Ten years ago this week the 3rd Infantry Division was closing on Baghdad in what may be the most lopsided offensive in our history.
The division, led by Maj. Gen Buford C. Blount III, had 20,000 soldiers, 275 tanks, 350 armored personnel carriers and thousands of Humvees.
Now retired in Hattiesburg, Miss., he thinks of writing a book about the invasion because its success was overshadowed by an insurgency that transformed the fortunes of America, and Iraq, only a few months later.
“I was in Israel last week and gave a desert warfare presentation to the IDF, and as I go over it I’m amazed at how well the 3rd Infantry Division soldiers fought and what all they accomplished,” Blount said in a recent interview. “A lot of that’s been kind of overshadowed because of the insurgency and all the things that happened after we got to Baghdad.”
That’s true. But to have seen the 3rd Infantry Division at war was also to know that it reflected its commander. An Austin native whose father was an Air Force pilot, Blount would have happily followed in his dad’s footsteps if not for bad eyesight. But he loved tanks, and so the Army was an easy second choice.
In command of the division, he was shrewd but low-key, the kind of leader who gave his subordinates the latitude to make decisions and do their jobs without micromanagement – something no one in Iraq’s Republican Guard could do and a failing that ultimately sealed Saddam Hussein’s fate.
But more on that later, and more on other issues that arose after the lightning victory, the decision to disband the Iraqi army chief among them. One of Blount’s brigade commanders, Will Grimsley, neatly summed up the working relationship between the boss and his lieutenants.
Now a two-star general who is chief of staff of the U.S. Strategic Command at Offut AFB, Neb., Grimsley said he and his contemporaries had trust in their superiors, trust in each other and trust from the top down as well.
As an example, he knew and trusted his fellow brigade commanders so well that he never worried about his flanks as the 1st Brigade, the unit that photographer Mark Sobhani and I were embedded with, charged toward Baghdad, conquering the country in only 21 days.
‘We knew that we were going to be able to do this because we all trusted each other,” Grimsley said, adding that Blount gave them a great deal of freedom to command. “We were never interfered with by the division. We were enabled by the division.”
Good working relationships are the cornerstone of any success story, and you will hear more about them in the coming days.
But one story sums up Blount well for me. I was interviewing him as the occupation began and, as always, he offered a realistic assessment of where things stood. He clearly knew that Baghdad had a world of problems and that neither he nor anyone else could wave a magic wand to fix them. Still, Blount was relaxed. His men were on the streets doing patrols and trying to fix a tattered city that symbolized a broken nation.
There were rumors about Saddam coming out of hiding to lead a rebellion against the American forces in Iraq, and as I mentioned that, he chuckled.
“I hope so,” he said.
You could tell he would really have welcomed that attack, and that was the essence of Buford Blount. He never boasted but never lacked for confidence. And that attitude could be found everywhere down the line, from Grimsley to the youngest platoon leader in the division. It was something to behold, and I recall thinking before the invasion that it was arrogance.
It wasn’t. As the western actor Walter Brennan liked to say in a 1960s-era TV series, “No brag, just fact.”
But so many years later, what 3rd ID and the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force did in those three weeks of combat has been obscured by the great sandstorm of stalemate born in the insurgency. And you can see why Blount would like to make sure that what they did isn’t lost to history.
Original link is here: http://blog.mysanantonio.com/military/2013/03/a-victory-lost-to-history/
A scary ride on a bridge to forever war
The commander of Fort Hood and III Corps, Lt. Gen. Mark Milley, is headed to Afghanistan along with 500 soldiers from the post. They “cased” the colors today and will unfurl them again when they arrive in Kabul.
These ceremonies used to be big news. Now, they’re something of a ho-hum affair for the public, though not to the families who see loved ones head off for war once again and wonder when the revolving door will stop.
The 10th anniversary of the war in Iraq gives me cause to think a lot about all this. I was there, and on this week in 2003 wrote a diary entry that captured the nuts and bolts of a battle but missed a much bigger war.
“Euphrates Bridge River Battle,” I called it on the first page of a weathered reporter’s notebook that is dotted by smudges of Iraqi sand on every page.
It was early morning, 4:50 a.m. Thursday, April 3. We had crossed that bridge 12 hours before in a Humvee that had plastic doors and jelly windows, Iraqis fighting as troops from the 1st Brigade rolled onward.
The Iraqis fell where they stood. One fighter we passed lay dead with his AK-47 in his arms, a black scorpion scrambling past him as the span shook.
“More enemy advances toward our position just a few miles east of the Euphrates,” the early morning entry continues. “We’re south of Baghdad.”
I went off to Kuwait as the deployments began at Fort Hood after 9/11, and recall boarding the bus that took hundreds of soldiers in their desert uniforms and body armor to a jumbo jet at Robert Gray Army Airfield.
That was the beginning of the war in Iraq, a time when two brigades carved out camps in Kuwait’s northern desert, a miserable place at any time of year, but especially summer, when temperatures hit 115 degrees or more.
San Antonio Express-News’ photographer Bahram Mark Sobhani and I spent 10 days in Kuwait a couple of months or so after the terrorist attacks, living in small trailers on a built-up base and traveling out to the desert each day, interviewing troops and going on patrols. We watched Camps Pennsylvania, New York and Virginia go up, and knew then we’d be back. And indeed, we were there a week before the March 20, 2003, invasion.
This week 10 years ago, the Iraqis mounted a furious counterattack against a lightly held U.S. position on the east side of the 900-foot-long bridge, a crucial turning point in the war. There actually were two battles, the first occurring the day before and the second starting early the next morning.
There was nothing to stop the 3rd Infantry Division from taking Baghdad if its men held the bridge and a nearby T-intersection defended by maybe 120 GIs, four M1 tanks and five Bradley armored personnel carriers.
At least 5,000 Iraqis rushed toward the American position, where the 3rd ID’s soldiers were starting to run low on bullets, artillery and tank rounds.
“Good impacts,” Senior Airman Dan Housley said.
Housley and his boss, Capt. Shad Magann, called in the airstrikes that wasted Iraqi T-72 ranks and Russian-made armored personnel carriers. Stacks of planes dropped Joint Direct Atttack Munitions, or JDAMs, on hapless enemy troops who had no night-fighting capabilities.
The Americans, of course, preferred to fight at night.
“It’s sort of what everybody puts in their mind as what a battle is supposed to look like based on the movies, but it is much more vivid when you’re there in person and you see the incredible amount of concentrated fire in a relatively small place that we were able to bring to bear,” said Maj. Gen. Will Grimsley, who led the 3rd Infantry Division’s 1st Brigade at the time.
Tanks led by Lt. Col. Ernest “Rock” Marcone, commander of the 3-69th armored battalion, fired high explosive rounds from great distances.
Artillery rained on the Iraqis as they closed on the intersection.
So, too, did the JDAMs.
Magann told one tank commander to fire a single high-explosive round at a T-72 after it rounded a bend in the road, and said his airplanes would cake care of the armored truck behind it. Suddenly, there was a bright flash followed by huge secondary explosion, the flames rising hundreds of feet.
The tank was gone, and soon the trucks behind it were obliterated as well.
“What kind of fuse do you have in your JDAMs?” Magann, now a major in the Air Force Reserve flying A-10 Warthogs. asked one of the pilots.
“Instantanous,” the pilot replied.
Magann sat in a Humvee working a laptop while talking to the pilots above our position. Bathed in the computer’s bright light, he made a perfect target for a sniper but kept reading the grid on his screen, calling in airstrikes.
“Twenty-vehicle convoy,” he reported.
“There were some pretty good southeast convoy explosions,” Housley, now a C-130 pilot with the Georgia Air National Guard, told Magann.
An hour passed and first light was near, but the attackers kept coming – and so did the JDAMs, tank rounds and artillery.
“It was just a mishmash and they dismounted all those guys, all the infantrymen, and that’s unfortunately where most of the killing was, was the Iraqi (army) infantry, Republican Guard infantry as well as the special forces guys. They were moving almost like you used to think the old Soviets would do, in line-formation waves,” Grimsley recently recalled.
We had taken a scary ride on a bridge to what appeared to be a lopsided victory but was, as it would turn out, an early chapter to forever war.
In the margin of my notes I listed the subject of that day’s story: “Anatomy of an airstrike,” and I know why I saw it that way. Hundreds of Iraqis died in both bridge battles, while the Americans lost two killed and two wounded.
Magann was on the radio, updating the combatants, and even if the ground forces had run out of ammunition those planes would have kept coming.
“Be advised we got the enemy halted and off of the road,” he said.
The Iraqis had been stopped for the moment. But they would be back.
Original story linked here: http://blog.mysanantonio.com/military/2013/04/a-scary-ride-on-a-bridge-to-forever-war/
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