Home > Gulf War Diary > "The alert that would never end"
On August 2, 1990, at 0530 hours, I turned my television set on and tuned in CNN's Headline News. On a routine basis, I watched Headline News before going to work in the morning; being a "news junkie", I enjoyed going to work knowing what was going on in the world, and this morning was no exception. One of the stories that I had been following was Iraq's mobilization of troops on Kuwait's border, and the flurry of diplomatic activity that was going on to resolve the situation. Since my father was a U.S. Army officer with extensive Middle East experience, I had developed a lifelong fascination with Arab life, politics, religion, and conflict.
The headline that morning hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew immediately that Iraq's blitzkrieg of Kuwait had severe implications for the rest of the world. I also knew that if Saddam Hussein ordered his troops to seize Saudi Arabia's Eastern Province, he would control 40 percent of the world's oil. This outrage, I believed, would generate some kind of response from us; there was no doubt in my mind about that. The key question was: how severe of a response ?
Once I got to work, I assembled my lieutenants for my "new commander's orientation briefing." I decided to use this incident as an object lesson to emphasize to my officers the importance of remaining combat ready at all times. This was a severe threat to our national interests that would generate some kind of response, I told them. Peace had not in fact broken out all over, using a popular catch phrase of the day. I explained to them that we could find ourselves in combat very soon. While I personally felt that the possibility of combat involving U.S. forces was still remote, I felt that this was nonetheless a good teaching point for these young officers. Little did I know how prophetic my words would be.
As exciting as this latest international crisis was, my priority was attending to the important, though humdrum, battery business at hand: preparing for the next day's unit Organization Day, and certifying howitzer section chiefs and gunners to ensure that they would be able to fire their weapons safely during next week's battery field training exercise.
Battalion Organization Day is an annual event that is held to commemorate the history and traditions of a unit. It is the Army's equivalent to a country fair for a battalion's soldiers and families, and features athletic events, equipment displays, and a picnic lunch. Each battery normally hosts one or two events, and the mess hall cooks hundreds of hamburgers, hot dogs, baked beans, and potato salad. If planned correctly, it usually turns out to be a pretty festive affair.
On August 3, 3-82 FA put on a first class Organization Day at Belton Lake, near Fort Hood. The weather was perfect, the food plentiful and delicious, and the athletic events well organized. Everybody had a great time, although a strong tension hung in the air among soldiers and family members alike: what would be the resolution of the Kuwait crisis? How would it affect us?
From August 7 to 9, I took my battery out on a "get acquainted" field training exercise (FTX). This FTX, which had been planned a month in advance, had two objectives: to shake the rust off of the outfit after one month of red cycle, and to acquaint the battery with its new commander in a tactical environment.
On August 8, during a lull in the training, one of my platoon sergeants turned on his portable FM radio to catch the news, and learned that the president had directed the 82nd Airborne Division, from Fort Bragg, North Carolina, to deploy to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to deter further Iraqi aggression and, should deterrence fail, to defend the kingdom against an Iraqi ground attack. Since the 82nd Airborne Division was what we called a "light" division, it was air -- transportable, and had therefore already commenced its deployment. Moreover, the broadcaster explained, the 24th Infantry Division (Mechanized), from Fort Stewart, Georgia, had been put on alert; since its heavy, tracked vehicles could not be easily transported by air, it would have to move its equipment to Saudi with sealift, and would therefore take several weeks before it could be on the Saudi peninsula, combat ready.
When I was told the news, I felt a mixture of pride, sorrow, and envy: proud because my country was doing something about this outrage, sad because U.S. forces were once again in harm's way, and envious because I was not there with them.
One of the strangest things about a military professional is the emotional roller coaster that he rides regarding his chosen profession. The true military professional despises war, for war is an obscenity, a degradation of human life and values that he must endure, both mentally and physically. The true military professional prefers deterrence; the maintenance of a well - trained, well - equipped military force, whose capabilities and determination would frighten potential adversaries from committing an act contrary to our national interest.
However, if there must be a war, there is no other place that a military professional would rather be than involved in that war, making a tangible contribution to its successful prosecution. U.S. Service members swear an oath "to support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, both foreign and domestic," and take that oath very seriously. Military professionals bring to their jobs a great deal of pride and a profound sense of duty. During their nation's hour of need, they want to be on the battlefield, whatever the cost; to be watching from the sidelines brings a tremendous amount of guilt.
I was no exception to this rule. Eight months earlier, when Operation Just Cause, our invasion of Panama, was ongoing, I watched the campaign on television with a great deal of guilt. Even though it was a relatively small - scale operation, I could not help but feel left out, like a second stringer. When notified of the deployments of the 82nd and the 24th, these feelings came back in earnest. Once again, I thought, there is a crisis, and I am just standing on the sidelines, not making a contribution. Just like Panama.
After we returned from the field on August 9, I took two of my lieutenants to the Officer's Club for "happy hour." The wide screen television in the bar room was tuned to CNN, which was running a special news report entitled "Crisis in the Gulf". We tried discussing the field problem we had just finished, but the conversation kept drifting to the gulf crisis. The images of U.S. Army paratroopers exiting a C-141 aircraft at Dhahran air base, Saudi Arabia, haunted me.
The next day, I reported to the First Cavalry Division court room to sit on an elimination board for a Fort Hood soldier who was in the Bell County jail for off post misconduct. A form of "jury duty," this board was comprised of randomly selected, disinterested officers, whose task as to determine whether or not this soldier should be expelled from the service for his misconduct. After hearing testimony all morning, we broke for lunch at noon.
At the local snack bar, after getting my lunch, I noticed a colleague, the fire support officer for Task Force 1-8 Armor, sitting alone at a table, so I decided to join him. After exchanging greetings, he asked me if I had heard the news.
- "What news?" I asked him.
- "It's official", he replied. "We've been alerted. We're going."
My body burned with the adrenaline pumping through it. I will finally be able to make a real contribution, I thought. But, the more rational side of me thought, "what have I gotten myself into ?"
It was all I could do to get through the rest of the elimination board. After passing judgment on the soldier in question, I raced back to my unit, got a status report from my key subordinates, and went to work, my mind racing a mile a minute.
After a careful estimate of the situation, I realized that we faced a daunting task indeed. My unit, along with the rest of the First Cavalry Division, had to shift gears from its European -- based wartime mission to whatever mission awaited it on the alien Arabian peninsula. According to the warning order, the "no later than" date for the First Cavalry Division to be completely deployed to Saudi Arabia was September 15. Given the amount of time it took to move vehicles by rail to the port of Houston, load them on ships, and sail to Saudi Arabia, I figured that we would have to be packed up and ready to go by August 21. To make matters more interesting, the Division Artillery (DIVARTY) Commander wanted to have a DIVARTY FTX from August 13 to 17, to give every howitzer crew the opportunity to live - fire their howitzers prior to deployment, and to practice massing the fires of the entire DIVARTY. Consequently, we promptly went to a 16 hour a day, 7 days a week work schedule.
Initially, the priority went to acquiring "modified table of organization and equipment" (MTOE) property that the battery was short. Since most of the battery's "go to war" equipment was in Germany - based POMCUS sets, the equipment on hand at Fort Hood did not include critical items such as PVS - 7 night vision goggles, sufficient quantities of Vinson speech - secure devices, or Zone 2 (desert) clothing items. These shortages were immediately identified and put on order.
The vehicles we had at Fort Hood were not the ones we were planning to go to war with; our "go to war" vehicles were prepositioned in Europe. Consequently, we had never expected to actually fight with the vehicles on hand. It was universally understood that they were for "training use only". Nonetheless, we had kept them reasonably well maintained, partly out of pride, and partly due to the fact that it was tough to conduct meaningful training when one's equipment kept breaking down. Still, our vehicles required a good deal of preventive maintenance and services prior to deployment.
From August 13 to 17, we participated in what turned out to be an extremely productive DIVARTY FTX. In addition to practicing both battalion and DIVARTY operations, we calibrated all eight of our howitzers.
The next week was reserved primarily for direct fire ranges. the 1st Battalion, 20th Field Artillery, an inactivating M110 eight inch battalion, ran a variety of ranges for deploying DIVARTY units, to include the following weapons systems: the M16A2 rifle, the M60 7.62 mm machine gun, and the Browning M2 .50 caliber machine gun. The intent was to test fire all crew -- served weapons, and to zero every deploying soldier on his M16A2 rifle. These ranges, particularly the machine gun ranges, were indispensable in that they exposed some serious maintenance problems on some weapons, which were promptly corrected.
My battery in particular had a nightmarish situation with crew -- served weapons. At the first machine gun range, only two out of my 19 M2s, and only half of my M60s, fired. After receiving some "single vector" guidance from my boss, the battalion commander, I decided that I needed to get this deplorable situation fixed quickly, and turned two individuals loose on the problem: my Arms Room officer, and my armorer. Both individuals were new to the job, and untrained.
As it turned out, they did an exemplary job. One week's worth of "on the job training" and "burning the midnight oil," in addition to a little help from direct support level small arms mechanics, was all that was needed to get our weapons firing. The next time we went out to the range, 18 of 19 M2s and all of our M60s fired flawlessly.
At this time, I figured that we would start rail loading our equipment to Houston, in order to meet the September 15 deadline to be in Saudi Arabia. However, sealift problems made that deadline unattainable, and it was changed to October 15. By this time, we had been on alert for two weeks, and the prospect of six more weeks at Fort Hood waiting to deploy did not particularly appeal to me. I was becoming very impatient, and wanted to get to Saudi Arabia as soon as possible. One of my biggest fears was that a war would start before we were on the ground in Saudi. The last thing I wanted to do was to try to enter a hostile theater of operations.
Meanwhile, as long as we had the time, we put it to good use. The next priority was to paint all vehicles sand. This was a mammoth task that was centralized at the installation level, and run by the Fort Hood Directorate of Logistics (DOL). DOL conducted 24 hour operations, and insisted on having no lag time between units. Therefore, although there was an order of march, there was not a schedule per se; once a unit had only a few more vehicles left to go through the paint booth, it alerted the next unit; in C Battery's case, this phone call came at 2300 hours on a Friday night. It took approximately 13 hours to paint all of the battery's vehicles and trailers.
Other pre -- deployment activities included individual training in critical deployment tasks. The First Cavalry Division Commanding General directed that all division soldiers train and test on a list of critical common soldier tasks, most of which were NBC (nuclear - biological - chemical) related, due to Iraq's much heralded NBC offensive capability. Additionally, we spent several hours each day in MOPP (mission oriented protective posture) level 4, our highest level of chemical protection, to acclimate ourselves to wearing heavy NBC gear in hot weather.
Physical Fitness Training also intensified, to ensure that soldiers would be in peak physical condition once they deployed. In addition to our normal daily regimen of calisthenics and distance runs, we added activities such as hand to hand combat, bayonet training, and forced marches in full combat gear. We even pulled a PAC 75 howitzer two and a half miles during a brigade run.
Of course, we underwent a complete personnel POM (preparation for overseas movement). The POM, conducted in Blackjack Gymnasium, included immunizations against a barrage of diseases indigenous to Southwest Asia. It also allowed soldiers to update their "201" personnel files and prepare their Last Will and Testament, which was a sobering experience for most soldiers. The POM process also screened medical and dental records to identify soldiers who had a condition that, uncorrected, would render them "non -- deployable." The various Fort Hood medical and dental clinics worked around the clock to treat soldiers' non - deployable conditions.
Toward the end of September, we finally shipped our equipment. Since nobody was sure what we would face at the other end, our vehicles were combat - loaded, to include a full ammunition basic load. Our tracked vehicles were loaded onto flat bed rail cars at the Fort Hood rail head, and shipped to the ports of Houston and Galveston for sea movement to Saudi Arabia. After an extensive technical inspection, the battery's wheeled vehicle fleet road marched 350 miles from Fort Hood to the port of Houston. Everywhere along the route of march was evident the breadth and depth of public support for Operation Desert Shield; on virtually every overpass, in every town, and at every rest stop, Americans waved flags, cheered, and offered their support for the soldiers. This was only the beginning of the overwhelming public support that soldiers of C Battery would witness over and over again throughout the deployment.
After the vehicles and equipment were shipped, all that was left to do was to wait for the "airflow". The division's airflow plan involved flying soldiers to Dhahran Air Base, Saudi Arabia, several days prior to the arrival of the ship bearing their equipment. This allowed soldiers several days to acclimatize themselves to Saudi Arabia's oppressive heat, while at the same time ensuring that there were sufficient soldiers in country to down load their ship as soon as it arrived, without delay. The plan also allowed for TAT (To accompany troops) cargo, mainly small arms ammunition and chemical protective suits, to allow soldiers to fight and survive, if necessary, as soon as they disembarked.
Since we still had about ten days before flying to Saudi, we used the time to close down our billets and motor pool, since it was anticipated that they would be used while we were gone to house mobilized National Guard and reserve troops. We consolidated all stay back equipment, and locked them into storage connexes. Single soldiers living off -- post cleared out their apartments, and put their private property into storage.
Off -- line, we were told to expect a six to twelve month deployment. There was even some speculation that this would become a permanent deployment; some officers privately expected a permanent presence of U.S. forces in the Middle East, and anticipated that the First Cavalry Division would not return to Fort Hood, but would remain in Saudi Arabia. Assuming that there was no war, I expected one of two things: either a six month deployment followed by a unit rotation, or a one year tour, after which I would be rotated back to the States and replaced by an individual replacement.
The big day came on October 9. At 1800 hours, we were bused to Abrams Gym, where we underwent the manifest process, which included checking identification cards, dog tags, and ensuring that the aircraft manifest was 100 percent correct. Many family members were present, since this was the last time that they would see their loved ones for a long time. The excitement of the impending deployment was tempered by the many tearful good-byes, which put even the single soldiers in a very somber mood.
After the manifest process, we were bused to Robert Gray Army Airfield. There,
we were given a safety briefing and one more final headcount, and then marched
across the tarmac to the waiting aircraft, while the division band played
"Charge" and "GarryOwen". On October 10, at 0200 hours,
after being on alert for exactly two months, I boarded a World Airways DC-10. I
was finally on my way to Saudi Arabia.
