Even as we parked our HMMWV, we could feel the eyes of men upon us. These were OPFOR forces, playing the part of the local “liberation front” of insurgency forces. The guerrillas were easily recognizable from their floppy “boonie” hats, which they are required to wear at all times. 1st Brigade was required to wear their Kevlar “Fritz” helmets at all times, and O/Cs and other non-combatants had to wear camouflaged patrol caps. Since we had a few minutes, we took the time to talk with some of the OPFOR guerrillas. They were cocky and proud, partially because they were going to be fighting on their “home” base, where they know all the hills and valleys, and their opponents would be at a serious disadvantage. Excusing ourselves, we headed up the hill to the control tower, where General Sherfield and his staff were already standing by, as he normally does to oversee and observe airborne operations. Airborne operations are a risky venture, as shown during the previous day when the body of a 82nd Airborne trooper had been discovered, dead after a failure of his parachute and impact with the ground. The paratrooper had been part of the Division long-range surveillance detachment dropped early to monitor OPFOR intentions. With this hideous reminder of how dangerous the profession can be, everyone went back to work, praying that all went well with this next jump.
These thoughts were somewhat muted by the gorgeous weather and visibility that had fallen upon the low country this October. Normally a terrible place with high temperatures and humidity, as well as killer insects and reptiles, Fort Polk was putting on its best for the troopers of the 1st Brigade.
Precisely at 1815 hours/6:15 PM, we heard the sound of C-141s in the distance, and then the transports were upon us. Eleven C-141Bs from the 437th at Charleston AFB, carrying almost 1250 troopers. The transports were lined up in formations of three (except for the last one), staggered to reduce the chances of a midair with a jumper. First out the door of the lead aircraft was General Crocker, followed by the Division Command Sergeant Major (CSM), Steve England. Right after them came Colonel Petraeus and his new CSM, David Henderson, who had replaced Vince Meyers after Royal Dragon. The air seemed full of parachutes and soldiers and the transport stream needed several runs to finish unloading the entire brigade. In the end, the jump went almost perfectly, with only a few minor back and leg injuries in the dimming twilight. In less than half an hour, the brigade was on the ground and moving out.
As soon as the first troopers hit the ground, LGOPs began to form and move off towards their objectives. Several groups of paratroops headed in our direction, beginning to engage the guerrillas that we had chatted with a few minutes earlier. Simulated firefights broke out (using blank ammunition and the laser-activated MILES gear). Things began to get exciting.
At the major’s suggestion, we left the area to those who needed the training and retired to our quarters back at Fort Polk. The next morning, though, we were out early to visit Devil-6 and his headquarters unit. Unfortunately, when we found them, it turned out that the Brigade Tactical Operations Center (TOC) had never been set up the previous night. The original site selected for the TOC had turned out to be full of guerrillas, and the headquarters would be sited in a new place later in the day. This meant that the first day’s fight would have to be directed out of the mobile TOC (loaded into Hummers), which was much less efficient. The brigade would pay for this failure to set up later, but for now, things seemed to be going well. C-130s were flying supplies into the small dirt airstrip, and the various units were already digging in with the assistance of the engineering company and their earth-moving equipment. Within twenty-four hours, the brigade command posts, artillery, and logistical sites would be dug in deep. They would need to be, because the guerrillas were getting nasty.
By dawn of the D-Day+2 (Monday, the 14th of October), the units in the DZ were taking intermittent fire from a handful of pesky guerrilla mobile mortar teams. In addition, man-portable surface-to-air missile (SAM) teams were beginning to get shots at some of the Brigade’s helicopter force. Therefore, Colonel Petraeus ordered those teams hunted down and killed by the brigade’s force of OH-58D Kiowa Warriors and the howitzers firing in a counterbattery mode against mortar teams. By the fourth day of the operation, they had done a pretty good job, having killed something like two thirds of the enemy weapons teams. However, not all was well.
The simulated casualties had been heavy during the initial phases of the operation, and the brigade was late in getting the MEDEVAC/treatment /replacement cycle started. Part of the reason for this was the delay in setting up the TOC until D-Day+1. The result was the brigade’s strength was dropping, and would bottom out around D- Day+5 at about 70 percent of drop strength. From there, they would slowly build back up, this vital lesson learned the hard way. Other lessons would be learned as well.
Some of these were learned by folks like Major Rob Baker, the Brigade’s Operations Officer (S-3). Unusually a very sharp officer, he failed to follow the advice of CSM Henderson one day while visiting the various battalion TOCs, and very nearly became a casualty when he left his security detail behind. A sniper started popping off at him, and he wound up scampering off to safety, a vital lesson about balancing physical courage with his responsibilities to the Brigade fully impressed upon him.
Another young officer got a lesson in humility on the night of D-Day+2. That evening, John and I were with Major Beinkemper, sitting in on an evening briefing by the staff in the Brigade TOC. At the precise moment that the young intelligence officer (S-2) announced the apparent demise of most of the enemy mortar teams, several contractor support personnel on all-terrain vehicles pulled up and dumped nine fire markers (mortar-shell simulators) around the TOC. As everyone ran for the cover of the force protection trenches, and the brigade staff tried to get the section of 155mm guns to fire onto the apparent position of the mortar team, you could see Colonel Petraeus smiling at everyone in the TOC and shouting, “No pressure, people!” It was hard not to smirk at the discomfort of the young officer. But such is the way that young officers grow and learn.
JRTC/Fort Polk, Sunday, October 16th, 1996
By D-Day+5, the brigade had achieved all of its planned objectives for the “low intensity” phase of the deployment. Over the past several days, the brigade had enlarged its airhead, gotten caught up on MEDEVAC and casualty replacement, and had finally opened up a secure road route to the west where the brigade aviation element was based, close to the main base at Fort Polk. This had been a bit sticky, because the single company assigned to protect the aircraft and their vulnerable Forward Arming and Refueling Point (FARP) had nearly been destroyed by aggressive patrolling by the rebel forces. In addition, there had been several terrorist incidents, the worst of these being an attack by enemy sappers on the brigade maintenance center near the DZ. For the next few days, maintenance on vehicles and other equipment would be heavily restricted as the personnel went through the replacement system and the equipment was repaired.
Other attacks at JRTC can be damaging as well. They range from emplacing surprise minefields on roads, to the most wild of the civilian role-players, Grandma “Truck Bomb.” This is an elderly civilian contractor employee who plays the wife of the mayor in one of the civilian settlements around the DZ. What she does is make friends with troopers at a particular roadblock or other important security checkpoint, and bring them snacks and cookies for several days. Then, when she sees them getting complacent, she drives up in a truck, walks away, and remotely detonates a simulated truck bomb which will simulate killing everyone within a large area! While this may sound sick, remember some of the assassinations and bombings of the last fifteen years or so, and ask yourself if a granny
