watch the entrance. But we didn’t have the manpower. With no viable
alternative, it was a vulnerability we were forced to accept. To mitigate
the risk of an IED being planted at the doorstep, the EOD operators
studied the area in detail around the exit door and planned a meticulous
sweep for explosives prior to our anticipated departure later that night.
The onslaught of heavy enemy fire continued frequently throughout
the day, with periods of intense violence and periods of calm. Enemy
fighters attacked from multiple directions, and SEAL snipers engaged
and killed many of them. Our SEAL machine gunners returned fire into
enemy positions with devastating effect. Other SEALs fired LAAW
(light anti-armor weapon) rockets and 40mm grenades at enemy fighters
hiding behind concrete walls. Even the Iraqi soldiers, typically far more
focused on self-preservation, joined in the fight and returned fire with
their AK-47s and PKC belt-fed machine guns. As the day faded and the
sun dipped below the horizon, the attacks diminished. Gunfire and
explosions subsided. With the darkness an eerie quiet descended upon
Ramadi, broken only by the evening call to prayer that echoed across the
dusty rooftops.
Our SEAL platoon and Iraqi soldiers packed our gear and prepared to
depart. Remembering the vulnerability of the single exit to the street, our
two EOD bomb technicians went to work. Peering over the second story
balcony through their night-vision goggles they scanned the area around
the exit door and the surrounding street littered with trash and potholes,
in some places scarred by the craters of previous IED blasts. But
something was out of place; something looked different than when they
had scanned the area in the early morning darkness before dawn. An
otherwise unobtrusive item lay against the building wall only feet from
the exit door, covered with a plastic tarp. Just a tiny sliver of a smooth,
jeff_l
(Jeff_L)
#1