IN THE DESERT BY DEBRA SHARKEY
 
At 2100 on the evening 15 February 2003, my unit held a formation at the barracks, aboard Marine Corps Air Station, Cherry Point, North Carolina, for accountability and saying our final goodbyes to our loved ones. We were on our way to the APOE (aerial point of exit/entrance) to board the plane that would fly us to Kuwait International Airport in the Middle East. I was a Gunnery Sergeant filling the billet of the Company 1stSgt. I had only been with this company for two months before we deployed and often thought to myself, Do I really know what I am doing? I had one hundred eighty Marines and sailors in my company. My Company Commander, and my Company Executive Officer were already forward deployed, so I was in charge of the company. We as a unit needed to be at the APOE four hours prior to departure, to complete the flight manifests. On 16 February 2003, I departed Cherry Point, alert, clean and feeling somewhat sad because I was leaving my husband and my dogs, but at the same time I was anxious to start this adventure. In a few months, my husband would also say goodbye to his son, who was joining the Marine Corps. We were flying into Kuwait not on a military transport plane but on a huge Continental Airline’s plane. It was an awesome plane. I couldn’t believe that we were going to fly to Kuwait in such comfort. The flight crew cheered as we boarded the plane. It really made you feel as though you were already a hero. We flew to an Air Force airbase in Germany, I can’t exactly recall where, but it was very cold outside. We sat for many hours in that airport because we were told they needed to ensure there was enough fuel in Kuwait to fly the airplane out of that country after we were dropped off. It was the same day the Daytona 500 race was on television. To my surprise, never being much of a race fan, it was hard to believe how involved I was in that race, knowing it was going to be the last bit of TV that I would see for months. We didn’t find out who won the race for several days. By then it was no longer important because too many other things were more important. It took us approximately 20 hours of flying to get to Kuwait. I was sitting in First Class and thought it was weird that my first experience sitting in such luxury was on my way to war rather than to vacation. The flight crew kept us entertained with movies, they were playing games with the troops, and one of the male stewards got a high-and-tight hair cut from one of the sergeants on the plane. Kuwait International Airport first appeared as any other airport, at least until we deplaned and boarded buses that took us to the staging area to receive our ammo, a full combat load, and our rules of engagement class prior to the convoy north on buses. As I arrived at the staging area, I could see hundreds maybe even a thousand Marines and sailors waiting for the same things as me. Some were dressed in the tri-colored cammies, but many more were dressed in the Marine Corp’s new desert camouflage uniform. There were bunkers surrounded by numerous layers of sandbags and a small tent to get a cup of coffee. While we were waiting in the staging area, the NBC alarms went off and we all put on our gas masks. Maybe it was just a drill, I am not really sure, but I was relieved that I was able to do it so calmly. Minutes turned into hours and hours felt like days. Finally, after all tasks had been accomplished, we received the go ahead to board the buses that would take us into the desert. As I stowed my gear and got settled into my seat, the bus commander gave a safety brief. We were told to keep the curtains covering the bus windows closed and not to look out. Our last instruction was to make a Condition One weapon, which means putting a round in the chamber and keeping the weapon on safe. For all of us on that bus, it was the first time other than being on the rifle range that we ever had our weapons loaded with rounds that could be used in the defense of our lives. The atmosphere on the bus changed. It became very real to me as to why we were there. We rode in the bus approximately two hours before we turned off the highway and drove for several miles out into the desert. There wasn’t much at all to see as far as landscape, although it was interesting to me since I had never seen the desert before. There were several people that we passed, desert people walking on the side of the road as we drove by. Where were they coming from and where were they going? There wasn’t anything around for them to be going to or coming from. As we approached what would be Camp Workhorse, you could see a large berm within a berm. Many of our unit’s Marines were already there, flown out of North Carolina on different days. Once again our unit was becoming whole. This was the place we would call home until we went north into Iraq. Back in the States on 18 March 2003, in a televised address at 0100, Mr. Bush, my Commander in Chief and President of the United States, gives Saddam Hussein 48 hours to leave Iraq or face invasion. In the desert we were broken down into three groups: two FARP Teams (Fueling and Rearming Point) and a FOB (Forward Operating Base) element. The two FARPs were named Chicken and Sofa. The officers in charge of these two teams were pilots and those were their call signs. The FOB was called Pegasus, a white horse with wings and the logo for our squadron. Our squadron nickname was The Workhorses. On 18 March 2003, somewhere around 1100, my S-3 Officer, Major Tappa, read the speech given by President Bush to us. It was being read to us because we didn’t have any television like some of the more established bases did. Our camp was being used as a staging area, and we still lived in primitive conditions. Everything we had done prepared us for this moment: NBC (nuclear biological and chemical) drills, rehearsing tactics to be used in case of an IED (improvised explosive device) exploding near our convoy, and perfecting numerous other tactics that would be needed when we crossed the border into Iraq. To mentally prepare for our mission, we sat in a large informal gathering on the berm and did a large sand table walk-though of our mission. The walk-through reminded me of an episode of Friends. They are all in England when Ross is getting married. Joey and Chandler are touring London. Joey doesn’t really know how to orientate a map so he puts it on the ground and stands on it. Well, this is what we were watching: the convoy commanders standing in a map of Iraq drawn in the sand. The FARPs would move north one day apart from each other. The FOB element would move out on the third day when the war started. The FARP teams would leap frog each other and were to fuel the helicopter gun ships in support of the RCTs (regimental combat teams) as they moved through Iraq. The FOB was to move up to an airfield in the town of An Numaniyah. We learned the names of the routes we would be taking and the names of FARPS other than our own along the way. Highways were named after football teams. For instance, Highway One, the main highway through Iraq, was called Tampa and the highway that ran parallel to it was referred to as Dallas. As the mission was read to us, each of the FARP team commanders walked through the large sand table to show how the mission would move. The FARP sites were named after baseball stadiums: Pac Bell, Qual Com, Wrigley, and finally Three Rivers, the FOB that would be located in An Numaniyah. After the mission brief, as each team prepared to leave, we felt somewhat invincible. On 23 March 2003, the night before we left, we slept in the staging area on cots or in the vehicles – wherever you found space to sleep. We were issued extra ammo, and the SNCOs had the option of carrying grenades. I had two grenades and I immediately named them Mac and the Holy grenade – Mac was my buddy and when all else fails use the Holy grenade. We spent many hours that night in and out of the bunkers because of SCUD missile attacks. There wasn’t much sleep that night; however, this, I think, is the first time since we left North Carolina that the twitch in my right eye became annoying. I first noticed this twitch in my eye sometime before we left to fly to this miserable place, but can’t say I know when it started; it was just there. It stopped sometime after I returned home. On 24 March 2003, FOB element Pegasus departed the safety of Camp Workhorse, rolled up Highway One, and crossed the border into Iraq. The first sign you see is of a camel with one line drawn through it, the international sign meaning no camels were allowed into the country. On the second day into our convoy, the morning sky was a different color than I had ever seen before. It was blood orange red. If I could imagine what the sky in hell would look like, I would picture this. As we started out, a sandstorm began and continued to strengthen. Visibility was good but getting worse. The humvee I was traveling in didn’t have any doors, so there wasn’t any protection from the elements. As the day went on I was covered in sand. A scarf on my face kept the sand out of my throat. We encountered what were probably army solders who had ditched their uniforms and opted for civilian clothing. One of our security vehicles stopped these men and searched them. Hidden on their bodies were several AK-47 rifles broken up into separate operating groups. During this encounter, my company commander radioed the convoy commander and asked how far after the bridge was our left turn. The turn happened to be only two hundred yards after the bridge. We were two miles or so down the road. Our convoy was now split up. We missed a turn we were supposed to take but because of the blinding sandstorm, you just couldn’t see it. Our convoy was heading in two separate directions. The humvee I was traveling in raced to the front of the convoy to stop forward movement. We told the lead vehicle driver what had happened, and that now we had to turn a large, heavily loaded convoy of tactical vehicles around on a very narrow road. It was done quickly and with purpose. We eventually had our convoy back together despite the sandstorm, We continued to try to maintain visual sight of the vehicle directly in front of us while maintaining a safe distance, but we also continued to travel at a higher rate of speed than conditions allowed. Although we had hurried, that night we were forced halt our convoy on the side of the road and endure a night of freezing cold, driving rain in enemy territory. We had traveled only 28 miles in 14 hours. During one of the many NBC classes we were given prior to our departure, I vividly remember the sergeant who gave the classes telling us to keep our MOPP suits as clean and as dry as possible so that the charcoal lining in the suit wouldn’t break down as quickly. Well, with no doors on the humvee there was little hope of keeping my suit dry. I prayed that one night of pouring rain wouldn’t doom my suit. All the vehicles were positioned on the sides of the road. Two 7-ton trucks mounted with MK-19’s were positioned at the front and rear of the formation. On our flanks were several hardback humvees mounted with M2’s. During the night, we were on 50% alert. I was on radio watch so that my company commander could get some sleep and then we would trade off after a while. Things did not stay quiet long. Radio silence was broken when the forward radio operator came on and said a low rumbling noise was coming our way. Within minutes, he came across again with the same message. Marines were starting to get out of their vehicles to listen, preparing themselves for the worst. Many weapons did not function because they were so packed with sand from that day’s storm and we had no way to clean them. As the rumbling continued to approach, we were as prepared as we could be for whatever was to happen. It was evident that we were going to have some kind of confrontation. The night was so dark you could not see your hand in front of your face. The darkness in the desert is the darkest you will ever see. You could actually wave your hand in your face and feel the breeze from your hand but not see your hand. It was the scariest night I spent in Iraq, not knowing what was going to become of us. Somehow, from somewhere, we felt a lot of prayers coming our way. The next day we found out we had gotten forward of the regimental combat team due to the sandstorm and were deep into Iraqi Army territory. An Iraqi tank division passed us, but never saw our convoy on the roadside. It was the darkness that provided us with camouflage. All of us had lived through the worst sand storm in 100 years and a near miss by an enemy tank column. For the next several days, we would see the aftermath of war: oil lines burning, dead Iraqis, and the death of one of our own. Debra Sharkey enlisted in the Marine Corps in December 1984. Now a First Sergeant soon to retire, Debra originally trained as a heavy equipment operator. She has served as a heavy equipment operator instructor and as a Drill Instructor, Senior Drill Instructor and Series Gunnery Sergeant. After leaving the Parris Island drill field in April 1998, she reported to Marine Corps Base, Quantico, Virginia, where she spent a summer serving as a Sergeant Instructor at the Officer Candidate School. First Sergeant Sharkey deployed to Operation Iraqi Freedom from February 2003 until June 2003 with 180 Marines and Sailors under her charge. In October 2004 in preparation for deployment to Operation Iraqi Freedom 04-06, she completed SASO Training and deployed to Desert Talon 1-05 with 250 Marines and Sailors in her company. She served as a First Sergeant for a Female Training Company at 4th Recruit Training Battalion and as a First Sergeant for Service Company Headquarters and Service Battalion. Debra retired from active service 17 June 2009.

SHARKEY IN IRAQ