Generation Kill - Evan Wright [132]
First Recon’s entire campaign since leaving Nasiriyah has been part of a feint—a false movement designed to convince the Iraqi leadership that the main U.S. invasion would be coming through Al Kut. The strategy has been a success. The Iraqis left a key division and other forces in and around Al Kut in order to fight off a Marine advance that now has been abruptly called off. With so many Iraqi forces tied down near Al Kut, Baghdad has been left relatively undefended for the combined Army and Marine assault now gathering on the outskirts.
Mattis, a key architect of this grand diversion, later boasts to me, “The Iraqis expected us to go all the way through Al Kut—that the ‘dumb Marines’ would fight their way through the worst terrain to Baghdad.” While the plan worked brilliantly, Mattis adds, with characteristic modesty, “I’m not a great general. I was just up against other generals who don’t know shit.”
The Marines have known nothing about this feint strategy until the past couple of days, when Fick began guessing that this was his platoon’s purpose, based on hints he’d received from other officers.
Now, midmorning on April 3, while RCT-1 is still pulling back from its diversion into Al Kut, Fick gathers the men by Colbert’s vehicle in their muddy encampment and explains what’s going on. “By coming up here, we’ve tied down two Republican Guard divisions,” he says. The swagger he had up on the bridge outside of Al Hayy is back. “And for most of the way we were out in front, rolling into these villages and towns ahead of every other American. Often, it was you guys in this platoon at the absolute tippity-tip of the spear. Not to rest on our laurels now, but every one of you should be proud.”
“But what about Al Kut?” Garza asks. “After coming all this way we ain’t going to Al Kut?”
“No,” Fick says. “The feint’s over. We’re pulling out of here later today.”
Garza, sitting by a hole, etching lines in the mud with his boot heels, digests the news. He twists his head up, annoyed. “We just spent a week getting shot at, bombing everything, all based on a fucking wrong turn?”
TWENTY-SEVEN
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EVEN THOUGH THE IRAQIS have been beaten in Al Kut, they’re still dropping mortars around First Recon’s encampment, where it has remained through the morning of April 3. In the opinion of the Marines, Iraqis don’t fight very hard, but the men are beginning to notice that Iraqis never really seem to completely surrender, either.
“Damn,” Person says after another blast. “Didn’t RCT-1 already kick their ass once today?”
Everyone is waiting for orders to begin the march to Baghdad to join the final assault. It’s grown into a hot day. Earlier, Marines were ordered into their rubber MOPP boots in case of a gas attack. Still, nobody minds the added hardship too much. The platoon was resupplied with food today. Colbert’s team sits around their Humvee in the mud, gorging themselves on MREs.
Hasser is still not talking. He leans against the front wheel, writing an after-action summary on the shooting of the man in the blue car, which Fick told him to hand in in case there’s an investigation. Person walks over to him and starts dry-humping his shoulder like a dog.
“How you doing, Walt?”
“Get out of here.”
Fick walks up. “Walt, when you finish that, we’re going to see if there’s a better way to stop these cars.”
“Walt’s got a great way to stop cars,” Person says. “Shoot the driver.” Behind Hasser’s back, his buddies all talk about him in worried, hushed tones, trying to figure out if he’s okay. To his face, they tease him unmercifully. For the Marines, this is their attempt at therapy.
Espera comes to Hasser’s defense. “Maybe you were a hair too aggressive yesterday, but these motherfuckers are trying to kill us. We can’t get soft now because of