Just typing that title makes me feel really, really old.
August 3 was the 30th anniversary of the Iraq invasion of Kuwait and the beginning of Operation Desert Storm.
This week has been one of remembrance with many of my Marine Corps buddies. With thoughts of those who are no longer with us.
I remember the excitement when my friend Steve and I heard we were going to war. And the disappointment when we found out we would not be deploying right away.
We had no idea what we were getting into or those emotions would have been reversed.
We lost Steve a year ago to cancer. He will always be one of the best helicopter mechanics I ever knew and certainly the biggest story teller.
Our squadron was fortunate to stay in the United States until January 1 before deploying by C-5 to Saudi Arabia.
We would fly more hours than any other rotor squadron in the United States military during Desert Shield/Desert Storm/Provide Comfort.
We would experience the winter rains and floods, the oil field fires, the extreme heat, sand storms and the boredom.
That boredom led to hours and hours of Spades and Hearts, betting on gladiator battles between camel spiders, scorpions and beetles, and reading the same letters from home over and over.
There were the occasional moments that reminded us why we were there. Our first medevac was a suicide. Followed by an artillery training incident. Hours of FAM flights to learn the landscape.
Two weeks felt like months before the Storm began. Once the air campaign started sleep became very rare. And usually it came on the helicopter in case we were called for a medevac or SAR when an allied plane went down.
When we did sleep it was usually interrupted by the air raid sirens and Skuds flying overhead. You quickly learned to sleep with your gas mask on.
Less than a month in country and the Iraqis attacked Khafji. We had Marines trapped behind their lines and extracted them. Then had to medevac casualties from a friendly fire incident.
Most of February involved search and rescue missions for downed pilots mixed with troop insertions placing special forces and recon behind the Iraqi lines to mark targets. We took our first ground fire during these flights.
Each flight we took, the smoke and fumes of hundreds of oil wells continued to thicken the skies. Almost fifteen years later I would see the movie Jarhead in the theatre with my wife. I could smell the smoke and oil and other things again. To the point it made me physically sick in my own driveway.
We moved from the airfield to a place called Lonesome Dove in February and would join the invasion of Kuwait from there. By this point some Iraqis had already surrendered and we transported our first POWs.
Nobody slept that night as we staged what would become the largest helicopter assault in US military history. As ground troops breached the mine fields below we inserted troops deep into Kuwait.
Our squadron would be the first to land at Kuwait International Airport. Unfortunately from there I would pick up a medevac that hit me hard, losing a good friend from my early training in California.
In Kuwait City we saw the horrors of the Iraqi occupation and the carnage created by our air power. Another smell you never forget is the smell of burning flesh mixed with the oil stench, powder and fuel.
There was exploding ordinance near the city and more medevacs, chemicals in the air and then a seize fire.
And then the boredom returned. Three more months of sand and heat. Providing security in southern Iraq and Kuwait. Transporting tons of food and other supplies to the people in both countries.
More spades and hearts. A day visiting Bahrain. And then the news that we were going home. Our squadron was the last Marine squadron to leave. I was assigned to the last of three C-5s.
On the airstrip we were told of a maintenance issue. The Air Force flight tech explained the issue and why he couldn’t fix it himself. My buddy Dale and I climbed into the cargo hold and into our helicopter to retrieve the necessary items, repaired his plane for him and returned to our seats for the flight home.
30 years ago this week was life changing.
Ironically it all started with the invasion of a country I had never heard about before August, 1990.
August 3 was the 30th anniversary of the Iraq invasion of Kuwait and the beginning of Operation Desert Storm.
This week has been one of remembrance with many of my Marine Corps buddies. With thoughts of those who are no longer with us.
I remember the excitement when my friend Steve and I heard we were going to war. And the disappointment when we found out we would not be deploying right away.
We had no idea what we were getting into or those emotions would have been reversed.
We lost Steve a year ago to cancer. He will always be one of the best helicopter mechanics I ever knew and certainly the biggest story teller.
Our squadron was fortunate to stay in the United States until January 1 before deploying by C-5 to Saudi Arabia.
We would fly more hours than any other rotor squadron in the United States military during Desert Shield/Desert Storm/Provide Comfort.
We would experience the winter rains and floods, the oil field fires, the extreme heat, sand storms and the boredom.
That boredom led to hours and hours of Spades and Hearts, betting on gladiator battles between camel spiders, scorpions and beetles, and reading the same letters from home over and over.
There were the occasional moments that reminded us why we were there. Our first medevac was a suicide. Followed by an artillery training incident. Hours of FAM flights to learn the landscape.
Two weeks felt like months before the Storm began. Once the air campaign started sleep became very rare. And usually it came on the helicopter in case we were called for a medevac or SAR when an allied plane went down.
When we did sleep it was usually interrupted by the air raid sirens and Skuds flying overhead. You quickly learned to sleep with your gas mask on.
Less than a month in country and the Iraqis attacked Khafji. We had Marines trapped behind their lines and extracted them. Then had to medevac casualties from a friendly fire incident.
Most of February involved search and rescue missions for downed pilots mixed with troop insertions placing special forces and recon behind the Iraqi lines to mark targets. We took our first ground fire during these flights.
Each flight we took, the smoke and fumes of hundreds of oil wells continued to thicken the skies. Almost fifteen years later I would see the movie Jarhead in the theatre with my wife. I could smell the smoke and oil and other things again. To the point it made me physically sick in my own driveway.
We moved from the airfield to a place called Lonesome Dove in February and would join the invasion of Kuwait from there. By this point some Iraqis had already surrendered and we transported our first POWs.
Nobody slept that night as we staged what would become the largest helicopter assault in US military history. As ground troops breached the mine fields below we inserted troops deep into Kuwait.
Our squadron would be the first to land at Kuwait International Airport. Unfortunately from there I would pick up a medevac that hit me hard, losing a good friend from my early training in California.
In Kuwait City we saw the horrors of the Iraqi occupation and the carnage created by our air power. Another smell you never forget is the smell of burning flesh mixed with the oil stench, powder and fuel.
There was exploding ordinance near the city and more medevacs, chemicals in the air and then a seize fire.
And then the boredom returned. Three more months of sand and heat. Providing security in southern Iraq and Kuwait. Transporting tons of food and other supplies to the people in both countries.
More spades and hearts. A day visiting Bahrain. And then the news that we were going home. Our squadron was the last Marine squadron to leave. I was assigned to the last of three C-5s.
On the airstrip we were told of a maintenance issue. The Air Force flight tech explained the issue and why he couldn’t fix it himself. My buddy Dale and I climbed into the cargo hold and into our helicopter to retrieve the necessary items, repaired his plane for him and returned to our seats for the flight home.
30 years ago this week was life changing.
Ironically it all started with the invasion of a country I had never heard about before August, 1990.
