[Marxism] Fallujah: GI blogger tells of slaughter, no end to fighting

["Fred Feldman" <ffeldman@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

Sent: Friday, November 19, 2004 2:03 PM

Holiday in Falluja

These are ugly times for the US military in Iraq.  It seems everywhere
you turn, more and more troops are being killed and maimed in vicious
encounters with determined rebel fighters.  The insurgency is mounting
incredibly in such places as Baghdad, Mosul, and Baquba; using more
advanced techniques and weaponry associated with a well-organized
guerilla campaign. Even in the massively destroyed city of Falluja rebel
forces are starting to reappear with a callous determination to win or
die trying.  Many critics and political pundits are starting to realize
that this war is, in many aspects, un-winnable.

And why should anyone think that a complete victory is possible?
Conventionally, our US forces win territory here or there, killing a
plethora of civilians as well as insurgents with each new boundary
conquered.

However, such as the recent case in Falluja, the rebel fighters have
returned like a swarm of angry hornets attacking with a vicious frenzy.

I was in Falluja during the last two days of the final assault.  My
mission was much different from that of the brave and weary infantry and
marines involved in the major fighting.  I was on an escort mission,
accompanied by a squad who's task it was to protect a high brass figure
in the combat zone.  This particularly arrogant officer went to the last
battle in the same spirits of an impartial spectator checking out the
fourth quarter of a high school football game.

Once we got to the marine occupied Camp Falluja and saw artillery being
fired into town, the man suddenly became desperate to play an active
role in the battle that would render Falluja to ashes.  It was already
rumored that all he really wanted was his trigger time, perhaps to prove
that he is the toughest cowboy west of the Euphrates.

Guys like him are a dime a dozen in the army: a career soldier who spent
the first twenty years of his service patrolling the Berlin Wall or
guarding the DMZ between North and South Korea.  This sort of brass may
have been lucky to serve in the first Gulf War, but in all actuality
spent very little time shooting rag heads.  For these trigger-happy
tough guys, the last two decades of cold war hostilities built into a
war frenzy of stark emptiness, fizzling out almost completely with the
Clinton administration.  But this is the New War, a never ending, action
packed "Red Scare" in which the communist threat of yesteryear was
simply replaced with the white knuckled tension of today's "War on
Terrorism".

The younger soldiers who grew up in relatively peaceful times interpret
the mentality of the careerists as one of making up for lost
opportunities.  To the elder generation of trigger pullers, this is the
real deal; the chance to use all the cool toys and high speed training
that has been stored away since the '70s for something tangibly
useful.and its about goddamn time.

However, upon reaching the front lines, a safety standard was in effect
stating that the urban combat was extremely intense.  The lightest
armored vehicles allowed in sector were Bradley tanks.  Taking a glance
at our armored humvees, this commander insisted that our section would
be fine.  Even though the armored humvees are very stout and nearly
impenetrable against small arm fire, they usually don't hold up well
against rocket attacks and roadside bombs like a heavily armored tank
will.

The reports from within the war zone indicated heavy rocket attacks,
with an armed insurgent waiting on every corner for a soft target such
as trucks.  In the end, the overzealous officer was urged not to
infiltrate into sector with only three trucks, for it would be a death
wish during those dangerous twilight hours.  It was suggested that in
the morning, after the air strikes were complete, he could move in and
"inspect the damage".

Even as the sun was setting over the hazy orange horizon, artillery was
pounding away at the remaining twelve percent of the already devastated
Falluja. Many units were pulled out for the evening in preparation of a
full-scale air strike that was scheduled to last for up to twelve hours.
Our squad was sitting on top of our parked humvees, manning the crew
served machine guns and scanning the urban landscape for enemy activity.
This was supposed to be a secured forward operating area, right on the
edge of the combat zone.  However, with no barbed wire perimeter set up
and only a few scattered tanks serving as protection, one was under the
assumption that if someone missed a minor detail while on guard, some
serious shit could go down.

One soldier informed me that only two nights prior an insurgent was
caught sneaking around the bullet-ridden houses to our immediate west.
He was armed with a rocket-propelled grenade, and was laying low on his
advance towards the perimeter.  One of the tanks spotted him through its
night vision and hastily shot him into three pieces. Indeed, though it
was safe enough to smoke a cigarette and relax, one had to remain
diligently aware of his surroundings if he planned on making it through
the night.

As the evening wore on and the artillery continued, a new gruesome roar
filled the sky.  The fighter jets were right on time and made their
grand appearance with a series of massive air strikes.  Between the
pernicious bombs and fierce artillery, the sky seemed as though it were
on fire for several minutes at a time.  First you would see a blaze of
light in the horizon, like lightning hitting a dynamite warehouse, and
then hear the massive explosion that would turn your stomach, rattle
your eyeballs, and compress itself deep within your lungs.  Although
these massive bombs were being dropped no further than five kilometers
away, it felt like it was happening right in front of your face.  At
first, it was impossible not to flinch with each unexpected boom, but
after scores of intense explosions, your senses became aware and
complacent towards them.

At times the jets would scream menacingly low over the city and open
fire with smaller missiles meant for extreme accuracy.  This is what Top
Gun, in all its glory and silver screen acclaim, seemed to be lacking in
the movie's high budget sound effects.  These air-deployed missiles make
a banshee-like squeal, sort of like a bottle rocket fueled with
plutonium, and then suddenly would become inaudible.  Seconds later, the
colossal explosion would rip the sky open and hammer devastatingly into
the ground, sending flames and debris pummeling into the air.  And as
always, the artillery-some rounds were high explosive, some were
illumination rounds, some were reported as being white phosphorus (the
modern day napalm).

Occasionally, on the outskirts of the isolated impact area, you could
hear tanks firing machine guns and blazing their cannons.  It was
amazing that anything could survive this deadly onslaught.  Suddenly a
transmition came over the radio approving the request for
"bunker-busters".  Apparently, there were a handful of insurgent
compounds that were impenetrable by artillery.  At the time, I was
unaware when these bunker-busters were deployed, but I was told later
that the incredibly massive explosions were a direct result of these
"final solution" type missiles.

I continued to watch the final assault on Falluja throughout the night
from atop my humvee.  It was interesting to scan the vast skies above
with night vision goggles.  Circling continuously overhead throughout
the battle was an array of attack helicopters.

The most devastating were the Cobras and Apaches with their chain gun
missile launchers. Through the night vision I could see them hovering
around the carnage, scanning the ground with an infrared spotlight that
seemed to reach for miles. Once a target was identified, a rapid series
of hollow blasts would echo through the skies, and from the ground came
a "rat-a-tatting" of explosions, like a daisy chain of supercharged
black cats during a Fourth of July barbeque.  More artillery, more
tanks, more machine gun fire, ominous death-dealing fighter planes
terminating whole city blocks at a time.this wasn't a war, it was a
massacre!

As I look back on the air strikes that lasted well into the next
morning, I cannot help but to be both amazed by our modern technology
and disgusted by its means.  It occurred to me many times during the
siege that while the Falluja resistance was boldly fighting us with
archaic weapons from the Cold War, we were soaring far above their heads
dropping Thor's fury with a destructive power and precision that may as
well been nuclear.  It was like the Iraqis were bringing a knife to a
tank fight.

And yet, the resistance toiled on, many fighting until their deaths.
What determination!  Some soldiers call them stupid for even thinking
they have a chance in hell to defeat the strongest military in the
world, but I call them brave.  It's not about fighting to win an
immediate victory.  And what is a conventional victory in a
non-conventional war?  It seems overwhelmingly obvious that this is no
longer within the United States hands.

We reduced Falluja to rubble.  We claimed victory and told the world we
held Falluja under total and complete control.  Our military claimed
very little civilian casualties and listed thousands of insurgents dead.
CNN and Fox News harped and cheered on the television that the Battle of
Falluja would go down in history as a complete success, and a testament
to the United States' supremacy on the modern battlefield.

However, after the dust settled and generals sat in cozy offices smoking
their victory cigars, the front lines in Falluja exploded again with
indomitable mortar, rocket, and small arm attacks on US and coalition
forces.

Recent reports indicate that many insurgents have resurfaced in the
devastated city of Falluja.  We had already claimed the situation under
control, and were starting to turn our attention to the other problem
city of Mosul. Suddenly we were backtracking our attention to Falluja.
Did the Department of Defense and the national press lie to the public
and claim another preemptive victory?  Not necessarily so.
Conventionally we won the battle, how could anyone argue that?  We
destroyed an entire city and killed thousands of its occupants.  But the
main issue that both the military and public forget to analyze is that
this war, beyond any shadow of a doubt, is completely guerrilla.

Sometimes I wonder if the West Point graduated officers have ever
studied the intricate simplicity and effectiveness of guerrilla warfare.
During the course of this war, I have occasionally asked a random
lieutenant or a captain if he at any time has even browsed through Che
Guevara's Guerrilla Warfare. Almost half of them admit that they have
not.  This I find to be amazing!  Here we have many years of guerrilla
warfare ahead of us and our military's leadership seems dangerously
unaware of what it all means!

Anyone can tell you that a guerrilla fighter is one who uses hit and run
techniques to attempt a breakdown of a stronger conventional force.
However, what is more important to a guerrilla campaign are the
political forces that drive it.  Throughout history, many guerrilla
armies have been successful; our own country and its fight for
independence cannot be excluded.

We should have learned a lesson in guerrilla fighting with the Vietnam
War only thirty years ago, but history has a funny way of repeating
itself.  The Vietnam War was a perfect example of how quick, deadly
assaults on conventional troops over a long period of time can lead to
an unpopular public view of the war, thus ending it.

Che Guevara stressed in his book Guerrilla Warfare that the most
important factor in a guerrilla campaign is popular support.  With that,
victory is almost completely assured.  The Iraqis already have many of
the main ingredients of a successful insurrection. Not only do they have
a seemingly endless supply of munitions and weapons, they have the
advantage to blend into their environment, whether that environment is a
crowded market place or a thickly vegetated palm grove.  The Iraqi
insurgent has utilized these advantages to the fullest, but his most
important and relevant advantage is the popular support from his own
countrymen.

What our military and government needs to realize is that every mistake
we make is an advantage to the Iraqi insurrection.  Every time an
innocent man, woman or child is murdered in a military act, deliberate
or not, the insurgent grows stronger.  Even if an innocent civilian is
slain at the hands of his/her own freedom fighter, that fighter is still
viewed as a warrior of the people, while the occupying force will
ultimately be blamed as the responsible perpetrator.

Everything about this war is political.every ambush, every bombing,
every death.  When a coalition worker or soldier is abducted and
executed, this only adds encouragement and justice to the dissident
fervor of the Iraq public, while angering and demoralizing the occupier.
Our own media will prove to be our downfall as well.  Every time an
atrocity is revealed through our news outlets, our grasp on this once
secular nation slips away. As America grows increasingly disturbed by
the images of carnage and violent death of her own sons in arms, its
government loses the justification to continue the bloody debacle. Since
all these traits are the conventional power's unavoidable mistakes, the
guerrilla campaign will surely succeed.  In Iraq's case, complete
destruction of the United States military is impossible, but through
perseverance the insurgency will drive us out.  This will prove to be
the inevitable outcome of the war.

We lost many soldiers in the final battle for Falluja, and many more
were seriously wounded.  It seems unfair that even after the devastation
we wreaked on this city just to contain it, many more troops will die in
vain to keep it that way.  I saw the look in the eyes of a
reconnaissance scout while I talked to him after the battle.

His stories of gore and violent death were unnerving.  The sacrifices
that he and his whole platoon had made were infinite.  They fought
everyday with little or no sleep, very few breaks, and no hot meals.
For obvious reasons, they never could manage to find time to email their
mothers to let them know that everything turned out ok.  Some of the
members of his platoon will never get the chance to reassure their
mothers, because now those soldiers are dead. The look in his eyes as he
told some of the stories were deep and weary, even perturbed.

He described in accurate detail how some enemy combatants were blown to
pieces by army issued bazookas, some had their heads shot off by a 50
caliber bullet, others were run over by tanks as they stood defiantly in
the narrow streets firing an AK-47.  The soldier told me how one of his
favorite sergeants died right in front of him. He was taking cover
behind an alley wall and as he emerged to fire his M4 rifle, he was shot
through the abdomen with a rocket-propelled grenade.  The grenade itself
exploded and sent shrapnel into the narrator's leg.  He showed me where
a chunk of burned flesh was torn from his left thigh.

He ended his conversation saying that he was just a dumb kid from
California who never thought joining the army would send him straight to
hell.  He told me he was tired as fuck and wanted a shower.  Then he
slowly walked away, cradling a rifle under his arm.

--

hEkLe Falluja, Iraq www.ftssoldier.blogspot.com

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