by Oliver North
He and his fellow Delta Operators, accompanied by thirty Marines, departed friendly lines in the dark of night. Before dawn they occupied two abandoned buildings several city blocks forward of the nearest American positions. Hollenbaugh, along with a squad of Marines and a Delta Force medic, Staff Sergeant Daniel Briggs, occupied the rooftop of the southern-most building where they had a good vantage point over possible routes of enemy attack. Several hours passed without any sign of movement around their position.
Fallujah is known across Iraq as the “city of mosques,” and as the Marines set about fortifying the observation posts, the Muslim call to prayer echoed across the city. Hollenbaugh listened for a moment to the wavering tones, then turned to Briggs and said, “Oh boy, this is not going to be a good day,” he shook his head and continued. “This is how Somalia started. This could get ugly quick.”
The sun was barely above the horizon when the first rocket propelled grenade swooshed in and exploded against the side of the building.
On the flat roof of the structure, Hollenbaugh crouched low and moving fast, moved among the Marines, encouraging them and telling them to get ready for action. As he did, machine gun fire began peppering the front of the building, and when the Delta Master Sergeant stood up to try and pinpoint the shooter’s location, another RPG came straight toward him. He ducked and felt the heat of the round as it missed him by just inches. It impacted against the wall on the far edge of the roof, nearly blowing his eardrums out.
It quickly became evident that a well-armed group of insurgents were occupying the buildings around them and now had every intention of overrunning the two mutually supporting but tenuous U.S. outposts. One of the black-clad fighters stepped out of a doorway right next to the northern building where half the Marine platoon was positioned. Before anyone could react, he lobbed a grenade onto the roof of the northern building, directly into the center of a Marine fire team. To make matters worse, the insurgent grenade bounced into a case of U.S. grenades the Marines prepared for their defense and when it went off, the entire case detonated along with it. The effect was like a direct hit from heavy artillery—shrapnel flew in all directions, grievously wounding everyone on the rooftop.
Soldiers from the 1st Infantry Divisions 3rd Brigade Reconnaissance Troop clear houses in Fallujah on 12 November during Operation Al-Fajr.
The grizzled Delta Master Sergeant turned to Briggs, his “Eighteen Delta” medic. Before he could say anything, Staff Sergeant Briggs picked up his aid bag and weapon and sprinted down the stairs. Hollenbaugh shouted to the rest of his men, “Cover him!” They opened up with everything they had on the insurgents as Briggs emerged from the south building below, dodging withering fire as he raced toward the injured Marines atop the north building. Somehow, the fearless Staff Sergeant zig-zagged through exploding grenades and mortar rounds and made it unharmed. The men he treated couldn’t have hoped for better care under the circumstances. Delta medics are among the most highly trained combat medical personnel on the planet.
Hollenbaugh and his group in the southern building stayed busy as insurgents began firing from nearly every door and window around their position. It was like a deadly game of Whack-a-Mole, only these moles whacked back. The noise was deafening as enemy grenades, rockets, mortars, and machine gun fire began tearing apart the brick and stone buildings. On the street level, Marines inside held down the triggers on their weapons until their barrels glowed red in a desperate attempt to stem the tide of suicidal enemy fighters.
A Marine of the 1st Marine Division shouts instructions to soldiers of the Iraqi Civil Defense Corps during a firefight while on a joint patrol in Nasir Waal Salaam, Iraq, on 5 June 2004. The 1st Marine Division is deployed in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom and is engaged in Security and Stabilization Operations in the Al Anbar province of Iraq.
On the roof, MSG Hollenbaugh carefully picked his shots, watching insurgents fall almost every time he pulled the trigger. But less than an hour into the fight, he caught sight of something several blocks down the street that did nothing to boost his morale. Buses. He saw buses and trucks pulling up, filled to overflowing with enemy fighters, disgorging what looked like ten reinforcements for every one the Americans killed. Then it hit him: the terrorists had to believe this tiny element of Marines and Delta operators was the main assault on Fallujah and they were rushing every fighter they could into this fight. He knew then, this was going to be a very long day.
With accurate, heavy fire they succeeded in driving the enemy back and for about an hour the men in the two buildings endured only sporadic enemy incoming. But the insurgents were only pausing to mass their forces, intent on delivering a crushing final blow on the besieged Marines and Green Berets.
When the attack came, it felt like a tornado of flying lead suddenly descended from the cloudless sky over Fallujah. Dozens of enemy automatic weapons and machine guns opened up simultaneously and rocket propelled grenades filled the air, blasting holes in the masonry walls of the buildings where the Americans were holed up. Before long, more Marines were wounded and Hollenbaugh could hear the urgent radio calls for medevac.
There were simply too many enemy fighters to shoot them all. They came like ants, scrambling across rooftops, running through alleyways, firing from windows on every side. The Americans kept killing them but the insurgents still managed to advance on the two increasingly vulnerable positions. It was like the Iraqi Alamo and Hollenbaugh knew how that story ended.
More than once, groups of terrorists charged their buildings, attempting to enter and overrun the Marines holding the ground floors. As the insurgents tried to batter down the barricaded doors, Hollenbaugh and the men on the roof dropped grenades against the outside walls of the building to discourage them. And through it all, the calls for “Corpsman up!” were coming more and more often. They had already lost one Marine, Lance Corporal Aaron Austin, killed by machine gun fire while throwing a grenade. Hollenbaugh was firing and Briggs was busy patching up the wounded as several Humvees raced forward from the nearest Marine position, braving a hail of gunfire to reach their buildings and evacuate several severely wounded troops.
Temporarily out of patients, Briggs reappeared next to Hollenbaugh on the rooftop, calmly firing at enemy fighters, as he filled his team leader in on their deteriorating situation. If something didn’t change soon, they would surely be overwhelmed.
A combat medic consoles an injured soldier after learning one of his friends didn’t survive the attack they had emerged from. The soldiers were part of an assault launched on Fallujah by the Marines and elements from the Army’s 1st Calvary Division.
“Grenade!”
Hollenbaugh didn’t wait to see who yelled it. Instead, he dove into the stairwell and put his head down. A second later, the detonation created a lethal cloud of shrapnel, dust, and smoke on the rooftop and he felt like a mule kicked him in the head. When he emerged from the stairwell once again, he heard one of the Marine’s cry out, “I’m hit!”
Stumbling where two wounded Marines lay, blood soaking through their uniforms from multiple fragment wounds, Hollenbaugh knelt beside the first one and felt for the man’s first aid pouch on his harness. He was hastily treating the two Marines when he heard his medic say in a calm, matter-of-fact voice, “Hey Don, they got me.”
He turned to see that Briggs’ sleeve was covered in blood, with more pulsing out of a ghastly wound behind the medic’s ear. Hollenbaugh took a closer look. “You better let me put something on that, Doc.”
In an instant, Hollenbaugh had three urgent surgical casualties to treat and his “doc” was now a patient.
He bandaged them up as best he could, then helped them one by one down the stairs where several wounded Marines were also waiting for a medevac. But he couldn’t stay—they would be overrun unless someone held the rooftop and stopped the enemy advance. So the weary Master Sergeant pounded back upstairs to the roof and resumed picking off insurgents, now all alone.
From his
vantage point, Hollenbaugh could see machine gun rounds pouring from an alleyway at the Humvees coming to evacuate the wounded. Though the Master Sergeant could not see the gun, he could tell where it was by the effects of its fire. Realizing he couldn’t hit the enemy machine gun with direct fire and certain it was too far away to throw a grenade, he came up with a novel course of action that’s not in any training manual.
He grabbed an M-249 Squad Automatic Weapon dropped by one of the wounded Marines and gauged the distance between the spot on the roof and the alleyway where he suspected the enemy machine gun was set up. The buildings were brick, like the one he was in, and though he couldn’t make bullets fly around the corner, perhaps he could get enemy gunners with a ricochet. He gave it a little “Kentucky windage” and pulled the trigger. The weapon chattered as he “walked” its rounds so they were bouncing off the masonry wall above the machine gun position.
The enemy machine gun went silent. It worked! Hollenbaugh decided he’d have to keep his new technique in mind to teach others—if he succeeded in getting out of this fight alive.
It didn’t look entirely likely. Enemy fighters kept coming, swarming up the alleyways any time he stopped to reload. Concerned the insurgents might realize he was the only one shooting from the rooftop, the Delta operator began running from one firing position to another, loosing a burst of gunfire here and there to keep the enemy thinking they were up against more than one man. At one point he intentionally stepped up and showed himself at one position to draw the fire of a gun team, then ducked and ran to another position from which he could eliminate them while they waited for him to reappear. Periodically, he used an M-203 grenade launcher to send the enemy a few dozen high-explosive reasons to keep their heads down.
Knowing the Marines in the building below were counting on him to hold the rooftop, he was determined not to let them down. This went on for almost two hours, with dozens of mortar rounds, grenades, and rockets tearing the building to bits all around him.
Don Hollenbaugh
LAST MAN STANDING
He was so busy trying to stay alive, he didn’t notice how quiet the two buildings had become. Suddenly, a Marine officer appeared in the stairway. “Don!” he shouted. “Come on, we’re out of here!” With a few parting shots at the enemy, Don Hollenbaugh followed the Marine downstairs, only to make a stunning realization.
Everyone else was gone.
For nearly two hours, Don Hollenbaugh singlehandedly slugged it out with hundreds of determined enemy fighters and held them off. While the Marines and his fellow Green Berets were being evacuated, he fought off scores of suicidal insurgents by himself. The Marines suffered one killed and twenty-four wounded, 80 percent casualties. Hollenbaugh was the only Green Beret not injured in the engagement.
Later, the Master Sergeant said he was most thankful for the Marine officer who, upon taking a head count back inside friendly lines, realized Hollenbaugh was missing and came back for him. If it weren’t for that, the tough Delta operator might have been overrun, captured, or killed, and treated like the Blackwater security guards who were mutilated and hung from the bridge.
For his extraordinary feats, Hollenbaugh became a legend in the Special-Ops community. The Army honored him with a Distinguished Service Cross, just the second awarded since 9/11/01. Staff Sergeant Dan Briggs received the same award for repeatedly braving enemy fire to save wounded Green Berets and Marines.
A Green Beret fires a M4A1 carbine at a range in Iraq.
DISTINGUISHED SERVICE CROSS:
DONALD R. HOLLENBAUGH
The President of the United States takes pleasure in presenting the Distinguished Service Cross to Donald R. Hollenbaugh, Master Sergeant, U.S. Army, for services as set forth in the following Citation:
For extraordinary heroism in action on 26 April 2004, during combat operations against an armed Iraqi insurgent force while supporting United States Marine Corps operations in Fallujah, Iraq. Master Sergeant Hollenbaugh demonstrated the highest degree of courage and excellent leadership through his distinguished performance as Team Leader while engaged in Urban Combat Operations. His heroic actions throughout one of the most intensive firefights of the Operation Iraqi Freedom campaign were directly responsible for preventing enemy insurgent forces from overrunning the United States Force. Master Sergeant Hollenbaugh personally eliminated multiple enemy-controlled weapon positions, essential in turning the tide of the enemy’s ground-force assault upon a United States Marine Corps Platoon. His actions under fire as a Leader were performed with marked distinction and bravery. Master Sergeant Hollenbaugh’s distinctive accomplishments are in keeping with the finest traditions of military service and reflect great credit upon himself, this Command, and the United States Army.
Vice President Richard B. Cheney participates in the Heroism Awards Ceremony at MacDill Air Force Base, Florida, 10 June. Pictured, from left, are: Navy Chief Petty Officer Donald B. Stokes, Army Chief Warrant Officer David B. Smith, Air Force Maj Matthew R. Glover, Army Sgt 1st Class Stephan Johns, and Army Master Sgt Donald R. Hollenbaugh.
DINSTINGUISED SERVICE CROSS:
DANIEL A. BRIGGS
The President of the United States takes pleasure in presenting the Distinguished Service Cross to Daniel A. Briggs, Staff Sergeant, U.S. Army for services as set forth in the following Citation:
For extraordinary heroism in action on 26 April 2004, during combat operations against an armed Iraqi Insurgent force while supporting United States Marine Corps operations in Fallujah, Iraq. Staff Sergeant Briggs repeatedly subjected himself to intense and unrelenting enemy fire in order to provide critical medical attention to severely injured Marines and organized defensive operations. He set the highest example of personal bravery through his demonstrated valor and calmness under fire. Staff Sergeant Briggs’ valiant actions prevented enemy insurgent forces from overrunning the United States Force’s position and were directly responsible for prevention of additional United States military casualties or Prisoners of War by the enemy. His actions under fire as a combat medic were performed with marked distinction and bravery. Staff Sergeant Briggs’ distinctive accomplishments are in keeping with the finest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit upon himself, this command, and the United States Army.
The Combat Medic Memorial at Fort Sam Houston, Texas.
COMBAT MEDICS IN AFGHANISTAN:
Below: A U.S. Navy Medical Corpsman treats an Afghani man as U.S. Marines from 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marines visit people in the village of Khwaja Jamal in Afghanistan's Helmand province.
Above: A U.S. Army combat medic examines an infant girl during a dismounted patrol to a village in the Deh Chopan district of Afghanistan’s Zabul province.
SARUN SAR
PAKTIKA PROVINCE, AFGHANISTAN
The two Black Hawk helicopters wheeling through the dark rocky mountain passes were flying with their doors closed to avoid freezing their passengers: the warriors of Operational Detachment (ODA) 732. Though spring wouldn’t arrive at this altitude for another two months, intelligence reports indicated the bitterly cold, snow-covered terrain below was a haven for enemy fighters—members of the Taliban, al-Qaeda, even opium smugglers.
All aboard the two aircraft knew flying low and fast in the night—just a few meters about the rough, rocky slopes was their best protection from anti-aircraft fire—but no guarantee that enemy outposts in the tiny compounds flashing by beneath them wouldn’t be alerted. The unmistakable sound of rotor blades cutting through the thin air was impossible to muffle.
The small villages on the valley floor and those cut into the terraced hillsides were almost all the same: a dozen or so mud brick and dry-stack stone structures with the nearest flat ground cultivated for wheat or corn. Nearly all had at least one small field for Afghanistan’s only cash crop: opium poppy.
The ODA Team Sergeant, a five-foot-two powerhouse with an oriental accent named Sarun Sar peered
out the plexiglass window as the snow-covered terrain flashed by beneath them, the rotors whipping up the smoke from cooking and warming fires from the mud-walled houses below. From long experience Master Sergeant Sar knew the gauzy mist blanketing the valley floor was a pungent haze created by the resident’s most plentiful fuel: dried goat dung.
ODA Team Sergeant Sarun Sar
Master Sergeant Sar’s introduction to lethal combat came long before he became a U.S. military special operator. Sarun grew up in Cambodia, the son of a school teacher and rice farmer. It was an idyllic life until the North Vietnamese conquered America’s abandoned ally in neighboring Saigon and promptly installed a brutal communist regime in Cambodia.
His father was arrested and sent to a “reeducation camp,” where he was tortured, worked, and starved to death. His brother was executed without trial for “anti-socialist activities.” His mother and sister, forced from their land and home, fled into the jungle when they both died of malnutrition and disease. Sar was recruited by an anti-communist resistance unit and for a time fought against the Khmer Rouge communist regime—a child soldier with nowhere else to go. Barely a teenager, he went to live in a refugee camp. Almost a year later, in 1980, a church in Rockville, Maryland, heard about his plight and sponsored him to come to the United States as a refugee.
