Rage Company

by Daly, Thomas P.

  Racing down Route Michigan, the M1114 humvees and the M113 ambulance that were Rage Mobile blew past OP Shocker. A minute later, Jahelka’s lone humvee followed behind them. Over the radio, he could hear Ahlquist communicating with the convoy ahead. One of the squad’s fire teams had secured the intersection, and Ahlquist was in the process of personally placing Hadden into the back of the M113. Jahelka was only a few hundred meters from the convoy.

  Ahlquist started to say something on the radio, then an explosion rocked the intersection. Static filled the frequency. Smoke began to rise. Jahelka’s humvee pulled up behind Rage Mobile. The convoy’s humvees were unleashing 40mm grenades and .50 caliber rounds on something. Captain Smith, who heard the explosion back at COP Melia, was shouting for Ahlquist on the radio. There was no answer.

  Jahelka ripped off his headset and dismounted the humvee. He sprinted toward the intersection. In the smoke-filled aftermath of the explosion, the platoon commander came upon one of his Marines in shock. It was recently promoted Corporal Aranez, whose torso was covered with blood. A thousand emotions flew through Jahelka’s mind.

  “What’s the situation, Corporal?!” shouted Jahelka. Aranez mumbled something. With the machine guns firing only meters away, nothing was audible. Jahelka got as close as possible to his Marine and repeated the question.

  “Sergeant Ahlquist is dead,” replied Aranez.

  Jahelka looked beyond the corporal and into the hazy intersection. He spotted the broken body of his most capable Marine.

  After Ahlquist had placed Hadden in the ambulance, he turned and walked back toward his men surrounding the intersection. With Aranez behind him, Ahlquist stepped on an IED that he had narrowly missed on his way to the ambulance. Directionally, the blast shot into the sky, sparing the Marines around the intersection but concentrating its force on the sergeant.

  The event ended the life of the battalion’s strongest squad leader. Before the deployment, Ahlquist had earned the title of battalion color-sergeant, and his command presence would have been a problem for any officer less capable than Jahelka. Now, the squad stared out at their lifeless leader. The Marines were collectively in shock.

  For a moment, the platoon commander was in a similar state. Then he remembered the look Ahlquist had given him during the firefight along the Euphrates. It was that somewhat condescending glare Ahlquist gave in response to being ordered to take cover that drove Jahelka’s thought process. He knew how Ahlquist would have taken control of his squad, and it wasn’t by focusing on the death of a Marine; it was by decisively attacking the enemy.

  Jahelka seized control of the situation. He directed the Marines of Rage Mobile to gather Ahlquist’s remains. Then the platoon commander led his infantrymen back to the remaining fire team. After Jahelka had a short radio conversation with Captain Smith, the decision was made to begin the Risala Takedown now, rather than under the cover of darkness. Lieutenant Thomas’s Rage 2 and the platoon of Iraqi army soldiers in support of Rage Company both surged into the Sijariah corridor.

  As the additional combat power arrived, harassing sniper fire continued. The accurate rifle fire was consistently coming from the villages to the west of the Risala mosque. Roughly 500 meters of open fields and sporadic palm groves separated the Marines and the teams of insurgent snipers. After a few hours, the Marines began to recognize the buildings that were consistently used by the enemy. Using the homes to the south and the north of the open fields, elements of Rage 2 and the Iraqi army platoon bounded closer to the insurgents. Late in the afternoon and only a few hundred meters from the enemy’s positions, the insurgents withdrew in the face of the closing coalition forces. One two-person team ran away in plain view of the Iraqi army soldiers. Later, the jundi (Arabic for “soldier”) would explain that they were certain one of the snipers was a woman. The myth of a female Chechen sniper spread through the company like a highly contagious virus.

  Dusk settled on the landscape without any other casualties. Night began with Rage Company in control of the Sijariah corridor.

  Early into the evening, Lieutenant Jahelka headed back to OP Shocker to get an update on the company’s plan from Captain Smith. After a short meeting, Rage 6 told Jahelka that he was going to pull Rage 3 out of sector and replace them with Rage 2 and the platoon of Iraqi soldiers. Lieutenant Thomas’s men would even take up the same position where Hadden had been shot that day. Jahelka objected to letting Rage 2 occupy the same position. Without ballistic glass, the roof was too exposed, and insurgent snipers were clearly capable of taking advantage of the situation.

  Richard Jahelka couldn’t persuade Captain Smith. In Rage 6 ’s eyes, the building was key terrain and had to be controlled. Rage 2 would occupy it.

  The platoon commander accepted his company commander’s decision. Then he left the room and went straight to his platoon sergeant, Staff Sergeant Crippen. Together, the two men cannibalized some of the ballistic glass protecting OP Shocker and moved it to Rage 2’s future location. A few hours before daylight, Lieutenant Thomas’s men took over. One of them stood post in the exact spot where Hadden had been shot. Blood was still smeared all over the wall.

  As the sun rose, Lieutenant Jahelka was just as nervous as he had been the day before. As events had played out twenty-four hours earlier, this morning was exactly the same. A solitary gunshot, and the Marine manning Hadden’s post went down. This time it was Lance Corporal Carillo Soto. He was hit in the upper torso after spotting the sniper’s movement and coming out from behind the ballistic glass to fire his weapon. A hidden enemy covered his day’s previous work with fresh blood.

  Again, the Marines evacuated the casualty via Orchard Way and Michigan. This time there was no blast; nobody stepped on an IED.

  Anger gripped lieutenants Thomas and Jahelka. Together, their platoons conducted a clearance in zone looking for the sniper. Instead of focusing on finding the shooter, however, they also questioned the occupants of every house they entered. After hours of aggressive patrolling, their efforts paid off. Multiple citizens provided a rough location of the sniper’s home: north of the mosque. They said he drove a blue bongo truck and had no family. Unfortunately, none of these informants knew where the sniper kept his rifle. The Marines would have to catch him in the act in order to find him. The infantrymen returned to their static positions and waited for night.

  While darkness approached, Lieutenant Jahelka decided to act. He didn’t ask for permission from his company commander; he didn’t even notify anyone other than Lieutenant Thomas of his plan. Instead, he directed eight of his most seasoned noncommissioned officers to go light, removing any gear that was bulky or had the potential to bang together. Jahelka personally checked each man. Once he was satisfied that they could maneuver silently, the nine men left their position near the Orchard Way-Michigan intersection.

  They patrolled directly into the thick palm grove to the west and followed it north. In the shrubbery of the grove, they halted just shy of the Risala mosque. The objective was 100 meters away: a large house that was somewhat destroyed and 50 meters from the mosque. Jahelka knew that the remaining windows in the building were a type of stained glass and reflected outward. He was going to set up a position behind those windows and wait for the sniper to appear. The bait was already set. Lieutenant Thomas and his men were still in the same house where Hadden and Carillo Soto had been shot. Richard Jahelka prayed that the sniper would appear for a third time.

  The Marines moved to the house. Their noise discipline was impeccable. No one made a sound.

  Once inside the empty building, Jahelka placed each Marine, mapping out all of the men’s respective sectors of fire in his mind. Because of the need to stay hidden, there was no way the Marines would cover every approach to the house. Agonizingly, seven of the patrol’s nine men were used to cover all possible entry and exit points. That left only two men to go to the roof and visually observe for the sniper. The lieutenant went above.

  With one of his riflemen behind him, Ri
chard Jahelka crawled onto the roof. Conveniently, debris piles were scattered around the broken structure. Jahelka found a position on the northern side and made himself comfortable. Lying on remnants of concrete and wood, with an old rug/blanket over the top, he waited.

  Slowly, the cold air sunk into his skin. Watching the silent black skyline dulled his senses. An hour passed. Roosters began their morning calls. The sun appeared, casting shadows across the landscape. A slight fog rose from the earth. Villagers began to emerge from their homes. Most were conducting their morning routines. None of them looked toward the Marines’ position. The patrol remained undetected.

  Jahelka waited. Time passed. There was no sign of a sniper, no shots at Rage 2’s position. The lieutenant continued to watch his sector.

  A man in his mid-twenties walked out the back of his home. Wearing a brown sweatshirt, he stretched his arms toward the sky and awkwardly looked around the open fields in front of him. Then he looked directly at Jahelka.

  The lieutenant realized that he was sighting in through his scope. The man was at least 300 meters away; there was no way he could actually see Jahelka, could he?

  The Iraqi looked away. After another stretch, he turned around and walked back to the door. Then, still standing in the doorway, he started to reach for something inside. Jahelka looked at the side of the house; there was a blue bongo truck. His senses peaked. Blue was the same color of truck that the sniper drove.

  Jahelka thought about it for a moment. Almost every bongo truck he had ever seen was blue. It probably didn’t mean much. He continued to watch the man. Two minutes later, the Iraqi turned around and walked back outside. In his right hand was what appeared to be an elongated object covered with cloth.

  No fucking way, thought Jahelka. It had to be a rifle. He put the reticle pattern at the base of the Iraqi’s head. The thought of firing entered his mind. But what if it wasn’t a rifle?

  The man walked toward the truck. Jahelka had to make a decision. This could be the sniper who had shot Hadden, who was responsible for the situation that killed Sergeant Ahlquist, and who had shot Carillo Soto. Now Jahelka hesitated. The power to take another man’s life rested in that single moment.

  The Iraqi opened the driver’s side door. He raised the object in his right hand. The cloth fell away to reveal a scoped rifle. The sniper got into the truck and closed the door.

  Adrenalin pumped through the lieutenant’s body. He knew his duty.

  Jahelka calmly inhaled. He placed his reticle pattern on the enemy’s head. A second into his exhalation, he softly depressed the trigger of his M16A4 service rifle. The bullet seemed to take an eternity to reach its target. But when it did, it struck the Iraqi cleanly in the neck.

  The insurgent fumbled with the door. He eventually got it open and stumbled out. Still clutching the door, the dying man looked around for his attacker. That’s when Richard Jahelka’s second shot finished the job, impacting the sniper’s head. The body collapsed into the grass next to the truck. Now, as in life, the sniper was hidden from the Marines’ view.

  The patrol broke down its position. The objective was no longer to kill the sniper. Instead, it was to retrieve his tool, his rifle.

  The nine men exited the heavily damaged building. The locals were going nuts. Women were shouting. Men ran into the streets. Jahelka had to move fast. The enemy would quickly react to his small band of lightly armed Marines.

  They covered the 300 meters to the bongo truck at a moderate trot. What they found was shocking. Blood was everywhere, but the body was gone. There was no rifle in the cab. In the time that it had taken Jahelka to get off the roof and out the door, the enemy had retrieved their fallen comrade and his weapon.

  Jahelka ordered his men to quickly search the immediate houses. They were full of nothing but frightened civilians. He thought about doing a detailed search. There was more shouting outside from the locals. It wasn’t worth it. The Marines were overextended and in a bad neighborhood. Time was not Lieutenant Jahelka’s friend. They returned to the previous night’s position. By way of deception, one insurgent sniper was dead.

  Later that day, Lieutenant Jahelka’s Marines patrolled out of the Sijariah corridor and toward OP Shocker. They were replaced by the Marines of Rage 2 and the Iraqi jundi, in the execution of the Risala Takedown. On the way back to Shocker, however, Jahelka’s men discovered a significant IED on the roof of a house they had occupied. The house was a few hundred meters east of the Orchard Way-Red Road intersection and on the north side. The two squads of Jahelka’s men took shelter along the southern side of the road, roughly 200 meters from the sprawling mansion complex they had evicted. In the confusion of the evacuation, one of the Marines thought he had left an SMAW rocket on the roof.

  Within minutes, Jahelka’s men began to receive fire from the house they had left and from others in the surrounding area. The intensity of the firefight quickly escalated to a sustained exchange of machine gun and rifle fire. Inside the COC at COP Melia, we immediately declared TIC and received approval for a GMLR. We would also receive a section of F/A-18s fifteen minutes later, in case they were needed. I excitedly tried to observe the incoming GMLR strike from the COP’s roof with Lieutenant Shearburn. We stared in the direction of the firefight and maintained a countdown to the rocket’s impact. When time-on-target arrived, there was a faint dud in the opposite direction and no mushroom cloud.

  I immediately recognized what had happened. Unlike the rest of the Marines on the roof, I didn’t look for the actual impact. There was only one thing that mattered to me: the GMLR had missed. It was the first time ever in Iraq. I looked to the sky, wondering, Why me? For months, I had spoken incessantly of the impressive capability of rocket artillery. Now—the only chance I would ever get to observe one in combat—the expensive and innovative warhead had landed God knows where. I gave up my selfish thoughts and focused on the fact that Jahelka was still taking fire from the enemy.

  The battalion pulled the F/A-18s out of their holding pattern. To the cheers of dozens of American infantrymen, the Marine fighter pilots dropped two 500-pound JDAM warheads on the mansion complex. The blasts ended the firefight.

  For the rest of the afternoon, Rage 2 swept the Risala area for caches. They succeeded in finding a number with fewer contents. There were the usual mortar rounds, a Katuysha rocket, and, most important, a clinic with sophisticated medical equipment. The clinic had only one operating table, but the bloodied bandages and well-stocked shelves of antibiotics and painkillers showcased its use as a makeshift insurgent hospital. Risala was clearly an insurgent base of operations.

  During the last two hours of daylight on the twenty-second, Lieutenant Jahelka and his men conducted a battle-damage assessment for the earlier air strike. They were also trying to confirm that the missing SMAW rocket was in fact in the house destroyed by the air strike. Unfortunately, after a detailed search, there was no sign of the munition. The fact that it wasn’t found raised doubt as to where and when it had been lost. Under questioning, the Marine responsible for the rocket quickly declared that he was unsure of where he had left it. Out of due diligence, Jahelka and his men spent the night searching the houses they had occupied in the last two days, trying to find the SMAW. Captain Smith also tasked them with finding the blast crater of the GMLR, an order relayed to us by battalion and originating from the division level.

  Jahelka never found either of the rockets. Yet James Thomas was searching for the SMAW rocket as well. The platoon commander and a squad of Marines from Rage 2 were occupying the house on the northwest corner of the Orchard Way-Michigan intersection. It was the same building that Jahelka’s men had occupied a day earlier and was a potential location for where the rocket had been left behind.

  When Lieutenant Thomas took over the position, Jahelka informed him where the occupants of the house were now living. It was across the street. Every day the men who owned the house would come over and offer the Marines tea and one of their goats. The Iraqis were really t
rying to check on a cache of weapons hidden in the residential complex’s garage. For the last few days, they had been content in the fact that the American’s hadn’t found it. But thanks to the missing rocket, James Thomas revisited the garage.

  Most of the small concrete structure was taken up by a huge table, roughly twenty feet by twenty feet. On the table were hundreds, if not thousands, of pounds of fishing net. The maze of webbing was piled up to the roof, a distance of about six feet. Due to the table’s weight, fifty - five-gallon drums were used as the table’s legs. Previously, the owners had explained that they were fishermen during Anbar’s warmer months. Their stated profession hadn’t sent up any red flags; Lake Habbaniya was less than a mile away.

  Looking at the net, the lieutenant thought, Maybe some Iraqi hid the rocket in here. He walked up to the table. The top half of a fifty-five-gallon drum was exposed. James shined his Surefire light down into the dark hole. At the bottom was an old, worn ammo can. He looked closer. It wasn’t just any ammo can; it was U.S. style for a 240G. The thought of how the Iraqis had gotten the can infuriated James Thomas. Was it taken off a burning humvee? A dead Marine? For forty-five minutes, he ripped the fishing net off the table. With only a quarter of it on the floor, he could see the shapes of shipping crates, at least half a dozen of them. The lieutenant’s anger faded, replaced with a sense of satisfaction. The Iraqis who lived here were going to rot in prison.

  After getting some more bodies to help remove the net, the Marines revealed the cache. Still in their packing grease and shipping crates were two RPG launchers with one day/night sight and binoculars, fifteen RPG-7s, two NR4 RPGs, six antipersonnel OG-7 RPGs, twenty RPG boosters, a hundred mortar boosters, two PKM machine guns w/two barrels, two G3 assault rifles with nine magazines, five thousand 7.62 3 39mm armor-piercing (AP) ammo (for an AK), five thousand 7.62 3 54mm AP ammo (for a Dragonov), ten thousand 7.62 3 51mm AP ammo (U.S. style), and miscellaneous accessories and IED-making material. The Marines neatly aligned and set up the weaponry on display.