Convoy operations

The rest of the week up to Saturday morning was spent at Camp Wilson on 29 Palms. It's a desert training environment several miles away from the main base, which is many miles away from almost anything resembling civilization. For all intents and purposes, I was completely isolated, and this was exactly what I needed.

Every movement from the billeting area (the half soda can I mentioned in the last post) with my team became an opportunity to get to know them better and slowly ease myself back into the life of a Marine Sergeant. I made the team walk in formation, listened to their problems (two are married, one has a girlfriend, one went through a messy breakup, another should have been promoted last month, et cetera) and laid out my expectations.

During this week I made large strides in terms of my perspective and attitude. It was great to focus on something besides myself for a change. All of my college experience up to this point has been characterized by self-obsession: do the work, snag the internship, get the grades, check the boxes to ensure that good career, meet the people. Thinking instead about how to best prepare my team for Afghanistan was like being reborn.

The training during the week was about perfect for a first week back. The entire group (two teams and most of our headquarters unit) sat in on classes for the first two days with only a little break to practice HEAT and MET. This basically entails sitting in a armored Humvee and MRAP, respectively, that rotates while you are in it, simulating a rollover. After they stop the vehicle, you have to free yourself, get out, and set up security. This becomes very difficult when you are suspended by a seatbelt across your neck from (what is now) the ceiling of an MRAP with fifty pounds of body armor and a rifle.

The third day was a testament to technological progress. Separate bays resembling huge silver eggs were arranged around a combat operations center (i.e. a trailer with high-speed computers in it). Inside each egg was a series of projectors and screen arranged 360 degrees around a model Humvee. Once the program loaded, our teams were able to see each others' vehicles on their screens and go through several convoy scenarios. The guys running the simulation could add other people, IEDs, Obstacles, and blow up our vehicles. After each exercise we collected in one room and discussed what we could have done better.

The fourth and final day was our live convoy training. The instructors left earlier than us (meaning sometime around 0500) and set up compressed air IEDs, pop-up targets, and the like. We ran through an entire route filled with these obstacles, covering less than 10 kilometers in eleven hours. Each time we stopped, the unit practiced immediate action drills for responding to ambushes, IEDs, small arms fire, and other likely scenarios.

My role for most of the training was just a vehicle commander (one of five) sometimes in the lead vehicle, sometimes all the way in the back of the convoy responsible for rear security. It wasn't until the final exercise on the last day I was bumped unexpectedly up to convoy commander.

This was something the LT had mentioned I might have to do. It involves directing all the vehicles, calling to headquarters to report any issues, and generally making sure we don't get killed or lost. I was not feeling terribly prepared for this less than 100 hours back into the Corps but I couldn't exactly tell them no.

We kicked off my convoy slowly--there were lots of problem with our radios (collectively referred to as "comm"). Eventually we all had to switch to one frequency, which complicated the radio traffic significantly. I let HQ know we were rolling past checkpoint 5, and they gave the green light to proceed on our way. About one kilometer later, I dispatched two vehicles to check out a wadi (dried river bed) running perpendicular to our route, and soon realized this would be my test.

"Victor 2, be advised, there is a MAM (military age male) squatting by the side of the road. He appears to be digging. How should I proceed? Over." This transmission kicked off a 45-minute period of nonstop radio calls and heightened anxiety on my part as I struggled to use my brand-new training and almost-atrophied skills to call in the reports, clear the IED our "insurgent" had planted, and question the detainee. Whether it lived up to my ever-increasing standards or not, we at least accomplished all the missions and I lost it on the radio.

After a good late night team PT session of pullups, carrying sandbags, dips, and situps, the LT and I talked with the team about the course we had just completed. We touched on point after point related to their professional, personal, and unit performance. The junior Marines stood around us, sweating from the workout despite the cold desert air, their faces flush with exuberance at the successful completion of the week.

I woke up the next morning at 0500, ready to convoy back to Camp Pendleton but a little sad our team's first training had to end. The men were beginning to stand our in my head as distinct personalities with problems, senses of humor, personality quirks. I paused while conducting radio checks in the predawn light, thinking of how far I'd come in five days. It felt great to be responsible for Marines again, to be part of something larger than myself. The moment passed and I turned to the next task before we could turn our vehicles toward home.