.AP Blog: Embedded With Marines in Iraq
THURSDAY, April 20, 2 p.m.
RAMADI, Iraq
I first met Lance Cpl. Justin Sims the day I arrived at the Marine base here called Hurricane Point. He was sitting in front of the battalion headquarters on the top of his Humvee, ballistic sunglasses over his eyes, hand resting on his gun turret. He was a machine-gunner. It was a bright, clear morning, good light, good photo. I took a picture.
I rode through the city with him several times over the next week. Whenever we left the relative safety of the base, it was Sims who always gave me the rundown: what to do if hit by a grenade (yell 'Grenade!'); what to do if hit by small arms fire; what to do if hit by indirect mortar fire; what to do if we roll off the bridge into the river (he'll get out first and try to pull the rest of us out); what to do if hit by a roadside bomb and we roll over (grab Sims' legs and pull him inside); what to do if we get into a fire-fight. All these things happen in Ramadi, but most times you drive out, they do not. These are safety procedures, just in case.
We drove several times to Government Center, the governor's sandbagged headquarters, a wrecked building that is a magnet for insurgent attacks. The first time I went there we drove inside the compound and I figured we were safe. I got out of the car and started to relax - I thought the dangerous part of the trip was over. I started taking off my helmet, but Battalion commander Lt. Col. Steve Neary made it clear: "Get inside, you're not safe yet." The main threat inside the compound is the occasional mortar round, and possible snipers. We sprinted the few steps across the exposed inner courtyard while a Marine stood on the corner pointing his rifle into a bunch of four- or five-story buildings to provide cover. My luggage was in the back of the Humvee. Without asking, Sims heaved my huge duffel bag onto his back, ran across and carried it upstairs.
On another morning we were to leave Hurricane Point, the trip was abruptly canceled - at least my participation in it. Three Marines and a Sailor had just been killed when multiple artillery shells buried in the pavement exploded underneath their vehicle in the city. Quick Reaction Forces were called up to provide security at the site, and Sims and his crew left, leaving me behind. I wanted to go, but was told I could not. Later, I thought better of it - why put yourself in danger? I wasn't going to press it. As they left me on the curb that day, I remember thinking they would be doing this nearly everyday for the duration of their seven month tour - another six months. As I watched them leave, I remember picturing Sims rolling out of the gate everyday manning that turret the rest of the time he was here. Whether you agree with the war or not, it takes an enormous amount of bravery to go outside here and onto these streets everyday. There is a lot of anxiety when you leave. You never know if you are coming back.
Not long afterward, one Marine showed up at Government Center and played the Marine Hymn on a set of bagpipes for troops manning posts under a ceiling of camouflage netting on the rooftop. The bagpipes seemed way out of place. A Marine public affairs officer was doing a story about it, and had asked Sims what he thought. I heard Sims recounting the brief interview later. "This guy asked me how it made me feel," Sims said, smoking a cigarette one morning outside the Humvee. I thought Sims was going to say it was ridiculous. He seemed to be setting up a joke. But I was wrong. Sims said, "I told him, what do you think? It made me feel good."
Marines deployed in downtown Ramadi cope with the constant danger sometimes by joking around. Humor can help ease the mood. One morning we picked up the governor - who is escorted everyday by U.S. Marines to his office. The governor travels in his own mini-convoy of Mercedes Benzes and BMWs. It was a long wait that morning. The driver, the vehicle commander and Sims began betting - no money involved - on what color and make the governor's small convoy would be. Two white Mercedes Benzes and a Green BMW? Or would it be all white? Maybe a blue thrown in? The governor had a bunch of different cars and usually changed them up. I think the driver won.
Like most Marines of the 3/8, Sims had been in Iraq on a previous tour of duty. He was from Kentucky. He graduated high-school in 2003 and married the following year, just before heading out on his first tour in Iraq.
Once, I asked if any of the Marines carried lucky charms with them to keep them safe. Sims told me he carried only two things: a cross and most important, his wedding band, which he wore on a neckless around his neck.
On April 15, Sims was on the way to Government Center again, manning the turret as he rolled through the city, past U.S. observation posts and destroyed buildings. As they pulled through a deep moat of sewage water just outside a gate at Government Center, Sims was on the gun-turret facing the buildings behind them, providing security for the convoy.
A rocket-propelled grenade came out of nowhere, killing him instantly. In the dark dust of that moment, time stood still.
The driver and the vehicle commander were fine. Their interpreter, a bespectacled man more than twice the age of all of them, was in a rear seat, hit by shrapnel in the arm and leg. Some shrapnel hit a pistol that was in a holster on his hip - it may have saved his life.
I had heard about the fatality that day as I was talking to another Marine about the dangers they face. We were listening to yet another raging gunbattle audible somewhere outside the base.
I didn't know then that it was Sims who had been hit. It dawned on me when I saw the interpreter, deeply saddened, sitting outside in a blue chair where he always sat at Hurricane Point.
There were bandages around his arm and leg, blood covering his boots. "He was like a son to me," said the interpreter, who can't be named for fear of reprisals. "He had his whole life ahead of him."
Justin Sims was just 22 years old. I can't say I knew him at all. But I will not forget him.
_Todd Pitmam
AP Blog ~MyWay
Follow link to read more blogs from this guy
RAMADI, Iraq
I first met Lance Cpl. Justin Sims the day I arrived at the Marine base here called Hurricane Point. He was sitting in front of the battalion headquarters on the top of his Humvee, ballistic sunglasses over his eyes, hand resting on his gun turret. He was a machine-gunner. It was a bright, clear morning, good light, good photo. I took a picture.
I rode through the city with him several times over the next week. Whenever we left the relative safety of the base, it was Sims who always gave me the rundown: what to do if hit by a grenade (yell 'Grenade!'); what to do if hit by small arms fire; what to do if hit by indirect mortar fire; what to do if we roll off the bridge into the river (he'll get out first and try to pull the rest of us out); what to do if hit by a roadside bomb and we roll over (grab Sims' legs and pull him inside); what to do if we get into a fire-fight. All these things happen in Ramadi, but most times you drive out, they do not. These are safety procedures, just in case.
We drove several times to Government Center, the governor's sandbagged headquarters, a wrecked building that is a magnet for insurgent attacks. The first time I went there we drove inside the compound and I figured we were safe. I got out of the car and started to relax - I thought the dangerous part of the trip was over. I started taking off my helmet, but Battalion commander Lt. Col. Steve Neary made it clear: "Get inside, you're not safe yet." The main threat inside the compound is the occasional mortar round, and possible snipers. We sprinted the few steps across the exposed inner courtyard while a Marine stood on the corner pointing his rifle into a bunch of four- or five-story buildings to provide cover. My luggage was in the back of the Humvee. Without asking, Sims heaved my huge duffel bag onto his back, ran across and carried it upstairs.
On another morning we were to leave Hurricane Point, the trip was abruptly canceled - at least my participation in it. Three Marines and a Sailor had just been killed when multiple artillery shells buried in the pavement exploded underneath their vehicle in the city. Quick Reaction Forces were called up to provide security at the site, and Sims and his crew left, leaving me behind. I wanted to go, but was told I could not. Later, I thought better of it - why put yourself in danger? I wasn't going to press it. As they left me on the curb that day, I remember thinking they would be doing this nearly everyday for the duration of their seven month tour - another six months. As I watched them leave, I remember picturing Sims rolling out of the gate everyday manning that turret the rest of the time he was here. Whether you agree with the war or not, it takes an enormous amount of bravery to go outside here and onto these streets everyday. There is a lot of anxiety when you leave. You never know if you are coming back.
Not long afterward, one Marine showed up at Government Center and played the Marine Hymn on a set of bagpipes for troops manning posts under a ceiling of camouflage netting on the rooftop. The bagpipes seemed way out of place. A Marine public affairs officer was doing a story about it, and had asked Sims what he thought. I heard Sims recounting the brief interview later. "This guy asked me how it made me feel," Sims said, smoking a cigarette one morning outside the Humvee. I thought Sims was going to say it was ridiculous. He seemed to be setting up a joke. But I was wrong. Sims said, "I told him, what do you think? It made me feel good."
Marines deployed in downtown Ramadi cope with the constant danger sometimes by joking around. Humor can help ease the mood. One morning we picked up the governor - who is escorted everyday by U.S. Marines to his office. The governor travels in his own mini-convoy of Mercedes Benzes and BMWs. It was a long wait that morning. The driver, the vehicle commander and Sims began betting - no money involved - on what color and make the governor's small convoy would be. Two white Mercedes Benzes and a Green BMW? Or would it be all white? Maybe a blue thrown in? The governor had a bunch of different cars and usually changed them up. I think the driver won.
Like most Marines of the 3/8, Sims had been in Iraq on a previous tour of duty. He was from Kentucky. He graduated high-school in 2003 and married the following year, just before heading out on his first tour in Iraq.
Once, I asked if any of the Marines carried lucky charms with them to keep them safe. Sims told me he carried only two things: a cross and most important, his wedding band, which he wore on a neckless around his neck.
On April 15, Sims was on the way to Government Center again, manning the turret as he rolled through the city, past U.S. observation posts and destroyed buildings. As they pulled through a deep moat of sewage water just outside a gate at Government Center, Sims was on the gun-turret facing the buildings behind them, providing security for the convoy.
A rocket-propelled grenade came out of nowhere, killing him instantly. In the dark dust of that moment, time stood still.
The driver and the vehicle commander were fine. Their interpreter, a bespectacled man more than twice the age of all of them, was in a rear seat, hit by shrapnel in the arm and leg. Some shrapnel hit a pistol that was in a holster on his hip - it may have saved his life.
I had heard about the fatality that day as I was talking to another Marine about the dangers they face. We were listening to yet another raging gunbattle audible somewhere outside the base.
I didn't know then that it was Sims who had been hit. It dawned on me when I saw the interpreter, deeply saddened, sitting outside in a blue chair where he always sat at Hurricane Point.
There were bandages around his arm and leg, blood covering his boots. "He was like a son to me," said the interpreter, who can't be named for fear of reprisals. "He had his whole life ahead of him."
Justin Sims was just 22 years old. I can't say I knew him at all. But I will not forget him.
_Todd Pitmam
AP Blog ~MyWay
Follow link to read more blogs from this guy
posted by madtom at 1:57 PM
2 Comments:
Very moving piece of writing. Thanks. Any chance you have his wife's or family's e-mail? Your story rang a bell in me, and I'd like to pass my condolances on to the people he left behind, and to express my sorrow for their loss. I've bookmarked your blog and will check back.
Dale
Dale,
Thanks but it was not my writing. I repost blogs and news from the war, everything and anything that I can find that brings us news from this war. So I did not write this piece, it was written by Todd Pitman for the AP blog that he's been doing for about a year now, if I'm not mistaken.
If you would like to contact the author please follow the link at the end of the article, once there look around for the writer contact information, not all news paper writers have a contact but many do. Thanks again for visiting my blog and come back often.
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