Local battalion's first sign of war: 2 flashes overhead
Desert camp dons protection
By Dani Dodge
March 22, 2003
KUWAITI DESERT - Two bright lights streak across the horizon from the south, shooting through the sky like Fourth of July fireworks, except they are heading straight north, where Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 4 is camped out in the desert.
The Seabees from Port Hueneme stare dumbfounded for a moment. Their spoons, full of chili mac and fettucini and beef ravioli from the MREs, are motionless in front of their mouths. Several gasp. Then the screams: "Incoming! Incoming!"
There is a sound above the panic. A deep, rumbling, sucking whir. And it's coming closer. Closer.
The chorus of "Incoming! Incoming!" picks up more voices and becomes more strident. Some Seabees grab their chemical protection gear, stowed in a desert camouflage backpack. Others just stand up, drop their meals and run for the freshly dug bunkers. They tumble and fall. They jump and climb.
It's Thursday night and the air is thick with dust and fear.
"MOPP Level One!" screams an officer. People who haven't made it to the bunker reach for their protective gear. Those inside strip to their shorts and T-shirts and put on the hot, charcoal-filled protective clothing.
Chaplain Brandon Harding scrambles up the dirt bank from one bunker and runs to a nearby tent to grab the chemical protective gear for a civilian.
Another light shoots from the south.
The lights arc high into the sky over the camp, then they go dark. No one in a bunker of a half-dozen people knows why. There is no swearing, no words of fear, only the permeation of quiet terror into the dirt.
"This sends a jitterbug through you," said Petty Officer 2nd Class Maximo Perez, who is with a battalion supporting Battalion 4. "I'm just glad it looks like they were headed in the other direction over us."
Thursday night, the Seabees from NMCB-4 got their first taste of war. About half the battalion is now in the desert living in tents and lean-tos. They are eating MREs and sucking on bottles of water and changing out their old gas-mask canisters for new ones. Many arrived in Kuwait only two weeks ago, but since they stepped off a plane and onto a bus with windows that had blue curtains they were told not to part, they've trained and trained and trained.
Thursday started off with much less drama. When the Seabees pulled up to their empty patch of desert, they heard two distant booms, like M-80s some errant teenager had set off illegally down the street.
"Did you hear that?" one Seabee asked.
"Yeah," said another.
Most pass it off as an Army training exercise.
It wasn't. It was the opening salvos of the second American-led war against Iraq.
But little more happened in the day. Seabees with bulldozers dug out 4-foot deep holes in the ground for bunkers, both inside and just outside the camp. Other Seabees created restrooms. One is just a wood-slat structure open on one side and draped with tarp. Inside is a box the Seabees line with a garbage bag.
The sign above the box reads: "Bury your bag."
Almost no one knew the war had started. They were only told late in the day by their chiefs.
"It's very weird, being so close and not knowing," said Builder 2nd Class Carlos Faring, 29, of Port Hueneme. "It's very shocking people back home found out before we did.
"My wife is probably watching it on TV."
The men are worried but believe they are ready for what is to come.
"It's just the first step to us getting home," said Steelworker 1st Class Sam Hayes, 33, of Simi Valley. "Talking didn't work, so the next step closer to peace is conflict."
Less than a half-hour later, the missiles, which turned out to be Patriots trying to head off Iraqi Scud attacks, started streaking against the dusk sky. About an hour later, people started to clear out of the bunkers, realizing the missiles must have been aimed for somewhere beyond their camp. Ensign Ron Garner, 34, of Port Hueneme said he felt much more protected when he had missiles overhead but was on a ship. Then, he was surrounded by a battle group.
"Bunkers are the only protection we have out here."
At an operations meeting held around the illumination of a blue light stick, Cmdr. James Worcester talked to his officers.
"They are calling it Operation Iraqi Freedom," he said.
He breaks the news that at least one Iraqi missile was aimed for Camp Commando, the headquarters of the Seabee operations, as well as the whole Marine Engineering Group. No news of casualties.
An hour later, artillery shelling starts to the south of camp. The cacophony of crashing booms and rapid firing has a carnival-melee feel.
People head again for the bunkers. "I'm just glad we're here," Perez said.
"Commando got hit. It's right next door to the camp we were last at. I'm pretty nervous, but I feel better being here."
He nestles into the dirt of the bunker.
Near his tent, Worcester takes off his helmet and opens up an MRE. He says the Iraqi weapons have a different sound, a whistling as it comes in.
These noises are our weapons.
"I expect the Iraqis won't have much firepower left," he said. "I think these people will appreciate being liberated - at least I hope so."
But Friday, Seabees went back to regular life despite the sound of artillery shelling.
"Listen up, guys," Senior Chief Michelle "Shelly" Lavoie shouted Friday morning in her high-pitched, energy-racked voice. "It's time to take the test."
About 50 Seabees put their flak vests in the sand, lay the tests on top, and the three-hour timer starts. The Navywide Examination for Advancement is given every six months. Usually, Seabees take the test in a classroom.
Here, artillery fire booms as they get to the first question.
But no one complains. They put their backs to the blasting wind and start to write. A promotion in rank can mean a 10 percent to 20 percent pay raise, as well as a big boost in esteem.
But after the three hours, they turn in their tests, many sheepishly.
"I didn't sleep much last night and everything is a haze," said Engineering Aide Constructionman Robert Chapman, 23, of Sacramento. "I was tired last night, but with all the artillery and my friend waking me up to watch the Patriots, you really can't sleep.
"I'm not going to complain, but it was pretty hard because out here there are a lot of things on your mind."
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