Crispy, the erstwhile rocketeer
Now, before I begin this story, I must say that the events in it are over a month old...
About a month ago...we were in the TV lounge watching The Interpreter...good flick, by-the-by...we'd been off all day, and just hanging out watching movies...it was about 2330 or so...about 5-10 minutes before the end of the movie we hear this terrific BOOOM!!!
Off the couches, weapons in hand, hats on heads and at the door before anyone asks what it was...without knowing, we do the safe thing...run for the bunkers. While there, we learn that a rocket had been fired in our direction, but it had impacted somewhere far out into the desert. After a time to make sure no other rockets were headed our way, we went to our assigned posts. As the off squad we were the back-up and hole-fillers so we reported to our area. About 5 min later we get the word to send a grenadier into one of the towers...that'd be me.
Off I go...to the North tower...I help the person on tower duty scan the perimeter, and soon I am ordered to fire off two illumination rounds to light up the wire...
I do...and a whole lot of nothing is illuminated...eventually we stand down and head for bed, but in uni, and with all of our gear to hand.
The next day, we find out that a patrol found our rocketeer, and discovered why only one rocket had been fired. (NOTE: The rockets usually used in these attacks are Chinese built 107mm free flight rockets. They are notoriously inaccurate at the best of times, and when launched from the jury-rigged launchers used by the insurgents, they are point-and-pray weapons.) It seems that our rocketeer, immediately dubbed Crispy, had hooked up the rocket incorrectly. See, he was supposed to have hooked the wire to the rocket, and then to the battery to ignite the fuse. Crispy forgot...and hooked the rocket up first, and was standing behind the rocket when he connected it to the battery. His entire left side, both hands, and ALL of his sensitive areas got flash fried.
Amazingly he survived the night. An American patrol picked him up, and brought him back. The docs said he was burned on over 35% of his body, and in the states in a good burn facility, he would have had about a 70% chance of survival. In Afghanistan, especially after we delivered him to the local hospital...he had almost no chance, and he died one week after his aborted attack.
What's the moral of this story? Had his attack been successful, would he, or the people that hired him, have found our wounded and given them the best treatment available? Would they have fed and clothed us, dressed our wounds and used critical supplies in our care?
No.
Not a chance.
But the 'evil' American 'occupiers'...what do we do? We find him, treat him, and keep him alive as long as possible. We waited until he was stabilized (almost 4 days) before taking him to the local hospital. Even there, we checked in on him, and offered advice on how best to treat him. I don't know if the local doctors followed our docs advice or not, or whether Crispy just did not have the will to live, but he died a few days later.
Somewhere in Afghanistan, there is a widow and a son without a father...I weep for them, for their loss. But I am not sorry that Crispy failed in his attack, nor particularly sorry for his loss. Had he been successful, he would have celebrated our deaths. I don't celebrate his, but neither do I mourn.
Oh...to answer a question that I foresee coming...no, we were not scared. We had a job to do, and we did it. There was no time to think about it, to worry. It happened and we reacted as trained.
Short version...no one here was hurt or injured...nothing came close to our compound...and Crispy gets to explain his actions to Allah....
About a month ago...we were in the TV lounge watching The Interpreter...good flick, by-the-by...we'd been off all day, and just hanging out watching movies...it was about 2330 or so...about 5-10 minutes before the end of the movie we hear this terrific BOOOM!!!
Off the couches, weapons in hand, hats on heads and at the door before anyone asks what it was...without knowing, we do the safe thing...run for the bunkers. While there, we learn that a rocket had been fired in our direction, but it had impacted somewhere far out into the desert. After a time to make sure no other rockets were headed our way, we went to our assigned posts. As the off squad we were the back-up and hole-fillers so we reported to our area. About 5 min later we get the word to send a grenadier into one of the towers...that'd be me.
Off I go...to the North tower...I help the person on tower duty scan the perimeter, and soon I am ordered to fire off two illumination rounds to light up the wire...
I do...and a whole lot of nothing is illuminated...eventually we stand down and head for bed, but in uni, and with all of our gear to hand.
The next day, we find out that a patrol found our rocketeer, and discovered why only one rocket had been fired. (NOTE: The rockets usually used in these attacks are Chinese built 107mm free flight rockets. They are notoriously inaccurate at the best of times, and when launched from the jury-rigged launchers used by the insurgents, they are point-and-pray weapons.) It seems that our rocketeer, immediately dubbed Crispy, had hooked up the rocket incorrectly. See, he was supposed to have hooked the wire to the rocket, and then to the battery to ignite the fuse. Crispy forgot...and hooked the rocket up first, and was standing behind the rocket when he connected it to the battery. His entire left side, both hands, and ALL of his sensitive areas got flash fried.
Amazingly he survived the night. An American patrol picked him up, and brought him back. The docs said he was burned on over 35% of his body, and in the states in a good burn facility, he would have had about a 70% chance of survival. In Afghanistan, especially after we delivered him to the local hospital...he had almost no chance, and he died one week after his aborted attack.
What's the moral of this story? Had his attack been successful, would he, or the people that hired him, have found our wounded and given them the best treatment available? Would they have fed and clothed us, dressed our wounds and used critical supplies in our care?
No.
Not a chance.
But the 'evil' American 'occupiers'...what do we do? We find him, treat him, and keep him alive as long as possible. We waited until he was stabilized (almost 4 days) before taking him to the local hospital. Even there, we checked in on him, and offered advice on how best to treat him. I don't know if the local doctors followed our docs advice or not, or whether Crispy just did not have the will to live, but he died a few days later.
Somewhere in Afghanistan, there is a widow and a son without a father...I weep for them, for their loss. But I am not sorry that Crispy failed in his attack, nor particularly sorry for his loss. Had he been successful, he would have celebrated our deaths. I don't celebrate his, but neither do I mourn.
Oh...to answer a question that I foresee coming...no, we were not scared. We had a job to do, and we did it. There was no time to think about it, to worry. It happened and we reacted as trained.
Short version...no one here was hurt or injured...nothing came close to our compound...and Crispy gets to explain his actions to Allah....
Labels: Afghanistan, Military
posted by Mik | 7/16/2005 03:00:00 PM
1 Comments:
*Phew*
Glad that you're okay.
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