Hell

Baghdad is Hell. That's the only way I can think of describing a place where mini 9-11's happen every day. We have demons imported from Yemen and Saudi Arabia, following the commands of a Jordanian Devil. Today, Stars and Stripes posted a letter from a retired Master Gunnery Seargent suggesting that we utilize bullets dipped in pigs' blood. I'm begining to think it's not such a bad idea.

A few days ago, my platoon, third platoon was conducting a mission in Baghdad on the East side of the river. We got word that sixth platoon was receiving small arms fire at a traffic circle also on the East side, not too far from us. We went to help them.

We were locked, cocked, and ready to rock. We tore through the afternoon traffic across downtown Baghdad in record speed. It was kinda fun. I knew it was pointless, though. By the time we got there, it would all be over.

When we got to the traffic circle, it was silent. No small arms attack. Must have been a miscommunication. As I had suspected, sixth platoon was hit by by a VBIED, a vehicle-borne improvised explosive device, a truck bomb.

It was black. Debris was everywhere. The area was littered with the burned out husks of cars and minivans. We towed the damged vehicles in sixth platoon's convoy to a fall back point. After fixing an SUV and putting a severely damaged humvee onto a wrecker, we headed back to the Green Zone. On the way, we passed through the same traffic circle. I got a second look at the holocaust aftermath. I knew that many people had to have died here. I saw islands of color in the blackness, piles of pulverized fruit lying on the ground.

See, this traffic circle is used as a popular market area. Every time we pass through this circle, which is quite often, there are dozens and dozens of merchants selling poduce, clothes, trinkets, all kinds of stuff from storefronts, carts, or sometimes just a blanket laid on the ground. This place is always packed with people. Yes, many of them children. When I talked to my comrades later, they said that they had seen body parts strewn across the ground. I hadn't seen any. I talked to First Seargent. He showed me a picture of a destroyed minivan in which an entire family had perished inside. He said that he had seen child-sized hands and fingers on the ground. I don't know how I missed such a thing. Perhaps my brain subconsciously edited out such horribleness.

We got back to the FOB. It was only then that I learned that the sixth platoon's lead gunner didn't make it. We've lost another one of our brothers.

More on this later.