[News] "This wasn't a war, it was a massacre"

[News at freedomarchives.org]

Letter from a GI in Falluja:
"This wasn't a war, it was a massacre"

December 3, 2004 | Page 7

THE FOLLOWING letter from a U.S. soldier stationed in Iraq, known as hEkLe, 
powerfully conveys the terror of the U.S. assault on Falluja. It was 
published in GI Special, a daily Internet newsletter that gathers news and 
information helpful to soldiers and military families. You can find an 
archive of the GI Special updated with each new issue at 
<http://www.militaryproject.org/>www.militaryproject.org. hEkLe and several 
fellow soldiers have a Web log that they regularly update with essays at 
<http://www.ftssoldier.blogspot.com/>www.ftssoldier.blogspot.com.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
THESE ARE ugly times for the U.S. military in Iraq. It seems everywhere you 
turn, more and more troops are being killed and maimed in vicious 
encounters with determined rebel fighters.

The insurgency is mounting incredibly in such places as Baghdad, Mosul and 
Baquba, using more advanced techniques and weaponry associated with a 
well-organized guerilla campaign. Even in the massively destroyed city of 
Falluja, rebel forces are starting to reappear with a callous determination 
to win or die trying. Many critics and political pundits are starting to 
realize that this war is, in many aspects, un-winnable.

And why should anyone think that a complete victory is possible? 
Conventionally, our U.S. forces win territory here or there, killing a 
plethora of civilians as well as insurgents with each new boundary 
conquered. However, such as the recent case in Falluja, the rebel fighters 
have returned like a swarm of angry hornets, attacking with a vicious frenzy.

I was in Falluja during the last two days of the final assault.

My mission was much different from that of the brave and weary infantry and 
Marines involved in the major fighting.

I was on an escort mission, accompanied by a squad whose task it was to 
protect a high brass figure in the combat zone.

This particularly arrogant officer went to the last battle in the same 
spirit of an impartial spectator checking out the fourth quarter of a high 
school football game.

Once we got to the Marine-occupied Camp Falluja and saw artillery being 
fired into town, the man suddenly became desperate to play an active role 
in the battle that would render Falluja to ashes. It was already rumored 
that all he really wanted was his trigger time, perhaps to prove that he is 
the toughest cowboy west of the Euphrates.

Guys like him are a dime a dozen in the army: a career soldier who spent 
the first 20 years of his service patrolling the Berlin Wall or guarding 
the DMZ between North and South Korea. This sort of brass may have been 
lucky to serve in the first Gulf War, but in all actuality spent very 
little time shooting rag heads.

For these trigger-happy tough guys, the last two decades of Cold War 
hostilities built into a war frenzy of stark emptiness, fizzling out almost 
completely with the Clinton administration.

But this is the New War, a never-ending, action-packed "Red Scare" in which 
the communist threat of yesteryear was simply replaced with the white 
knuckled tension of today's "war on terrorism."

The younger soldiers who grew up in relatively peaceful times interpret the 
mentality of the careerists as one of making up for lost opportunities. To 
the elder generation of trigger pullers, this is the real deal; the chance 
to use all the cool toys and high speed training that has been stored away 
since the '70s for something tangibly useful...and it's about goddamn time.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
HOWEVER, UPON reaching the front lines, a safety standard was in effect 
stating that the urban combat was extremely intense. The lightest armored 
vehicles allowed in sector were Bradley tanks.

Taking a glance at our armored humvees, this commander insisted that our 
section would be fine. Even though the armored humvees are very stout and 
nearly impenetrable against small-arms fire, they usually don't hold up 
well against rocket attacks and roadside bombs, like a heavily armored tank 
will. The reports from within the war zone indicated heavy rocket attacks, 
with an armed insurgent waiting on every corner for a soft target such as 
trucks.

In the end, the overzealous officer was urged not to infiltrate into sector 
with only three trucks, for it would be a death wish during those dangerous 
twilight hours. It was suggested that in the morning, after the air strikes 
were complete, he could move in and "inspect the damage."

Even as the sun was setting over the hazy orange horizon, artillery was 
pounding away at the remaining 12 percent of the already devastated Falluja.

Many units were pulled out for the evening in preparation of a full-scale 
air strike that was scheduled to last for up to 12 hours.

Our squad was sitting on top of our parked humvees, manning the crew-served 
machine guns and scanning the urban landscape for enemy activity. This was 
supposed to be a secured forward operating area, right on the edge of the 
combat zone. However, with no barbed wire perimeter set up and only a few 
scattered tanks serving as protection, one was under the assumption that if 
someone missed a minor detail while on guard, some serious shit could go down.

One soldier informed me that only two nights prior, an insurgent was caught 
sneaking around the bullet-ridden houses to our immediate west. He was 
armed with a rocket-propelled grenade and was laying low on his advance 
towards the perimeter. One of the tanks spotted him through its night 
vision and hastily shot him into three pieces. Indeed, though it was safe 
enough to smoke a cigarette and relax, one had to remain diligently aware 
of his surroundings if he planned on making it through the night.

As the evening wore on and the artillery continued, a new gruesome roar 
filled the sky.

The fighter jets were right on time and made their grand appearance with a 
series of massive air strikes. Between the pernicious bombs and fierce 
artillery, the sky seemed as though it were on fire for several minutes at 
a time. First, you would see a blaze of light in the horizon, like 
lightning hitting a dynamite warehouse, and then hear the massive explosion 
that would turn your stomach, rattle your eyeballs and compress itself deep 
within your lungs. Although these massive bombs were being dropped no 
further than five kilometers away, it felt like it was happening right in 
front of your face.

At first, it was impossible not to flinch with each unexpected boom, but 
after scores of intense explosions, your senses became aware and complacent 
towards them.

At times, the jets would scream menacingly low over the city and open fire 
with smaller missiles meant for extreme accuracy. This is what Top Gun, in 
all its glory and silver screen acclaim, seemed to be lacking in the 
movie's high budget sound effects.

These air-deployed missiles make a banshee-like squeal, sort of like a 
bottle rocket fueled with plutonium, and then suddenly would become 
inaudible. Seconds later, the colossal explosion would rip the sky open and 
hammer devastatingly into the ground, sending flames and debris pummeling 
into the air.

And as always, the artillery--some rounds were high explosive, some were 
illumination rounds, some were reported as being white phosphorus (the 
modern-day napalm).

Occasionally, on the outskirts of the isolated impact area, you could hear 
tanks firing machine guns and blazing their cannons. It was amazing that 
anything could survive this deadly onslaught. Suddenly, a transmission came 
over the radio approving the request for "bunker-busters." Apparently, 
there were a handful of insurgent compounds that were impenetrable by 
artillery. At the time, I was unaware when these bunker-busters were 
deployed, but I was told later that the incredibly massive explosions were 
a direct result of these "final solution"-type missiles.

I continued to watch the final assault on Falluja throughout the night from 
atop my humvee.

It was interesting to scan the vast skies above with night-vision goggles. 
Circling continuously overhead throughout the battle was an array of attack 
helicopters. The most devastating were the Cobras and Apaches with their 
chain-gun missile launchers.

Through the night vision, I could see them hovering around the carnage, 
scanning the ground with an infrared spotlight that seemed to reach for 
miles. Once a target was identified, a rapid series of hollow blasts would 
echo through the skies, and from the ground came a "rat-a-tatting" of 
explosions, like a daisy chain of supercharged black cats during a Fourth 
of July barbeque.

More artillery, more tanks, more machine gun fire, ominous death-dealing 
fighter planes terminating whole city blocks at a time...this wasn't a war, 
it was a massacre!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
AS I look back on the air strikes that lasted well into the next morning, I 
cannot help but be both amazed by our modern technology and disgusted by 
its means.

It occurred to me many times during the siege that while the Falluja 
resistance was boldly fighting us with archaic weapons from the Cold War, 
we were soaring far above their heads, dropping Thor's fury with a 
destructive power and precision that may as well been nuclear. It was like 
the Iraqis were bringing a knife to a tank fight.

And yet, the resistance toiled on, many fighting until their deaths. What 
determination!

Some soldiers call them stupid for even thinking they have a chance in hell 
to defeat the strongest military in the world, but I call them brave. It's 
not about fighting to win an immediate victory. And what is a conventional 
victory in a non-conventional war?

It seems overwhelmingly obvious that this is no longer within the United 
States hands.

We reduced Falluja to rubble. We claimed victory and told the world we held 
Falluja under total and complete control. Our military claimed very few 
civilian casualties and listed thousands of insurgents dead. CNN and Fox 
News harped and cheered on the television that the battle of Falluja would 
go down in history as a complete success, and a testament to the United 
States' supremacy on the modern battlefield.

However, after the dust settled, and generals sat in cozy offices smoking 
their victory cigars, the front lines in Falluja exploded again with 
indomitable mortar, rocket, and small-arm attacks on U.S. and coalition 
forces.

Recent reports indicate that many insurgents have resurfaced in the 
devastated city of Falluja. We had already claimed the situation under 
control and were starting to turn our attention to the other problem city 
of Mosul. Suddenly, we were backtracking our attention to Falluja. Did the 
Department of Defense and the national press lie to the public and claim 
another preemptive victory?

Not necessarily so. Conventionally, we won the battle--how could anyone 
argue that? We destroyed an entire city and killed thousands of its 
occupants. But the main issue that both the military and public forget to 
analyze is that this war, beyond any shadow of a doubt, is completely 
guerrilla.

Sometimes I wonder if the West Point-graduated officers have ever studied 
the intricate simplicity and effectiveness of guerrilla warfare.

During the course of this war, I have occasionally asked a random 
lieutenant or a captain if he at any time has even browsed through Che 
Guevara's Guerrilla Warfare. Almost half of them admit that they have not. 
This I find to be amazing! Here we have many years of guerrilla warfare 
ahead of us, and our military's leadership seems dangerously unaware of 
what it all means!

Anyone can tell you that a guerrilla fighter is one who uses hit-and-run 
techniques to attempt a breakdown of a stronger conventional force.

However, what is more important to a guerrilla campaign are the political 
forces that drive it. Throughout history, many guerrilla armies have been 
successful; our own country and its fight for independence cannot be excluded.

We should have learned a lesson in guerrilla fighting with the Vietnam War 
only 30 years ago, but history has a funny way of repeating itself. The 
Vietnam War was a perfect example of how quick, deadly assaults on 
conventional troops over a long period of time can lead to an unpopular 
public view of the war, thus ending it.

Che Guevara stressed in his book Guerrilla Warfare that the most important 
factor in a guerrilla campaign is popular support. With that, victory is 
almost completely assured.

The Iraqis already have many of the main ingredients of a successful 
insurrection. Not only do they have a seemingly endless supply of munitions 
and weapons, they have the advantage to blend into their environment, 
whether that environment is a crowded marketplace or a thickly vegetated 
palm grove.

The Iraqi insurgent has utilized these advantages to the fullest, but his 
most important and relevant advantage is the popular support from his own 
countrymen.

What our military and government needs to realize is that every mistake we 
make is an advantage to the Iraqi insurrection. Every time an innocent man, 
woman or child is murdered in a military act, deliberate or not, the 
insurgent grows stronger.

Even if an innocent civilian is slain at the hands of his or her own 
freedom fighter, that fighter is still viewed as a warrior of the people, 
while the occupying force will ultimately be blamed as the responsible 
perpetrator.

Everything about this war is political...every ambush, every bombing, every 
death. When a coalition worker or soldier is abducted and executed, this 
only adds encouragement and justice to the dissident fervor of the Iraq 
public, while angering and demoralizing the occupier.

Our own media will prove to be our downfall as well. Every time an atrocity 
is revealed through our news outlets, our grasp on this once secular nation 
slips away. As America grows increasingly disturbed by the images of 
carnage and violent death of her own sons in arms, its government loses the 
justification to continue the bloody debacle.

Since all these traits are the conventional power's unavoidable mistakes, 
the guerrilla campaign will surely succeed.

In Iraq's case, complete destruction of the United States military is 
impossible, but through perseverance, the insurgency will drive us out. 
This will prove to be the inevitable outcome of the war.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
WE LOST many soldiers in the final battle for Falluja, and many more were 
seriously wounded. It seems unfair that even after the devastation we 
wreaked on this city just to contain it, many more troops will die in vain 
to keep it that way.

I saw the look in the eyes of a reconnaissance scout while I talked to him 
after the battle. His stories of gore and violent death were unnerving. The 
sacrifices that he and his whole platoon had made were infinite. They 
fought every day with little or no sleep, very few breaks and no hot meals.

For obvious reasons, they never could manage to find time to e-mail their 
mothers to let them know that everything turned out okay.

Some of the members of his platoon will never get the chance to reassure 
their mothers, because now, those soldiers are dead.

The look in his eyes as he told some of the stories were deep and weary, 
even perturbed. He described in accurate detail how some enemy combatants 
were blown to pieces by army-issued bazookas, some had their heads shot off 
by a 50 caliber bullet, others were run over by tanks as they stood 
defiantly in the narrow streets, firing an AK-47.

The soldier told me how one of his favorite sergeants died right in front 
of him. He was taking cover behind an alley wall, and as he emerged to fire 
his M4 rifle, he was shot through the abdomen with a rocket-propelled grenade.

The grenade itself exploded and sent shrapnel into the narrator's leg. He 
showed me where a chunk of burned flesh was torn from his left thigh.

He ended his conversation saying that he was just a dumb kid from 
California who never thought joining the army would send him straight to 
hell. He told me he was tired as fuck and wanted a shower. Then he slowly 
walked away, cradling a rifle under his arm.




The Freedom Archives
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