Saudi Arabia, Operation Desert Shield, 1990
It
got pretty boring around the port very quickly. The only "entertainment" we had were the
trigger-happy troops around us. It
is true that this was the first major engagement for this generation,
compounded with the fact that we were dealing with an adversary that did not
think like we do, it made most of us weary of just about anything that
moved.
A
call came around the middle of October.
We got called around 1400 from the Coast Guard base that one of their
boats had picked up a floating bomb from the water and brought in to the port
(really good thinking!). We rolled
there and did everything different from everything that we have ever trained,
not unsafe, just different.
Instead of taking 4 guys and setting up a CP (command post), it was only
three of us, we all went downrange to see what it was and we shot it with a
dearmer without x-raying it. After
the shot, Bill and I went downrange again expecting to find this device with
explosives scattered everywhere.
Instead we found books, notebooks and Korans in pieces all over the
pier. What a disappointment for
me, after the call came in, my adrenaline had been pumping a gizillion miles
per hour and was ready to battle it out.
Now I was picking up pieces of Korans before the Saudis found out that
we blew up their sacred books.
Around
this time the grapevine started getting real busy with rumors about a possible
invasion by Iraqi terrorists from the water and from land. These rumors did wonderful things for
our rest and relaxation in the sun: it took it away! We got calls every night, just about all night long. The MP companies (most were reserve
units) patrolled the landside of the port while the Coast Guard patrolled the
approaches and entrances to the port.
None of these units were properly trained to wear their uniforms
correctly let alone patrol the
perimeters
to find terrorist or detect bombs.
Consequently we got some interesting calls.
One
night around 0215 (I know the time because I cussed out the guy that woke me up
and almost decked him), the Coast Guard send a messenger to get us because we
were being invaded by airborne troops and that they had one in the water at
gunpoint but was wrapped in his parachute and needed us to get him out of the
water. WELL, finally some action. Adrenaline started pumping again, we
all got dressed as fast as we could, grabbed our weapons and left for the
boats. The boat I was in got
tasked we the recovery. As soon as
we arrived I knew something was wrong.
By 1990 I had accumulated a ton of parachute jumps so I knew pretty much
what a parachute should look like and I have never in my life seen a parachute
made of nothing but ripstop nylon, not burlap sack. However, to put a good show for all present and because it
was around 0315 and we didn't have anything better to do, Bill dutifully jumped
in the water and recovered the burlap sack. I can't remember whom I was with in the boat that night but
we made fun of the Coast Guard all the way back to the pier.
This
was the time that we decided to sit down with all these morons and give them some
training on bomb recognition, if not for their protection, just so that we can
get more sleep time. The calls
diminished greatly but we still kept on getting some humdingers of calls every
once in a while.
Another
beauty came in around 4 one morning. I
answered the phone like always, since my rack was right next to our own little
"radio central". I
immediately switched to high gear when I heard this voice say: "EOD,
WE FOUND A BOMB IN ONE OF THE SEWER DISCHARGE PIPES ON YOUR SIDE OF THE
PORT!! THIS IS FOR REAL, THIS ONE
IS A REAL BOOOOOOMB!!!"
After
the screamer calmed down, he told me that one of the boats have a spot light on
it so they don't lose it (just in case the bomb decides to move away) and that
the boat was tied to a rock right next to the pipe. I gave that imbecile instructions to have the crew on the
boat place some chem lights close to the pipe and to get out of there and wait
for us. "Send a boat to pick
me up in front of our shop,” I instructed Screamer.
He
replied by informing me that he was Lt X (I can't remember his name) and that
he would not risk running a boat aground.
I was so irate that I told LT Screamer: "Sir, it's too early in the
morning, I am tired and don't want to drive to the pier, so you either send the
boat or you can explain to Col. Brown (the port commander) why the sewer pipe
blew up!" Next thing I heard
was CLICK! I thought I had really
done it this time. I gathered my gear and went outside to wait for the boat or
the MPs to pick us up. The
drumming of the outboard engines was music to our ears as I watched the 22'
Boston Whaler appear in the darkness.
As soon as we boarded we sped to the scene. We arrived and I quickly had the boat drop me ashore and
told them to evacuate to about a 1000 yards offshore. Full of confidence, courage, fear and soiled UDT shorts, I
approached the entrance to the pipe, I shinned the light and was frightened to
find inside the infamous, hard to find, pet rock bomb! It was a rock about a foot by a
foot.
We
decided to give the Coasties a run for their money for waking me up for
this. Pretending to be working on
the bomb, I pulled all my gear out then re-stowed it and called for
pickup. The guy in charge of the
boat asked me what happened and I told him the truth: that it was a terrorist
bomb and that it was hard as hell to de-fuze it. He wanted to know what I did with it and I informed him that
the disassembly of it wasn't complete yet and that I had it in my bag. The next thing I saw was the whole crew
putting on and zipping up their flak gear and helmets. I know they thought I was crazy by
laying around in my UDT shorts and a T-shirt on top of my bag full of
"explosives". Needless
to say not another word was said during the trip back to the port. It was a very nice ride back.
As
soon as we arrived at the pier, the boat chief wanted me out of his boat, which
I gladly did. As I stepped unto
the pier, I pulled the "bomb" out of the bag turned around and tossed
it in the boat screaming, "I dropped the bomb!!" The crew froze, turned white and I
think one or two pissed their pants.
They looked down, saw the rock and figured out that I had taken them, at
that point I was laughing so hard I almost pissed my shorts. It was great fun and they even laughed
afterwards. Of course, I had to
explain to my OIC everything that happened and especially, why we went on a
call without him.
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