OIF Flashback #1 (Why I hate kids sometimes)

Time: Early November, 2007

Location: SW Haqlaniya, Iraq

A routine foot patrol with Lima Company

This was only about the eighth or ninth time I had been out on foot in Haqlaniya, the city I'd recently been assigned to for routine Civil Affairs matters. Oh, I was at the goddamn city council meetings every week for four hours or more - they'd only appointed a mayor and established the council in August, so personalities were emerging in that inexorably roundabout Iraqi fashion. But I had been neglecting to get out and see the town, meet the people, and see the faces, the routine of the city. I was glad for the excuse of a "site survey/progress check" on the Iraqi Police (IP) station as an excuse to get out with a squad and take some pictures that afternoon.

Typically, we'd depart out the back gate of the FOB (Forward Operating Base) after the squad leader had briefed the mission, turned in his kill sheet to the Watch Officer, and issued pyro (grenades, flares, etc.) to those in the squad who needed it. All the rifle squads in Lima Company also had an unfailing, almost mandated habit of huddling up in a circle, touching gloved hands, and repeating The Lord's Prayer. All that happened this day, and we left along the dusty street leading out on the high ground outside the back gate.

The patrol went well, and despite an unusually cool afternoon - 85 degrees, tops - we were all pretty drained from humping up and down hills most of the time. One thing I never liked about Haqlaniya was the hilly terrain; it was virtually impossible for you to know at any given moment whether or not any house within sniper range had line of sight on you from a window or rooftop.

I took note of the faces in the souk, noticing which shops were filled with people paying us no mind as we passed, and which had men sitting or standing in the shade, arms crossed, giving us the evil eye. At one end of the souk stood a mosque we always referred to as the JTJ Mosque, after one of the prime terrorist orginizations in the country - its members had frequently been granted refuge there after engaging friendlies, and the Imam wouldn't budge when we politely asked the men inside to come out and play. Whether that was out of an obligation to the Q'uran or his complicity, I never knew.

When we were only about ten minutes from the back gate, I had one of the most terrifying moments of my life. Instead of taking the usual route back - up a hill 500 meters or so from the gate, then back along the same street - we had gone down an alternate route into a small valley, which would bring us in about 100 meters outside the gate. Nothing unusual; I trust the infantry squad leaders I roll with, and aside from changing routine it was just good to change the scenery as well.

Just before we started uphill again, the ground levelled out. There was no activity in the street, nor in any of the houses and yards nearby. There were four Marines about 30-50 meters in front of me, so I didn't shout out to them when I saw the perfectly straight line of small rocks sitting across the road about 8 feet ahead. I called out to the squad leader, two men behind me, and held up my left hand in a fist. The patrol stopped in place - probably a bad thing to do, but right after "Oh, fuck!", my next thought was "Well, too late for me anyway - 'specially if it's a *big* explosion."

The squad leader moved up to my position and stood right behind me. That was probably the only smart thing anyone had done up to that point. I spoke to him over my right shoulder in hushed tones, describing exactly where to look instead of pointing to the rocks. When an IED triggerman sees someone point, that's usually the time he picks to pop his little surprise.

Keeping my eyes on the rocks as I spoke, I followed the line to the edge of the road.... where there were more rocks lined up perfectly parallel to the road. Looking back, it was the same on the other side as well. Then another line across the road about fifteen meters further up. And... well, shit. Another one fifteen meters further. If I hadn't been sweating so much the past three hours, I'd probably have pissed myself.

The squad leader confirmed what I saw... but then I noticed something else that made me feel like a dumbass - an immensely relieved and much safer dumbass than I had been about thirty seconds prior. The line of rocks closest to me, as well as the one farthest from me, both had a little arc of rocks arranged curving towards each other.

I immediately recognized it for what it was - an impromptu soccer field, where kids had likely been playing just minutes before we passed by. I was 1) mentally kicking myself for not seeing it sooner because I was too busy scanning windows and yards for movement, and 2) thrilled that I recognized it that quickly by virtue of being a huge soccer fan. My squad leader and I would have felt like assholes reporting strange rock activities to Razorback 6, who already knew about the "Ghetto Stadium" that had been there for weeks.

But yeah, if I'd seen any of those kids there right about then, I'd have been throwing out all the curse words I know in Arabiac at those little fuckers. Maybe even their damn rocks, too...