After preparing for the training day for some time, the agreed upon moment had arrived and the handful of US Advisors moved out to the training range to get our foreign partners out for some good ‘old fashioned training. Their hesitation that early morning was a sign of the things to come as they stalled, deliberated, and searched “earnestly” for their equipment. Furious, I paced around the ramp “looking not pleased” as we had missed our departure time, the Platoon Commander was late, and the Comm checks were not “complete.” In the US such basic actions would have been completed hours before or the day before. We ran through our training brief, discussed safety issues, and then…we waited. The “hurry up and wait” military concept was in full fury, roaring its ugly head worldwide and apparently made it to the Arabian Penninsula.

I grabbed the nearest senior looking soldier and asked tersely “why are we late?” He mumbled a in’shallah (Allah wills it) response in broken english and scurried off to his fellow Jundi (soldiers). The soldiers were already on their 12th cigarette of the morning and I started to look in amazement as they were heading inside to eat breakfast. Already late and with the heat soaring well over 125 degrees farenheight I was beginning to get beyond frustrated. My fellow US Advisors starred at me impatiently, allowing me to both fume and support me when the training appeared to be already coming off the rails. My bright idea was quickly dimming and we had not even left the fenced in compound parking lot (ramp).

What seemed like an eternity and after much scurrying, it appeared as though we were finally ready to depart the ramp area. Assembled, the six-wheeled armored vehicles were quite the sight to behold. As we rumbled along the paved road to the desert flat training ranges, I smiled to the Platoon Commander and in my very basic Arabic said “tatrib zein” (good training). The humid hot air provided momentary relief from the stifling heat as the vehicles sped over 20 mph through the base. I was smiling ear-to-ear, but the Platoon Commander was not.

I peered through the Troop Commander’s hatch and through the internal vehicle communications I directed the drivers to slow down and head off-road. My desire to not end my life prematurely by flipping the vehicle over off-roading in a 10 ton armored vehicle, became a powerful sensation. Looking over the antenna mast behind us, the 16 vehicles in tactical formation looked and felt good. The sand kicked up violently as the vehicles cut through the desert, then in a mighty thump, we came to sinking halt. Peering over the edge I looked and as the driver begged the vehicle to move. No such luck, we were stuck.

Lesson #1: Getting stuck in the desert happens, its how you extract yourself that everyone cares about.

As we egressed out of the vehicle, I could see that we were not only stuck, but encased. Beneath the desert soil is an undulating layer of liquid concrete mud and sand mixture. Given just enough weight you will crash through the crust and be marred. Getting the crew to begin digging out was met with an overwhelming look of disbelief. Why not just tow out mumbled the Platoon Commander, I said “well lets do it.” Deep down I knew that the mere thought of digging out was NOT an option for these Soldiers, so I relented and felt getting moving again was more important.

As the second vehicle moved into position to begin towing, slowly inching across the desert floor, it too sunk into the liquid concrete hell. I shook my head, knowing that this was a possibility, but now getting frustrated again. I pulled the Platoon Commander off to the side and said, “I think this is a good training opportunity to learn how to dig vics out, besides with two vics stuck lets not risk another.” He politely waived me off and said “la la la (no, no, no) lets just tow out.” Oooook. He ran wildly waving to the other vehicles to move into position and to begin towing the most recently stuck vehicle.

Lesson #2: Simple ideas are better in the desert, bright ones will get you killed.

Moving the third vehicle into position, and hooked up with the tow bar, the Platoon Commander gave to the order to pull. With a defeaning roar from the engine, the vehicle could not only not move but dug itself deep. In disbelief, I peered at yet another 10 ton armored vehicle marred into the ground. I hopped back into my vehicle and got up on the radio and passed to my US Advisors that we were not just stuck, but we were a “train wreck” of armored vehicles “super glued” to the desert floor.

With three 10 ton armored vehicles stuck, we assembled quickly and unhooked all of the “pioneer gear” of hand shovels and pick axes. With no further logical options in sight, we began to dig. I don’t have to really describe the scene to Marines or Soldiers whom have been stuck during desert maneuver training. The heat was as hot as the ass end of rhino, but we toiled until we had removed enough of the concrete like mud from the transmission shaft, wheels and had cut a path for the vehicles to drive onto.

The Marines reading may be asking as to why the “wrecker” wasn’t called up, and simply it was. The wrecker, a 12 ton armored tactical tow truck” was called up and after quickly going through the scheme of maneuver to haul the vehicle out with the hydraulic lifting system, I asked for a demo. Knowing that “saving face,” was an Arab custom not to be dismissed, I waited from afar to watch how the wrecker would do its thing. The driver methodically moved into place and with the push of buttons, the stabilizer arms ejected outside onto the floor and the wrecker arm began to rumble to life. As the hydraulic system strained, the arm just was not moving at all.

Seeing something was wrong the Platoon Commander yelled over the rev of the engines to stop. Then we hear a loud “snap.” Pouring out of the crevices of the vehicle was a red fluid like substance. In disbelief I ran to the vehicle, fearing the hydraulic lines had severed under pressure and sliced the the driver into pieces, opening the hatch and sitting calm and almost zen like was the hydraulic arm operator. Covered in a red substance, I was already waiting for the slices of the body to begin slidding off in a “Kill Bill” like scene. Opening his eyes, the hydraulic arm operator looked at me and smiled. He was alive and my career was saved! He stumbled out of the vehicle, unhurt and very much alive but soaked in hydraulic fluid.

My hands began to tremble at the thought of a training accident and as the senior US Advisor I had some responsibility. I don’t consider myself risk adverse, but I will not disregard the opportunity to have training executed in a safe manner. No more games, we were going to dig. For 5 hours, we dug our way out by hand, shovel, and pick axe.

Lesson #3: Don’t fight the desert, work with it.

By digging, we had exposed the mud which had slowly begun to dry. Amongst the soldiers was a bedouin whom had explained that if we continued to dig and combined with the rapid drying properties in the mud we would be free in no time. Sure enough, by early evening the mud had dried and we were out of the mud and on our way back to the ramp.

Pulling into the ramp and shutting our vehicles, the exausted US Advisors and Soldiers stumbled out of the vehicles. We were tired, beat, but we were elated to be back. After accounting for all of the gear and personnel, I let the Arab Commander know that we were complete and all back safe, minus some of our pride. Sitting in his air conditioned office, he looked at my beaten face and he leaned over next to me and said, “Ah yes, Major you beat the record.” I smiled and looked at him and said, “What record Said (Sir)?” He smiled with his mischeavious grin and said “The last advisors and the ones before and the ones before them took at least three days to get out.”

Continuing on, he explained that each group of US Advisors, aggressive to a fault, sought to train but failed to see that their hesitation to take the vehicles out was not born out of just pure laziness, but out of being dragged out by countless Advisors to get stuck. I asked him “why had none of his people told me that this was a real and distinct possibility?” Once again leaning over, he said with a respectful smile and direct look, “You Americans always look at the desert but don’t see the sand.” Touche.

Semper Fidelis..