Purple Hearts & Wounded Spirits Read online

  I then heard the call to mount up and move out, it appeared this ambush was over and the road ahead of us was open. One of the guys from my squad saw the RPG round in the truck door and exclaimed, “SSG Moore you have got to be the luckiest soldier in Iraq!”

  I replied with, “I would rather believe that I am blessed.”

  Another soldier who was a bit of a comedian stated, “Yea, Moore’s a Christian he’s got a guardian angel.”

  “That’s cool,” stated the first soldier, “maybe I should ride with you; what’s your angel’s name?”

  The comedian then jumped in with, “Legion, for we are many!” causing all of us to break out in much needed laughter.

  Chapter Seven

  Human Shields

  OUR MISSIONS TO “SAVE GILLIGAN” continued with regularity, which again was better than being back at our base. We would escort convoys from one base to another, sometimes sleeping in tents and eating a hot meal in the DFAC, other times it was MREs and sleeping on top of our truck under the open sky. We knew we could depend on each other for whatever happened, regardless of the fact that we were following orders. We were removed enough to feel like masters of our own destinies.

  Nevertheless, the enemy had really stepped up the attacks and, at the same time, had reached a new low, at least for me. To cite an example of the amazing lack of courage of our enemies, they announced that they had a leader in a man named Sadr (the namesake of Sadr City, the ghetto section of Baghdad). Sadr had declared war on the infidel Americans and announced that his “army” wore a black uniform with a green sash. Perfect! By doing this they identified themselves as enemy combatants as well as their specific uniform. Therefore, our new ROE stated that we could engage anyone wearing those colors on sight. When we did see men in these uniforms they were already shooting at us but it definitely made our job a lot easier and engage the enemy we did. This lasted a few short weeks until they realized the folly of openly identifying themselves as the enemy and ceased wearing such uniforms and returned to hiding amongst the common people.

  This did not surprise me, as I had come to realize that our enemy were only brave when shooting from the rooftops or hiding in mosques. Yet my Iraq tour had reached another gut-wrenching low point when we encountered the strategy of “human shields.” We were briefed that the enemy were trying a new tactic during ambushes: shooting at us from the rooftops and through open windows while actually standing behind women and children! I had to see it to believe it, which did not take very long.

  Our ROE was very specific and practical. We were to engage the enemy with controlled fire at specific targets of opportunity taking every precaution to not cause collateral damage to the human shields. This may sound callous at first but the intent was clear and the reasoning sound. The enemy believed that American soldiers would not return fire for fear of injuring the non-combatants, which would allow them to shoot at us unhindered. By not returning fire not only would our own soldiers most likely be injured, but the human shields might as well due to collateral damage. I honestly believe the enemy was hoping for that type of collateral damage.

  In the previously mentioned situation with the news reporter being forewarned of the enemy’s future attack, they obviously wanted the press, especially bad press. This tactic would make Americans back home become overwhelmed with the burden of seeing their own soldiers being injured and even killed. It was much like the way the Viet Cong used the American media to promote their own narrative. Basically, if the enemy thinks this ploy works they will continue to use it. Therefore, we had to take that advantage away from our enemy.

  It was another trip through Baghdad when our convoy was forced to stop. We exited the trucks and scanned the buildings for any possible aggressive action. I saw someone moving toward us down a narrow alleyway, it was two men dragging a women and a small girl both of whom were screaming and trying to get free. Before we could consider any course of action they entered the building and were out of sight. The two men then appeared in separate open windows, each holding a human shield in front of them. The man at the left window held the woman with her arms behind her back as he raised his AK-47, preparing to fire. The other man had a similar stance, except he held the young girl with his arm around her throat. Both hostages looked terrified and were crying.

  I was in shock at what I witnessed. I could not bring myself to believe that they were actually going to use these innocent people as shields. A soldier standing next to me asked “what the hell are they doing?” Before I could think of an answer I realized we had stood still for far too long and that the enemy had seen us. They opened fire in our direction, and we both took cover behind our trucks, trying to decide what course of action to take. I became enraged but was grounded enough that I remained concerned for the safety of my buddies and our convoy, so I did not act irrationally.

  These men were using a woman and a child for cover, and I wanted these cowardly men dead. We would not leave until those hostages were free and the enemy was dead. Our ROE gave us the go to engage the enemy in this situation, but with extreme caution. I took up a supported position along the back of my truck and tried to get a clear shot at the man on the right who was holding the girl. He must have thought, “these Americans will not shoot back,” because he was standing in such a fashion that his head and right shoulder were visible.

  I aimed at his left eye hoping a clean head shot would drop him instantly and the girl could possibly get out of the house. Before I could fire, the girl began to struggle and they were both moving back and forth too much for me to get a clear shot. I decided on suppressive fire, if I could not hit him I could keep his head down and thus prevent him from firing at us. I fired one round at the window frame just to the side of his right eye. Those buildings are made of dried mud so my shot was effective; it struck the side of the window causing the mud brick and wood to shatter, creating the desired effect. The spray of mud chips next to his face caused him to jump back and I lost sight of the two of them.

  It was then that I noticed that other soldiers were employing the same tactic as I had and were laying suppressive fire at the other window frame. When attacks like this take place our SOP dictates that we radio the Quick Response Force (QRF or Sheriff) assigned to that Area of Operation (AO) for assistance. They had just arrived and were entering the building just as we received orders to mount up and move out. I was advised later that both of the hostages were fine and the enemy had been taken out by the QRF.

  When we had arrived at our next base we followed our usual SOPs of vehicle/gear/weapons maintenance, hygiene, food and finally sleep. While I lay on my cot staring up at the stars I began to review what had transpired that day. My hands began to shake; the reality of what I had witnessed had finally caught up with me. The thought that these cowards had purposely placed a woman and a child in harm’s way was the lowest thing I had ever seen. What if I had injured that little girl? I would not be able to get past that, even though they placed her in harm’s way deliberately. These were supposedly brave Muslim Jihadists fighting for Allah against the evil infidels. They were lower than cowards; these were animals, at least in my estimation at that time. This incident and others like it only served to cement my anger for, hatred of and absolute contempt for these people that have turned a generation of young men and women seeking spiritual enlightenment into cold blooded killers. From that point on every man I killed was one less flying a plane into a building or using children as shields; I thought the world would spin easier every time I pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Eight

  On the Lighter Side

  DESPITE WHAT WE SEE ON TV, war-like law enforcement is more hurry up and wait than the constant action the movies might portray. Like life there are humorous times to look back on and laugh, if for no other reason than to help keep us sane, at least for a time. I think about situations that are hard to either believe or laugh at unless you were there but I will try. I want to share some of these stories for a few reasons
, to demonstrate that war is not constant combat and that life happens no matter where you are or who you are with.

  There had been a tremendous amount of action lately, and our convoy had arrived at its destination only to be advised that there was no room at the inn. The enemy had effectively shut down many of the normal routes convoys traveled so the obvious effect was a traffic jam of enormous proportions. Our convoy, along with countless others, had to park outside the base on the four lane highway rather than inside behind tall concrete walls with tower guards. The base PP did provide some security but we also organized some of our own realizing that we were presenting a target rich environment.

  We settled in as best we could for a few days of hurry up and wait. By this time we had been on the road for a week, riding in our trucks and choking on dust with the outside temperature well over one hundred degrees every day. We did our best to keep our critical body parts clean but at this point my body odor could have choked a camel. I decided to take a shower using two large water bottles that I left out on top of my truck to warm in the sun. There were no shower facilities for us outside the base and we were literally parked on the second lane of a four lane highway with trucks of all sizes as far as the eye could see.

  I decided to wait until dark when all of the other soldiers were sleeping to attempt my quick field shower. Finally it was dark, all of the lights from the trucks were off, and I could not hear anyone talking or moving around. I placed a piece of cardboard on the ground in the median between the four lanes and rapidly undressed. I rinsed myself down and began to wash when I heard a soldier call my name.

  “SSG Moore, is that you? What are you doing?!”

  “I’m taking a shower. Now shut up and go back to sleep,” I stated trying to give an order without raising my voice.

  Having a sense of humor he decided that everyone out there should enjoy the fact that I was bathing in the open and turned on the headlights of our truck directed at me. Well that did the trick. In an instant I could hear people talking and then laughter combined with the sound of horns blowing and even the hoots and whistles of the female soldiers. Standing there buck naked still covered with soap, I realized there was no sense in stopping what I had begun and continued to wash and rinse. That only served to encourage the comments which began to sound more like cat calls at a strip club. The next day several soldiers stopped by to thank me for the previous night’s entertainment, and a few female soldiers even jokingly handed me one dollar bills. I was embarrassed but I also felt like a new man since I no longer smelled like a dead horse. Spending time in a combat environment you quickly learn that some of the protocols of polite society need to be ignored, so just laugh it off and move on.

  Another humorous event, at least after the fact, occurred during a detainee transport and release convoy mission. We had been ordered to pick up a large number of detainees slotted for release at a nearby base and to drop them off at their respective towns. When we began to load them into our vehicle we realized we had a problem; our interpreter would not be traveling with us and we needed to make three different drops at towns across the area.

  “How do we know who gets off where?” someone asked.

  One of the guys came up with an idea. As we loaded each Iraqi the interpreter asked him what his hometown was and if we could write the first letter of that town on his forehead. No detainee had a problem with this idea, they were just thrilled to be on their way home. We took a sharpie and wrote the first letter of each of their hometowns on their foreheads, that way we would know who got off at each location.

  This plan worked like a charm at our first stop. We even loaded the Iraqis into the trucks in the reverse order of their release. However the next stop was a different story. We did not know it at that time but that particular city had a reputation for being a wild place. Meaning that Iraqi men could engage in all sorts of behavior that was forbidden in the Koran. Did I mention that our government had paid each of these men cash to compensate them for their time while incarcerated? Once they realized where they were the trucks emptied completely in minutes and men began running down the street away from us. Our first reaction was to try and stop them until the SGT in charge stated, “Hey these guys are being released, so we have no obligation to hold them. If they want out here that’s up to them. Let’s go home.” We loaded our trucks and hit the road, headed back to our base feeling rather good about getting the job done early for a change and possibly returning in time for a hot meal.

  The next day we heard of a disturbance in the city where we had dropped off the detainees, it seemed there were reports of a sudden influx of men with money to burn in that city. Apparently they had become drunk (yes some Muslims drink alcohol) and disorderly. It did not take a genius to realize what had happened, yet we were never questioned about our mission to that city, so we just chalked it up for experience and laughs.

  Chapter Nine

  The Red Cross

  WE HAD SPENT A FEW DAYS back at our base at the palace awaiting our order to mount up and pick up another convoy when the 1st SGT drove up and pulled me to the side. He looked concerned so I knew something was not right. He stated that they had received a notification from the Red Cross (RC) that I had a family emergency back home. He did not have any details; the Red Cross would only release that information to me directly.

  The RC serves as one of the few ways a soldier’s family may contact him during an emergency. Family members contact the RC directly with the specific details of the family crisis and the RC then has the ability to verify the stated crisis and contact the soldier’s CoC, even in Iraq. Many times an RC notification means a death in the family, so I was obviously upset and was immediately relieved of my duties and taken back to our HQ to call home.

  I spoke with my wife and the good news was that no one had died or was in critical condition. However, there was still a serious problem with my family. My youngest son was becoming traumatized by my absence. He is autistic, and while I was away he became depressed and could not sleep at night due to night terrors that kept him and my wife distressed. She had taken him to see a doctor who said that my son believed I was literally fighting in a war zone that wouldn’t end. The doctor likened it to living through the movie Black Hawk Down (Scott, 2001) day after day, and said that it was too much for him to handle. The doctor was concerned that if I did not come home soon and let my son see me alive that he may need to be hospitalized for treatment. My CoC followed SOPs and I was packing to leave for home within a few days. While most of the soldiers were very supportive, a few made it known that they thought that I was somehow making this up and going home because I “could not hack it,” or that I was actually a coward. Those accusations, no matter how inaccurate, burned deep inside of my heart and I was to pay a price for adding them to my already conflicted spirit. Nevertheless, I was soon home taking care of my son, with my family and friends, and away from the war, at least for a little while.

  Chapter Ten

  I Didn’t See That Coming!

  IT WAS AROUND THIS TIME that I began to reflect on what God had done in my life and how He was working on my heart even when I did not realize it. I have shared all the different reasons that I decided to deploy to Iraq, from patriotism to honor, and even to the less noble motivation of revenge masked as righteous judgment. I discussed my struggle with my burning desire to kill the enemy far beyond what was required.

  What I did not see coming was just how God was going to intervene in my life when I actually thought that I was in control and that I could decide when and where He would be “allowed” to be involved with my life and those around me. How He used my status as a Christian teacher to be an open door for those who were searching for answers that the secular world could not provide. I became a safety net for those soldiers that were either unaware of the life altering experiences that were ahead of them or that they just chose to ignore out of pride or fear. God did this knowing full well that I would either have to completely walk awa
y from my faith or that out of my desire to share God’s love for all people I would submit to Him. I would become a willing servant to the Holy Spirit attempting to comfort any that came to me with heavy hearts.

  God also began to work on my perception of Muslim people and my feelings toward them in general. Nothing will reach the heart of every soldier like a child, especially a child in need. While in Iraq I consistently saw children that I did not recognize as Muslims but only as children. I became aware of children who were in dire situations, who were obviously malnourished and homeless. There were children that would run out to wave at our convoys giving us thumbs up, a big smile and ask for candy.

  When I interacted with these children I realized that they were just like those back home, but what I failed to realize was that these kids would someday become Muslim adults. Would I hate them then or just find a way to separate the two groups through rationalization? What God made clear to me at the end of this tour was that these kids, like their parents, needed a Savior just as much as I did. I had to search my heart and face the fact that my hate would have allowed me to deny any opportunity to share the Gospel in deed or word. I had accepted the fact that my desire was for them to die and Hell was something they deserved.

  I was most definitely convicted by the Holy Spirit to recognize my mindset and own the fact that I was in sin. I prayed for forgiveness, asked for a softer heart and that I would see all people as needing God’s salvation through Christ regardless of my perception of any wrong done toward me or mine. I felt satisfied at that moment that I was right with God and that the darkness that had fallen over my heart had been lifted. It would not be until my last tour that I would realize just how deep some scars go and that it would take being on deaths door to force me to face the truth of what was truly buried beneath.