Posted on 04/08/2003 3:54:28 PM PDT by Willie Green
For education and discussion only. Not for commercial use.
OUTSIDE BAGHDAD (Reuters) - Grinding hot gears and belching black smoke, the "hog" roared into life with only one destination in mind.
"Baghdad or bust, baby, Baghdad or bust," muttered the U.S. Marine driver into the intercom. Tracks rumbling, armor plates rattling, the metal beast hammered up the highway.
The machines -- Amphibious Assault Vehicles (AAVs) -- are now one of the strangest sights on the roads to Baghdad, thundering north in convoys taking Marines into battle.
Ugly, brutal looking contraptions, the vehicles look something like a giant tank with a small gun turret at the front, running on tracks that rip twin furrows in the earth.
Corrugated plating designed to deflect bullets covers the flanks, reminiscent of the scales of some prehistoric beast.
The front is planed to an angle like the nose of shark -- at night twin lamps glow like beady yellow eyes.
Names like "Millennium Falcon," "Woo Doo" and "Baghdaddy," daubed on the turrets give the creatures some personality, but they are basically designed to kill people or help U.S. Marines do the same thing.
They are hot, claustrophobic and noisy -- and that's before 21 combat ready troops jump into the back.
Sunlight streamed into the darkened interior as the rear hatch folded down to form an entry ramp for front-line "grunts" who tumbled in loaded with rifles, rocket launchers and grenades.
Bodies, weapons and webbing invaded the vehicle, the Marines squashed together into what looked like a single mass of camouflaged limbs, belts of brass cartridges and combat knives.
"Sometimes it's hot as Hell," said Rick Lulves, a 21-year-old U.S. Marine private first class, squashed in between two of his comrades.
Rivulets of sweat ran down his face from under a green bandana tied round his forehead.
The desert sun turns the vehicle into an oven on tracks.
"We get used to it," he said, as Marines attempted to find comfortable sitting positions around him.
Some sat slumped between their comrades' legs on the floor, others squeezed into an almost fetal position at the sides, or squatted on wooden crates of ammunition.
Marines say the machines -- from the AAV-7A1 family of vehicles, many built in the mid-1980s -- can be extremely uncomfortable -- but it's better than walking into battle.
"We've got 19 guys crammed into a space meant for 10," said Sergeant Brian Mayhew, 23, cooling himself by a hatch on the roof. "People get upset living in a motor home, we've got guys sleeping on guys, sleeping on guys, sleeping on gear," he said.
"BATTLE TAXI"
The AAVs have seen action at various engagements in Iraq, serving as a "battle taxi" to deliver front-line units to their objectives. Gunners provide supporting fire from a MK-19 40 mm grenade launcher and .50 caliber machine-gun mounted in the turret.
While some have broken down -- one spurting a fountain of water and oil that burst out of the engine -- Marines say they have proved pretty reliable.
"I took a bet that by the time we got to Baghdad, we'd have seven left, but we've got 11 in front of us, that's four more than I thought," said Gunnery Sergeant Mark Woodward.
STIFLING
In the interior of the AAV, air was getting scarce.
A Marine smoked, filling the hold with fumes. He tapped the ash into an upturned helmet. Another Marine in the half-light of the hold pushed a magazine into his M-16 rifle with the palm of his hand, a reassuring "click" showing it was fitted correctly.
Next to him, a machine-gunner ripped open a packet of chocolate cocoa powder from his rations, ate the contents then swigged down water -- effectively mixing the drink in his stomach.
As the machine roared into life, the volume lifted again -- a combination of pneumatic drill, the vibration of a rickety old cargo plane, and a low sound like creaking ships' timbers.
Conversation was possible only by shouting in the ear of the next person -- a task complicated by the combat helmets worn by soldiers that tend to clunk into one another if they lean too close.
The passengers don't get much of a view. The interior of the track feels more like the compartment of a submarine, complete with pipes for pumping out seawater that splashes in when the vehicle makes a sea borne assault.
Almost unbelievably, the 20 ton monster floats.
Wedged in the back, Private First Class Arron Brown, 23, cradling a machine-gun between his knees, asked a first time passenger: "Are you nervous at all?"
Then, suddenly -- a shout from above: "Gas! Gas! Gas!"
Marines scrambled to untangle themselves, ripping open the Velcro holding down the flaps of the bags strapped to their left hips, then pulling on their masks in seconds.
For a few moments, nobody spoke. Marines who had been individuals seconds earlier were suddenly rendered identical by the lenses and black rubber of the masks.
Brown twisted his face to his left. It was impossible to see the expression -- but it was presumably one of relief.
Mattox, a pigeon confined in a wire cage in the back of the vehicle to serve as a warning against chemical attack, was still strutting and preening as usual.
One in the news last week was named "Desert Caddy".
He didn't often speak of the war, but he had a few stories to tell one day after he'd had a few drinks.
One was his procurement of a motorcycle that he then used to carry messages among units. Anything to keep moving and his mind off the war
He told of how the army had built a pontoon bridge across a raging, rain swollen river, and the need to get a courier pack across the river.
The bridge was certain to break, and the CO refused permission for anyone to cross.
Stormy would have none of it. He hopped on his motorcycle and raced down the ravine, men on both sides cheering...
He rode out onto the bridge and shot across-- and the bridge gave way, sending him and the motorcycle into the raging river...
He was swept downstream and badly injured and it took him more than a day to show up on the other side, with the pack.
His greatest regret?
He lost the motorcycle...
Sometime I'll remind you about the bazooka he tied to the wing of the Cessna when they were trying to clear elephants off an island landing strip... cleared the elephants... blew the wing off the Cessna...
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