Tom Sileo (16 page)

After a pause and a sip of water, the Iraqi officer nodded. The raid would not start until 8:00 p.m.

The high-value-target raid on that evening in February 2007 was aimed at capturing or killing a terrorist who had come to Fallujah all the way from Sudan. The suspect and the weapons he was smuggling into the city were almost certainly responsible for the deaths of several Iraqis and US troops, and taking him out was essential.

“Let's go get this bag of trash,” Petty said before slamming the door of his Humvee. “We own the night.”

The Marines and Iraqis, equipped with thermal night vision, turned off their vehicle lights as their patrol descended on the suspected terrorist safe house. The Marines pulled up front, while the Iraqis parked just around the corner to keep watch. Above them, an F/A-18 provided reconnaissance from the night sky.

Travis, who had kicked in plenty of doors since his first days of Mojave Viper training in faux Iraqi villages, led the way inside the tiny, decaying house. But soon after they entered and got into position, it became apparent nobody was home.

“Your squeaker's getting away,” the F/A-18 pilot said over the radio. “He's headed for the mosque.”

“Motherfucker,” Petty said from the Humvee. “These bastards never cease to amaze me.”

As Travis and a fellow Marine, Sergeant Rich Olsen, walked out of the house, conversation outside shifted toward storming the mosque. Surely, some on the team believed, the end would justify the means, as the consequences of a bunch of Americans entering a holy site couldn't be any worse than allowing a Sudanese terrorist to continue killing kids with his guns and bombs.

“Negative,” said Travis, interrupting one of the Marines who was talking about storming the mosque. “This is what we have the Iraqis here for.”

Not only could Muslim soldiers enter the mosque, but Travis, Kubicki, and fellow MiTT team officers had spent valuable time fostering a relationship with the local cleric. While the “bag of trash” probably thought he had found his night's refuge, Travis smiled as American and Iraqi troops cordoned off the mosque's exterior. This guy had no idea what was about to hit him.

Minutes after a phone call to the cleric, Iraqi soldiers were dragging the foreign suspect out of the mosque, where many of their families prayed to Allah. All the American forces could initially do was watch as some Iraqi soldiers muttered expletives and pushed around the defeated suspect.

While Travis and his fellow Marines wouldn't tolerate violence against any defenseless prisoner, they also understood the line between abuse and justice. The Iraqi soldiers regarded the Sudanese terrorist as the NYPD would 9/11 mastermind Khalid Sheikh Mohammed if he were captured in lower Manhattan. To the Iraqi troops, this was a murderer who had no business inside
their country, and until the Americans intervened and took possession of the prisoner, they were going to get some payback. As was the case on any battlefield, emotions were running at levels that civilians who had never experienced them could not possibly comprehend. It certainly wasn't the first time in history that an enemy combatant had been greeted with anger by his captors.

When the Iraqis handed over the prisoner to the Americans, Travis and Olsen took him to a makeshift interrogation room on a nearby forward operating base (FOB). Because of the Sudanese terrorist's capture, one or more innocent Iraqi teenagers who would have been blown up as children are probably walking the streets of Fallujah today. The raid was a small but significant victory for both the MiTT team and the people of Iraq, and it went a long way toward building trust with the Iraqi soldiers, who appreciated the help of Travis and his patrol in making it happen.

On February 25, 2007, a tired but upbeat Travis sent another update to the e-mail list that included Tom, Janet, Ryan, Brendan, and many other close friends and relatives:

          
All,

                
My job is definitely going well. After all the horror stories we heard about the Iraqi Army and their unwillingness to work with the MiTTs (us), they have been very open and willing to listen to advice. Creating an initial relationship with my counterparts was the right move and it has allowed me to really help them start shaping operations. There are many dedicated men in this Army and it's been an eye-opening experience so far. The best IA's are definitely dedicated to their cause and have a warrior mentality that rivals some Americans. However, there are still those enemies out there that wish us to fail.

                
There is a lot of work left to do, but the city is definitely at a different place than it was last year. I really feel that it is at a critical point where if the situation continues to
progress it could have a huge positive impact in the area. Also, I have found a good balance between my logistics job and my company advisor role. Although going on operations definitely requires a good amount of time, I am able to work with the battalion logistics officer on a fairly regular basis.

                
I also appreciate all the good food and gear that has been sent. Workouts and your support have definitely helped keep me going. As I said before, we're pretty busy, but I wanted to take a minute to thank you guys for everything and keep you updated.

                
Please continue to write-I enjoy your updates as well. Take care and I'll talk to you soon.

          
Semper Fi,

          
Travis

In Fallujah, where Travis had spent the majority of the previous eighteen months, the Marine could feel the tide beginning to turn. He was a part of history, not only because he was one of the few Americans there to see it, but because he was helping make it happen.

As Travis patrolled some of the most volatile sections of Fallujah's eight square miles, in which every house represented a possible IED factory or sniper hideout, it was obvious to everyone on the MiTT team that he had been to the city before. The calm, composed Marine exhibited the exact blend of experience and toughness the team needed to weather almost daily threats and what seemed like constant explosions and firefights. Travis was also eager to respond when someone needed help.

Eleven days before the massive chlorine attack, on March 17, 2007, Sergeant Justin Bales, a US Marine reservist and New York City firefighter, found himself pinned down behind a bulldozer. He was holding a bleeding Iraqi soldier who had been wounded by artillery shrapnel and a sniper's bullet. After Bales and Lieutenant
JG Jared Tracy pulled the Iraqi out of the street, only a bulldozer bucket separated them from a hail of enemy fire.

As a firefighter and Marine, Bales was accustomed to dicey situations. But with insurgents bearing down, it was only a matter of time before Bales, Tracy, and the wounded Iraqi would be killed. Bales had already tried radioing for help, but to his knowledge, nobody was volunteering for the risky rescue assignment.

Suddenly the direction of the enemy machine gun fire changed. A few seconds later, it was clear that the insurgents were firing at someone else.

Sure enough, their target was Travis and Kubicki. If anyone was bold enough to volunteer for what some might have considered a suicide mission, it was Travis and 3-2-1 MiTT. Knowing that a quick reaction force had finally arrived, Bales and Tracy could redirect their attention to caring for the wounded Iraqi soldier.

As the American force strengthened, the enemy began to retreat. The insurgents were simply no match for the increased US firepower, and after a few minutes the battle was over.

“Hey, Lieutenant,” Bales later told Travis. “I appreciate you coming out here, sir.”

“Anytime, Sarge,” Travis said. “That's what we're here for.”

The next morning Travis and his teammates awoke around 5:30 a.m. to a huge explosion. A few minutes later, they learned that Observation Post Baghdad—a new makeshift base they had been working to set up in Fallujah—was a pile of rubble.

“We were scheduled to be there today at 0800,” Petty said upon hearing the news. “I guess that makes us all pretty fucking lucky.”

“Let's get over there now,” Travis said. “We need to cordon off the area and see if anyone is still alive.”

The Marines took two Humvees to the explosion site, having no idea what they would encounter. Travis, Kubicki, Kim, Petty, Alexander, Sergeant Matthew Hill, Navy Hospital Corpsman Second Class Edwin “Doc” Albino, and others arrived to find a scary scene, which resembled Oklahoma City or even 9/11. A building
had been partially destroyed after barrels full of explosives were placed inside a shop at the lowest level of the multistory complex. Iraqis inside the chaotic blast zone were fleeing to escape being crushed by rubble or caught in another attack. To make matters even worse, insurgents were peppering a then-shaky perimeter with small arms fire.

“Let's get this area secure!” Kubicki shouted, pointing toward the rubble, where people were almost certainly trapped.

“Roger that, I'm already on it,” Travis said as Kim, Petty, and others tackled security. “Doc, let's go.”

With gunfire initially surrounding them before a secure perimeter was established, Travis, Albino, and others spent the next eight hours entering and reentering the rubble while their team members controlled the crowd outside. For all they knew, the rest of the bombed-out complex could have crumbled, or there could have been another bomb timed to go off when the quick reaction force team arrived. They went into the ruins anyway.

Carrying a large flashlight, Travis crawled into the rubble. Sweating profusely due to the heat, which was exacerbated by small fires burning throughout the compound, Travis dug through dirt, sand, and remnants of brick, searching for trapped Iraqis.

“I think I see someone down there,” Travis told Albino after eyeballing some movement in a dark area under the first floor's collapsed ceiling.

“I'll check it out,” said Albino, who had barely taken a sip of water in four hours. “Keep looking for others.”

“Doc, Travis, anyone else, do you need a break?” Petty asked over the radio from his Humvee. It was about 90 degrees outside, which wasn't as hot as usual, but still daunting considering the amount of gear Travis and Albino were carrying.

“Negative,” Travis and Albino answered virtually simultaneously.

About twenty minutes later, Albino and a US Army reservist helped carry an Iraqi soldier out of the debris. The crowd, which would normally have been hostile to the Americans, was mostly
supportive as the Navy corpsman and Army reservist carried their injured Iraqi partner out of the devastated structure's ruins. Cut and bleeding, the Iraqi soldier's leg had been all but shattered by falling concrete.

“I think this might need to be amputated,” said Albino, the MiTT team's medic.

“I've got an ambulance right over there,” Travis told him. “Do you think there's time to get him to a hospital?”

“Yes, sir,” Albino replied.

Soldiers from the 1st Iraqi Army Division, which 3-2-1 MiTT was training, watched as Travis, covered in dust, dirt, and blood, helped the badly wounded Iraqi to the ambulance and continued coordinating with Petty, Albino, and others. After several hours of being on the scene with Travis, Lieutenant Jalal turned to a fellow Iraqi officer.

“Here is an American who really cares,” he said.

Travis stopped to wipe his face with a towel and take a quick sip of water before returning to the ruins. After a few minutes of crawling, he found another Iraqi soldier pinned down, by twisted metal piping that Superman would have struggled to lift.

“I am going to help you,” Travis said to the Iraqi. “You're going to be okay.”

Mixing in some broken Arabic, Travis tried to comfort the scared, thirsty Iraqi, who could barely understand what the US Marine was saying but could tell he was there to help. After giving him the water that was left in his canteen, Travis got on the radio and began asking someone to bring an industrial saw to cut through the metal piping and free the trapped Iraqi.

“Umm . . . we don't have one of those here, Lieutenant,” a Marine told Travis.

“Well then, we need to find out who does,” Travis responded. “This guy is being crushed.”

With simultaneous insurgent attacks all around them, finding the necessary equipment, even to save lives, was difficult. But after
many more radio calls from the persistent Marine officer, who wouldn't take no for an answer, a unit found the saw and rushed to the scene to free the wounded Iraqi. He survived.

Travis, Albino, and their teammates recovered two injured Iraqis and two dead bodies from the attack site. Their selfless actions had an enduring impact on many of the Iraqis who bore witness.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Travis's ears were ringing after an IED blew up beneath his vehicle. The blast's jarring, pounding force loudly and abruptly halted his vehicle's patrol through the city's volatile eastern industrial sector.

Travis had encountered IEDs during his first deployment and as recently as nine days earlier. After ensuring that fellow Americans and Iraqis were uninjured, Travis looked down at the sandy street, where the crude explosive device was buried.