My own experience over the years has been that the closer I try to walk with God the more Satan throws at me. I definitely felt him manipulating my deeper distrust and hatred for our Muslim enemies, so I worked to recognize those occasions. Just like in human combat, if you are expecting to be shot at then prepare for it, if you do not then you are an easy target. Interestingly enough, the harder he pushed me the more I leaned on God for every aspect of my life.
I share the following incident only to demonstrate how crazy things can get when you are under attack from Satan, and why it is vitally important to keep a clear mind that is focused on God’s truth. On more than one occasion a young female soldier (not from my unit) would come to my room alone, late at night, crying and wanting to talk. Being immediately suspicious and skeptical, I would not allow any women into my room alone and insisted that we get another female NCO to talk with her. That was always followed by weeping pleas, and the individual stating they only wanted to talk with me alone, while they attempted to acquire a hug from me. I am not claiming that I am made of stone, but along with my love and commitment to my wife and family and my desire to be right before God, I am also not that gullible.
I was not gullible enough to believe that a young woman, who was currently serving with hundreds of young male soldiers, suddenly found a man old enough to be her father so attractive that she needed to seek me out late at night. Yet it always ended the same; I would insist on getting a female NCO and the young weeping soldier would immediately stop crying and reply with “forget it,” and stomp off with an attitude. I obviously do not believe that they were agents of Satan doing his bidding, but I do know that the more I tried to be right the more temptation landed in my lap. Unfortunately adultery and other assorted violations of military regulations seemed to be epidemic on that base. Perhaps some soldiers sought to ease their own conviction by causing me to fail spiritually. Fortunately this type of solicitation ended as quickly as it had begun.
You Can’t Fix Stupid
A wise CSM told me that the adage “Rank has its privileges” should only apply when those with rank have met their obligations. He continued with “Leading troops in combat will be the most stressful time of your life, and it will be the most rewarding as well.” I would understand his meaning more during this last tour than ever before. As a Platoon SGT I soon realized that herding cats might have been an easier profession. Yet there were many times that I was never more proud of any group of soldiers than I was of those of my last tour.
The title, “You Can’t Fix Stupid” is not meant to be insulting, but it does help explain what those in leadership must deal with throughout their careers. It will also help to explain some of the stress that I was under during this last tour. The greatest stressor of all was being held accountable for the actions of fifty other soldiers twenty-four hours a day. Yet that is how the military is supposed to work, which is why it does work so well.
Micromanagement in the military does not work; soldiers must be trained, motivated and directed. After that they will make decisions that will reflect well or poorly on their leadership, and all I could do was wait for one or the other. My NCO CoC was directly through the First SGT of our company. When my troops screwed up my commander called me to account, not them. In fact there is a saying in the Army for this, “When you screw up you screw up your CoC.”
This played out on a regular basis, although not because my troops were screw-ups. It is just human nature to make mistakes times fifty. I would cringe when I would hear “3-7” (my call sign) on the radio either from TOP or HQ. Some mistakes can be addressed with some retraining and motivation. For instance each platoon was required to supply a few soldiers each day to work for the base command. This could be tower duty, dining hall or supervising local national day workers. My platoon went through a period of time where some would over sleep. That meant that I would receive a call on the radio, which the entire company could hear, that one of my troops had failed to report. This was inevitably followed by a call from TOP.
After a few failed attempts to correct this problem myself I decided to hold their immediate supervisors responsible. I advised each team leader that if their soldier failed to report to their duty station I would send the team leader instead. I only had to do that one time, I rolled the team leader out of bed on his day off and he worked the day for that soldier. It never happened again throughout my platoon.
I had another soldier (who I will name “Ouch” since he tended to break things) whose biggest problem was his desire to work as little as possible when that work was not combat-related. In his mind, his only job was to ride around manning a machine gun and shoot at bad guys; anything else was beneath him. That is not how the military works and fighting that system never ends well. The day came when Ouch came running up to me looking distressed. I knew this would not be good. He stated that when he parked his Humvee (a seven-ton armored vehicle) on the wash ramp he failed to engage the emergency brake and to chock the tires, all mandatory safety procedures. This is what happens when soldiers regard any work beneath them; they don’t take it seriously or pay attention to detail.
His Humvee rolled down the ramp (with no driver) and careened across a parking lot full of people and eventually crashed into a chain link fence. Thankfully no one was injured, but the fence was literally wrapped around the Humvee, pulling the poles out of the ground—concrete base and all. As I stood there staring in disbelief he said in all seriousness, “This is on me SGT Moore,” to which I replied, “No, it’s not; it’s on me!” I no sooner finished that statement when I heard TOP on the radio, “3-7, report to me now!”
Some of these events are more humorous now than they were then. I will not forget that after the Humvee was removed, the fence maintained the shape of the Humvee. One of my fellow NCOs jokingly commented that it looked like some expensive display of modern art. I had to agree with him.
The most distressing screw-up and the name sake of this section came out of nowhere. While discussing the work schedule with my NCOs, we suddenly heard one gun shot fired down the alley from us. We froze for a moment thinking we didn’t just hear that. Until we heard a loud scream, more from panic than from pain. We ran down the alley to find the screaming soldier (I’ll call Frenchy) with blood covering his arm which another soldier was holding to slow the bleeding. Prior experience had taught me that if Frenchy did not calm down he might bleed out. The faster his heart raced the faster it would pump blood out of his arm.
I grabbed his face with both hands and yelled, “Frenchy, am I going to let you die?”
To which he replied, “No, SGT Moore!”
“Then sit down and shut up!”
Frenchy sat down ceased his screaming and allowed the medics to work on him.
My first thought was that Frenchy had shot himself, which was my first question.
The soldier spoke up and stated, “I shot him.”
My heart sank. It was bad enough for a soldier to accidently shoot himself, but when one soldier shoots another soldier, everything changes and it escalates to a criminal investigation.
I secured the scene taking custody of the weapon and the shooter. My entire command responded to my location and Frenchy was taken to the base hospital. Frenchy was stabilized and returned to the United States for treatment. The investigation determined that there was no malicious intent and the shooting was a negligent action. Before this was over, I was ordered to travel across Baghdad to stand before the Brigade CSM and then the Division CSM to give account of the shooting.
Those unfamiliar with the military might ask why I was held responsible when I had no immediate control over these soldiers’ actions. Yet I understood that as the PS I was accountable for the actions of my soldiers. I also understood that whatever came out of the CSM’s mouth my only response was either “Yes, CSM,” or “No, CSM,” period. The Brigade CSM verbally tore me up one side and down the other with TOP and the Battalion CSM present and then dismissed me. I then appeared
before the Division CSM this time alone. I thought for sure I would have no “ass” left after this meeting. Considering the rank of the Division CSM, I knew that he answered “only to God” and now I was standing in front of his desk. He read the file for a moment then asked for my account of what happened. I spoke of what I knew to be true as he sat and stared at me for a moment. He then ordered me to sit down and stated, “You can’t fix stupid, SGT Moore!” I replied, “No, CSM, I can’t.” I was dismissed and returned to my base. It was events such as these that led me to sleepless nights ever waiting for the radio to sound off with “3-7, 3-7.”
Death from Above
It began as just another day in Baghdad, up at zero-dark thirty to send my squads outside the wire for another long day of work. This began my routine which was followed by meeting with the CoC for daily updates and then off to the gym. I had returned from the gym when I heard the all too familiar alarm blaring over the base, “Incoming, incoming.” This alarm gave us a three to five second warning that we had incoming rockets and mortars.
I jumped up from my desk and ran outside heading toward the concrete bunker. Most of my troops were outside the wire already so I had only a handful on base. I’ll be the first to admit that we had become complacent in regards to these attacks. The danger was very real even though the attacks happened almost daily, rarely resulting in any loss of life. Typically the rockets were fired randomly at our base hoping to hit something of significance. Yet these attacks were never a waste of resources by the enemy because they worked well at general harassment and at lowering troop morale.
I was the last soldier entering the bunker as I was directing the others to move further inside. Our bunker had never been completed so it was actually wide open at one end. Just as I was stepping in I saw the first round impact the motor pool parking lot and I immediately knew we were in trouble. I knew this because it was not a rocket fired at random but rather a smoke round which is used for directing following fire. This meant that there was a Forward Observer (FO) on or overlooking our base directing the enemies fire based upon where the smoke landed. The following rounds proved me right.
The trailers that we lived in were built in rows all evenly distanced apart with bunkers positioned at the end of each row. During these alarms all of the soldiers would immediately run for the bunker which was where the rounds began to impact. It was discovered later that an Iraqi national that worked on our base had paced out the distance of the bunkers and had forwarded that intelligence to the enemy. During the attack he was positioned on top of a building on base with a cell phone literally directing the enemy fire at our bunkers.
Much of what happened after that point forward was a blur, but from what I do recall (and from what I was told by other soldiers) this is what occurred. While explosions were taking place in front of the other bunkers one rocket exploded directly behind me. The force of this explosion swept over me like a wave and took me off my feet. For that moment in time I felt like I was floating while my back was on fire. I was in and out of consciousness from that point forward.
I remember my vision returning and seeing another NCO kneeling over me talking to me but I could not hear him clearly, he was trying to assess my injuries. My sense of hearing was muffled at first but eventually would return sporadically. I could hear other soldiers near me calling out to each other, some in pain and others trying to take control of the immediate area. When I became more coherent I attempted to sit up but discovered that I was partially paralyzed due to the trauma of the explosion to my spine.
It was then that I heard one of my soldiers cry out in pain and then began to call out my name, “SGT Moore! SGT Moore!” He was in another bunker at the end of the row; I could not see him much at all due to the thick dust that the explosion had caused. Another NCO told me not to move and that he would look after my injured soldier. It tore me up inside knowing that one of my guys was hurt and calling for me and I was unable to help him.
There appeared to be a lull in the attack when a soldier from another unit helped me onto a flatbed truck full of other wounded. The enemy knew our SOPs all too well; they knew that when the attack slowed, the first responders would be trying to get the wounded to the closest aid station or hospital. While I was lying on that truck out in the open the alarm sounded again, “Incoming, Incoming!” I tried to get off the truck but could not move when a soldier grabbed me and pulled me down to the ground just as the rounds began to impact around us. He tried to cover me with part of his body while the ground shook. I was face down on the gravel parking lot as the concussion from the blast would literally raise me up off the ground while shoving gravel into my face. I was choking on the dust and smoke; to this day I have flashbacks when I smell sulfur.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Purple Hearts and Wounded Spirits
THROUGHOUT MY TOURS, I had been in several life-threatening events that I did not think I would live through, but nothing compared to this. Unable to move, I felt helpless. The force of the explosion alone coursing through my body was enough to make me lose consciousness. I saw my life pass before my eyes; it was my past and present laid out before me all at once. I could see my wife, my children, all of those who were dear to me and some who were not. I could see them all, each and every one of them all at the same time as if they could see me too. I reached out to them, almost touching when I was suddenly jerked backwards. I was being pulled away from those who loved me to face those that did not. It was then, in a moment of coherent thought, that I truly believed that the next explosion would be my last; I cried out to God for help.
I believe that the Lord calmed my spirit as I accepted my fate and I prayed for God to take me home to be with Him. Suddenly I felt like I had been raised up so I could look down upon my life, not to see all the evil that I had done but the wrongs that had been done to me. I heard the voice of God say that I was forgiven of my sins because of my faith in His son Jesus but that I had not forgiven others. I saw the Lord’s hand reach into my chest and pull out a black heart. It was my heart turned dark from all the hurt done to me that I had never let go of, pain that festered into anger and fear.
I saw all of the evil acts that our Muslim enemies had done or caused others to do. I heard the voices of those who tormented and humiliated me all the way back through my childhood. Finally the darkest portion of my heart broke open and I saw the root of my pain, the cornerstone of my fortress of anger. That was the buried memory of being sexually abused as a young boy at the hands of an older man.
I was nine or ten years old and I can still see his face as he warned me not to say anything because my family would know what I had done and they would hate me for it. He even told me that it would be okay because he could tell that I “really needed this and when I got older I would appreciate his affection.” I did not speak of this to anyone, even my wife, until I began to write this story.
The Lord used this near death event to cleanse my heart, spirit and mind of all of the darkness that I had held there for most of my life. I finally realized why I frequently felt crushed by the weight of that day when I was young. Looking back it was as if my life had stopped and I remained the injured child inside. It was why I felt afraid and angry at the same time throughout most of my life. It was why I became a police officer and a soldier. I would be the man that would protect others from that evil. I also believed that no one would ever hurt me again if I was the protector. I now had the means to stop them. I understood my gut level response to the Muslim violence toward my family and brother soldiers. The overwhelming sense of helplessness, a lack of control over events that had transpired when I was young had prepared me for my response toward the events following the 9/11 attack.
I was finally able to process what had happened throughout my life and was able to forgive everyone who I believed had hurt me. I was free at last; I felt like chains had been removed from around my neck, arms and legs. When He broke open each section of darkened heart He burned it up into a vapor
with His light of truth and love. I expected to continue on into His presence at this point when I heard Him say, “Live with forgiveness.” I asked to stay with Him in His light; I did not want to go back to such a dark world. Then, just as quickly as it had vanished, my life flashed before me again. I saw my friends, my children and finally my wife’s sweet smiling face. She reached out to me and I was back.
I awoke to being back in the flatbed truck, racing across the base, while the Iraqi FO was calling in rounds at our truck. Mortars were landing around us and directly behind us but we were able to reach the hospital without further injury. I began to lose consciousness again but I remember being examined and treated by a medical team.
My CO CPT Pearson and platoon leader 1LT McCarroll after each receiving the Bronze Star; this is what good leadership looks like.
It was then that I saw my PL looking over me and reassuring me that I would be okay. I remember hearing the groans of other soldiers in the ER while the medical staff triaged all of the wounded. The next thing I remember was my PL helping to carry my stretcher out to the helicopter waiting to transport us to the main United States hospital in Baghdad near the embassy.
I was wheeled down the hall at the hospital to a horrific sight of wall-to-wall wounded soldiers. Along with striking our base, the enemy also fired upon the embassy, injuring scores of soldiers there. After I was stabilized, I was thrilled to see my brother-in-law Terry (Carole’s husband) waiting for me. My PL knew of my relationship with Terry, and that he was currently stationed at the embassy, and contacted him about my status. Terry’s presence had a calming effect on my heart; knowing that I was with a family member gave me a sense of peace. He was able to contact my family directly so my wife had heard from family even prior to the Army chaplain pulling up the driveway.
Purple Hearts & Wounded Spirits Page 13
