Fresh Marines take over tricky mission in Ramadi
BY MIKE DORNING
Chicago Tribune
RAMADI, Iraq - (KRT) - Less than two weeks after Lance Cpl. Justin Stadelman's unit took responsibility for patrolling this restive town in western Iraq, red-hot shrapnel from roadside bombs already had torn through his Humvee, not once but twice.
"The first one, seriously, I thought I was in the pit of hell, because of all the fire and smoke," said Stadelman, a 23-year-old Marine from Loveland, Colo.
At Camp Hurricane, a walled compound on a dusty camp along the Euphrates River, the 2nd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment has begun a six-month deployment with the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force in one of Iraq's most dangerous towns.
Located within the volatile Sunni Triangle, Ramadi is just 30 miles from Fallujah, where four American civilian security consultants were killed Wednesday. The burned bodies of two of the consultants were left hanging for hours from a bridge.
One year after the ground offensive that swiftly toppled Saddam Hussein, U.S. forces in Iraq continue an often-deadly struggle against a persistent guerrilla opposition.
More than 110,000 fresh soldiers and Marines are either in Iraq or on their way this spring, as the U.S. military completes its largest rotation of forces since World War II. The Pentagon plans to repeat the rotations annually until the country is stabilized and can provide its own security.
The troop turnover is a time of testing and heightened peril as each side probes the other anew for weaknesses.
Fresh troops are learning hard lessons as they adapt to a conflict unlike the conventional wars that the military has long been configured to fight. Casualties have risen sharply, with 52 U.S. troops killed in March versus 20 in February, according to a coalition spokesman.
The Marine Corps in particular has arrived determined to maintain a focus on winning over members of the local population, even as it mounts a stepped-up campaign to capture or kill guerrillas.
Drawing on lessons from their experience suppressing insurgencies in places such as Latin America and the Philippines, the Marines have a strategy in Iraq that calls for restraint and an emphasis on building relationships with residents and local powers.
At the same time, Marine commanders have chosen to show a greater presence on the streets; the Army units they replaced had largely pulled back to the outskirts of towns.
Like Fallujah, Ramadi has been an epicenter of resistance to coalition forces. Saddam forged close alliances with tribal leaders in both towns and, as a result of the dictator's patronage, many residents held lucrative, high-level posts in the old regime's army, security services and state-owned industries.
The region also is a stronghold of anti-Western Islamic fundamentalists, who senior military commanders in Iraq believe are playing an increasingly important role in the insurgency.
In Ramadi, the 2nd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment is experiencing firsthand the toll taken by roadside bombs and rocket-propelled-grenade attacks as it navigates the complexities of developing allies and identifying enemies in an unfamiliar tribal, Islamic society.
The commander, Lt. Col. Paul Kennedy, a 40-year-old Boston University history graduate, courts sheiks over lunches at their homes. He rushes with a convoy one night to reinforce a police station and reassure its chief of the unit's support amid rumors of an attack. Another night he leads raids on the homes of two suspected insurgents thought to be involved in an attack on a Marine patrol.
As Marines move through town on patrols, they scan rooftops and alleys for snipers and watch the sides of roads for detonation wires. On debris-strewn streets, bicycles, fuel cans and even piles of trash have hidden bombs. At night convoys of Humvees barrel along roads with their lights out, taking cover in speed and darkness.
The Marines constantly change the times and routes of their movements, trying to complicate attempts to ambush them. Even meals shift every day. With no kitchens at Camp Hurricane, hot food comes by convoy and its schedule is kept deliberately erratic.
Nearly three weeks after the 1,000-person battalion assumed responsibility for Ramadi, two of its members are dead. Another's jaw was torn from his face in an explosion. One more lost a leg. Three others each lost an eye.
In all, more than three dozen have been wounded, although more than half have returned to duty with only minor injuries. Rarely does more than a day go by without an explosive device detonating near a convoy or a foot patrol.
Despite the casualties, the unit presses on with patrols, on foot as well as in vehicles.
And despite the loss of their comrades, the Marines are exhorted to show friendliness toward civilians. In the parlance of the military, the unit is employing "wave tactics," everything from throwing candy to children to, literally, waving greetings at Iraqis.
Before departing their home base in Camp Pendleton, Calif., the Marines were given lessons in basic Arabic and classes in religious and cultural sensitivities. They were warned not to wear sunglasses when speaking with Iraqis or show the soles of their shoes, which is considered insulting in the Arab world.
The battalion begins its deployment with plenty of enthusiasm. The unit was stationed in Okinawa, Japan, during the invasion of Iraq, and several Marines admitted to envying the combat action ribbons awarded to members of other units.
Again and again, Marines fell back on the same words to describe how they felt about missing the offensive: "Left out." And though they acknowledge the occupation is far more complex than the ground war, most said they were glad to finally get the chance to test themselves in combat.
"I joined to be an infantryman. This is what I trained for," said Lance Cpl. John Huerkamp, 21, of La Crosse, Wis.
But already the Marines in this unit are showing frustration with the insurgents' heavy reliance on hidden bombs, which often are detonated by remote control and leave no obvious enemy to fight.
The Marines were warned about the explosive devices during their training. But, even so, many said they were surprised at how common they are.
"I mentally prepared myself to get in a fight with somebody. Now, I'm in a fight with somebody I can't see," said Lance Cpl. Jonathan Wade, 28, of Waterloo, N.Y.
"There's no way you can catch `em, unless they're real dumb," said Sgt. Curtis Neill, 34, of Colrain, Mass. "It's kind of anticlimactic: We get whacked and we get nothing."
And, as the attacks mount, it will be difficult to keep Marines from souring on the residents.
The first time Wade saw a bomb wound one of his friends, "I went from waving to instantly angry for 36 hours - a good 36 hours before I stopped," he said.
Kennedy, the battalion commander, is conscious of the danger. In training ahead of time and in messages on the ground, commanders have tried to inculcate members of the unit with the message that attacks against them represent the actions of a few in Iraq and not the wishes of the many, he said.
Waging a campaign in which winning over shapers of the town's public opinion is as important as neutralizing leaders of the insurgency, Kennedy said he is keenly aware of the damage that could be done by a single inflammatory incident.
The unit's mission easily could rest on the conduct of a corporal in the tense, emotion-filled moments after his squad is showered with flame and shrapnel from a bomb, he said.
"Their actions have strategic consequences," Kennedy said. A school bus or a mosque caught in crossfire could easily incite the community against them, he notes. "If they get hit by an (explosive) and they spray (gunfire) in all directions, we'd never recover from that.
"That's all based on the actions of a 22-year-old," he said.
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