Catastrophuck Complete

You can sleep safe America, as the boys of AT4 have freed the world, once again, from tyranny and oppression. Saved it from terrorists plots and anarchists agendas. But most importantly, we've saved the world from barriers. Again!


The LT lays out our Catastrophuck: Phase XIII

The catastrophuck of a mission that we've been on over the last few weeks has had plenty of turmoil and suffrage. Mostly inflicted on the mind of our very own platoon leader, as dealing with local nationals to do work has proven to be quite a challenge. They argue about how many barriers they want to take. They tell us that they don't want to work because they haven't been paid, or they have no gas, or their seemingly perfect tire is flat. They are lazy, argumentative and down-right annoying. Just yesterday, a fairly young lad argued with the LT about taking only 10 barriers instead of 12, and when the LT didn't budge after what seemed like hours of bickering and complaining, he said he was always going to take twelve, and was just curious to see how tough Lt. Dan was. I guess he doesn't know anything about Pac-10 football.


The entire mission was seemingly pointless to us, but as it was a wish of Maliki, we were of course the ones to have to do it. It involved removing barriers down a dangerous stretch of road, and then transporting them on an even more dangerous road to get dropped off into the desert, or the bottom of the ocean, or perhaps a black hole. We aren't sure where they ended up, but they certainly were gone from the sides of the roads where we had taken them. The fact that we were operating in the same area for more than a week, driving the same routes and following the same routine made our mission that much more dangerous. But American lives are worth Iraqi aesthetics, so we drove on. In fact, we got lucky. Each night was slightly different, and in the end, that small variable, that hot route or change of plan ensured our platoon safety, but not necessarily the safety of others.


Ordered Chaos. The inside of Delta Four Two- Pegasus' Butt

The worst day of the mission was not because of the drivers or the ordeals that we faced as a platoon, but of the perils of war and how strange it is, that one action that causes a delay here or there, can be the difference between life and death. An EFP struck a national guard unit killing two soldiers. This is a very sad thing, to lose any Americans, especially in Baghdad, where we aren't even supposed to be, but still are. The sad thing is, that those poor guys got hit in a spot we should've been. That night though, was something along the lines of divine intervention, or coincidence.

Our Iraqi Security Forces, escort was nearly an hour late. On top of that, we started to remove the barriers around JSS Beladiyat, and after loading nearly 100, were told that we had to replace most of them. This took up more time. We then had to drive far down our route, and turn around to go in the opposite lane. Finding barriers that did not have a steel cable through them was our next priority, and after finally getting the close to 200 barriers loaded, we took the route that we had taken the previous two or three days we had been on mission. Now if the National Police had not been late for the link up. And if we had had clear guidance on what barriers to pick up and not pick up, we would've passed where that EFP had been set-up, and quite possibly would've detonated on us. This isn't the first time it's happened to our platoon. And it wouldn't be the last.

Tonight, our final 118 barriers needed to be removed. We only had 9 flatbeds, with our 5 cranes. Pretty quick work. We finished up, and triumphantly celebrated that we had picked up the last barrier. I even snapped a picture of the moment, although the dust in the air that the flash picks up didn't make for a very good picture. The celebration was not just herald by we Americans, but the Iraqi truck drivers, and crane operators shared in the moment, as they gathered around, danced, sang and offered their sisters to Lt. Dan as either part of the celebration of our victory over the removal of barriers, or perhaps it's a tradition of Ramadan, which is currently going on. Not to get off topic, but why the hell can't we have a 30 day holiday in the United States? It might be one thing these Iraqi's got right.


The barrier in the background, hoisted by the crane. The Big Blonde American and Bob pump fists. It's finally effing over.

The last two nights, we had made left hand turns from the removal street, and made a big 'abortion' looking 'suppository' thingy out of our convoy filled with trucks, cranes and humvees. Tonight was different though, our parameters allowed us to make a right turn. We did, and started to drive our convoy towards our ultimate goal of delivering barriers to their heavenly resting site. About 10 minutes after making the right turn, our gunners heard a loud, audible explosion. We paused immediately, because it was in the direction we just came from. You guessed it, in the intersection where we had been making a left. Some poor, probably the same National Guard unit got hit tonight, in that intersection, with another bomb that was meant for us. Fortunately this time no one was hurt.

There are a couple of things that are horrible about this mission that put us at extreme risk. The first being that the barriers we removed to help Iraq look more like it used to, with trash on the sides of the road, instead of trash and barriers, are not the kind that help to hide any kind of EFP or roadside bomb. They are short, much like the ones you'd see on a freeway in America, acting as a center divide. The real threats to Americans are the taller concrete walls that block the sides of the roads. They had been placed their to deter conventional IED's because they were unable to penetrate the concrete, and therefore make it safer for Americans. But not matter the upside to America of clearing the sides of the roads off, the down side is a whole lot steeper. The patterns that have to be set, along with the operation hours that we must abide by, allow the threat to rise to an extremely dangerous level. All for the good of Iraq. Crazy what our leadership has left us to be disposed for...


The Big Blonde American is proposed a wife. An Iraqi mans sister.

Overall though, as a platoon, we functioned well for having to live in the transient building at Loyalty, which doesn't allow a lot of unbroken sleep because we are on the vampire schedule, while everyone else is on the exact opposite. It certainly caused some conflicts, especially with everyone else staying here one or two nights, and we now on our 10th or so. We also had the difficulty picking up a mission tempo that we hadn't even been close to since July 1st. We accomplished our mission, even if we feel the 2 month itch that we try everything in our might to scratch. Our magic number, 63. And the Iraqi truck drivers and crane operators, were in better spirits tonight. Either dancing for Ramadan, or praising the White Devil, Delta Four Six, they were certainly having a good time. Zinzizzle mother f***ers.


Iraqi men dancing and singing after the man with his hands up awards the Big Blonde American with his sister.



Yea, I spell Blonde with an E on the end and I'm not British! I think it looks better that way, so bugger off mate!