Team Infidel
Forum Spin Doctor
Washington Post
April 17, 2007
Pg. 16
By David Finkel, Washington Post Staff Writer
BAGHDAD, April 16 -- By now the soldiers know the ceremony by heart, but Monday afternoon, on day 62 of the Iraq war's escalation strategy, they rehearsed it yet again, starting with the display that people would want to look at and to touch.
Photograph on the bottom. Then the boots. Next, the rifle. Then the dog tags. Finally, on top, the helmet. Five days after his death, it was all that remained here of 29-year-old Army Sgt. Raymond S. Sevaaetasi.
"After the official party comes in, you can leave the back doors open. It's not like there's going to be a party out there," Command Sgt. Maj. Eddie Gilbert instructed some soldiers in the rear of the chapel who would serve as ushers, and then, to a few who were staring at the display, he said, "Hey guys, we're still the Army. We don't just gaggle."
Can a soldier get used to death? That's what the soldiers of the 1st Battalion, 8th Cavalry Regiment, 2nd Brigade, 1st Cavalry Division, out of Fort Hood, Tex., are finding out here in an area of eastern Baghdad teeming with snipers and roadside bombs. They are also learning hard lessons about the consequences of President Bush's troop escalation that other battalions have so far been spared.
Since U.S. and Iraqi forces began implementing their new Baghdad security plan Feb. 14, nine soldiers from the battalion have been killed. No battalion has had more. Even harder, after a relatively uneventful deployment that began last November, those nine deaths have occurred in the past 32 days.
"It just seems like it's been blow after blow after blow," said the battalion's chaplain, Capt. Roger McCay. "They're sad. Very sad," he said of the battalion's 750 soldiers. "They question, 'Is this how it's going to be from now on out?' "
When the escalation began, it came with predictions of a corresponding escalation in casualties, especially in Baghdad, the focus of the strategy. Two months later, the predictions have become fact: There have been 76 deaths of U.S. soldiers in Baghdad between Feb. 14 and April 14, compared with 42 hostile deaths in the period between Dec. 16 and Feb. 13.
Within the 1-8, however, soldiers were for the most part unscathed. Between late November, when they began patrolling a sprawling, heavily populated, mostly Shiite patch of eastern Baghdad, and Feb. 14, there were 20 or so minor injuries, one serious burn injury and one fatality, according to the battalion commander, Lt. Col. Jeffrey Sauer. The fatality, from a roadside bomb that killed Pvt. Joshua C. Burrows, 20, occurred Nov. 26, the night before the battalion officially took over its assigned area.
"So that was an eye-opener," Sauer said. His soldiers wondered: Is this what's ahead?
It wasn't. There were no fatalities in December, none in January, and none through Feb. 14. Then came the escalation, and the 1-8 consolidated its operations to an area that rubs up against the vast Shiite district of Sadr City. As the soldiers increased their presence, patrolling more and establishing neighborhood outposts, the number of roadside bombs also increased, especially armor-piercing ones known as EFPs, for explosively formed penetrators, against which Humvees and Bradley Fighting Vehicles have been defenseless.
Still, for 28 more days, through February and into March, the good luck continued. But then came March 15, and as Sauer put it, "All of a sudden, bam, bam, bam."
It started with a roadside bomb that detonated as some of his soldiers were passing by in two Bradleys. There were no injuries, but nine soldiers got out to scan the area to make sure it was safe, and that was when a second bomb exploded.
Four soldiers died instantly -- Staff Sgt. Blake M. Harris, 27; Staff Sgt. Terry W. Prater, 25; Sgt. Emerson N. Brand, 29; and Pfc. James L. Arnold, 21. Two other soldiers -- Sgt. Ryan P. Green, 24, and Sgt. Nicholas J. Lightner, 29 -- were severely wounded but were saved when another soldier, Spec. James J. Coon, ran to them with tourniquets as a call went out for medics.
The following day, Sauer said, Lightner was in a hospital, talking and joking, and soon after was airlifted to Germany, as was Green, who was semiconscious and had lost much of his right leg.
Then came word on March 18 that Green had died.
Which was followed by word that on March 21 Lightner had died.
Which was followed 13 days later by the death of Pfc. Gabriel J. Figueroa, 20, who was killed on April 3 by a sniper.
Followed a day later by the death of Coon, 22 -- the soldier who had tried to save Green and Lightner -- who, according to Sauer, "was the gunner in an up-armor Humvee, and a bunch of kids were coming up, like they always do, and Coon stood up to tell them to move away, and as he did a shot rang out and hit him right in the head."
Followed by the death on April 11 of Sevaaetasi, who died instantly when his Humvee was destroyed by an EFP.
Nine deaths in the past 32 days: "Each one hurts," Sauer said in his office before Sevaaetasi's ceremony, choking up at times. "It hurts as much with the ninth one as it did with the first. I guess what changes with the numbers is the level of shock. There's a different level of maturity, and I guess wisdom."
He picked up nine files, each a lesson about what the escalation has meant. One interpretation, he said, is that the escalation strategy is working, because unlike the first fatality, which remains unsolved, tips have come in about who planted the bombs and shot the rifles that killed the nine, resulting in multiple arrests. Those tips, Sauer said, are a direct result of his solders' increased presence. He doubts there would have been such tips before the escalation began.
But the other interpretation is within the files themselves. "Look at these kids," he said, opening them and going through them one by one. Arnold: "A great kid." Green: "Had a fiancee." Brand: "Four hundred push-ups, 400 sit-ups." Prater: "Frigging Silver Star winner."
He put the folders away, apologized for crying, worked on a speech for Sevaaetasi, and then it was time to go to the chapel, which, like every other building on the 1-8's Forward Operating Base, is surrounded by blast walls. There are blast walls surrounding where soldiers eat, where they sleep, where they go to the bathroom, and on this night, where they went to once again memorialize the dead.
"I remember him for being an all-around good guy," one of Sevaaetasi's eulogists said.
"He was loved by all of us," another said.
"We're asking why, and we're angry," another said.
On they went, as Sauer sat on the stage, looking at the remaining soldiers of his battalion. Sometime over the next two weeks, he plans to visit them platoon by platoon to tell them in detail about the tips that have come in and about whom they have captured and killed. He will try to persuade them that the escalation is working and that what they are doing matters, and then he will wait for the question he knows he is going to be asked:
"Colonel Sauer," he said, predicting the question, "how can you tell me we're winning?"
What he thinks: They are.
What he knows: "It's going to be a tough sell."
Staff researcher Julie Tate in Washington contributed to this report.
April 17, 2007
Pg. 16
By David Finkel, Washington Post Staff Writer
BAGHDAD, April 16 -- By now the soldiers know the ceremony by heart, but Monday afternoon, on day 62 of the Iraq war's escalation strategy, they rehearsed it yet again, starting with the display that people would want to look at and to touch.
Photograph on the bottom. Then the boots. Next, the rifle. Then the dog tags. Finally, on top, the helmet. Five days after his death, it was all that remained here of 29-year-old Army Sgt. Raymond S. Sevaaetasi.
"After the official party comes in, you can leave the back doors open. It's not like there's going to be a party out there," Command Sgt. Maj. Eddie Gilbert instructed some soldiers in the rear of the chapel who would serve as ushers, and then, to a few who were staring at the display, he said, "Hey guys, we're still the Army. We don't just gaggle."
Can a soldier get used to death? That's what the soldiers of the 1st Battalion, 8th Cavalry Regiment, 2nd Brigade, 1st Cavalry Division, out of Fort Hood, Tex., are finding out here in an area of eastern Baghdad teeming with snipers and roadside bombs. They are also learning hard lessons about the consequences of President Bush's troop escalation that other battalions have so far been spared.
Since U.S. and Iraqi forces began implementing their new Baghdad security plan Feb. 14, nine soldiers from the battalion have been killed. No battalion has had more. Even harder, after a relatively uneventful deployment that began last November, those nine deaths have occurred in the past 32 days.
"It just seems like it's been blow after blow after blow," said the battalion's chaplain, Capt. Roger McCay. "They're sad. Very sad," he said of the battalion's 750 soldiers. "They question, 'Is this how it's going to be from now on out?' "
When the escalation began, it came with predictions of a corresponding escalation in casualties, especially in Baghdad, the focus of the strategy. Two months later, the predictions have become fact: There have been 76 deaths of U.S. soldiers in Baghdad between Feb. 14 and April 14, compared with 42 hostile deaths in the period between Dec. 16 and Feb. 13.
Within the 1-8, however, soldiers were for the most part unscathed. Between late November, when they began patrolling a sprawling, heavily populated, mostly Shiite patch of eastern Baghdad, and Feb. 14, there were 20 or so minor injuries, one serious burn injury and one fatality, according to the battalion commander, Lt. Col. Jeffrey Sauer. The fatality, from a roadside bomb that killed Pvt. Joshua C. Burrows, 20, occurred Nov. 26, the night before the battalion officially took over its assigned area.
"So that was an eye-opener," Sauer said. His soldiers wondered: Is this what's ahead?
It wasn't. There were no fatalities in December, none in January, and none through Feb. 14. Then came the escalation, and the 1-8 consolidated its operations to an area that rubs up against the vast Shiite district of Sadr City. As the soldiers increased their presence, patrolling more and establishing neighborhood outposts, the number of roadside bombs also increased, especially armor-piercing ones known as EFPs, for explosively formed penetrators, against which Humvees and Bradley Fighting Vehicles have been defenseless.
Still, for 28 more days, through February and into March, the good luck continued. But then came March 15, and as Sauer put it, "All of a sudden, bam, bam, bam."
It started with a roadside bomb that detonated as some of his soldiers were passing by in two Bradleys. There were no injuries, but nine soldiers got out to scan the area to make sure it was safe, and that was when a second bomb exploded.
Four soldiers died instantly -- Staff Sgt. Blake M. Harris, 27; Staff Sgt. Terry W. Prater, 25; Sgt. Emerson N. Brand, 29; and Pfc. James L. Arnold, 21. Two other soldiers -- Sgt. Ryan P. Green, 24, and Sgt. Nicholas J. Lightner, 29 -- were severely wounded but were saved when another soldier, Spec. James J. Coon, ran to them with tourniquets as a call went out for medics.
The following day, Sauer said, Lightner was in a hospital, talking and joking, and soon after was airlifted to Germany, as was Green, who was semiconscious and had lost much of his right leg.
Then came word on March 18 that Green had died.
Which was followed by word that on March 21 Lightner had died.
Which was followed 13 days later by the death of Pfc. Gabriel J. Figueroa, 20, who was killed on April 3 by a sniper.
Followed a day later by the death of Coon, 22 -- the soldier who had tried to save Green and Lightner -- who, according to Sauer, "was the gunner in an up-armor Humvee, and a bunch of kids were coming up, like they always do, and Coon stood up to tell them to move away, and as he did a shot rang out and hit him right in the head."
Followed by the death on April 11 of Sevaaetasi, who died instantly when his Humvee was destroyed by an EFP.
Nine deaths in the past 32 days: "Each one hurts," Sauer said in his office before Sevaaetasi's ceremony, choking up at times. "It hurts as much with the ninth one as it did with the first. I guess what changes with the numbers is the level of shock. There's a different level of maturity, and I guess wisdom."
He picked up nine files, each a lesson about what the escalation has meant. One interpretation, he said, is that the escalation strategy is working, because unlike the first fatality, which remains unsolved, tips have come in about who planted the bombs and shot the rifles that killed the nine, resulting in multiple arrests. Those tips, Sauer said, are a direct result of his solders' increased presence. He doubts there would have been such tips before the escalation began.
But the other interpretation is within the files themselves. "Look at these kids," he said, opening them and going through them one by one. Arnold: "A great kid." Green: "Had a fiancee." Brand: "Four hundred push-ups, 400 sit-ups." Prater: "Frigging Silver Star winner."
He put the folders away, apologized for crying, worked on a speech for Sevaaetasi, and then it was time to go to the chapel, which, like every other building on the 1-8's Forward Operating Base, is surrounded by blast walls. There are blast walls surrounding where soldiers eat, where they sleep, where they go to the bathroom, and on this night, where they went to once again memorialize the dead.
"I remember him for being an all-around good guy," one of Sevaaetasi's eulogists said.
"He was loved by all of us," another said.
"We're asking why, and we're angry," another said.
On they went, as Sauer sat on the stage, looking at the remaining soldiers of his battalion. Sometime over the next two weeks, he plans to visit them platoon by platoon to tell them in detail about the tips that have come in and about whom they have captured and killed. He will try to persuade them that the escalation is working and that what they are doing matters, and then he will wait for the question he knows he is going to be asked:
"Colonel Sauer," he said, predicting the question, "how can you tell me we're winning?"
What he thinks: They are.
What he knows: "It's going to be a tough sell."
Staff researcher Julie Tate in Washington contributed to this report.