They rained incessantly, like rain drops always just before lunch and just before we ended the work day. A weird quasi-dysfunctional Iraq version of “Office Space.” Nobody really talked about the rockets and mortars, as doing so would be a sign of weakness in the macho military world of the US military at war.

60mm mortar tail fin after impact and detonation

Yet once the indirect fire radar picked up the tell tale sign of ballistic objects moving at a high rate of speed in a pre-templated signature arc, the automated siren would wail. In a loud and mono tonal voice, “WaWaWa…seek cover….WaWaWa…seek cover” the siren and voice would precede the mortars or rockets insurgents just outside the Green Zone, had fired. The technological advancement and US tax payer dollars had thankfully been funneled into worthy project worth every penny. Every time the siren wailed, US troops would seek cover in a hardened building or bunker. Some US troops would walk others would run and in the case no bunkers or hardened building were around, picking a side of “T-Wall” would normally suffice. At times when the system was in repair or birds or other aerial objects “clouded” the signature, the mortar or rockets would impact with no warning at all. A majority of the time the mortars or rockets would miss, landing harmlessly in the desert or on some unsuspecting street. The hastily and poorly aimed indirect fire rounds would rarely exceed more than a few rounds, lest counter-battery fire close in and destroy who or what was firing.

T-Wall in Iraq or Afghanistan

The consistent wailing of sirens and the impact of mortars within 30 to 50 yards of our building were a tenuous reminder of where in the world I was at and how the insurgency was still going. Fresh off my first deployment to Ar Ramadi in 2006, the relative tranquility and safety of the Green Zone was welcomed. I felt somewhat let down at realizing that about 75% of time we would be spent doing staff work at a major headquarters in Baghdad’s Green Zone, but felt glad to know that travel throughout Iraq would still be possible.

As one of three Marines, in the massive 2000 person plus headquarters, I felt it was my obligation to be the “Marine” setting a standard and finding ways to exceed it. I found satisfaction in the significant travel that accompanied the position, hitting garden spots such as southern and northern Iraq, though mostly I spent time in and around Baghdad and visited the notorious Abu Grhaib Prison. Working in the logistics section, our work was mostly mundane and to be honest fairly straightforward. Getting the gear to who needed it and trying to get it there on time. The real excitement came from the weekly rain of mortars.

Within the unit, there was a US Army Officer, a Captain, who carefully managed any time spent outside of the building and out in the unprotected open. The moment the “Big Voice” would come on or the sound of a distant mortar impact, she would instinctively react by getting under the table and donning her personal protective equipment (helmet, flak jacket with SAPI plates)in a near paniced state. As she reacted, fellow Soldiers and Officers would look at her out of the corner of their eyes or stare as if they had seen “crazy” person. Pretty soon her reactions began to permiate her fellow Soldiers and I watched as the mad rush to throw PPE on went on day after day.

Her actions didn’t stop there, pretty soon she refused to exit the building to eat at the Chow Hall, as the 3 minute walk to the Chow Hall was unprotected from overhead cover and therefore at great risk. She would have her fellow Soldiers or Officers pick-up food to go so she could eat or would just snack on what care package happened to contain that day. Her only “risk” was the walk to the Gym and to the shuttle bus stop down the road.

I watched in amazement as she methodically walked through three different buildings, through emergency exits and under awnings in a maze like effort to avoid walking outside under no overhead cover to get to the Gym. Her frustrations showing if a door was blocked or under construction and she had to quickly run to another building using a primary doorway. Her efforts to reach her barracks were just as complicated, I watched as she would wait for the shuttle bus to reach the stop and quickly run to the bus just as the bus would close the doors. Covered in her PPE she sweated profusly in the non-air conditioned shuttle bus. Her turtle shaped appeareance jamed between the tight seats, afforded no space for other riders in the two-person seats, as she had taken up all the space.

Every day I watched as this complicated and zealous effort to avoid being injured in a mortar attack went on. I began to watch carefully at even the slightest of changes or challenges to her behaviour. On one occasion when the power was out in the building, our Chief of Staff hosted his staff meeting outside, the officer mission was suddenly sick and unable to attend. If there was a “hail and farewell” a military custom to departing and arriving new military members, she either planned the events (inside a building) or didn’t attend if they were outside as they were typically conducted.

I tried to find ways to talk to her, but every attempt was quickly rebuffed and eyes would focus on me like lasers burning into my back if it looked like I was going to say something to her, after awhile I began to feel for her Soldiers working for her. As a outsider, a Marine, I didnt get the open-door to speak my mind on the issue.

A few months later I departed the large headquarters and returned back to the states. I quickly forgot all that had transpired and was “knee-deep” in my work at Camp Pendleton. A few months later, I got an email from the Marine whom had replaced me, he said a rocket had threaded its way through a gap in the 25ft T-walls that surrounded the Gym at the headquarters. I was horrified, as the Gym was always packed. In disbelief, the US Army Captain who made every effort to avoid being hit was in the Gym and was seriously injured. Other members of the headquarters whom I had known or worked with were killed in the attack and seriously wounded.

The lesson; the military is inherently dangerous, being deployed into a war zone is even more so. Live your life not in fear of the unknown or the unpredictable, but respect the fear, manage it. She did everything she could to avoid getting hit, but sometimes indirect fire is a “Biatch” and there is nothing you can do to avoid it. Dont disrespect yourself in the process. Take precaution and don’t be stupid.