Train To Baghdad

By Matt Leatherwood Jr

John Archer, a young Marine Corporal, is at the tail end of his enlistment. Seven days before Christmas he's summoned to battalion headquarters. For the first time in his career, the Secretary of Defense has issued his unit a deployment order. All he knows for sure is that recent world events are in play. Moving from Camp Lejeune, North Carolina to the Middle East, Archer must come to terms with his personal fears, the intense desert heat, and Iraqi soldiers always potentially just over the next horizon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Epic Spin Publishing
• Release date: Nov 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9780988398696

Matt Leatherwood Jr

Matt Leatherwood Jr. is an author and former U.S. Marine who makes his home in Augusta, Georgia. His debut novel, Complicity in Heels: A Money Launderer’s Tale, was published by Epic Spin Publishing in 2016. He is a 2012 graduate of Winghill Writing School. For more information, visit www.mattleatherwoodbooks.com or contact him directly at [e-mail].

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PROLOGUE

After every military conflict there emerge hundreds of stories. Some are heroic, some are tragic. This one is mine … Corporal John Archer, Second Combat Engineer Battalion, Second Marine Division.

PART I

PACK OUT

December 18, 2002, Wednesday

Battalion Classroom, Camp Lejeune,

North Carolina

I walked into the classroom and took a seat, neither close to the front nor way in the back, but somewhere in between. The room was filling up quickly as marines continued to pile in.

Hey, Calloway, what’s this all about? I asked.

Don’t know, but it must be pretty damn important if they canceled morning PT, he replied.

I chuckled nervously, disturbed at his answer. I’ve always hated not knowing what was going on, especially when it required me to drop everything and report early in the morning. This has got to be a drug sweep, I thought to myself. What else could it be?

Good morning, Marines! the first sergeant greeted us.

OORAH! we replied in unison.

I guess you’re wondering why you’re here.

Two corpsmen and a navy doctor slipped quietly into the classroom as we waited anxiously for the first sergeant’s explanation.

Gentlemen, in regards to recent world events, you are gathered here today to receive your anthrax vaccination brief. This brief is mandatory and is being conducted division-wide. This afternoon we will begin taking the first of a series of six shots. Marines, I ask that you stay awake and give Dr. Lindsay your undivided attention.

First Sergeant Sutton stepped aside as Dr. Lindsay made his way to the podium at the front of the classroom.

My eyes widened as I looked over at Cal. Anthrax! Isn’t that the stuff that messed up all those Gulf War vets a decade ago?

Yeah, I think so, he replied, not at all concerned.

And you’re okay with this?

Yep.

Of course he was okay with this; Calloway was married and already had kids. In the worst-possible-case scenario, he was survived by his wife and daughter, but what about us single guys with no children? What if these shots affected our fertility, or worse, the health of our future children? Should the sins of the father be passed on to the child? I had read somewhere that previous vets had stored their DNA at sperm banks to ensure that a pure strain of their genetic code was preserved. With the suddenness of this situation I didn’t even have time to do that-lots of luck finding a sperm bank, filling out all the paperwork, and providing a sample before 1300.

As the first sergeant stated, I am here to brief you about the anthrax vaccination and answer all your questions. My name is Dr. Lindsay, and I am your battalion medical officer. My corpsmen and I will begin giving you your first shots this afternoon. This brief is mandatory. The same brief that you are receiving here is the exact same brief the colonel received. Also, Colonel Findley and the sergeant major will be the very first to receive their shots this afternoon. With that said, could somebody please get the lights.

The lights dimmed as a Proxima projected an image on screen. Soon after Dr. Lindsay began his brief. Somehow this whole thing didn’t sit well with me. At this moment the only thing I could be sure of was that if this thing posed a long-term threat to our health, at least the colonel and sergeant major would be in the VA line along with all the rest of us. Okay, maybe not exactly next to us, but a little further up.

December 20, 2002, Friday

Enlisted Barracks

Hey, how is it going, Archer? Sergeant Dean greeted me as I walked into the barracks’ common area which housed the lounge, vending machines, and phones.

Fine, Sergeant. I see you have duty tonight.

Yeah, I figured I’d take it now, so I could spend Christmas with my family.

Smart, man.

What are you up to? All dressed up, he asked.

I’m getting ready to go out and was looking for someone to tag along with me. I knocked on several doors, but nobody seems to be home. It’s only twenty hundred hours, what gives?

Sergeant Dean placed his hands on his duty belt and ran his thumbs along the inside of the belt back and forth. He let out a sigh before replying, Well, you know all of my supply marines are working late at the warehouse tonight.

Why?

They’re processing shipments of desert cammies that just came in.

Really? I said, surprised. Today I heard from an unofficial source up at division that we could possibly be in country within eight weeks.

Dean removed his cover and massaged his temples. How reliable is your source?

Pretty reliable. He works up in the division’s operations center. A lot of majors and colonels running around, so he picks up on a lot of substantial stuff.

Looks like this thing is getting serious, huh.

You said it, I replied nervously. I just hope we can solve this whole thing diplomatically.

December 22, 2002, Sunday

Holiday Formation, Grass Quadrant Next to Battalion Headquarters

Battalion, ATTENTION! the sergeant major commanded.

On that order, three hundred marines, in civilian attire, simultaneously snapped to the most basic of marine positions.

Report!

Headquarters and Service Company all present and accounted for! First Sergeant Sutton replied, informing the sergeant major of the company’s status.

Very well.

The sergeant major inquired into the status of the other four companies making up the battalion in similar fashion. In the distance I could see the battalion commander approaching the sergeant major’s position. He was a short, lean man in his midforties, with black hair and blue eyes and dressed in typical-officer fashion: khaki slacks, polo shirt, oxfords, and a brown leather jacket.

Good morning, sir. The battalion is formed and ready to receive the holiday safety brief, reported the sergeant major.

Very well. Have the marines fall out and form a school circle around me.

The colonel left the sergeant major’s position and moved to a more central location within the quad.

Battalion, when I give the command to fall out, form a school circle around the colonel. FALL OUT!

On that command, five companies of marines broke formation and descended upon the colonel’s position, completely enclosing him.

Sit, kneel, bend! commanded several staff NCOs, so that each and every marine could be afforded the opportunity to see and hear the colonel.

Good morning, Marines! greeted the colonel.

OORAH! we responded.

It’s good to hear that your motivation level remains high. Anybody watching the news lately?

Several hands reached for the sky.

What’s going on in the news? inquired the colonel.

The situation in the Middle East. Iraq, sir! responded a marine in the crowd.

That’s right, Iraq. Marines, if you’ve been following the news lately you know that the situation is getting hairy and may not be solved diplomatically. As of yet, this unit has not received a deployment order. However, as soon as I know something, I’ll inform you all. That’s my assurance to you. So, I encourage you to take this opportunity to spend time with your family and loved ones. Tell your mom and dad you love them, hang out with your siblings, go see old acquaintances. Start getting yourself in the deployment mindset by asking yourself questions: Do you need a will? Where are you going to store your vehicle? Do you need a power of attorney? Where are you going to put your household goods? And other such questions. Your company commanders and staff NCOs will be speaking to you more about this in the days ahead. Again, I repeat, this unit has not received a deployment order.

I looked around the crowd to sort of gauge the reaction of others to what the colonel was saying. Were they as concerned as I was? I couldn’t tell. I was afraid to ask.

Now on to safety … , the colonel transitioned. How many of you are driving home for the holidays?

A show of hands was dispersed throughout the crowd.

Automobile accidents are the number one killer of marines on leave and liberty. If you are driving more than five hours away, you need to pull over and rest periodically or switch drivers. Don’t try to make it to your destination in one shot. If you drink, don’t drive. If you drive, don’t drink. Observe the speed limit. These rules and others are there for your safety, adhere to them. Marines, you are my most vital resource. I can’t run this battalion on my own. I need each and every one of you back here safely. If the nation calls upon us tomorrow, this unit needs to be at one hundred percent, so we can do what we need to do.

OORAH! somebody chanted.

The colonel smiled. Marines, enjoy your holiday. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year.

December 24, 2002, Tuesday

Enlisted Barracks’ Parking Lot

I sat in my car, eating my drive-thru breakfast and reading the local paper, which went:

TRAINING CANCELED FOR MARINES

By George Rohr

Jacksonville Courier

Jacksonville, North Carolina-Two major exercises for the upcoming year have been canceled, a third is in question. Marine officials said Monday that this is in preparation for the possibility of mass moblization. Speculation still exists as to whether this is in support of Operation Enduring Freedom or the situation brewing with Iraq … .

Finishing the article, I closed the paper and started the car. So it begins, I thought to myself, peeling out of the parking lot, heading home for the holidays.

December 28, 2002, Saturday

LOCAL MARINES CALLED UP

By George Rohr

Jacksonville Courier

Jacksonville, North Carolina-Two hundred Marines of 2nd Force Service Support Group from Camp Lejeune prepared yesterday to leave for parts unknown. Mustering at the French Creek armory to pick up weapons, they were transported to Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station via chartered bus for a flight bound for Southwest Asia. Five hundred Marines are expected to follow suit within the upcoming week.

December 30, 2002, Monday

Battalion Aid Station, Battalion Headquarters

The line for the second shot in the series of anthrax inoculations stretched all the way down the hall and around the corner.

I hope this shot doesn’t burn as much as the first one, said Cal, shaking his head.

Yeah, that one really had my arm on fire, I sympathized.

How was your Christmas, Archer?

Great, I got to spend time with my family and friends. You know, try to forget about what’s going on in the world.

I hear you, same here.

How’s your wife and daughter? I inquired, knowing the question would bring about a smile to his face.

Cal always liked to talk about his family. He’d been married for two years and had just recently become a father for the first time.

Jasmine is getting so big. It’s only been six weeks, and she’s into everything-crawling around, exploring different things. As for my wife, she’s exhausted at times, but I try to help out as much as possible.

I remained silent and let him have his moment. Being a single marine, it was hard to relate on such topics, but I enjoyed hearing about them nevertheless.

You know Alpha Company got their orders to move out? I mentioned casually.

Yeah, I heard the same thing. I also read in the paper that FSSG left Friday, replied Cal.

Well, it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the battalion follows suit.

Just like dominoes, one company after another we fall, he quipped.

Cal?

Yeah.

I haven’t been sleeping too well since this whole thing started, I confided.

You and me both, bro. You and me both.

December 31, 2002, Tuesday

Hammerjax Night Club, Wilmington, North Carolina

Welcome to Hammerjax, the hostess said, greeting me as I walked into the establishment.

Thank you, I replied, pausing for a moment to check her out: five seven, cocoa butter skin, short black hair, brown eyes, probably a B cup, wearing black slacks and a white short-sleeve blouse. Definitely attractive, most likely a college student earning extra money on the side.

How are you this evening?

I’m fine, I lied, not wanting to get into what was really troubling me.

That’s good. Enjoy the festivities and have a good time while you’re here.

Instinctively I forced a smile which she promptly returned, then made my way on into the club.

The smell of alcohol flooded the air. Dim lighting and prevalent smoke provided an illusion of heavy fog throughout the club. The place was packed. Contemporary music blared through several surrounding speakers as women in a variety of colorful cocktail dresses moved about the room getting drinks and heading to the restroom. College preps and young professional men crowded around the bar. It seemed as though I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be alone for the holidays. On this special evening, I had driven forty-five miles out of the way to escape the endless speculation of fellow marines as to what may or may not happen in the Middle East. Feeling relaxed, I walked over to the bar and took a seat on a vacant stool.

Can I get you something to drink? offered the bartender.

Yeah. Rum and Coke, please.

Rum and Coke it is.

I watched the bartender work his magic, grabbing this bottle and that bottle and mixing the contents within an empty glass.

Here you go, partner, he said, sliding me the drink.

I promptly paid and tipped the man. As I grabbed my drink, the lights went out.

It was pitch black except a few television monitors on in the background.

TEN … , shouted a loud voice over a microphone. The crowd quickly picked up on what was going on and echoed the cadence.

NINE …

EIGHT …

It must have been later than I thought. I quickly glanced at my watch as the count progressed several numbers. They were right on time.

THREE …

TWO …

ONE!

HAPPY NEW YEAR! everyone screamed. Balloons and streamers suspended from the ceiling fell to the ground. A large white, neon 2003 sign lit up the night as people exchanged kisses and hugs to the sound of Auld Lang Syne.

During the commotion, I felt a hand tapping the back of my shoulder. I turned around. It was the hostess.

Happy New Year! she said, greeting me.

Happy New Year! I replied.

For a few awkward moments, we stared at each other, not saying a word. Finally, she broke the silence with a smile, Hi, I’m Monica, and you are?

John, I replied, extending my hand to shake hers.

January 1, 2003, Wednesday

Sleep Inn, Market Street, Wilmington, North Carolina, Room 239

Ain’t nothing like the real thing, baby, ain’t nothing like the real thing…, crooned the voice of Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell over the radio airwaves. The soulful stirrings of the Mowtown duo allowed me to exist somewhere between full consciousness and sleep from the previous night’s festivities.

Christopher Kovacs, Associated Press News. The army’s Third Infantry Division out of Fort Stewart, Georgia, will undergo the single largest ground deployment to the Middle East since the Persian Gulf War. A spokeswoman at the base confirmed that orders had come down in the last forty-eight hours directing the deployment of some fifteen thousand soldiers to the region. These soldiers will join some four thousand troops from the division already deployed to the area since September …

Troubled by what I had just heard, I leaned over and cut off the clock radio and went back to sleep.

January 2, 2003, Thursday

Traffic, Camp Lejeune, Main Gate

RING!

RING!

RING!

I reached over and pulled the cell phone out of the glove compartment.

Hello.

Archer, this is Staff Sergeant Pate. Where’re you at?

I’m at the main gate sitting in traffic, returning from Wal-Mart, Staff Sergeant, I replied.

Perfect. I need you to go to the shop, get a TRAM, and take it over to the NBC warehouse. Alpha Company is packing out. They need assistance loading their QUADCON on a truck. Sergeant Romero is already at the shop. He’ll let you in and write up your trip ticket.

Roger that, Staff Sergeant.

I’ll call Sergeant Romero and let him know you’re on your way. Thanks, bud.

No problem, Staff Sergeant.

Thirty minutes later I was in my TRAM, riding down McHugh Boulevard towards the NBC warehouse. As I pulled into the parking lot, I could see the marines of Alpha Company lined up, drawing new gas-mask canisters and MOPP suits and placing them inside the QUADCON. Once they were finished, I picked the container up, set it on top of a seven-ton truck, and returned back to my shop.

January 9, 2003, Thursday

Lounge Area, Enlisted Barracks

I walked into the lounge to see a group of marines gathered in a circle.

Check this out, man, said one marine to the others as he pulled a K-Bar out from a box. Look at the teeth on this thing. If I have to go hand to hand, I want this with me.

Hell, yeah! commented a bystander.

The bragging marine passed his knife around to the delight of the crowd of onlookers.

Where’d you get it? they asked.

Extreme Outfitters military surplus store; they got everything.

What’s going on in here? I asked interrupting. The crowd was startled. Everybody stopped what they were doing as I approached.

Check this K-Bar out, Corporal Archer, said a brave marine, inviting me to hold the knife up by the handle.

Put that away, I commanded.

The marine passed the knife back to its owner.

This is field day, not a gun-and-knife show. Now, get this lounge cleaned. I’ll be back in thirty minutes to check up on your progress.

Disgruntled, the marines broke up their gathering and proceeded to start cleaning the lounge. I left soon after, heading back to my room. Based on what I’d just witnessed, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to stop by one of these military surplus stores and have a look around.

January 10, 2003, Friday

Company Formation, Grass Quadrant Next to Battalion Headquarters

Company, ATTENTION! commanded First Sergeant Sutton in a loud, raspy voice as his tall, lean figure assumed the position.

On that order we simultaneously followed suit.

Report!

First Platoon, all present and accounted for! replied the platoon sergeant, saluting.

Very well.

The first sergeant returned the salute, then crisply cut it, returning his hand to his side.

The other two platoons making up the company replied in similar fashion to the formal inquiry.

AT EASE.

The company relaxed.

Marines, First Sergeant Sutton addressed us, it’s been a tough week. Various sections have been participating in STRATMOBEX getting gear ready, Alpha Company is packing up, and as always, training continues to go. We have marines everywhere doing everything, a lot of moving parts. You’re doing a good job, keep up the good work and don’t lose focus. The time is drawing nigh, the time when the country will ask for you to render your services. Now, I was never a Boy Scout …

Chuckles erupted from the crowd as we imagined the former drill instructor as a Boy Scout performing good deeds and helping old ladies across the street.

But I believe in their motto ‘Be Prepared.’ Are you prepared? We could deploy tomorrow. Do you have a will? Power of attorney? What are you gonna do with your household goods? What about your spouse? Gents, you need to start asking yourself these questions and seek answers. Don’t wait ‘til the last minute. Have a plan. I have a plan for my family. You should have a plan for your family. You’re the man in your family, start taking care of business. You single marines …

Damn! I thought to myself, hoping we’d go unscathed, but the first sergeant was very meticulous and never missed a point especially when he was addressing crowds.

Instead of buying beer, spending your money on strippers, or going clubbing, you need to start putting some extra money aside each payday. Now the Marine Corps issues you six magazines for your rifle, and that will get you by, but personally I’d like to have two extra just in case. The Marine Corps issues you one compass. That maybe good enough for you, but in a desert environment, I’d want a GPS device. I tell you these compasses we have are old, and according to the last armory report I saw, there weren’t enough to issue one to every marine. These are some of the things you need to start thinking about.

I’d never thought about that kind of stuff; I figured the standard issue was okay. The first sergeant had some valid points. I guess that’s why he’s the first sergeant.

Now on to a rather serious note … , he transitioned.

Everybody’s attention seemed to perk up after hearing those words.

Drugs.

Uh-uh, I thought, here it comes.

The last drug test this unit had, the entire unit went clean. I say that to say this: There are some marines out there in other units that have decided to use drugs as a way to get out of any possible deployments that may occur in the future.

Really? Who would stoop to that level? Hell, we’re all scared as to the future, but take drugs. I was shocked. I couldn’t imagine anybody doing that. We all realized when we signed the papers that war, although not a certainty, always remained a possibility.

I promise you this. If any marine in this company tries a stunt like that, I will personally go to the skipper to ensure that you deploy along with the rest of us, and I will deal with you administratively in the desert. Understand?

We all nodded our heads in unison. Well, two things were for sure: We needed to start thinking ahead instead of living day to day, and that if the unit received a deployment order, we were all going-drug abusers and clean marines alike.

January 11, 2003, Saturday

River Road, Camp Lejeune, North Carolina

I always liked to start my Saturday mornings with an early run. This morning I was feeling great and decided to run four miles along the main PT road. I stretched and did some calisthenics before heading out. Running alone always seemed to help me think better. You, the pavement, and your thoughts-that was all you needed to clear your mind, and if you were fortunate, a solution to your problem would present itself by the time the run was over.

Ten minutes into the run I came across a unit mustered together in a grassy field. I slowed down my pace to get a better view of what was going on. It seemed like they had all their gear packed. Families and several camera crews were present. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they had received a deployment order and were heading out.

January 12, 2003, Sunday

Enlisted Barracks

RING!

RING!

RING!

Hello, I answered in a groggy voice.

Johnnie, you awake?

Mom.

Is that your unit getting ready to leave?

Huh, I replied dumbfounded. For some reason early-morning question-and-answer sessions weren’t my strong point, especially when in the comfort of a nice, warm rack. What are you talking about? I countered.

Your father and I were watching CNN when they showed a unit from Camp Lejeune getting ready to deploy.

That must have been that unit I saw yesterday morning while running, I thought.

No, that wasn’t my unit.

Good. Do you know if you’ll be going over there anytime soon?

I don’t know, Mom. It’s still up in the air.

January 13, 2003, Monday

Battalion Formation, Grass Quadrant Next to Battalion Headquarters

Battalion, ATTENTION! Sergeant Major Shepard commanded.

Three hundred marines snapped to attention simultaneously.

Report!

Headquarters and Service Company all present and accounted for! First Sergeant Sutton replied.

Very well.

Alpha Company all present and accounted for!

Very well.

Charlie Company all present and accounted for!

Very well.

Engineer Support Company all present and accounted for!

Very well.

Once Sergeant Major Shepard received the last of the reports, he promptly turned and waited for the colonel to step before him.

Good morning, sir, he greeted while saluting. The battalion is formed and ready to be briefed.

Very well. Have the marines fall out and form a school circle around me.

The colonel returned the sergeant major’s salute, then moved to a more central location.

Battalion, when I give the command to fall out, form a school circle around the colonel. FALL OUT!

On that command, the marines broke formation and descended upon the colonel’s position, completely enclosing him.

Sit, kneel, bend, came the command from among the crowd.

Good morning, Marines! greeted the colonel.

OORAH! we responded.

I told you at our last battalion formation that when I knew something about what was going on, I’d share it with you. That was my pledge to you. Marines, I am here to tell you today that this unit has received a deployment order. I repeat, we have received a deployment order. The nation has called upon us to head to the Middle East and do what we do. As of yet, our actual timeline is still classified. However, you can count on being mobilized within a month. Marines, this is serious, this is the real thing. It’s time to do what you’ve been training for.

January 13, 2003, Monday

Enlisted Barracks, Later that Evening

I picked up the phone and called a close friend from boot