For a correspondent who has covered a half dozen armed conflicts, including the war in Iraq since its start in March 2003, the fighting seen while traveling with a frontline unit in Falluja was a qualitatively different experience, a leap into a different kind of battle.
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On one particularly grim night, a group of marines from Bravo Companyâs First Platoon turned a corner in the darkness and headed up an alley. As they did so, they came across men dressed in uniforms worn by the Iraqi National Guard. The uniforms were so perfect that they even carried pieces of red tape and white, the signal agreed upon to assure American soldiers that any Iraqis dressed that way would be friendly; the others could be killed.The marines, spotting the red and white tape, waved, and the men in Iraqi uniforms opened fire. One American, Corporal Anderson, died instantly. One of the wounded men, Pfc. Andrew Russell, lay in the road, screaming from a nearly severed leg.
A group of marines ran forward into the gunfire to pull their comrades out. But the ambush, and the enemy flares and gunfire that followed, rattled the men of Bravo Company more than any event. In the darkness, the men began to argue. Others stood around in the road. As the platoonâs leader, Lt. Andy Eckert, struggled to take charge, the Third Platoon seemed on the brink of panic.
âEverybody was scared,â Lieutenant Eckert said afterward. âIf the leader canât hold, then the unit canât hold together.â
The unit did hold, but only after the intervention of Bravo Companyâs commanding officer, Capt. Read Omohundro.
Time and again through the week, Captain Omohundro kept his men from folding, if not by his resolute manner then by his calmness under fire. In the first 16 hours of battle, when the combat was continuous and the threat of death ever present, Captain Omohundro never flinched, moving his men through the warrens and back alleys of Falluja with an uncanny sense of space and time, sensing the enemy, sensing the location of his men, even in the darkness, entirely self-possessed.
âDamn it, get moving,â Captain Omohundro said, and his men, looking relieved that they had been given direction amid the anarchy, were only too happy to oblige.
A little later, Captain Omohundro, a 34-year-old Texan, allowed that the strain of the battle had weighed on him, but he said that he had long ago trained himself to keep any self-doubt hidden from view.
âItâs not like I donât feel it,â Captain Omohundro said. âBut if I were to show it, the whole thing would come apart.â
For Expert Opinion on how the US Marine Corps âre-wrote the bookâ on MOUT (Miliatary Operations in Urban Terrain) see these articles in the Post-Gazette,
(Fallujah)
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