"Walking Away From The Ledge” The Cut List: Vol. 15. These are the stories that didn’t make the cut to the final edit in my book. Some of these stories will jump around, but I’ll do my best not to leave you, the reader, guessing when and where they happened.
Carrying on from last week's cliffhanger and jumping to HALO training in Eloy, AZ. Get it? “jumping.” I’ll see myself out...
The Chinooks were gone, the sun was rising, and our ride would arrive around 0900. We were tired and frustrated from the boredom we had just endured, and watched the infantrymen scurry around this village from a distance. We moved closer to the van to check it out and figured this would be the perfect reference for the Blackhawks to pick us up by.
After checking the van for any potential traps, we opened it up and tried to start it. Bored infantrymen are not a good thing to have around. We popped the hood but couldn’t determine exactly what was wrong with it; however, it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. No one in the village seemed interested in it, so we did what any reasonable person would do: we used it as an ammo dump.
We had some suppressors on our M4s, so we took advantage of the quietness and relieved the tires of their pressure, some of the windows, and wherever else we felt like sending a couple of bullets. If it didn’t work before, it surely wasn’t going to work now. It was more about taking our frustrations out on something than it was a malicious act.
Our taxi arrived, and we requested that the doors remain open so we could let the breeze remove some of our accumulated dust. We were back at Speicher in no time. That was my last team mission, whether combat or training, and I’m at least pleased to say that my last two were complete successes, with intel reported and no compromise.
I don’t regularly think back on these missions, but I recalled all of them after watching “Lone Survivor” years later in the theater. To realize that we were one insurgent-loving, American-hating, sheep-herder compromise away from the fight of our lives moved me deeply. I was glad that I went and saw that movie alone, as I had plenty of tears throughout, realizing that it could have been us at any time.
I have no doubt that God saw us through many adverse situations safely, but I can also say that we were just as prepared to give the enemy a fight of their lives if ever it came to that. In the end, I’m glad it never came to that.
Near the end of my last deployment to Iraq, we conducted a few joint operations in an area further south, in the middle of nowhere, with an SF team. Intel stated that it was a route the insurgency had been using since we primarily operated in the north, south of Sinjar, and Tal Afar.
The vibe at these villages was definitely more standoffish. No one wanted to talk much, and they wouldn’t greet as warmly as those up north. We stayed on higher alert. We also split up and worked with half the platoon and half the SF team. I wasn’t too keen on this, but it worked out, except for the day the other half made contact with insurgents and came under fire.
My half rolled up to the firefight, and it was already over. A Toyota pickup truck that was loaded up with weapons and ammo had gotten high-centered on a small, unpacked dune. Our guys rolled up to help them get their vehicle moving again, but since these were legit “bad guys,” they thought we were coming for a fight, pulled their AK-47s, and began shooting at our forces.
It was short-lived as three MRAPs and three Humvees began to light these guys up! I think one insurgent got hit in the face with an MK-19 round that didn’t explode because his face was gone. I mean, gone, he had a head but no face! I’m not sure if that’s the most excruciating pain ever or if it killed him instantly. The other guy took too many rounds for his body to sustain life and perished. Go see Allah, I guess.
In the middle of it all, the vehicle caught fire and had so much ammo that it burned to the ground and only left the frame. We did have one vehicle of Peshmerga with us, but they had a Toyota Hilux that wasn’t up-armored, and one of their guys took a round to the neck and bled out.
If you want to see someone’s resolve to destroy an enemy increase exponentially, then take out one of his brothers. Understandably, the other two were livid and pissed on the insurgents dead bodies after kicking them a couple times. We reported it to the higher and moved on with our day. This would be the last firefight that I had never been able to shoot a single round in.
I had about five more months to go until we were to embark on our new life experience of becoming a pilot. There was a HALO train in Eloy, AZ, that the Parachute Test Directorate (the group at Bragg specializing in test jumps with new equipment) was unable to participate in due to prior engagements. Therefore, they recommended that we send our HALO personnel down to conduct the test jumps.
We had done this sort of thing before, so it wasn’t anything new to us; it would just be some jumps in the hot sun, July 2009. My back was still a wreck, and I would be leaving within one month of heading down Eloy, so I wasn’t too keen on going with the group, but they needed JMs, so I obliged. I had one condition: no equipment, slick jumps every time. The company agreed to my conditions, and we were on our way.
Two weeks in Eloy, jumping every day, testing some new equipment. Other than the jumps, Eloy wasn’t anything remarkable or exciting. Civilian jumpers around the world have likely heard of Eloy, as it features a DZ with multiple landing areas, regularly supports military training, can accommodate jumps year-round, and has a wind tunnel located right by the DZ. They have it all.
It was at the wind tunnel that I ran into one of our former LRS team members, Josh Seagrave. He was giving instructions there and helping a would-be skydiver improve their free-fall skills before heading off to a jump. We were able to catch up for a few minutes, and then we were off to our jumps. At the time of this writing, I learned about six months ago that he died in an airplane crash in Alaska. He was flying low through a pass, and his wing hit a wire that crossed a small stream. Gone, but never forgotten.
Want to know more about some of these situations? You’ll have to get the book “Walking Away From The Ledge" for more details (links below)! If this story hit home—or reminded you of your own service—drop a comment below or share it with someone who might need it.
https://books.by/w-brand-publishing/walking-away-from-the-ledge
