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| Trucks go through the Mobile Vehicle and Cargo Inspection System at Camp Navistar, Kuwait. (Source: US Army) |
What I’m about to write is something I share no glory writing. In fact, what I’m about to tell you is something few people have heard me tell and no one until now understands why it’s such an important experience in my life.
Let me begin by going over briefly my military background up until this experience. I joined the Air Force in 2000 and enlisted in a category known as “open general”. I qualified for any job I wanted but I only desired to be a fireman. Unfortunately, I wasn’t picked for that assignment. I was selected for a career-field in the Air Force known as Security Forces (SF). Basically, I was the classic military policeman in my early years – I checked IDs at the gate, responded to various law enforcement calls for service, emergency response, base security, etc. In 2002, I was deployed to Kuwait for the first time. It was an interesting and perilous time to be there. We’d been deployed to provide air base defense, in case the Iraqis wanted to start the war before we did. Essentially, I protected planes, pilots, and maintainers so our aircraft could kill Sadaam and his men. Pretty cool, huh? Not really. It was boring with some excitement in between. However, my second deployment was somewhat more perilous not because of Sadaam but from insurgents in Iraq and is the setting of the experience I want to talk about.
In most cases, when I deployed in SF, I and the folks I was with were euphemistically called “REMFs”. Pardon the crassness of the translation – rear echelon moth-*insert bad words*. In other words, while everyone else fought the war in Iraq, my unit was in the relative safety of the “rear”. We were trained to expect bad guys at every turn but the sad reality is very few times did the bad guys show up to engage us.
On this second deployment, our mission was somewhat ambiguous. We’d deployed to support air base defense missions for Operation Iraqi Freedom in whatever way the Air Force saw fit. If you know military deployments, you know what that means – no one knew what to do with us and so we were wrought to be abused and we were. One assignment we were given was to inspect vehicles coming into and out of Kuwait and Iraq on the Kuwaiti side of the border.
One fateful day, my lieutenant grabbed a group of us and ordered us to help a returning Army convoy get through a Kuwaiti roadway. We were each placed at various intersections, mostly by ourselves. Yeah. I know. Translation: we were armed crossing guards for big trucks coming home after being blown up. The job sucked as much as it sounds. As I stood in the middle of a Kuwaiti road contemplating what I had done to deserve this ungodly punishment, an Army officer came to my position and shouted “Make sure NO ONE comes through this area. NO ONE! Have you done this before?” I answered “Not quite.” I was lying. I had never stood in the middle of a road in another country to protect a bunch of trucks from getting T-boned by vehicles they could have run over and not have noticed. He shouted back, “Look, if you see a car, start putting your hand in the air and shouting for them to stop. By the way, hold your fingers pursed together and shout (insert Arabic word for “stop”).” Sounds like a plan. I do what he says and the cars will stop. Yeah. Not quite.
An hour passed and no vehicles. As soon as I grabbed my radio to check on the status of the convoy, I saw it – a vehicle I’ll never forget for as long as I live. It was a brown Mercedes S-class sedan. It was a few hundred feet away. I immediately put my hands in the air and demanded the vehicle stop. I shout and it keeps coming. I do the thing the officer told me and still it won’t stop. The distance closes by the second. Time seems to be creeping slower as nervousness sets in. What do I do if he won’t stop? The other guys are God-knows-where and my battery is about dead.Every cop in the world has been trained to recognize the car as a lethal weapon when it’s coming at you with no apparent attempt to stop. At some point, I realize the M-4 I’m carrying needs to come up and pointed towards the vehicle. Remember, this takes seconds. I pull the charging handle and let the round chamber to make the weapon ready to fire. I scream, “Stop! STOP! STOP!” The vehicle stops five feet from me. I’m huffing and puffing. I hear the ebb of trucks – the convoy has just gone passed. The tunnel vision I had at the onset left and there I was eyeball-to-eyeball with the vehicle and its occupants – a family. I don’t know if it was language, culture, or poor vision but for whatever I reason I hesitated and saved a family’s life and the convoy, in some weird way.
Here’s where it gets awkward. Over the years since then, few days go by where I don’t think about that family. I can see the husband, his wife, and children. I can see the frightened looks of the children. I remember the kafiyeh the husband wore and the piercing glance his wife gave him from her hijab as he suddenly stopped. I can hear the tires squeal. I remember the aroma of the diesel trucks as they passed me by. Most importantly, I remember my hesitation. I could have killed them. Why did I hesitate? When it matters will hesitate or react? Am I the warrior I always envisioned I’d be? Some days, these things are easier to answer than others.
Since that incident, several years later, I went on another deployment as a REMF and served two tours in Korea. I also worked as an armed community based security patrol officer in some of Tampa’s worst housing areas. Each job I’ve had since that day, I’ve encountered situations where that day was in the back of my mind. Admittedly, I’ve never had to raise my weapon in anger since then.
So here’s what I’ve learned since then and how I think my experience can help others in security:
- No matter the gig, you should ALWAYS expect the bad guy to show up. It never fails. You’re told the job is easy. The threat is nonexistent. You feel safe. Then, BAM! The bad guy shows up. What do you do? Do you hesitate to respond? It’s not an easy question to answer but one you need to ask yourself daily. Don’t worry. You know the answer. We all do.
- Have confidence in your ability to defeat the bad guy. During this deployment, many of us had derided the training we’d received to prepare for this deployment. None of us felt like we could do much against the bad guys with the training being as ambiguous as the training and the rules of engagement being equally confusing. Believe it or not, the psychology behind self-induced confusion and “fog of war” diminishes a great deal of confidence. Whatever you do to get ready for these situations, make sure it’s not only effective at mitigation through mechanics but gives you the confidence needed to make difficult decisions in a variety of scenarios.
- Just because you don’t fire a gun in combat doesn’t mean there aren’t decisions you won’t wrestle with. Seriously, I didn’t kill anyone but the idea that I could have killed an “innocent” has followed me throughout my life. It doesn’t make me some sort of “seasoned vet” or anything. However, the questions I asked immediately afterwards, still remain.
- There’s nothing wrong with hesitating when you can. Had I not waited, I could have killed that family or at the very least, created a major issue for everyone. Remember, Kuwait was an ally. I’d be lying if I told you I was thinking of the alliance. Sometimes, in security, we respond to situations not based on what we see or hear but what our rules of engagement allow us to get away with in the situation. I could have done far more damage, had I dealt with this differently. Don’t take too long to make up your mind but make sure you’re decisive and situationally aware.
