The Reverent Warrior

Driving into and through the town we recognize that for a Sunday it seems eerily quiet. Sundays in Muslim countries are just another day. Shop doors closed, windows shuttered, streets empty. This wasn't normal. Those hairs on the back of your neck really do stand up. Moving slowly through the most infamous streets of Tal’Afar’s, Al-Suriyah neighborhood, we stopped. A call came over the radio to scan building tops. Other than our quiet Stryker engines humming, the town was perfectly still. This is not good. A constant breeze – not too hot – with the slight smell of sewage in the air. We limit our chatter and radio calls and give our full attention to anything that moves. Hearing my own nervous breath and smoothly scanning for visuals on my side of the vehicle, all I notice is a plastic bag blowing in the wind.
BOOOOM!!!
I felt the explosion's concussion in my chest and dropped inside instinctively. Someone called over the radio that it was an anti-tank grenade with a small parachute - an RKG-3. It landed just a few feet short of our hatch. If the thrower had managed five more feet of distance, there would likely be three dead or wounded men - myself, Kramer, and Du. Whatever it was, we were all okay. Sergeant Kramer then makes a comment to only us inside of HQ67, “Good thing that guy didn’t know how to throw.” And in the same stress filled manner, we all chuckle a little.
The commander's stryker calls out, "We see movement, someone is running away!" The commander dismounts with his wingman, and I followed procedure, releasing the ramp and dismounting. We consolidated near a seven-foot white cinderblock wall. The TAC was small - only about five of us outside the vehicles - as others manned the mounted weapons.
“Where did he go sir?” We ask. The Strykers begin forming more of a security perimeter. “He disappeared,” someone responds. I began to think about the fact that I am supposed to be leaving a chapel service just now, refreshed and filled with the good Word of God. I feel as though we are now on a wild goose chase and begin to grow in my frustration again.
While searching the area, we apprehended two suspicious men and began questioning them. Then our security team radioed, "Hey sir, there's an abandoned car on the side of the road that looks suspicious."
WHAAABOOM! We all crouch down in a reactive stance. Looking at each other we agree, clear as a bell…mortars. Landing a block away, we stop the questioning, zip tie the hands of the detainees together and get ready to take them back to the FOB. Our team calls the squadron TOC and requests reinforcements and air cover.
BOOOOOOOM!! We immediately shrug downwards again, taking a knee. “Now what?!!” I think to myself. The suspected car bomb detonated about 100 yards from us. Just then our air cover arrived - a small OH-58 Kiowa helicopter. As it circled overhead, I saw a glowing object like a football fly from a distant rooftop toward the helicopter, who then swerved to avoid it. They had shot an RPG at our air cover. The situation was deteriorating rapidly.
We began loading the detainees, feeling the urgency to evacuate. The commander now suddenly feels the need to check something else out. My gut turned as I followed him with his wingman. I continue to think to myself, “Let’s go! We are not an assault force! Let’s go!” Only steps away from our strykers, we pause on the side of the street, the huge white cinderblock wall behind us, making us perfect silhouetted targets. Just then an old car screeched to a halt about 75 yards away across an alley. My mind races and in mere nanoseconds I understand what is about to happen. Their weapons already pointing out of the windows, I can hear the distinct sounds of the AK-47s as they fire.
POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP
And I wait. I wait for the sudden and forceful impact of multiple bullets to hit me, cringing inside.
Nothing. What!? Nothing? In astonishment I immediately turn around and notice bullet holes all in the wall behind us. What just happened!? We all turn, face each other in disbelief and then take pleasure in firing back. Observing that our bullets successfully make contact with the car, the driver peels his tires as he moves out. Immediately, we head back to our Strykers. Just then the literal cavalry arrives.
As we load up, with chaos and burning vehicles behind us, our reinforcements present, we begin to roll out. Inside the safety of the Stryker, I couldn’t help but think about what just happened. Those bullets. How did those bullets strike the wall behind us and never touch us? And I was left speechless.
That night, I sat in my CHU still amped up on adrenaline, my mind and body not ready to rest, replaying the day over and over in my mind. I sat there and contemplated the protection of my Creator. I contemplated all those prayers being prayed over me and my team. Even though I saw what happened, I couldn’t believe it. I began to pray and praise our Savior for that Easter Day, for mighty His protection. My resolve became even more steadfast, as I realized that He truly was protecting me and those with me.