Chapter 1-5

Before the Storm

1st Battalion 75th U.S. Army Ranger Headquarters
Al Jahrah, Kuwait
Early Afternoon
March 28th 2003

The sun held high above the undulating desert plain. A large orange orb in a cloudless blue sky baked everything in its path. The endless dunes of white sand dominated this part of the barren region. A yellowish brown Fat-tailed Scorpion briefly came out of his nest to investigate a disturbance felt in the sand only to be snatched by its enemy the Camel Spider. Even with its venomous tail the scorpion doesn’t stand a chance. The scorpion tries to sting the spider only to be overpowered and slammed up against a desert camouflaged boot. The Camel Spider quickly regains footing and drags the Fat-tailed Scorpion down into its den to be devoured.

Sergeant Major Ryan Douglas peers through his binoculars checking the perimeter. He briefly looks down and watches the spider drag the scorpion down into his den. He then turns and walks to the operations tent for a briefing. The SGM wore a tan beret that signified his membership in the elite U.S. Army Rangers, his slightly graying blond hair was close cropped, and sweat dripped from underneath his gray Gargoyle sunglasses. His desert camouflaged fatigues completely soaked, cut close over his massive frame, hardened from years of constant training and numerous real world engagements.


The SGM removed his headgear as he walked into the command tent. Specialist Kevin Warner was busy setting up for the briefing. He hailed from Arizona and the heat really didn’t bother him as much as most of the men from his unit. He had a wiry build, very strong for his size; he stood around five ten and weighed in at one hundred and seventy five pounds. His blond hair sported the traditional Ranger cut known as a high and tight, in Marine land. He had just celebrated his nineteenth birthday. As the Sergeant Major walked in, Specialist Warner came immediately to parade rest; his arms folded behind his back, feet shoulder width apart, his young blue eyes staring straightforward.

“Carry on, Specialist.”

“Good afternoon, Sergeant Major.”

“ What do you mean, Specialist Warner? it’s hot as hell.”

“The men are assembled, Sergeant Major… Lieutenant Colonel Beckman is ready, he’s in the back.”

“Thank you, Specialist.”

The SGM walked through a tent flap that separated the command tent from the Lieutenant Colonel’s private quarters.

Lt. Col. Charles Beckman sat behind a large steel desk, an unlit cigar hung out of the side of his steel jaw. A fine coating of red dust covered everything in the living quarters. His chiseled face framed by a head of receding brownish gray hair, he had a hawk nose, and his closely set brown eyes looked up as Sergeant Major Douglas stepped in front of his desk and came to attention as he snapped a sharp salute.

“Rangers lead the way, Sir.”

“All the way, Sergeant Major,” Colonel Beckman returned the salute and motioned him to have a seat.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Ryan, this is going to get hairy very quick. I want you with me.”

“With all due respect, Sir, I need to be where the men can see me, I can’t lead from the rear and you need to stop trying to protect me.”

“Ryan, I just…promised Victoria I would get you home safe.”

“Sir, your primary concern shouldn’t be me and you know it.”

“You just keep that big head of yours down, Sergeant Major…let’s do this.”

“Hooh-rah, Sir.”

The SGM stepped out first in front of all of the battalion’s leadership, Squad leader and above, who were assembled for the operations briefing.

“Group! Attention!”

The battalion’s leadership snapped to attention as Lieutenant Colonel Beckman stepped out, his six foot four frame ducking under the tent flap. He looked out over his command, he scanned the faces of the men he loved, as he knew not everyone would make it back. Lt. Col. Beckman then nodded towards the SGM.

“Take seats!” the Sergeant Major yelled out over the crowd as they sat down on their folding metal chairs with a clamor.


“Good afternoon, men!”

“Good afternoon, Sir!” The whole tent sounded off at once.


Lt. Col. Beckman walked over and picked up a pointer from a wooden desk that held a projector. Specialist Warner nodded to the Commander that he was ready. He placed a transparency of a map of Iraq and its border countries with an overlay of the Battalions flight plan.

“Gentleman, at twenty-hundred hours the 101st Airborne Division and the 1st Marine Expeditionary force will attack Nasiriyah. Simultaneously, we will airmobile into a landing zone west of An Najaf, where intelligence reports suggest a Company sized unit of the Fedeyen is operating a training camp. Our mission is to neutralize the Fedeyen so the enemy cannot reinforce Nasiriyah.”

Lt. Col. Beckman took a long drink from his canteen as his uniform was already soaked through.

“Our air support will come from the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, The Nightstalkers. We will fly in three sorties of fifteen Blackhawk Helicopters with fire support from seven Apache Attack choppers. Company commanders, you have a dedicated squadron of F-117 Stealth fighters along with a squadron of A-10 Warthogs for close air support.”

Lt. Col. Beckman briefed the men for another hour, going over every single detail until his plan was clear in every one of his commander’s minds. The Sergeant Major walked back to his tent to get his gear ready and draw his weapon. He wanted to be ready, so he could walk around the Battalion area making sure his Squad leaders were making proper use of their time. He stepped into his tent closing the mosquito netting and tent flap behind him. He opened up his footlocker and pulled out a gently wrapped package of worn letters with frayed edges; letters from his family during past conflicts and current. From within the prized package wrapped in rubber bands and wax paper, he removed a photo of his wife Victoria and their fifteen-year old daughter, Christina. His thumb gently caressed the worn photo. Ryan hadn’t seen his family for almost a year now. After the attack of September 11th, The Sergeant Major’s unit had been sent to Afghanistan, and the only time he got to see them was when he had taken leave almost a year later. He yearned to be with them and it ached deep in his chest, twisting at his guts. Ryan made a silent promise that he would return to them.

* * *


Ryan closed his eyes, and remembered when he had been on leave the summer before, after operations in Afghanistan. Ryan, Victoria, and Christina had taken a cruise on lake Erie. Victoria was leaning against a railing, the sky was a beautiful blue with bundles of white cumulus clouds flowing across the heavens, like so much cotton candy. Her brown hair flowed gently in the wind, she smiled, her brown eyes beaming. Her evenly tanned arms holding Christina whose long blond curly locks fell over her shoulders as her beautiful blue eyes, like two polished sapphires, gazed lovingly at the camera. Ryan snapped the picture.

“Sergeant Major…Sergeant Major…”

Ryan lifted his head up as the memory melted away, “Yes…what is it Specialist Warner?”

Specialist Warner came to parade rest as he stepped inside the tent flap.

“Sergeant Major, I will be your Radio Telephone Operator and we’ve been assigned to chalk four with Alpha Company’s assault element,” Warner said still at parade rest.

“At ease Specialist, go down to supply and draw your weapon. I’m on my way.”

“You got it! Sergeant Major.”

The SGM placed his prized possessions back into his footlocker and closed the top. He grabbed his gear and headed to the supply tent.

* * *

“Sergeant Major, I drew your weapon for you, I’m set up over there with Alpha Company.”

“Thank you, Specialist…make sure you have extra batteries for that radio and I want it tested.”

“Roger that! Sergeant Major.”

“Specialist Warner, where is 1st Sqd. 1st Platoon?”

“Over there by the Arms room, Sergeant Major! You’re looking for a Staff Sergeant Donlon.”

Sergeant Major Douglas walked over towards a large group of soldiers who were checking their weapons systems and loading ammunition.

“At ease!” SSG Donlon yelled out as everyone jumped up and snapped to parade rest.

“Carry on! Gentlemen…where can I find a Staff Sergeant Donlon?”

“Right here! Sergeant Major.”

Staff Sergeant Donlon approached, he was tall around six foot four, he had close cropped black hair and brown eyes set close together, wiry, not an ounce of fat visible on him, he had a hawk like nose and a strong jaw. He came to parade rest directly in front of Sergeant Major Douglas.

“Carry on, Sergeant! I just wanted to meet my chalk leader.”

“Sergeant Major, let me introduce my two team leaders. This is my Alpha team leader Sgt. James Williams; Thornton, Hernandez, Shields, and Sgt. Olive, our Medic, is Alpha Team. This is Sgt. David Quellet, he’s my Bravo Team Leader; he has Hammond, Koelsch, and Sgt. Benevidez.”

The Sergeant Major visually assessed the squad’s firepower. SSG Donlon, himself, Sgt. Williams, Pfc. Shields, Sgt. Quellet, Specialist Warner, and Sgt. Benevidez all carried the U.S. Army’s assault rifle the M16A2, which fired out to a distance of four hundred and sixty meters a 5.56mm high velocity shell. Specialist Thornton and Specialist Hammond carried the deadly over and under M203, it had an M16 with an attached grenade launcher. Specialist Hernandez and Specialist Koelsch carried the Squads machine-guns the M249 SAW,Squad Automatic Weapon, which sprayed 5.56mm high velocity slugs out to seven hundred meters at a thousand rounds a minute.

The men went about their duties of getting their equipment ready, applying camouflage, packing away Equipment, taping everything down for silent movement and getting some well needed rest.

Towards the end of the evening the chalks moved down to the tarmac, waiting for the order to start boarding the choppers. They laid down against their equipment, and rested. The Team leaders were inspecting their weapons and equipment, and asking questions about their understanding of the mission; all wrong answers resulted in push-ups.