THE DISCOVERY CHANNEL ANNOUNCES NATIONWIDE CASTING FOR THEIR NEW SERIES
“THE ASSAILANT”,
PRODUCED BY RENEGADE 83
“Human weapons” to compete in demanding challenges
8 November 2010: Sure, we see them on the big screen – super-human “armies of one” who wield state-of-the-art weaponry, outwit villainous masterminds, and barely escape life-threatening scenarios. But are there real-life versions of these operatives? Or are they only fictional characters that exist only in movies? With “The Assailant”, The Discovery Channel aims to find out.
Each episode of “The Assailant”, a new competition series produced by Renegade 83, the award-winning powerhouse producers behind some of the televisions most compelling programming, will feature four contestants competing in grueling challenges to find out who among them has what it takes to be the perfect “human weapon”. Viewers will have a front row seat to all of the action as “one-man armies” battle against one another in feats of physical strength, mental acuity, and “missions”: sophisticated adventures that simulate those depicted on the big screen, and that demand highly specialized skills and peak performance from both mind and body.
An intense nationwide search is currently being conducted to find contestants who have what it takes to compete in this type of series. Candidates must be physically fit enough to succeed in each ramped-up, high stakes, action-packed challenge. Marines, SWAT, FBI, Black Ops, rescue workers, Navy SEALs, stuntmen/women, firefighters, police officers, and anyone who think that they have what it takes to survive this adventure is encouraged to apply.
Interested applicants over the age of 18 who fit the criteria above should apply immediately. Please contact casting directors at Metal Flowers Media by emailingtheassailant@metalflowersmedia.com or by going to facebook.com/metalflowersmedia.
Over the last 3 days I have had the sad but honorable duty of riding escort for KIA SPC Anthony Blount. This was my second KIA mission, but this time I was able to participate all 3 days instead of just the day of the services. I am thankful that in a weird twist of fate, even though I can no longer drive a big truck, I can still ride my bike and am able to give these Heroes my support and stand a line for them.
Thursday morning around 1020 a small jet landed at the Hattiesburg/Laural Airport with SPC Anthony Blount’s body. This was the first time I have met a plane at the airport and it was so very hard. I stood beside Kim and Wilma and let the tears roll down my face. Kim and I were lucky that our sons came home safe as they can, both suffering from PTSD. But Wilma is a Gold Star Mom and I know this day was very hard on her. We stood there arm in arm to comfort each other as they brought the coffin off the plane with the family standing at the edge of the flight line. I can only imagine their pain and feel a hint of guilt for being thankful for that.
There were 76 bikes there to bring SPC Blount home to his family. Not all were PGR, some were from Camp Shelby and a couple of other motorcycle groups from the area. As we made our way into town and around the High School, I was amazed and thankful to see so many people out on the side of the road to support and honor this Hero and his family. Once again I had to fight the tears as we made our round of the school and the age of the kids there went from High School to the Elementary, younger and younger. At one point I remember seeing a boy scout troop on the side of the road holding the National Flag and saluting. My goggles filled with tears; it made it very hard to see where I was riding.
On Friday night there were about 25 PGR that stood the Flag line during the viewing. Taking turns every 15 minuets for 3 hours we did our best to make sure the family knew that their loved one was honored. Several time family would come out and thank us for being there. My response was always the same, “It is our honor to be allowed to be here.” And that is how I and many other feel. At one point, after standing the line, as Kim and I walked back down to the resting area, SPC Blount’s Aunt stopped us to thank us again. She had flown in from up north and was full of great stories about Anthony. We listened to her talk about Anthony and how he wanted to become a preacher and how surprised she was when he told them he was going into the Army. She was very proud of her nephew and you could tell that she loved him very much.
Saturday morning we gathered again at the Funeral Home, this time to escort SPC Blount’s from the funeral home to the church to the cemetery. We had around 80 biles this day. We had the honor of being lead by SPC Blount’s brother-in-law and his cousin rode with my Dad at the end of all the bikes. Once again, the route we took was lined with people showing their love and support. Once at the church, we stood a flag line for the family to enter and then waited for the services to be over.
With my left wrist hurting I decided I would go ahead with two others to the cemetery to help set up the flags and wait for the procession to get there. We set up flags in a U shape around the tent and a few others on the entry road to the cemetery. The the color guard arrived. A few minuets after that, the first of the PGR came rolling in.
I stood there directing them through the route they were to take. Then when the bikes had past, I rendered my honors to SPC Blount and his family.
We then stood a flag line during the grave side service. Ed, our State Capitan presented the family with a flag, a plaque and a bear with a medal for the unborn daughter.
I am so proud to be a part of such a great group of people that now matter where we come from, what our beliefs are, or our political views are, we love, honor and support our Troops. I like many others wish there was no more mission like this to do, but we know better. So as long as there are KIA, Veterans, Troops deploying overseas to combat zones, we will be there to make sure that they know they have love and support back home. That what they are doing DOES matter and that we DO applicate their sacrifices.
To SPC Anthony Blount: Thank you for you service and making the ultimate sacrifice.
To his family: I can not know your pain, but you are in my prayers. Anthony will NEVER be forgotten by any of us.
The Other Victims of Battlefield Stress; Defense Contractors’ Mental Health Neglected
by T. Christian Miller, ProPublica – February 26, 2010 1:48 am EST
On the one-year anniversary of her husband’s suicide, Barb Dill breaks down at her husband’s tombstone. Wade Dill, a Marine Corps veteran, took a contractor job in Iraq. Three weeks after he returned home for good, he committed suicide (Francine Orr / Los Angeles Times / Redding, CA / July 16, 2007).
REDDING, Calif. — Wade Dill does not figure into the toll of war dead. An exterminator, Dill took a job in Iraq for a company contracted to do pest control on military bases. There, he found himself killing disease-carrying flies and rabid dogs, dodging mortars and huddling in bomb shelters.
Dill, a Marine Corps veteran, was a different man when he came back for visits here, his family said: moody, isolated, morose. He screamed at his wife and daughter. His weight dropped. Dark circles haunted his dark brown eyes.
Three weeks after he returned home for good, Dill booked a room in an anonymous three-story motel alongside Interstate 5. There, on July 16, 2006, he shot himself in the head with a 9 mm handgun. He left a suicide note for his wife and a picture for his daughter, then 16. The caption read: “I did exist and I loved you.”
More than three years later, Dill’s loved ones are still reeling, their pain compounded by a drawn-out battle with an insurance company over death benefits from the suicide. Barb Dill, 47, nearly lost the family’s home to foreclosure. “We’re circling the drain,” she said.
While suicide among soldiers has been a focus of Congress and the public, relatively little attention has been paid to the mental health of tens of thousands of civilian contractors returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. When they make the news at all, contractors are usually in the middle of scandal, depicted as cowboys, wastrels or worse.
No agency tracks how many civilian workers have killed themselves after returning from the war zones. A small study in 2007 found that 24 percent of contract employees from DynCorp, a defense contractor, showed signs of depression or post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, after returning home. The figure is roughly equivalent to those found in studies of returning soldiers.
If the pattern holds true on a broad scale, thousands of such workers may be suffering from mental trauma, said Paul Brand, the CEO of Mission Critical Psychological Services, a firm that provides counseling to war zone civilians. More than 200,000 civilians work in Afghanistan and Iraq, according to the most recent figures.
“There are many people falling through the cracks, and there are few mechanisms in place to support these individuals,” said Brand, who conducted the study while working at DynCorp.”There’s a moral obligation that’s being overlooked. Can the government really send people to a war zone and neglect their responsibility to attend to their emotional needs after the fact?”
The survivors of civilians who have committed suicide have found themselves confused, frustrated and alone in their grief.
“If I was in the military, I’d at least have someone to talk to,” said Melissa Finkenbinder, 42, whose husband, Kert, a mechanic, killed himself after returning from Iraq. “Contractors don’t have anything. Their families don’t have anything.”
Some families of civilian contractors who have committed suicide have tried to battle for help through an outdated government system designed to provide health insurance and death benefits to civilian contractors injured or killed on the job.
Under the system, required by a law known as the Defense Base Act, defense firms must purchase workers’ compensation insurance for their employees in war zones. It is highly specialized and expensive insurance, dominated by the troubled giant AIG and a handful of other companies. The cost of it is paid by taxpayers as part of the contract price.
But the law, which is designed to provide coverage for accidental death and injury, blocks payment of death benefits in the case of almost all suicides. Cases linked to mental incapacity are the lone exception, judges have ruled.
A joint investigation last year by ProPublica, ABC News and the Los Angeles Times revealed that contract workers must frequently battle carriers for basic medical coverage. While Congress has promised reforms, there has been no discussion of changing the law when it comes to suicides involving civilian defense workers.
The military, by contrast, allows survivors to receive benefits in cases in which a soldier’s suicide can be linked to depression caused by battlefield stress.
Hundreds of soldiers have committed suicide since the war in Afghanistan began in 2001, according to studies by the Army and the Department of Veterans Affairs. In response, the Defense Department has become more active in trying to prevent suicide than its hired contractors, military experts said.
The military is “aggressively trying to reach people and do intervention beforehand and set up suicide awareness programs,” said Ian de Planque, a benefits expert at the American Legion, the nation’s largest veterans group. “Awareness of it has increased. I don’t know that it’s transferred over to the civilian sector at this point.”
Birgitt Eysselinck has spent years trying to prove that her husband’s death in Iraq was related to stress from his job with a company specializing in the removal of land mines and explosive ordnance. So far, courts have sided with the insurance firm, Chicago-based CNA, in denying Eysselinck’s claim. (CNA declined to comment, citing privacy reasons.)
Eysselinck, 44, said that neither federal judges nor insurance adjusters understand that civilian contractors face many of the same risks in Iraq and Afghanistan that soldiers do. Her husband, Tim Eysselinck, endured mortar attacks and frequently traveled across Iraq’s dangerous highways, she said.
“There is a huge percentage of contractors who are silently suffering,” Eysselinck said. “That obviously puts them and their families at risk. Communities are bearing the brunt of this, especially the families.”
* * *
Wade Dill was working at a local pest control company when he decided to take a job with KBR in Iraq in late 2004. The money was good – almost $11,000 a month for handling extermination and hazardous material disposal, more than double his normal salary.
“He said this was our opportunity,” Barb Dill said. “He could start a college fund for our daughter, pay off the mortgage and have a nice retirement. He told me at his age, 41, he didn’t know if he had enough years left in him to give us what he wanted.”
Wade started that December, working on bases in central and northern Iraq. Violence was ever present. A base near Mosul was shelled frequently. He told Barb that a mortar landed close enough to temporarily deafen him. Once, he called her sobbing.
“My husband never cried, ever,” she said. “Marines don’t cry. A young man, a soldier, had put a pistol to his head and blown his brains out. And Wade had to go in and clean up after they removed the body – he had to clean up brain matter and blood. It really upset him.”
Barb Dill noticed a change in her husband when he returned home for a visit in December 2005. The couple had been high school sweethearts, married for 15 years. They had troubles, but had always worked them out. Now, he seemed moody and often angry, lashing out at her and their daughter, Sara.
“He would say hateful things to me and our daughter – things he had never said before.” Dill said. “This was a man that loved his little girl and his wife. He always called us his girls.”
When Wade returned for another visit in June 2006, he abruptly quit his job and began acting erratically, Dill said. He ripped the wiring out of appliances, smashed mirrors and poured lighter fluid on their furniture.
After a few weeks, Wade took a room at a local motel. On July 15, he asked Barb to come see him. Their conversation spiraled into a confrontation. Frightened and angry, Barb sped off in her car. The next day, the Shasta County coroner’s office called to tell her that Wade’s body had been found in the room.
“He told me that he was sick and needed help,” Dill said. “I told him to get help and then we would talk. The last time I saw him was in my rearview mirror.”
Dill soon found herself in financial difficulty. Her husband had always taken care of the bills. He had spent lavishly with his higher salary, buying two BMWs during trips home. Now, Dill discovered the couple was $300,000 in debt on their mortgage and car loans.
She plunged into depression, struggling to cope with her daughter’s grief and the sense that she had failed her husband in his time of need. She sold the cars and nearly lost her home after falling behind on mortgage payments.
She suffered mostly by herself. Except for a handful of Web sites, no support groups exist for widows of civilian contractors. The federal government offers no counseling for civilians returning from work in war zones.
Dill said that she felt abandoned by everyone: her husband’s employer, the insurance company and especially the federal government, which oversees the Defense Base Act system through the Labor Department.
“Shouldn’t our government be responsible for the companies they hire?” Dill said. “Shouldn’t our government take care of its own people, who are doing jobs our government, ultimately, wanted them to do?”
* * *
Survivors of civilian contractors whose death is related to their work in Iraq have the right to apply for compensation benefits that pay up to $63,000 a year for life.
Dill applied, asserting that her husband’s PTSD made him an exception to the rule against payments in suicide cases. Her claim was denied by AIG, KBR’s insurance provider.
She protested, sending her claim into a dispute resolution system run by the Labor Department. Her case is still grinding its way through the system, which can take years to produce a final result.
Experts hired by the family and the insurance company differed on what led to Wade Dill’s suicide.
A psychiatrist hired by her attorney found that job stress in Iraq was one of the factors that drove Wade to suicide: “The bottom line is that the combination of physical separation and work-related stress resulted in increasingly emotional distance, greater distortion of the relationship, increasing emotional intensity, and a pattern of increasing erratic behaviors that culminated in suicide,” wrote Charles Seaman, an expert in PTSD.
A Labor Department examiner recommended that AIG pay the claim, but the company refused. AIG and KBR declined comment about the case. In court filings, AIG has argued that the Defense Base Act does not cover suicides.
AIG attorneys also have said that Wade Dill’s actions were related to marital and family problems. A psychiatrist hired by AIG testified at a hearing in San Francisco in January that he had performed a “psychological autopsy” on Wade Dill based on interviews with his family and court documents.
The psychiatrist, Andrew D. Whyman, said his evaluation led him to conclude that Dill suffered from depression and that his suicide was unrelated to the violence he witnessed in Iraq.
“Take out the Iraq experience, (the suicide) would have happened,” Whyman testified. “He had a choice. … He could have chosen not to do that.”
Barb Dill insists her husband came back from Iraq a changed man.
“No matter how strained our relationship could get at times, we always pulled out of it with no problem,” Dill said. “Iraq changed all that.”
Now, she said, she is trying to hold her life together. A final decision in her case is not expected for months.
“We’re just slowly sinking,” she said. “It’s hard to be strong.”
Watch a preview of ‘Disposable Army,’ a documentary currently being produced by Mark Crupi, which contains interviews with Barb Dill and T. Christian Miller.
My editor just emailed me telling me that they would like to publish the book earlier than they said, get it out for the 4th of July. She asked if I could get leave to come home at that time for the publicity. Of course, I told her I could. So folks, it looks like things are going to step up a bit and we will be looking at it being on the shelves the last of June, first of July. I am going to be one busy person between now and then. Between the job and getting all the editing done, I am not going to have much free time for a while. Of course, I am not complaining. I love being under the gun, so to speak, as many of ya’ll know. With each step forward we make on this book and the closer it gets to being on the shelves, the more real it all becomes. But for me, I guess it wont totally feel real till I see it in print. Anyway, I am very excited. As soon as I have dates for the publicity and where I am going to be, I will let everyone know. Ya’ll all take care.
Guess we never think of it much, the things that change your life from one day to the next. Somehow I never thought that day on September 11th that the world would change as it has. And for some it didn’t, only for those who have somehow even in the smallest way be touched by the sands of a distant land they may or may not have seen.
How such small degrees of seperation in this world there are. A man boards a plane, his intent is to destroy it, and a few years later a woman finds herself wondering why someone does not speak to her suddenly, that someone went to work or to fight in the land where that man who destroyed the plane came from. All because of his actions, she is there wondering what happened.
Small wounds, vastly different from those inflicted on 9/11, to the troops, the contractors, the families, but wounds non the less.
Would those wounds have happened had that man never got on that plane?
Would the two never have met? Never had loved? Never had suffered that broken heart? Would it have been better that way?
For the people who have not been touched by this war, they will never understand how deeply it is felt in the hearts and souls of those that have felt the hot winds blow across their cheeks, even from thousands of miles away. We are forever changed. We have no way of undoing it, only the hope that someday We will understand and make peace with it and with each other.
Cindy you are a my hero. Of all the people I have ever known, your courage to go through the things you have, you are amazing. You found your break in the clouds and you sailed through to see the other side. May I find my own break in the clouds someday and see what things you have.
A bend in the road there, a stop taking two minutes longer than it should, an internet search, a simple hello……..fate……we never know what will change us or when……only that when it does it may twist us inside out, give us unmeasurable joy or unbearable sorrow…..a man gets on a plane, who knew?
WOW! The last 36 hours have been something! First let me start with the book. As most know, and have seen the entry, Free Press Publishing sends out a catalog to the book stores so they can order the books they and to put in their store for the next season. Well, night before last, I received 3 copies of the catalog from my editors office. This is sooooo cool! I know I have been working on this book for several months now. Terry and I have been emailing each other almost daily as well write each chapter. Liz and I have emailed about the cover design and what pictures to include. We all have been working very hard on the book. But I have to say, it all didn’t seem real to me. I mean, we all do things in our lives that we think would make a good book or movie topic, but nothing ever happens to it. Then to have several someone’s actually tell you that you should write a book about something you did, that you see as just part of your life and who you are….. WELL, that is totally cool. As each step of this book has been taken, I have become more and more aware of the fact that this is really happening….. it isn’t a dream! But the other day……..well, that really brought it all home for me. When I got those catalogs and opened to the paged marked, and saw the catalog entry with my name on it……….. I was speechless! Now most of ya know, my being speechless is not something that happens very often, but I was, for a few seconds. When the guys in the office saw that I had quite talking in mid-sentence, of course they all wanted to know what it was that I had gotten. I smiled and turned the book around and showed them the page. As much as they have heard about the book and have known that I was doing it, I think they felt as I did about it. Holding this in my hands, made it real for not only me, but for them as well. Some of these guys are new friends and some I have known since I worked for KBR. You would have thought that it was happening to them. I got hugs, hand shakes and a lot of teasing! I was told I have to make sure they ALL get autographed copies! I think I am going to get writers cramp very quick when this thing finally does come out! Anyway, after I made it home, I took the catalog out and really looked at it. There is my name, in print, with a picture of what the cover is going to look like. “WOW! This is so cool! This is really happening!” was my thought. It still blows my mind!
It’s one of the least covered stories in the Iraqi war. Now, the writer of the popular “Cindy in Iraq” blog narrates her harrowing experiences during a year driving trucks as a civilian contractor for Halliburton.
Cindy Morgan was on the front lines of Iraq––not enlisted in the military, but in a job just as dangerous: as a convoy commander leading groups of fifteen to thirty trucks through perilous territory. Having promised her three sons that she would always tell them the truth about what she was experiencing, she started her blog “Cindy in Iraq” as a way to stay in touch with family and friends back home. “Cindy in Iraq” soon became a valuable resource for families of contractors, and those thinking about becoming contractors, as well as a telling story of the disturbing realities facing brave civilian workers.
Here, we see Cindy’s story in full detail—how, after thirteen years’ experience as a truck driver in the U.S., as well as orientation by Halliburton, she still was shocked by what she faced. Unarmed, with virtually no training, one of the only female truck drivers, she became a moving target for insurgents, constantly at risk of being ambushed, shot at, kidnapped, or executed.
Cindy’s journey in Iraq also became a voyage of self-discovery. Having left an abusive husband, she went to Iraq because she was “tired of surviving her life and not living it.” She went to Iraq to find out “who I am and what I am made of here….Honor, integrity, pride and humanity can all be discovered.” As Cindy relays her experiences, both she and the reader are transformed.
Cynthia I. Morgan drove a big rig across the U.S. for thirteen years before venturing into Iraq in 2003, where she was a civilian convoy commander in charge of up to thirty trucks delivering supplies to American bases throughout the war-torn country. After seven months back in the U.S., she returned to Iraq. She lives, usually, in Tennessee.
September 2006 Free Press Biography and Autobiography 6 x 9, 256 pages 8 pages of black-and-white photographs Carton quantity: 20
EAN: 978074328640452500 0-7432-8640-5 $25.00 hardcover $34.50 in Canada
I just thought I would let everyone know that I got the papers yesterday through FedEx for the book deal. I signed them and will be sending them back through FedEx today. There will be a press release coming out as soon as they are received back in the states and everyone has their copies. I will send ya’ll a copy of the press release when it comes out. Terry Golway is my co-writer and we are hard at work on it. I have done lots of writing over the last two weeks. Sometimes it is very hard to do. The first chapter is going to be about why I came to Iraq and my thoughts on the flight over. The next chapter or two will be a history of my life from childhood till the day I stepped on the plane and flew to Houston. That is what we are working on now. At times, that can be very emotionally draining. As with all of us, not all of our past holds the best of memories. For the first time I had to sit and write out what happened the day my now, ex-husband nearly killed me 2 1/2 years ago. Whereas, that has been most difficult, it has also been a bit healing. I have cried and I have laughed in all that I have written so far. I will keep ya’ll posted on the books progress.
Unlike my first mission, this one was uneventful to be so eventful. No, we didn’t see any bombs or bullets this trip, but it was plagued with problems, one after another. There were some very good points to it though as you will find out later. Some questions I had of did I do the right thing on one mission with KBR were answered. And now that I have your attention. I am going to make you wait to find out what that was.
I believe that the rain has finally stooped. Two weeks ago we were rained on, but this mission it seems the weather got hotter and hotter every day. Our convoy’s are made up of DOD’s and TCN’s. Most of the TCN’s are good people and know what they are doing, so this makes the trip much easier. I wish I could say that for the TCN’s of other companies and other convoys. Just across the border, we started to pass A PWC convoy. Now you have heard me describe the TCN’s at times as being like 6 year old’s trying to get to the front of the ice cream line? Well, the PWC convoy was this way. They were cutting into our convoy and passing their own guys to get to the front. I forced one of them back into his convoy when he jumped in front of me. He gave me this shit eating grin as I passed him, but I think he lost it, when I waved him back into his line as I moved my truck over. I learned when I was here the first time, that this is just about the only way some of them will listen to you.
The next day was uneventful. I saw several old friends at Scania and was able to catch up on others. So many people that I knew from before are gone now, either back to the states, or to other companies. They are still doing mostly night missions north of Scania. But with us having dedicated escort units, we run when the military says for us to run. That means day, night, or when other convoys(KBR) are not moving. We hit Sword right at day light. Now remind you, this is the first time I have been back across the road that my last ambush happened on. The whole trip up, I had wondered how I was going to deal with it. The other ambushes, I had been back across the road in the same direction within, a few weeks. This one was months. I can’t say that there was not a lot of anxiety, but I can’t say that all was right. I was nervous. Eight months of reliving that night in my head had made this trip a very important one to me. I knew that if I couldn’t handle this trip, I would not be able to handle any other and I would have to come home, or just run around Kuwait. With us leaving camp that morning as late as we did, it was daylight by the time we got to the road. I was nervous, but I was calm. I have told many people that I am the type of person that doesn’t panic during the situation, I do it afterward.This time was no different. I was calm and alert.
All was quiet as we made our way north. Well, not really quiet, it was the beginning to what would be rush hour for Baghdad, but there were no bombs, bullets, RPG’s, or mortars. Just rocks up by Taji. I can handle that. I made it through the area in good condition and stronger in my resolve. Now I have that behind me and can go on doing what I love doing, supporting our troops.
Now, here is what I was eluding to at the beginning. We got to Anaconda. I unstrapped and unchained my load, pulled into the TDC yard and got off loaded. Then I was told that about 12 of us were going to get cans (containers). So I pulled around to where they directed and me proceeded to set the pumpkins(these hold the cans to the trailer) on my trailer. I was having a problem with one and was fighting with it when I heard this man yell “CINDY!!!!!!!” When I turned around, at first,I didn’t recognize who it was riding in the truck, hanging half out the window, yelling and waving at me. Then I recognized the voice. It is a voice that I will never forget. The last time I had heard this voice over here he was across the radio, telling me that he was hit and I was telling him he had to drive that truck to the safe zone. Yes, It was Roy Hawkins! I had talked to him several times while we were both in the states, but had not gotten to see him. I yelled to him,”Come see me!” The driver of the truck he was in came to an abrupt halt and Roy dove out. He came running towards me with open arms. When he got to me he picked me up, twirled me around and gave me the biggest hug I have had in a very long time. I thought he was going to squeeze me in two. We both laughed and hugged several times in the few minuets that we had to talk. He showed me the scares on both side of his knee where the bullet went in and out of his leg. I have to say, those were nasty scares, but in a weird way, very beautiful. Beautiful, because if I was getting to see them, then I was getting to see the man they were attached to. I can not tell you how great it made me feel to see Roy and for him to have the reaction he did. His reaction and his telling me that he was glad that I was back and this is where I belong, tells me that he feels that I did right by him when he was shot. Everyone else, including myself, could tell me I had done good. But the one that mattered most came from Roy. You can not believe or maybe even understand the emotions that run through me even now, as I write about seeing him. I smile and cry at the same time, but I am at piece with the events of that night, now.
I did find out that Robert Rowe, my driver that was shot from the last ambush has not returned to Iraq. I have been looking and asking for him. I guess, I will have to do it the same way I found Roy in the states. Call Halliburton’s EAP people and ask them to give him my phone number and ask him to call me. If I can get in touch with him, it will take care of the unfinished business I felt I had over here and I can go on and have more adventures running the roads of Iraq in support of our guys and gals.
Ok with all that done, we started our trip back south in the very early hours of the next day. During the briefing we found out that the convoy 5 minuets behind us the day before coming through Baghdad was hit hard. It was the convoy the 2 Americans were killed on Saturday. I have to say, I know that we all took a deep breath and then thanked God that we had had no delays that morning. Then we left camp. For the most part, the ride was quite. Not even any rocks this time as we passed Taji. But this soon became the trip from hell. One of our gun trucks rolled over, and landed on its side, skidding down the road. The guy in the turret is a very lucky man that it didn’t go all the way over. One soldier did get 6 stitches in his head. We pulled into Scania and he was stitched up and we pushed out again. Down what used to be dirt Tampa, its all paved now. Then another of our gun trucks, blew the engine. We hooked a tow bar to it and kept on moving. A few miles later, we met a convoy of TCN’s caring hooch’s. Now these are wide, and they don’t need ALL of the road. But as I have told you before, the TCN’s are not always the best of drivers. One took a little more of the road than he should have. One of the DOD’s got off the pavement and that kicked up a lot of dust. The TCN behind him freaked out and slammed on his breaks. That caused the military brown truck behind him to hit him. They are going to have to use the truck for spare parts now. It will never be driven again. The two soldiers that were in it are ok. But we had to sit on the side of the road for several hours while recovery came out of cedar to tow the truck into camp.
All this left us with only two gun trucks the next morning when we wanted to push on to Kuwait. I would run Cedar to Kuwait without escorts. It is the safest part of the trip. But they wouldn’t let us run with only two gun trucks. So we sat in camp till that afternoon waiting for a gun truck to come up from NAVISTAR. That made for a very long day. After we got to Kuwait we still had to unload. It was midnight before I got home. But I had my temper pushing me that day.
My being one of two female drivers, everything I do is being watched. IAP didn’t hire females to drive for a long time. The other woman is….well……she is not very feminine looking, if ya know what I mean. Most passing her in the hall or going down the road, do not know that it is a woman. I, on other hand, can not hide that I am a female. That brings a bit more upon my shoulders. There are lots of guys that are living in the dark ages and feel that women do not belong over here. As a matter of fact, one of these Neanderthals said as much to my face and in front of 4 of our escorts. Well, ya’ll know me. I let him have it. He told me that I couldn’t do my job. That because I was a woman that I couldn’t strap and chain down loads. I looked at him and said, “Do what!” “I have strapped and chained every load I have hauled, by myself. I have also unstrapped and unchained everyone of my loads.” He tried to go on and tell me that women are not as strong as men that there will be some loads that I can not do. Now, in part, I have to agree with him, the part that women are not as strong as men. The thing is, we all unstrap and unchain our own loads. But we all help each other strap and chain them down when we get loaded. No one does just their load. I do not sit in my truck and let the guys do it for me. I have and never will let anyone do my job for me. And if or when the day comes that I am not strong enough to chain down my load, I will not sit in my truck and let a man do it for me. I will allow him to HELP me do it. Well, I need to calm down again. Just thinking about it pisses me off. Then this guy had the nerve to come ask me, right before we pushed out of Cedar, if he was going to be called into the office when we got back. I told him no, I was not like that. What happens on mission, stays there. I did tell one of my flat mates and he said something to this guy’s flat mate and I got an apology this morning from him. I don’t think he really meant it, but I got it.
Well, this has been a long email and I have a dinner date with several of the guys. We are going to Applebee’s and then maybe down to Fahaheel for a bit. We are talking about going jet skiing tomorrow again, but i am not sure if we will since we went yesterday. I hope all of ya’ll are doing well.
We were headed to Kuwait. Just south of Baghdad, we were ambushed. Greg was in the number 3 truck. I heard him radio that he was taking fire. I asked him from what direction. I didn’t see any turn signals going back there to tell me what direction. Then I heard Larry say he was taking fire. Then several others said that they were taking fire as well. All I could see was flashes in the mirror. That is a very frustrating feeling. To know your team, your extended family is being shot at and there is nothing you can do. Then I heard Roy’s voice with pain in it. Roy said, “I’ve been hit.” I could hear the pain and fear in his voice. But I could also hear his strength. I told Tim to pick him up if he goes down. Tim asked if Roy was stopped. Roy radioed again that he was hit. I said, “I know hon., but we have to get ya’ll to a safe zone before we can stop”. At this time, we are coming into a check point. I have to fight the urge to keep from mashing on the gas. I didn’t know if the guys were out of the kill zone or not. Roy tells me again that it hurts and I again say to him, “I know Roy, but you have to drive that truck. We can’t stop till we get you in the check point. The guys behind you are counting on you. I have faith in you. I know you can do it. I know it hurts, but you can do it.” All this time, I am fighting the urge to shove the lead escort out of my way and get my guys in the safe area. Once they get checked in with the soldiers, they pull on into the check point. I pull as far down as I can. I want to make sure everyone gets on this side of the check point. The escorts yell at me and tell me to stop. I keep moving till I know I have all my guys in the safe zone. I tell the guys to stay in there trucks. I grab my helmet, jump out of the truck and make a mad dash to Roy’s truck. I am there before they get him out. I feel relief as I realize that it is not a life threatening wound, but yet I still have this great amount of concern. I talk to Roy and let him know that I am there with him. I tell him he is going to be ok and that he did a great job. Ben is already there. He has helped get Roy out of the truck. I tell him I need his help. I ask him to go to my truck and Qualcom in all the info. I told him that Robert, my driver for this trip, doesn’t know how to run a Qualcom and I need him to do it for me. He checks out Roy, give him his words of encouragement and goes to my truck. I then get one of the other guys to come and check out Roy’s truck to see if we can move it. I don’t want to leave it if I don’t have to. The guys find a steer tire going flat, it has taken a bullet. I didn’t hear the air leaking out of the tire till they say something to me about it. I get on the radio and tell my crew that I need their help. We have a tire that needs to be changed and need to finish checking out the truck. The guys were great. Every last one of them got out and came to help. The left steer tire is the one loosing air. And even though I know they were dieing to come check on Roy, they went right to getting the tire changed. The first tire they got, the rim would not work and they had to get another. They checked out the rest of the truck and got the tire changed, all while talking to Roy from the other side of the truck and Roy talked to them. I think it did them all good to be able to talk to him. Being able to talk to him they knew he was alive and going to be ok. I was and still am so very proud of my crew that night. Ben and I were radioing back and forth to make sure all the Qualcom messages were answered. They wanted to know who was shot and were there any other injuries. They wanted to know if we could get the truck in to the next camp. Ben did a fine job in relaying my messages over the Qualcom to Trans opps. The guys got the tire changed and I sat with Roy, holding his hand and letting him know that we were all there for him. It was kind of crazy, but yet it wasn’t. It all went so smooth. I had three things going at one time, but it worked like clock work. Larry, John and I had been running together for 5 weeks and the rest had been with me for 3 weeks. We all knew what the other could do and couldn’t do. We were a well running team, a family that night. There was no one person out there doing it all, it was all of us working together. So many times I had told them that we are responsible for each other. I know that not of them understood what I was saying,… till that night. We have to be able to trust all the others with our lives and they have to be able to trust us. That night was proof of the family and companionship that had come to be in my crew. As the chopper was landing, I told the guys that if they wanted to say bye to Roy that they needed to do it now. They came around the truck one or two at a time and said their goodbye’s and gave Roy a word of encouragement. Roy had gotten a dose of morphine and was feeling a bit on the silly side. When I told him that I expected to see him back as soon as he got well, he told Greg and me that he had to come back so that he and Ben could whip Greg and me in a game of spades. We all laughed. I know that Roy being able to joke with the guys also helped them. And their being there and showing him that they were there for him made it easier on him and helped keep him calm. The military got Roy on the chopper and they lifted off. The soldiers, told me that we had to get moving. There was another convoy behind us and they need to get them through the check point. I asked my driver if he minded driving Roy’s truck to Scania. There was no hesitation, he said that he would. We all mounted up and started off.
We made the cross over to the left and across the makeshift bridge. Then just as the tail of the convoy was getting back on our side of the road, the escorts stopped and told us to go lights out. We all did that in a hurry. The escorts told me that there was another ambush going on ahead of us on a north bound convoy. My heart just sank. All was quiet. I keep my windows down a bit so that I can hear anything going on in these night missions. I rolled them down a bit more now. It was totally dark. The only light was from the houses in the distance. I prayed to God. “Please, don’t let anything more happen to these guys tonight. They have been through enough. They don’t need this. Please let nothing else happen to them. I don’t know if I or they can handle it.” Then I see a grid go dark. “Oh shit”, I think to myself. That is one of the signs that we are told about. When a grid of houses go dark, that is the sign that there is a convoy in the area and that the insurgents are going to ambush. Then a grid goes dark behind us. “OH SHIT” I think to my self again. Everyone is quiet. No one talks on the radio. They know that our radios are not secure. If we talk we could be giving away our position and that we are there. After about 45 minuets, the escorts tell me that they had gotten the ok to move on. I tell the guys to keep their eyes open and we are moving. All are quiet. The rest of the trip was quiet except what as going on in my head. Several times I told myself out loud that I had to hold it together, I could fall apart till I had them in Scania and they were safe. As soon as we pulled through the check point at the north end of Scania, I started to cry. The stress and adrenaline was starting to wear off. As we pulled to the gate to check in I dried my tears. I can’t let them see me cry is what went through my head. Several time that night after we got fueled and parked, I had to fight the tears. I felt so bad for Roy. He had been in country for only a month and now he was shot. A part of me felt guilty for that. I know that it is not my fault that he was shot, but he is one of my family and I am their leader. I have thoughts of “Did I do it right?”, “Did I talk care of them like I should have?”, “Was there anything more that I could or should have done?. I talked to Moe, and he looked at the truck. All the guys were with me looking at Roy’s truck. Moe said that safety would be out in the morning to take pictures and get my statement. We all talked a bit and did our best to calm down. The guys told me that the middle and rear escorts did not return fire. Larry told me what he saw as a mortar round came in and hit the pavement. I listened to them tell their story of what happened and them sent them to bed. I had done all that I could do for them. They told me that. Not just with their words, but from the way they treated me as we stood there sharing our feelings over what had happened. They let out their anger, and their fear (though they wont and wouldn’t say that it was fear.). As I climbed back into my truck, I thanked God for watching out for us and it not being any worse than it was. Roy was alive and the guys and I were now safe at Scania. I tried to call Matt. I needed someone that I could let all my fear and pain out with. I couldn’t let the guys see me break down. I had to be strong. No tears, for fear, just calm cool and collected. That was what I had to show the crew. But now, I was back in my truck and I could let it out. Matt wasn’t answering his phone. I need to someone to talk to. I have been shot at before, but this was different. Being shot at and missed was nothing. Being shot at and hit was something else. So, I called Mike. I told him what happened. He told me that I did good and that it was time for me to get off the road. He gave me all the encouragement that he could. But Mike had been scared to run missions for while now. I knew when I called that he would start in on my getting off missions. I told him that I was not going to quit running missions. I love running missions. I love being out on convoys. But this time it was a bit scary. We talked for a bit and then I laid down to sleep. The next morning, Paula and Bull came out to take their pictures and get my statement. We dug the bullet out of the door that went through the drivers door, through Roy’s leg and had lodged in the passenger door. I wanted to make sure that Roy got that bullet. He deserves it. Everyone had to take a look at it and tell me what caliber they thought it was.
Paula said that I could stand the crew down for the day if I wanted to. The guys were still angry over the escorts not returning fire. Paula told me about the military having a combat stress team and that if I wanted, I could have them come out and talk to the guys. I did that. But after the meeting, I wish I had not. I seemed like the guys got more angry after talking to them than they were before. But, I guess it did do them some good. They were able to let out some of their anger at the escorts. So, I guess it was a good thing I had them come out, but I didn’t feel that way then. I asked the crew if they wanted to stand down that day. I told them that we could take the day off and hang out and calm down, but that it was put to them. They all agreed that they wanted to push on and take a day in Kuwait. So a few hours later, we pushed out to Cedar. When we got there all the people that know me there had to ask me if I was ok and how my crew was doing. See, there may not be a way for us to all talk to each other like we want, but when a driver is hurt, everyone knows about it and knows who’s crew he was ridding on. I also know that there were lots of folks that were not sure that I could handle it all. Being a woman and all. At least that is the feeling I got and is what some of my friends told me was going around. “She did good in holding it together even though she is a woman.” That is one comment that I heard that was said about me. Why should the fact that I am a woman make me any different in being able to handle the ambush that one of the guys? I let it go, but didn’t forget it. I just made me want to show them that I could handle it more.
When we got to the border the next day, I called Ken and told him that we were there. He had me split my crew up into 3 and sent us different directions. I was pissed. I told him that the guys needed a day off. He said that we didn’t have time and needed to get the ice moving back north. All that day and the next I argued with them about it. And why wasn’t there some one there to tell these guys that they did a great job? I told Ken that they didn’t care about my crew. That KBR didn’t care about my crew. That this was all a bunch of bullshit. Ken said that they couldn’t “baby” the guys and that we had a job to do. I wasn’t asking him to “baby” them. They just needed a break. We had been running for the last 3 ½ weeks without a break. We had been turning and burning more than most of the crews and then getting shot at and having Roy hurt, we all needed a break. I was again told we had to get back north. Then they started in on the fact that I had to go back to the Kuwaitis and give my statement about being attacked at the Safir back in the spring. They tried to tell me that I was to stressed out and that I should hand my crew over to someone else. Matt was in from his R&R and he could take them. I told Ken that I brought them down that I would take them back home. I had to be the one to take them home. They kept on me about how I needed to take care of this “other” problem. They took me to the EAP councilor and I was pulled form my convoy. Matt took them back north. At least, Matt was the one there and taking care of my guys. I know Matt is a good CC, unlike some of the other idiots we have and that my guys were in good hands. Matt called me several time during their trip back north and let me know what he was doing and I gave him my thoughts on what I thought needed to be done to make the guys feel better and safe on the trip. Every time I talked to Matt, he told me that the guys were always asking if he had talked to me and how was I doing. Non of them knew about my attack until I told them that I was being pulled from the convoy and Matt was talking them north. They were all so cool about it. They all gave me their support and wished me that best. Some of them even told me that if I saw this guy while we were out on mission, to let them know and they would take care of him for me. Matt let them know that I was doing fine and let me know that they were doing fine. We all got through it. The thing that made us all made was when Matt got back to Anaconda, they split my crew up. They all had it in their minds that they were going to Anaconda and then turning right back around and coming to pick me back up. From what Matt told me, it was very important to them that they were the ones to come get me and bring me back north. That made me feel good. My guys felt the same for me as I did for them. We area family, we all stick together and watch out for each other. We leave no one behind. They had been forced to leave me in Kuwait, they wanted to bring me home, just like I had the felling that I had to be the one to take them back home. But it didn’t work that way. I had to stay in Kuwait for 3 weeks to get that taken care of and my crew was chopped up and thrown to the four winds.
