of Fallujah: Marine Corps Maj. Douglas A. Zembiec

“If you took 100 Doug Zembiecs to war with you, you could conquer the world.” That is how Maj. Zembiec’s high-school wrestling coach characterized him – though the men who served with him captured his spirit more succinctly: He was reverently called the “Lion of Fallujah.” A magnetic commander, an “unapologetic warrior,” Zembiec believed in leading by deeds rather than words. As a result, his men would tell you that they would follow Zembiec to the gates of hell – or, at the very least, into the treacherous urban battlefield of Fallujah.

In early April of 2004, Zembiec’s company was sent in to help pacify Fallujah and restore order in a city where violence had spiraled out of control. During the month-long battle to claim Fallujah, Zembiec’s Echo Company was often the first one in and the last one out.

On April 6, Zembiec, a captain at the time, found himself deep in insurgent territory in Fallujah’s Jolan district.

A Marine patrol was taking heavy fire, and Zembiec’s unit was called in to lead a retaliatory assault. Right after arriving, Echo Company rushed toward the enemies, who launched a heavy volley of fire toward the new arrivals. Instead of directing from the back, Zembiec himself led the men toward the fire, determined to help the trapped patrol.

His men moved to a roof to counter the insurgents who had been firing down from above. The enemies wasted no time and focused their AK-47- and RPG-fire on the Marines on the roof. The Marines tried to radio an Abrams tank to fire on the enemy, but the tank didn’t respond. As they continued to call for assistance, Zembiec decided to take matters into his own hands.

He raced down the stairs and directly into the line of fire, heading toward the tank. He climbed up to the hatch even as mortar rounds exploded nearby and bullets ricocheted off the metal. Unscathed, he told the tank operators where to fire. The tank made quick work of the enemy, and Zembiec ran back to the roof. Witnesses say the other Marines dropped their jaws in awe of his bravery.

A few weeks later, on April 26, insurgents opened fire on Zembiec’s platoon from three sides, with thousands of rounds. Grenades flew back and forth between the enemy and his men – with only 20 feet between them. Zembiec, wounded by shrapnel, moved to a better position to direct the counterattack. He then moved from house to house, encouraging and motivating his men and repositioning the outnumbered Marines. Even as the battle raged, Zembiec coordinated the evacuation of nine injured Marines.

Later, despite being assigned to a desk job, Zembiec volunteered to return to the frontlines. He completed a tour in Afghanistan and returned to Iraq for a second time. On May 11, 2007, Zembiec was killed in Baghdad, Iraq, while leading a combat operation.

When people think of warriors and heroes, images of legendary Spartans or Trojans often come to mind. The tales of those warriors may have faded into history, but that same timeless courage and heroism lives on in a new breed of heroes – men like Doug Zembiec, the “Lion of Fallujah.”

For his month-long fight in Fallujah, Zembiec received a Bronze Star for Valor on Dec. 9, 2004.

With Honor

New Medal of Honor Museum honors selfless service to country, comrades.
By Jack Jacobs
Military analyst
MSNBC
Updated: 9:02 p.m. PT May 20, 2007.

This Wednesday, May 23, Brian Williams will host NBC’s "Nightly News" from Charleston, South Carolina, and moored nearby is the USS Yorktown, a World War II aircraft carrier. Brian is a member of the Board of Directors of the Medal of Honor Foundation, and the occasion is the grand opening of the new Medal of Honor Museum aboard the Yorktown.

The Medal of Honor, the nation’s highest military award, was the brainchild of Abraham Lincoln, who sought to recognize exceptional bravery during the Civil War. At the time, the only battlefield distinction was the Purple Heart, awarded in those days for meritorious service, not as it is today, for wounds received in combat.

Since then, about 3,500 Medals of Honor have been awarded. In more recent times, since World War I, most have been posthumous, and there has been no living recipient for any conflict since Vietnam. Today, there are only 110 living recipients, and many of them will be on the Yorktown on Wednesday for the grand opening of the Medal of Honor Museum in South Carolina.

Among them are the oldest living recipient, John Finn, who will be 98 this July and was decorated for action on Pearl Harbor Day. He enlisted in the Navy in 1926 and can transfix the most jaded audience with first-person descriptions of life in America before World War I and tales of his participation in American naval operations in China a decade before the Second World War.

The museum is the principal repository for artifacts relating to the Medal of Honor, but the real thrust of the place is not just the display of things but also the perpetuation of the concept of selfless service to country and comrades. There is an emotion generated there that can be duplicated nowhere else, and one reason is the actions of people. Try these:
Jack Lucas
Jack Lucas was a bit bigger than other kids his age and spent some time at a military prep school. So, when World War II began, he successfully lied about his age and enlisted in the Marines Corps when he was 13 years old. He was so good in boot camp that he was made an instructor, at 14. Not content to serve in the States while his buddies were in combat, he got himself aboard a ship bound for the South Pacific. Landing on Iwo Jima, Lucas saved his fellow Marines by throwing himself on two hand grenades. He miraculously survived devastating injuries, and when he received the Medal [of Honor] from President Harry Truman, Lucas was the youngest recipient since the Civil War.

George Sakato
In danger of being sent to an internment camp like other Japanese-American families, George Sakato moved to Arizona and tried to enlist after Pearl Harbor, but he was rejected as an undesirable alien. In 1943, the government wised up and allowed Sakato and thousands of other patriotic Americans of Japanese descent to fight, and he became a member of the legendary 442nd Regimental Combat Team. In eastern France, in difficult, mountainous terrain, he singlehandedly attacked a German strong point and then, only a 22-year-old private, led his squad through ferocious enemy fire to capture dozens of German soldiers.

Jim Stockdale
After being shot down and injured over North Vietnam, Jim Stockdale was a prisoner for eight long years, and for three of those years he was in solitary confinement. By any standard, the treatment he received was criminal and inhumane: beaten, tortured, strangled until he was nearly asphyxiated. He was brought to the brink of death and resuscitated, time and time again, year after year.

But he never gave any more than his name, rank and service number.

He had told his fellow prisoners that they were honor-bound to resist, and he led by example. Rather than let himself be used by the North Vietnamese in a propaganda film, Stockdale beat his own face to a bloody pulp and cut himself with a dull razor so that he could not be presented on film.

They threw him in solitary again, and he feared that he would ultimately break under the torture and cooperate. So he shattered the window of his cell and slit his wrists with the glass. He was found before he bled to death, but the torture stopped because the guards realized that Stockdale would rather die with honor than serve their purposes.

Clarence Sasser
In 1967, Clarence Sasser was a medic in the Mekong River delta of Vietnam. Under continuous and intense enemy fire, and without regard to his own safety, he crawled from soldier to soldier to aid the injured. He ignored his own many painful shrapnel and bullet wounds to save others and did not cease his assistance until loss of blood made him incapable of continuing.

The behavior of these gallant people was extraordinary, but the basic underpinnings of it are not. American service members are imbued with a code that transcends background, race and every other demographic distinction: don’t surrender if you can fight, never cooperate with your captors, accomplish the mission at all cost, love your comrades.

And so it’s not surprising that every recipient of the Medal of Honor will tell you that he wears it not for himself but for those who can’t: all the men and women who sacrificed so that we can live in freedom. It’s something worth remembering each time we have a chance to help our neighbors and instead turn the other way.

Army Reserve Maj. Derek P. Bonaldo

For many, it may be hard to believe that people volunteer specifically to go to Iraq, given the known dangers and hardship. For Maj. Bonaldo, it was a question of duty and service: “I volunteered to go in part because I had never deployed before . . . I felt that I needed to step up . . . [and] I felt I could make a difference.” For the fledgling Iraqi police force he helped, his contributions were invaluable.

In 2006, Bonaldo deployed to help train and support Iraqi policemen. As a logistics military advisor with an 11-man Iraqi police transition team, it was Bonaldo’s job to advise the Iraqi national police leadership on the logistics of battlefield procedures – including preparation, training, and combat operations. Bonaldo also served as the logistics liaison between the national police and Coalition forces.

During his year in Iraq, Bonaldo worked from bases in Baghdad, Kadhimiy, and Taji. As part of the transition team, he frequently went out on missions with the policemen, oftentimes encountering enemies who attacked with IEDs, small arms, and mortars. Fortunately, Bonaldo’s team did not lose anyone.

Upon returning to the United States, Bonaldo said that “the most gratifying part of my deployment was receiving positive feedback from the Iraqi people for how grateful they were for the job we are doing there.”

For his work, Bonaldo received the Bronze Star in February 2007. Tri-Valley Herald story.

Dublin Army major trains Iraqi police, sees combat

Derek Bonaldo spent a year bolstering law enforcement to make way for American pullout.

By Roman Gokhman, STAFF WRITER.
Article Last Updated: 05/03/2007 08:59:32 AM PDT.

DUBLIN — For most of his Army career, Derek Bonaldo worked behind a desk as a self-described paper pusher. But on May 1, 2006, he was in the middle of his first firefight near Baghdad, Iraq.

Bonaldo, a major in the 91st Support Division, based in Dublin, was training several Iraqi National Police officers at a checkpoint on the road between the International Zone and the Baghdad Airport when insurgent snipers on a rooftop opened fire.

We happened to be going by and providing support, and we got caught in the fray, the 36-year-old said. We brought in helicopter support, cornered them and got them with help from other units.

It was my first combat tour and my first combat action.

Bonaldo, a 14-year career militaryman, was sent to Iraq to train that countriess law enforcement force to stand on its own in preparation for an eventual U.S. withdrawal. He returned home last month after a one-year tour, and said that it will take a minimum of one more year before Iraq is ready to stand on its own.

It was a personal choice to go to Iraq, he said, and he was not required to do so. Hes not a Rambo, he said, but he felt that he needed to step up and relieve some troops that had have been on several tours already.

Although he had never trained troops before, he was assigned to an 11-member transition team as a logistics adviser to the Iraqi National Police and a liaison between the national police and the U.S. military.

His goal was to make the national police first responders self-sustainable. He instructed them in battlefield operating systems during training and prepared them for combat. He also kept his superiors informed on the Iraqi officers readiness.
The aim is to wean the Iraqi government off U.S. support and show them they can do it themselves, he said.

The main challenge was showing them there is an infrastructure, he said. Its in its infancy but its there on the Iraqi side.

By infrastructure, Bonaldo means items such as fuel, ammunition, uniforms and food.

His team was one of hundreds in Iraq, at least as of December, when there were 5,000 military transition personnel in the country, he said.

Some work with the military, some work with the local police, and some work with the national police, Bonaldo said. But they are all working to get Iraq to stand on its own and defend (itself).

In 12 months, Bonaldo spent time at bases in Taji, Baghdad Airport, Kadhimiy and the International Zone in Baghdad.

Training Iraqi police officers is hard work, even with the help of multiple translators, he said.

While Iraqi commanders have prior military service, privates usually have had none.

In the U.S., even before a soldier gets to his first unit, they still have much more experience, he said. Our boot camps are much more strenuous and they get a lot more done than in the Iraqi boot camps. A lot of times, (national police recruits) are not moving at the pace that a U.S. commander is used to.

But American troops efforts are slowly paying off, Bonaldo said.

Were they making progress? Yeah, he said. But you know how the American people are. They want results quickly. Its a slow process ... too slow for most people. The guys I was working with need at least one year.

And the Iraqi government and most residents still appreciate the U.S. involvement, he said.

Bonaldo and his unit returned to the U.S. last month as decorated veterans. All 11 were awarded Bronze Stars for acts of merit or bravery. Six received Army Commendation Medals with the Valor attachment and one received a Purple Heart.

Nobody died and we did what we were supposed to do, he said.

Once he got home, Bonaldo took a month off to spend time with his wife, Erika, and his family.

Erika Bonaldo said the two also had their first real wedding ceremony; when they were married in 2004 it was an elopement, and five planned ceremonies were postponed because of his military requirements.

She said her husband learned a lot from his experience, but also imparted more knowledge to the people he worked with.

He built a good rapport with the people there ... and it was probably easy for him.

Roman Gokhman can be reached at (925) 416-4849 or by e-mail here.

Marine Corps Reserve Cpl. Mark A. Camp

In May of 2005, Marines stationed in Anbar province began a week-long hunt to root out insurgents and foreign fighters in the volatile areas around the Syrian border. Dubbed Operation Matador, those tasked with carrying out the mission encountered enemies who had dug in and were ready to fight: deadly roadside bombs, sniper attacks, and several well-planned ambushes.

One day after the operation began, then-Lance Cpl. Camp and his company were sent to New Ubaydi on a house-clearing mission. As Camp’s squad entered one of the houses, insurgents hiding in a closet and in an underground crawlspace opened fire, shooting four Marines. Camp, outside, heard the gunfight and immediately ran inside to help. Three separate times he entered and exited the building to recover his squad members and clear the house of insurgents.

On May 11, Camp was again tested. This time, his company was heading to another small town to clear other insurgent strongholds. Camp was standing at the top hatch of his amphibious assault vehicle when he noticed an eerie silence. Camp was instantly on alert – but that could not stop the roadside bomb that detonated at that moment, hitting the vehicle and throwing the man standing next to Camp into a nearby field.

Shrapnel dug into Camp’s right thigh, and the explosion lit his hands and face on fire. He was thrown back into the burning vehicle, and he began beating out the fires all over his body and head.

Then, Camp heard the call of one of his teammates still trapped inside. As he crawled back into the wreckage, heat was cooking off ammunition all around him, ammunition that ricocheted inside even as insurgents continued to fire from outside. And then there was another explosion. Camp fell back out of the vehicle, on fire once more. Again, he beat his body until the flames subsided.

His comrade was still in the vehicle. So Camp went back inside and tried to grip the Marine’s pack, his helmet – anything – but by then Camp’s skin was melting from his hands. Camp later told the Columbus Dispatch, “I [was] screaming for someone to help me . . . someone with fresh hands.” Finally, some Marines answered his calls, and pulled Camp and the other Marine free.

For his actions and bravery, Camp was awarded the Silver Star on May 15, 2006. Columbus Dispatch article here.

Two Lima Co. Marines to receive awards for valor

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Jeb Phillips
THE COLUMBUS DISPATCH.

Every day threatened the lives of Lima Company Marines in Iraq. Insurgents planted roadside bombs. They ambushed squads on patrol.

In the end, they killed 23 members of that Columbus-based company. More would have died if not for the Marines routine acts of bravery. And then there were a few whose courage went beyond what anyone could have expected.

Today, two of them will be awarded the Silver Star.

The award is the third-highest for military valor and the highest that any member of Company L, 3 rd Battalion, 25 th Marines received for their sevenmonth deployment last year.

One of the recipients, Cpl. Mark A. Camp, grew up in Maine and attended Ohio State University. He joined the reserve unit in July 2003, in part because he didn't know what do to with his life, in part because he wanted to serve his country.

The other, Sgt. David N. Wimberg, grew up in Louisville, Ky. His enlistment surprised his parents, but his older brother was a Marine, and Wimberg looked up to him. He was on active duty first, then joined the reserves. He had decided to leave the reserves just before Lima Company was mobilized, but he decided he couldn't let the company go over there without him.

Camp will accept the award himself. Wimberg's parents will accept his.

The company had come from New Ubaydi near the Syrian border, where, on May 8, 2005, two of its members were killed clearing a house in Operation Matador. On May 11, they rode in amphibious assault vehicles, called Amtracs, to clear a small village of insurgents.

Lance Cpl. Mark Camp stood in the top hatch of one, providing security, making sure things looked safe. He put his goggles over his eyes, but he had left his fireproof gloves in his pack.

At first he saw children playing, which is usually a good sign. But as the "trac" rolled on, everyone seemed to disappear. It got quiet.

Then ... boom. A roadside bomb launched the trac into the air, throwing a Marine standing with Camp into a nearby field. Inside, shrapnel tore through the men.

The explosion lit Camp's hands and face on fire and knocked him back into the vehicle. He beat on his face with his arms and put out the flames. The goggles probably saved his eyes.

His hands took longer to extinguish. He waved them, he hit them against his uniform and, finally, they went out, too, horribly burned. He yelled for someone to open the back door.

Someone did, and most of the 17 Marines who had been inside tumbled out. Everyone was hurt. Some were on fire. Camp remembers asking one if he was OK.

"No," the Marine said.

Then he heard yelling from inside the vehicle. It was Pfc. Christopher Dixon, 18, of Obetz, a member of Camp's fire team. Camp knew his voice. He crawled back into the vehicle to save him.

"He was my friend," Camp said.

Camp banged his leg, felt pain and noticed for the first time that he had taken shrapnel in his right thigh. He kept going. The heat was cooking off ammunition all around him. Bullets flew. He tried to keep low.

He grabbed Dixon with his burned hands, but he was weak. He kept telling Dixon that he was going to have to help him.

Then there was another explosion. Camp fell back out of the vehicle, on fire again. Once more, he put himself out. Dixon was still inside.

"I got back up. I crawled back in the trac," he said.

Sgt. David N. Wimberg was killed in an ambush while protecting others in Lima Company from insurgents? gunfire.

Now, Dixon wasn't moving, and he wasn't talking. Camp tried to grip his pack, his helmet, anything, but by then the skin was melting from his hands. The heat inside the vehicle grew. Ammunition fired off everywhere.

"I'm screaming for someone to help me," he said. "I'm screaming for someone with fresh hands."

Finally, some Marines pulled Camp away and Dixon free, too. The second explosion had killed Dixon.

Outside the vehicle, Camp tried to move.

"All of the sudden, I can't walk anymore," he said. His right leg, the one with the shrapnel, gave out. Lima Company Marines told that story over and over again, said Gunnery Sgt. Shawn Delgado, as an example of how heroic someone can be. "Camp was a guy that everyone wanted to emulate," Delgado said. Camp won the Silver Star for his rescue attempt on May 11, and for his actions on May 8, when insurgents who were hiding in a closet and in an underground crawl space of a house shot four members of his squad. Camp was outside, but ran inside the house three separate times to clear the insurgents and recover his squad members.

Camp spent a month at Brooke Army Medical Center getting skin grafts for his hands and recovering. He spent some time in Maine, where he grew up, and now is back in Columbus, still on active duty. He's been promoted to corporal.

The backs of his hands are all big scars; he can shake your hand, lift weights, button a shirt. You don't notice the marks on his face until he points them out. He married in July.

Camp, 25, has one more operation scheduled on his hands in the fall. He's a senior history major at Ohio State. After the operation, he wants to finish school.

Sgt. David Wimberg is not around to tell his story. But Sgt. Maj. Dan Altieri, who was with Wimberg on May 25, 2005, in Haditha, can.

About 45 Marines, including Wimberg's squad and Lima Company's commanders, walked in a column down a road, patrolling early that morning. Altieri heard what sounded like a bolt being back pulled on a gun. He turned to find a man holding an assault rifle aimed at the Marines. Altieri fired.

"All hell broke loose," he said.

It seemed the column was being fired on from everywhere, but most of the shots were coming from a house to the left, about 35 feet away. The Marines were exposed. It was an ambush.

"Cover me," Wimberg yelled at Altieri. Altieri fired in the direction of the house, and Wimberg ran and jumped over the wall just in front of it.

The insurgents aimed at Wimberg. He needed three tries to open a gate in the wall because of the fire, and his squad was able to come into the courtyard.

They moved around to the door. A squad member tried twice to kick the door in, but couldn't. Then Wimberg did. In front of him stood four insurgents, all armed with AK-47s.

They fired at him, and he fired at them. He wounded one. They killed him. But he had stunned them, Altieri said. His squad members were able to drag him away and kill the insurgents inside.

By running into the fire, Wimberg broke the ambush, Altieri said. He took the bullets for those dozens of men standing in the road.

"I don't know how many Marines we would have lost without him," Altieri said.

Wimberg's parents, Tricia and Dennis Wimberg, will accept the Silver Star for their son today, who died at 24 years old. They'd rather have him than the medal, Tricia Wimberg said, but they are proud that he's being recognized this way.

"This is a response to the final act," she said. "The last thing he did in his life was protect his Marines."

E-mail Jeb Phillips.

Navy Senior Chief Petty Offic

Source: Heroes in the War on Terror.

There is rarely a break for those chosen to be part of a personnel security detachment (PSD) team – the individuals charged with providing security and transportation for military leaders on the ground. The task requires a state of readiness 24 hours a day, seven days a week – and it requires a keen awareness on the battlefield, since any senior military leader is a high-value target for insurgents.

Chief Taggart, a submariner, was sent to Iraq in the summer of 2003 as a communications specialist. When he arrived, however, Taggart found that his background in law enforcement made him an obvious choice to take over as the Coalition Military Assistance Team’s PSD commander – a job that required him to form, train, and deploy the PSD forces. And a job that required versatility in widely diverse settings: patrolling busy streets, scouting dangerous roadways, and securing the sites before and after high-level meetings, whether in a municipal building or a palm grove.

Taggart quickly formed two five-man teams, which completed more than 200 missions stretching from Iraq’s border with Turkey and Syria down to Kuwait. Their duties were often dangerous: twice the teams encountered roadside IEDs, which forced them to clear the area, set up security, and wait for the explosive ordnance disposal teams to declare the area safe before they could move on. In one incident, Taggart was injured by an IED but refused to leave the area until the mission was complete. He was also involved in four separate firefights with enemy forces.

While it is quite unusual for a sailor to perform what would normally be considered a soldier’s job, Taggart was eager to gain the experience. “Throughout my military career, I volunteered to go many places. . . . I’ve been trying to do something different than just submarines.” For his leadership and work, Taggart received the Bronze Star with Combat “V” on March 4, 2005.

Former Kentucky Army National Guard Spc. Ashley Pullen

Source: Heroes in the War on Terror.

The Kentucky National Guard’s 617th Military Police Company has turned out a long list of heroes – among them Sgt. Leigh Ann Hester, Staff Sgt. Timothy Nein, and Sgt. Jason Mike. Spc. Pullen is yet another addition to those ranks.
On March 20, 2005, Pullen was driving one of three Humvees providing security for a 30-vehicle convoy traveling in Iraq. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary – which is often how the prelude to an ambush appears. Suddenly insurgents sprung a complex operation and began pouring heavy fire from multiple directions, stopping the convoy in its tracks. Pullen’s unit moved out from behind the convoy to flank the insurgents and prevent them from escaping. Pullen’s team began firing back.

Then she heard a call for help over the radio. Pullen backed her Humvee into a better position, jumped out, and ran 90 meters through the line of fire toward the injured soldier. She administered first aid and tried to calm him down. As she was treating him, another soldier launched a shoulder-held rocket toward a nest of insurgents. Although he warned of the impending firing, Pullen couldn’t move out of the way fast enough. She threw her small frame over the wounded soldier to protect him from the blast – a blast that threw her off the soldier onto her backside.

About 27 insurgents were killed during the fight, and six were injured. For her efforts, Pullen was awarded the Bronze Star with "V" on June 16, 2005. MNF-Iraq story; USA Today story.

Veterinary mission morphs into life saver

18 April 2007
Story by U.S. Air Force Tech. Sgt. Carrie Bernard
CJTF-HOA Public

DIKHIL, Djibouti – With only seconds to react, U.S. military members made a daring rescue April 14, pulling a young African man out of a raging torrent.

After a day of heavy rain, the Combined Joint Task Force—Horn of Africa team was assessing a river crossing site they planned to use the following day as part of a veterinary civic action program when they saw a man signaling frantically for help.

As we drew close, it became obvious that the individual trying to flag down our vehicle was desperate,” said U.S. Army Lt. Col. Joseph Gamble, mission commander. “After stopping and engaging the individual, the team was told that two people had been swept away by a flash flood.”

The military members followed the swollen river in their vehicle until they came to a wide ditch that couldn’t be driven across. Further down the river, they could see a crowd of people gathering so they continued following the river bank on foot.

“At this point we discovered that one of the individuals who had been swept away had been pulled to safety on a small partial of high ground in the middle of the raging torrent,” said Gamble. “The individual had sustained numerous injuries.”

With a powerful current of water standing between them and the injured 19 year-old man, three military members, accompanied by a local Djiboutian, tethered themselves together with a rope and made their way into the river.

“At that moment, we weren’t thinking about anything but rescuing the guy,” said U.S. Army Sgt. Rovell Thomas, force protection for the VETCAP. “The scene was chaotic.”

When they reached the stranded teenager, the team provided immediate aid and then Senior Airman Travis Manning placed the young man on his shoulders and, along with the help of his fellow servicemembers, brought him back across the swift-moving water.

“It was second nature,” said Manning, a combat camera videographer. “We had to get him across the water to safety and my self aid training kicked in. At that moment, I was working off sheer adrenaline.”

Once on shore, Manning and Thomas carried the injured Djiboutian to a waiting vehicle that then brought him to a local hospital. “At the hospital, the father of the injured youth continuously thanked those involved in the rescue,” said Gamble.

The news wasn’t all good. Later that night, a search team found the body of the other individual.

“I’m glad we were there and able to help,” said U.S. Army Col. Vic Adamson, 350th Civil Affairs Command Functional Specialty. “We were able to save a life that evening that may have otherwise been lost.”

The mission of CJTF-HOA is to prevent conflict, promote regional stability and protect coalition interests in order to prevail against extremism. The CJTF-HOA organization began operations at Camp Lemonier, Djibouti May 13, 2003. It works with partner nations on humanitarian assistance, disaster relief, consequence management, civic action programs to include medical and veterinary care, school and medical clinic construction and water development projects.

Photo: Senior Airman Travis Manning, Combined Joint Task Force-Horn of Africa Combat Camera, carries an injured youth on his shoulders with the assistance of U.S. Army Col. Vic Adamson, 350th Civil Affairs Command Functional Specialty (left) and U.S. Army Sgt. Rovell Thomas, Delta Company, 1st Battalion, 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment (right). (Photo by U.S. Air Force Airman 1st Class Bryan Boyette).

Medic recalls his actions during attack

Spc. Dustin Perry
1/34 BCT Public Affairs

BALAD — “Watch any war movie,” said Spc. James Black, “and you always see some crazy and brave guy with a red cross on his arm doing the impossible to save his brothers – that is what people come to expect from combat medics.”

Black, a 23-year-old student from Weatherford, Okla., didn’t have a red cross on his arm Sept. 4, 2006, nor does he consider what he did that day to be crazy or brave. It was just his job.

The mission was to escort supply trucks to an Army base in northern Iraq. Black, then attached to the B Troop of the Lincoln, Neb.-based 1st Squadron, 167th Cavalry Regiment, was the convoy’s medic, driving in the middle Humvee as the group returned to Balad.

They were on the road for about a half hour when Black saw a flash followed by a large fireball and a loud boom, he said. An improvised explosive device concealed in the median of the highway had detonated as the scout vehicle, ahead of the rest of the convoy, drove by it. A written report said the vehicle spun several times and immediately burst into flames.

When Black’s vehicle reached the site of the explosion he saw the gunner, Pfc. Luis Estrada, lying on his back in front of the wreckage.

“I moved to [Estrada’s] position and tried to wake him,” wrote Black via e-mail. “When I couldn’t keep him conscious, I pulled him to the side of my vehicle away from the burning truck.”

After bandaging Estrada’s bleeding, shrapnel-damaged hips and moving him to a safe area, Black treated two of the other passengers for smoke inhalation. He then went back to the burning truck to aid in the extraction of the driver Sgt. Germaine Debro, who was still trapped inside. It proved difficult at first because the driver-side door had been caved in and wedged in position by the IED detonation. Also, heat from the fire caused ammunition and fragmentary grenades inside the cab to begin “cooking off.” The door was finally ripped away and Debro was removed.

“We called for a medical evacuation and I began to treat Debro for all the injuries I could in a hasty manner,” said Black.

This wasn’t Black’s first enemy encounter in a war zone. He had been attached to the Pennsylvania-based 28th Infantry Division when it was deployed to Ar Ramadi in 2005. His Humvee sustained minor damage from an IED attack while he was on a mission two weeks after being in Iraq. His first chance to perform duties as a medic also happened in Ramadi; a supply truck had been hit in its fuel tank while he was part of another convoy. It too caught fire, but both occupants managed to escape. Black helped carry one of the injured men and load him into his vehicle before both passengers were airlifted to a nearby hospital.

Black, a five-year Army veteran, drew upon both of those experiences as he and another medic continued to treat Debro for about 45 minutes. The two were struggling to keep the injured Soldier’s vital signs positive, alternating as they breathed and pumped air into Debro’s chest until the evacuation helicopter arrived.

Even though Black seemed outwardly calm and collected while he was treating Debro, “that was a complete mask,” he said. He had to work as fast as possible just to keep his hands from shaking.

“One of the first things I learned in school was to not show how bad things are to anyone,” said Black. “If everyone thinks you have the situation under control, then it helps others to stay calm – especially the wounded.”

Despite Black’s quick, instinctive rescue actions and decisive medical treatment, Debro’s injuries were too severe and he later died – an event that still gives Black nightmares.

“I think the burden of the medic is to live not only with the successes of saving a life, but also the horrors of seeing your friends die,” said Black. “[As a medic], there is no greater failure than having someone pass away in your arms. You have to learn to accept the fact that you can’t save them all, but the first time someone dies that you treated directly, it scars you.”

Black has been home since November after fulfilling his 12-month deployment obligation as a member of the Inactive Ready Reserve. Immediately after the attack, he was nominated for a Bronze Star Medal with Valor for his actions but is unsure of whether or not it has been approved yet. He maintains that he was simply doing what he was trained to do – “to treat the wounded, regardless of the risk.”

“My title is ‘Doc,’ and I refuse to be called a hero,” said Black. “To me, the term ‘hero’ is usually applied to people who don’t have to do the incredible things they do for others. The ordinary Joes who run into a burning building to save another but have had no training in firefighting, those are heroes.”

Spc. James Black, a combat medic formerly attached to the Lincoln, Neb.-based 1st Squadron, 167th Cavalry Regiment, poses for a photo while preparing for a convoy mission. Photo courtesy of U.S. Army.

Marine Receives Distinguished Flying Cross at Buckingham Palace

From DefenseLink.

By Gunnery Sgt. Donald E. Preston, USMC
Special to American Forces Press Service.

LONDON, March 23, 2007 – A U.S. Marine appeared before Queen Elizabeth II at Buckingham Palace March 21 to receive the United Kingdom's Distinguished Flying Cross for saving lives and in recognition for his bravery during combat operations in Iraq.

Marine Maj. William D. Chesarek Jr., is the first U.S. servicemember to be so honored since World War II.

Assigned as an exchange officer with the Royal Air Force's 847th Naval Air Squadron, Commando Helicopter Force, based at Royal Naval Air Station Yeovilton in Somerset, England, the U.S. Marine flew the RAF’s Lynx Mk7 helicopter -- the aircraft he used to dodge insurgent's bullets and rocket-propelled grenades.

Through flight school training at Pensacola, Fla., and Corpus Christi, Texas, he mastered the Marine Corps AH-1W Super Cobra helicopter -- a two-seater armed with Hellfire, Sidewinder and Sidearm missiles.

When he joined the RAF squadron in 2005, he traded in the Super Cobra for the Lynx.

"It's a very agile aircraft," said Chesareck, whose call sign is “Punchy.” "Its maneuverability is significantly enhanced, compared to a Cobra. It's like comparing a Mustang to a Porsche. They're both great, but different."

Flying the evening of June 10, 2006, Chesarek was providing radio communication relay for British ground troops conducting a company-sized search operation near Amarah, Iraq. Listening to radio transmissions, he overheard that a vehicle involved in the operation had became disabled and a crowd of insurgents was firing small arms and rocket-propelled grenades at the company.

According to his award citation, "Chesarek elected to fly low over the area in an attempt to distract the crowd and if possible, to engage the insurgents." Because the crowd was so close to the ground troops, instead of engaging his machine gun, he "opted instead to provide bold, harassing, very low level flight over the area in an attempt to disperse the crowd."

However, radio traffic from the ground told Chesarek he was now the target and was drawing small-arms fire, and that a rocket-propelled grenade had just passed the rear of his aircraft.

This was not his first time in combat. He and his wife, Christine, a U.S. Navy nurse, had served simultaneously in Operation Iraqi Freedom during the initial stages. But now in a different aircraft, with a different purpose, things were different. Last month, Chesarek's RAF commander and his crew had been shot down flying in the same type of aircraft.

"I had been in a couple of situations with troops in contact before," the 32-year-old Chesarek said. "I had a good idea of the kind of potential danger involved, but now I was listening to the individual commander on the ground. Someone was injured; what can we do?"

Using his view from above, Chesarek applied his training as an airborne forward air controller to coordinate, designate and control fixed-wing assets in conducting close air support, resulting in the dispersing the insurgents.

Chesarek made the unconventional move – what’s considered an “implied mission” in military parlance -- to conduct a medical evacuation with the Lynx to help a British soldier with a life-threatening head injury. As the only aircraft available to assist, he landed the Lynx near the company in distress as his door gunner and another crew member jumped out.

"My door gunner jumped out and picked up the injured soldier and put him in the helicopter," Chesarek said. "My other crew member had to stay, or we would have been overweight to fly."

Now, nine months later, Chesarek's name echoed throughout the ballroom of Buckingham Palace as he was called before the queen to be recognized and credited for "having a pivotal role in ensuring the rapid evacuation of (a) badly injured soldier and the safe extraction of the Company."

Wearing his ceremonial uniform, Chesarek stood before the queen and hundreds in attendance, including his parents, his wife and their 2-year-old son, William. After Chesarek bowed, the custom when in front of the queen, the British monarch placed her kingdom's level-three award for gallantry in the air while on active operation against the enemy on his chest.

Chesarek reflected on his lost comrades and brothers in arms.

"I am greatly honored and would like to accept this prestigious award for 847 NAS in memory of Lt. Cmdr. Darren Chapman (Royal Navy), Capt. David Dobson (Army Air Corps), and Marine Paul Collins (Royal Marines), who were killed in action over Basrah in May 2006," Chesarek said. "The awarded actions were only possible due to the combined effort of my combat crew; Lt. David Williams (Royal Navy) and Lance Cpl. Max Carter (Royal Marines). My greatest sense of achievement that day is in knowing the ground troops all made it home."