Tag: firefight

Shoot Him

After about the first six seconds of a real firefight, all you can hear is a loud ringing in your ear that pings to a higher painful pitch with each trigger pull and nearby explosion.  So you yell and communicate with hand arm signals basically.

“Shoot him.”

Two men died at that order and pandemonium ensued.  We found ourselves quickly surrounded and outnumbered and within the first few minutes, as the accuracy and volume of fire increased and our radio communications died, I realized that we needed to get out.  I gave the order to break contact and the battle drill began.

At one point I looked to my left and noticed a pizza hat pop up over the mountain less than 25 meters away.

 

The enemy soldier was behind and above my fire team, in an excellent position to shoot every one of them.  I raised my weapon and fired.  The first round popped some rocks in front of him, the second was closer to being on target.  As he flinched and looked up, he noticed me.  I could see the fear in his eyes as I let rounds three and four fly while improving my standing firing position.  He took off in a sprint and I continued firing, leading him just slightly.  Somewhere between rounds 8-12 he abruptly dropped back below the mountaintop.

No thanks to my terrible accuracy under fire, Intelligence told us we killed 9 men that day.  I had watched the first two go down, and i’m pretty sure a couple others took a LAW rocket to the face, but i’m not sure whether Mr. Pizza Hat was one of them.

What Should I Feel?

I’ve heard so many people say that taking a life isn’t easy, but I really never thought it was that hard.  Combat was surreal to me.  I remember looking into the lifeless eyes of a man missing half his skull and it felt like a movie.  I never watched a man die at my hands, except maybe Mr. Pizza Hat, but I did watch men die, and the part that bothers me most is how little I feel.

I was doing a job, and they were trying to kill me.  Their fatal flaw was being less prepared than I was.  I don’t hate them for what they did; many surely believed in their cause as I believed in mine.  I don’t pity them either, they picked  a fight and lost.  I don’t mourn their death, although i’m sure someone loved them, we all know the risks of that lifestyle.  Most strangely it seems, however, I don’t feel guilt for what I did either.  I really don’t feel strongly about it at all.  I’m not sad, angry, or even happy; I’m indifferent.

Not wanting to talk about it

This post has sat in my queue in “drafts” for weeks because it sounds so damn crazy.  Society and all those who don’t experience combat tell us we should feel something.  We are bombarded with movies, images, and articles telling us how we should feel. It’s as if they think i’m afraid of reliving things I’ve seen.

No. I’m not afraid.

I’m cautious because I know what I’m capable of. I know how easy it is to snuff out a life, and that gives me more respect for the fragility of existence.

Death is easy, living is hard. Don’t quit.

-LJF

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Why I Always Carry

I didn’t want to venture into the political realm here because this is about helping all veterans, and as we know, vets come from all areas of the political spectrum.  As I got ready to head to the barber shop with my son a couple days ago and concealed my pistol I asked myself why I didn’t like leaving the house unarmed, and I think this is something for all veterans.

carry

I don’t like to go anywhere without a weapon and a spare magazine.  In fact, if I could conceal a long rifle and a basic load, I probably would do that too.  Many of us know that first magazine in a firefight goes insanely fast, and when the adrenaline is pumping hard and bullets are flying your way, your accuracy percentage plummets.

An anti-gunner would say that I’m afraid or paranoid, and somehow they are braver for venturing into the world daily without paranoia.

I’m not afraid.  I’m not paranoid.  I’m also not naïve.  Police, firefighters, paramedics and military are more likely to carry than the regular civilian population.  You know why?

Because we don’t have the luxury of pretending that there is no evil in the world.

Cops deal with the worst of us every single night.  Take a cop like my buddy Geoff who patrols one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Orlando.  This guy chases real bad guys down every night while you dream about gumdrops and rainbows in your violence-free fantasyland.

A few months ago I went to visit him.  We walked into a restaurant together, both scanned the room, both moved to the booth in the back corner, and then fought about who gets to sit with his back to the wall.

I’ve seen the world as it really is.  I’ve lived through the experience where a situation goes from calm to chaos in a millisecond.  I’ve seen the horrific things that people are capable of and I don’t get to forget that shit.

TED Shot

I carry because I know there are evil men out there.  I carry because I know how hard it is to take a violent man down.  I carry because I know how hard it is to protect someone and fight at the same time.  I carry because I know a controlled-pair center-mass is the fastest way to end a fight.

For you jackasses that think that disarming me somehow makes you safer, you should know that my guns are only dangerous to those who seek to do harm; that includes someone that wants to harm you.

So don’t feel guilty for wanting that sense of security.  You’re not broken, your eyes are opened and they can never be closed now.

Godspeed out there



Warriors Who Do Violence

Being a warrior that does violence is different than being a violent man; a warrior has empathy.

All throughout history societies have looked to men who were willing to do violence and written their stories down.  Warriors have developed new and unique ways of fighting which we call art forms.  Entire cultures centered around their warriors: the Spartans, the Huns, the Samurai, the Maori, the Vikings, the Knights Templar, the list goes on.  In all ages, all regions, warriors have found their place among their fellow man.

I’ve come to believe that being a warrior comes as a predisposition, much like extroversion, You can train someone to be a soldier and do soldierly things, but only a few are actual warriors.

The warrior doesn’t fear death although he doesn’t yearn for it.  If it comes, so be it, but better it be the enemy.

The warrior can measure his violence, but ask him and he cannot identify the maximum amount of violence of which he is capable.

When doing violence, the warrior is concerned only with eliminating the threat.  He will not think about home or take the time to be afraid or sad.  He is singularly focused and as the threat increases, his self preservation instinct decreases.  If eliminating the threat requires his life then he will give it, if eliminating the threat requires he expose himself, then he will do it.

A warrior loves to do battle, but not against the weak, that is an act of a coward.

Finding someone predisposed to being a warrior is difficult, some even think they are until the threat presents itself and they come face to face with death.

 

Once a man discovers he is a warrior, once he has seen the world and the evil in it for what it really is, it is impossible to turn that off. Every situation, every environment, every moment he is analyzing threats, developing courses of action, and identifying weapons for his use.  Always.

When I was just a boy, my family went to Madrid, Spain for a new years celebration.  There were large crowds and I could tell my father was uncomfortable as he held my hand.  Most of the group we were with were happily enjoying their time when a man dropped his keys in between my father’s legs.  The man fell to his knees and started to feel around.  Dad’s hand squeezed mine tighter as he began to back up.  The drunk stood up, showed us his keys, and began to walk off when in an instant my father released my hand, grabbed the dude and slammed him violently against a nearby wall.  As he bounced off the wall, my father grabbed him by the neck and slammed him a second time yelling, “Where is my fucking wallet?”  The wallet flew out of the nearby crowd and landed at my father’s feet.

I remember distinctly the look of fear in the “drunk’s” eyes.  He was taller than my dad, but he wasn’t a warrior, and when he met the ferocity of one, fear penetrated his core. All night they had been pulling this scam, but only the warrior who is always thinking of potential threats identified it.

Realizing that you are a warrior is a paradigm shift.  You will never look at the world the same way again, and the overwhelming majority of the population doesn’t understand or see what you see.  Their prescription for your “problem” will always fail because they are trying to get you to see the world the way they do.  You are not them, you are different, accept that.

This does not give you carte blanche to act out, It takes more power and courage to show restraint than it does to be violent. Do not ignore what you feel and see, take control over it.  Don’t be too proud to seek help.

The only way to live in this world as a warrior is to be stronger than your urges, more powerful than your emotions, exert control over yourself, like a fucking warrior does.  Any weak minded fool can be loud and angry.



Firefight on OP4

Last night I was talking with some friends about our transition out of the military.  There was a common theme and it reminded me of a firefight:

“OP4 is under attack!”

We poured out of the hooches and into our vehicles right outside.  We were still adjusting our gear, snapping on NODs, tightening plate carriers, fastening seat belts, as we peeled out towards the gate.  I snapped the radio handmic into my chinstrap and could hear the progress of the attack.  We were spinning tires and spitting rocks everywhere as we pulled out into the wadi right outside Camp Tillman.

OP4 was several kilometers away, but we could see the tracer fire across the wide open valley in between us and them (the dashteh).  When traveling at 20 mph like we usually did, driving across the dashteh was one of the most comfortable of rides since we were on relatively flat roads instead of cutting through rocky dried out rivers like we usually did.  Traveling at 50mph under night vision, however, we found every rut, hole, hill, berm, and wall in a direct line between Tillman and OP4.

Although the vehicle violently slammed up and down, none of us wanted to let up, and the driver’s foot firmly pressed the gas pedal to the floor.  Our HMMWV engine roared loudly each time a set of wheels came off the ground. I had one hand on my rifle, using my thumb to keep constant pressure on the selector switch and keeping the barrel in contact with the floorboards in between my feet.  My other hand alternated from the handmic to the front windshield as I tried to keep my head from slamming into the glass.

OP4 was an unprotected observation post.  We basically walked up a mountain and said, “this is a good spot,” and set down our rucks there.  That was until this night.  This night, all that would change.  The enemy outnumbered our boys on the OP at least 4-1, and the paratroopers held their ground for a long time with no heavy weapons and no fortified positions.  They fought with rifles, small arms, some artillery and guts.  Eventually they became overwhelmed by the large enemy force and began a break-contact battle drill, fighting their way off of the hill.

“They’ve pulled out of the OP, that’s enemy on the top!”  I yelled to the men in my vehicle since I was the only one that could hear the radio, and when we were about 1km away, my .50cal gunner began to fire at the mountaintop.

The adrenaline coursed through my veins as I could identify specific enemy positions now that we were closer.  I threw open the door of my vehicle, pushed on it with my foot and began to fire.  My shots sounded like BB’s with the .50cal firing above me.  I could hear our artillery rounds wooshing overhead towards their targets and the distinct cracks of AK rounds coming our way.

“Stop right up there,” I yelled at my driver pointing to a position in front of us and he nodded white-knuckling the steering wheel with a smile on his face.  I unclicked the handmic and got ready to hop out of the vehicle as my door was still open.  I imagined doing some John Wayne follow me shit and I was stoked.  As the HMMWV slid to a stop on the rocky Afghan terrain, I pushed off to jump out and start pegging nearby muzzle flashes.

CLACK!

That damn seatbelt!

My body jerked as the HMMWV door came flying back, slamming into my helmet.  I fell back into the vehicle, my NODs had unclicked and were dangling in my face when I felt a sharp pain on my shin.  My leg was hanging out when the vehicle door swung back onto it as well.  I let out a grunt of pain as my forward observer, who sat behind me in the vehicle took up a position next to my door.

Rounds were flying back and forth, now half of our company was in the fight, pushing the enemy off of our terrain.  My machine gunners were pelting the summit with MK19 and .50 cal rounds. My men were already out of their vehicles ready to assault, and I was stuck in my vehicle, snapping my NOD’s back into place, fighting myself out of the vehicle, trying not to be a little bitch about the pain on my shin.  In between bouts of laughter, SGT Coca my FO looked at me, “You ok sir.”  I nodded as I spun out of the vehicle, untangling myself from that seatbelt.  My gunner made it a point to laugh nice and loud in between bursts.



Getting out of the military is a lot like that night.  There’s anticipation, excitement, and you have visions of what it’s going to be like, only to get caught by something you didn’t even think about at the last second.

The military does a very poor job of preparing us for this transition, and guys wait too long to start getting ready.

If 2016 is your year, then you need to start preparing yourself now.  Get your finances in order, know why you’re getting out, know where you want to live, and know what you want to do.  That’s the first step.  Then set goals, make a plan, and start working towards the answers in your big four questions.

I don’t care how shit-hot you think you are, if you’re not ready, it’s not going to go well.

Here’s some random firefight footage just because…