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August 31, 2007

Marines’ slogan nominated one of the best in 2007: "The Few, The Proud, The Marines"

U.S. MARINE CORPS BASE, CAMP H.M. SMITH, Hawaii (Aug. 31, 2007) -- The Marine Corps is known for its fighting prowess, but how does it stand up in the world of product recognition?

http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/mcn2000.nsf/main5/580947D27D77F94C85257348007EC923?opendocument

Aug. 31, 2007; Submitted on: 08/31/2007 07:04:50 PM ; Story ID#: 200783119450
By Cpl. R. Drew Hendricks, Marine Forces Pacific

Yahoo Inc., in partnership with USA Today, is holding an online poll to choose the next addition to the Madison Avenue Advertising Walk of Fame.

The vote is part of Advertising Week 2007, the largest annual gathering of advertising and media decision-makers in North America.

Beside famous slogans like Nike’s “Just Do It,” and Taco Bell’s “Think Outside the Bun,” is a slogan that has characterized the Marine Corps for more than 20 years.

“The Few, The Proud, The Marines,” has been nominated as one of the 26 best slogans in the 2007 competition.

The winning slogans will be etched on a plaque and set alongside other time-honored slogans on Madison Avenue, between 49th and 50th Streets in New York City.
The winner will be announced on the Net Sept. 26.

On the Net: Advertising Week 2007
http://advertising.yahoo.com/advertisingweek_07/slogan_poll.html


Ramadi: A Tale of Two Cities

This is the first of two on-the-scene reports by VFW magazine senior editor Tim Dyhouse, who was in Iraq this past April. This was his third trip to the war zone.


http://www.vfw.org/index.cfm?fa=news.magDtl&dtl=1&mid=4160

Standing in a dusty plywood barracks at Camp Ramadi in April 2007, Marine Cpl. Thomas Nowicki tells a visitor why his buddies named a street after him. It was the site, he said, where he was badly wounded 2? years ago.

“Tommy Gun Street,” said the 22-year-old married father of one, located some two miles away in downtown Ramadi, was a hazardous place back then. But much like the city itself, he adds, it’s changed significantly.

The last time his Marine unit—2nd Bn., 5th Marines, 1st Marine Div.—had deployed to Ramadi, from September 2004 to March 2005, the city, capital of Iraq’s Sunni-dominated Anbar province, was known as the most dangerous place in Iraq. But as of mid-April 2007, only a few weeks into a seven-month tour, Nowicki, from Midlothian, Ill., said his unit had been involved in only two small-arms skirmishes.

The threat of daily firefights, constant mortar attacks and roadside bomb explosions has largely disappeared for the time being, he said. But as Nowicki and the other 2/5 Marines, about half of whom are veterans of the battalion’s first Ramadi tour, trained for the current deployment, they prepared for the worst. Their combat experiences the first time taught them that.

Nowicki’s memories are still fresh. He clearly remembers Dec. 3, 2004, the day he was wounded, shot down in the street—really more of an alleyway, he concedes—that bears his name. He adds that he killed the insurgent machine-gunner who tried to kill him.

As part of an eight-man foot patrol scouting for sniper positions about 6 a.m. that day, Nowicki described the morning as “uneventful.” The Marines were searching, he says, for a tall building with good sight lines of Ramadi’s streets in which to hide their four-man sniper team.

Suddenly, muzzle flashes grabbed his attention.

“I was the seventh man in our group,” he said. “We started taking heavy machine-gun fire from a two-story building. Then a car rounded a corner with about four insurgents firing AK-47s at us. They had us in a classic L-shaped ambush.”

Nowicki remembers glancing over his left shoulder precisely as a machine-gun round ripped completely through his left arm. The shot knocked his A-4 rifle from his hand, leaving him sprawled in the alley as subsequent rounds slammed into the wall behind him, the ricochets tearing holes into both his calves, his hip and his thigh.

“Sgt. Anderson [the Marine directly behind Nowicki] lit up the car with more than 100 rounds from his SAW (squad automatic weapon) and it took off,” Nowicki recalled. “The guy who was working me over must have thought he killed me because he changed his fire toward Anderson after I got knocked down. I switched to burst on my A-4 and took him out.”

Nowicki said his squad killed at least five insurgents that day. After the firefight, he remembers Anderson, who emerged unscathed, taking off his neck gaiter (cloth cover) and discovering a gunshot hole in it.

“He turned white as a ghost,” Nowicki said with a slight smile.

‘Welcome to Ramadi’

2/5 Marines recall that daily firefights were the norm when they arrived in September 2004.

“October got better,” recalled Nowicki, who now serves with HQ Plt., E Co., “but things got crazy again for five or six days in November when the fighting was heavy in Fallujah. Then it quieted down. The December firefight I was in and another one a couple weeks later were the last big ones of the initial deployment.”

The battalion lost 15 KIA during that tour of duty. After a month into their current tour, which began around April 1 for most of the battalion, only a handful of the Marines had experienced contact with the enemy.

“I haven’t fired a round since I’ve been here,” said Cpl. Aaron Autler of 2nd Plt., E Co. “By this time on our last tour, I think we already had four Marines killed.”

The battalion’s first KIA on the initial deployment, Pfc. Jason Poindexter, a 20-year-old Marine from San Angelo, Texas, never even got a chance to put his boots on the ground in the city.

On Sept. 12, 2004, as he was riding in a seven-ton truck in a convoy into the city from Camp Ramadi for the first time, a car bomb exploded next to his vehicle. Shrapnel from the blast hit Poindexter in the head, killing him instantly.

“We had only been operational for three days,” said Staff Sgt. Juan Carlos Guzman of 2nd Plt., E Co. “It led to a 2?-hour firefight. Every time we thought it was over they would come back at us.”

As attrition began to cleave 2/5’s ranks, new Marines joined the battalion to replace those who had been killed or sent home wounded. Staff Sgt. Stacey Judge, currently with 4th Plt., E Co., was one such replacement, joining the battalion in January 2005. He described arriving in the war zone as an “eye-opening” experience.

“These guys were a family and had lost buddies,” Judge recalled. “I had seen coverage of the war on TV like everybody else, but as a Marine I knew that it could be me there. I remember one day after I got here I was in the middle of the street and it hit me, ‘I’m in Ramadi.’ Right then I saw a flash on top of a building about 75 yards away. It was an RPG [rocket-propelled grenade] that had been fired at an Army Psyops vehicle not too far from where I was standing. I remember thinking, ‘Welcome to Ramadi.’ I learned a lot from that.”

Nearly all of 2/5’s veterans of the initial deployment have stories of losing a friend. Cpl. Matthew Weisler, a 22-year-old husband and father from East Jordan, Mich., who serves with HQ Plt., F Co., remembers a buddy taking “three rounds to the neck standing about 10 feet away from me. The last time here, I shot off more rounds in a week than I probably will this whole deployment.”

Cpl. Michael Gonzalez of 3rd Plt., F Co., said he engaged in some 15 to 20 firefights in 2004-05, and “lost a couple friends.” But, like Weisler, he hadn’t fired his weapon through the first month of the current deployment.

Sgt. Alejandro Tejeda of H&S Company recalled that the last Marine killed on the first deployment, Lance Cpl. Richard Clifton, 19, of Milford, Del., died in a Feb. 3, 2005, mortar attack while “inside the wire,” or within the relative safety of Camp Ramadi, which Marines called “Junction City” back then.

Autler says the first time he left the wire in 2004, a good friend of his was killed: “The last time I fired enough rounds to last a lifetime. It’s crazy how much you appreciate the value of life after you’ve been here.”

More than 100 men in the battalion were wounded during the 2004-05 tour, and many, like Nowicki, chose to extend their Marine contracts when they found out earlier this year that the battalion was returning for another seven-month deployment.

“We’re all real close,” Nowicki explained. “We’re like a family. We all joined to fight in Iraq. We got the opportunity to come back to a city that we viewed as a success when we left in 2005. By then, we believed we had control of it.”

Controlling Ramadi, though, has proven elusive over the last four years. Fighting flared again on June 18, 2006, when the Army’s 1st Brigade, 1st Armored Division (along with elements of the 8th Marines and 101st Airborne Division) mounted an offensive to drive jihadists out of the city.

It came at a steep cost. During a typical week last summer, a third to half of all U.S. combat deaths in Iraq occurred in Ramadi. According to statistics compiled by the independent, nonprofit Web site iCasualties.org, from June 18 to Dec. 31, 2006, 136 Marines, 63 soldiers and 11 sailors were killed in either Anbar province or in Ramadi itself.

‘People are Just Tired of the Fighting’

Now on their third tour in Iraq (the battalion also participated in the March 2003 invasion, where it fought through Baghdad and onto Samawah before coming home), 2/5 Marines say insurgents in Ramadi are keeping a low profile for now.

“We’ve faced the guys who want to fight, and we’ve defeated them,” battalion commander Lt. Col. Craig Kozeniesky said. “My Marines are seeing the results of their hard work for the first time.”

The battalion’s staff officers attribute the more peaceful Ramadi to two main changes: more Marines living in and patrolling downtown, and more cooperation from the citizens.

“The enemy had never seen 800 dismounted Marines in the city before,” said Capt. Jeff O’Donnell, the battalion’s operations officer. “The locals see our presence full time now. They’re more willing to talk to us. They feel safer.”

O’Donnell says the insurgents’ four-year murder and intimidation campaign, which killed “hundreds of people, including old ladies and children,” has backfired. Marines living downtown at the battalion’s eight outposts agree.

“The people are just tired of the fighting,” said Capt. Ian Brooks, commanding officer of Fox Company. “They’re so tired of it they’re willing to help us help them. More life has come back here in the last month than in the last four years.”

Brooks, as part of the battalion’s command element, arrived in early March 2007 for the current deployment. Soon after, he was wounded in an ambush downtown some “200 meters outside friendly lines.”
By the middle of April, while traveling in a convoy near Ramadi’s infamous Government Center, which houses the city’s and Anbar’s provincial governments and had been a favorite target of enemy snipers, he said the change was dramatic.

“You couldn’t do this a month ago,” he said. “You’d get shot at.”

Statistics provided by the Army’s 1st Brigade, 3rd Infantry Division, which controls U.S. operations in Ramadi, bear this out. They showed that weekly attacks on U.S. forces had dropped from 136 at the end of January 2007 to 21 at the beginning of April 2007.

During the height of fighting in the city last summer, some 334 IED (improvised explosive device, or roadside bomb) attacks occurred during the month of July. By March 2007, that number had dropped to 67. Monthly mortar attacks during the same period dropped from 129 to 31. At the same time, the number of weapons caches found increased from 11 in July 2006 to 60 in March 2007.

‘You Appreciate the Value of Life’

It’s a trend VFW magazine witnessed firsthand while accompanying 2/5 units in Ramadi earlier this year. On April 15, the battalion participated in Operation Kangaroo to drive insurgents out of southern Ramadi. The large operation included U.S. Army, Marine and Navy units, along with Iraqi army soldiers and policemen, working at various points in and around the city.

For its part, 2/5’s Echo Company, led by Capt. William Weber, cleared a peninsula on Lake Habbinayah southeast of the city. Inserted by CH-46 helicopters, Echo Company fanned out on the peninsula searching for enemy combatants and weapons caches in the town of al Angur, known to be a safe haven for terrorists.

During a previous tour, Army units working the area had apprehended about 50 insurgents—including the bodyguard of the “No. 3 bad guy in Anbar,” according to Marines. But for Echo Company, Operation Kangaroo passed with no firefights, no IED attacks and no significant contact with the enemy.

The biggest news of the day for Capt. Weber and his Marines was the confiscation of a relatively small weapons cache, a small amount of U.S. and Iraqi money and apprehension of the two “military-aged” males at one house, with the younger of the two testing positive for gunpowder residue on his hands.

Echo Company’s part of the operation, expected to last about 18 hours, was wrapped up in about 12. Several Marines were convinced the locals had been tipped off about the upcoming operation and any “high-value individuals” had moved on.

Overall, for Echo Company the operation became more of a goodwill tour than a combat mission. The Marines set up a supply point in the town that distributed food, water and toys to local residents.

As the Marines waited for helicopters to extract them from the peninsula, a Navy corpsman treated a little boy’s infected foot, while Capt. Weber traded two apples to the boy’s mother for some of her homemade bread. It was quite a change for those Marines who had been to Ramadi in 2004-05, some of whom believe the current calm is only a temporary lull.

“The enemy has to try something dramatic to regain their credibility with the locals,” Capt. Brooks said.

In the meantime, 2/5 Marines will rely on training that has taught them “when to fight, but also when not to fight,” according to battalion executive officer Maj. Daniel Healey.

“We have exceptionally talented Marines, from sergeants on down,” he said. “They’ve been able to adapt to a different Ramadi.”

E-mail tdyhouse@vfw.org

Part II: 2/5 Marines conduct raids, patrols and humanitarian missions from outposts in downtown Ramadi. Also, some of the battalion’s Marines explain why they joined the Corps.

Sidebar: 1st Marine Division Traces History Back 96 Years

The 1st Marine Division—the oldest, largest and most decorated division in Marine Corps history—traces its roots back to March 8, 1911. That’s when its 1st Marine Regiment was formed at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.

Another of its regiments, the 5th Marines, was created in 1914 and participated in 15 major engagements in WWI, including Belleau Wood, Chateau and St. Mihiel. During the war, the 5th and 6th Marine regiments formed the 4th Brigade, which lost 2,461 killed and 9,520 wounded.

“The Old Breed,” as the division is known, was formally established aboard the battleship USS Texas on Feb. 1, 1941. Some 18 months later during the first major U.S. offensive of WWII, the division participated in the Battle of Guadalcanal, earning its first of three (also awarded for action on Peleliu and Okinawa) Presidential Unit Citations (PUCs) of the war.

During WWII, the 1st Marine Division sustained the most combat deaths of any U.S. Army or Marine division in the Pacific Theater with 3,470 KIA and 14,438 WIA.

The division landed at Inchon on Sept. 15, 1950, earning another PUC, its first of three for the Korean War. The second was for its “attack in the opposite direction” as it fought its way out of the Chosin Reservoir area. Battles from April to September 1951 earned the 1st Marine Division its third PUC of the war and sixth overall. Total division casualties during the Korean War were 4,004 KIA and 25,864 WIA.

In 1965, the division’s 7th Marines participated in the first major U.S. ground operation in Vietnam. In 1966, the division established its headquarters first at Chu Lai and later at Da Nang, conducting 44 operations in I Corps from October 1966 to May 1967, which earned the division its seventh PUC. Its eighth PUC was awarded for battles between Sept. 16, 1967 and Oct. 31, 1968. From 1965 to 1969, the 1st Marine Division sustained more than 6,000 KIA, nearly half of all Marine fatalities in Vietnam.

In 1990, the 1st Marine Division defended Saudi Arabia in Operation Desert Shield and participated in 100 hours of combat between Feb. 24-27 in Kuwait during 1991’s Persian Gulf War. Eight of the division’s Marines were killed in the war.

From December 1992 to April 27, 1993, battalions from the division’s 7th and 11th (Artillery) regiments deployed to Somalia in Operation Restore Hope. Two Marines were KIA and nine WIA, along with one Navy corpsman killed during the division’s participation.

The division earned its ninth PUC for its part in the invasion of Iraq in March 2003, conducting the deepest penetrating ground operation in Marine Corps history. It redeployed to Iraq in February 2004 and again in 2006. As of May 26, 2007, the 1st Marine Division had sustained 341 deaths in Iraq.

Since WWI, 87 “Old Breed” vets have beenStory and photos by Tim Dyhouse

This is the first of two on-the-scene reports by VFW magazine senior editor Tim Dyhouse, who was in Iraq this past April. This was his third trip to the war zone.

Standing in a dusty plywood barracks at Camp Ramadi in April 2007, Marine Cpl. Thomas Nowicki tells a visitor why his buddies named a street after him. It was the site, he said, where he was badly wounded 2? years ago.

“Tommy Gun Street,” said the 22-year-old married father of one, located some two miles away in downtown Ramadi, was a hazardous place back then. But much like the city itself, he adds, it’s changed significantly.

The last time his Marine unit—2nd Bn., 5th Marines, 1st Marine Div.—had deployed to Ramadi, from September 2004 to March 2005, the city, capital of Iraq’s Sunni-dominated Anbar province, was known as the most dangerous place in Iraq. But as of mid-April 2007, only a few weeks into a seven-month tour, Nowicki, from Midlothian, Ill., said his unit had been involved in only two small-arms skirmishes.

The threat of daily firefights, constant mortar attacks and roadside bomb explosions has largely disappeared for the time being, he said. But as Nowicki and the other 2/5 Marines, about half of whom are veterans of the battalion’s first Ramadi tour, trained for the current deployment, they prepared for the worst. Their combat experiences the first time taught them that.

Nowicki’s memories are still fresh. He clearly remembers Dec. 3, 2004, the day he was wounded, shot down in the street—really more of an alleyway, he concedes—that bears his name. He adds that he killed the insurgent machine-
gunner who tried to kill him.

As part of an eight-man foot patrol scouting for sniper positions about 6 a.m. that day, Nowicki described the morning as “uneventful.” The Marines were searching, he says, for a tall building with good sight lines of Ramadi’s streets in which to hide their four-man sniper team.

Suddenly, muzzle flashes grabbed his attention.

“I was the seventh man in our group,” he said. “We started taking heavy machine-gun fire from a two-story building. Then a car rounded a corner with about four insurgents firing AK-47s at us. They had us in a classic L-shaped ambush.”

Nowicki remembers glancing over his left shoulder precisely as a machine-gun round ripped completely through his left arm. The shot knocked his A-4 rifle from his hand, leaving him sprawled in the alley as subsequent rounds slammed into the wall behind him, the ricochets tearing holes into both his calves, his hip and his thigh.

“Sgt. Anderson [the Marine directly behind Nowicki] lit up the car with more than 100 rounds from his SAW (squad automatic weapon) and it took off,” Nowicki recalled. “The guy who was working me over must have thought he killed me because he changed his fire toward Anderson after I got knocked down. I switched to burst on my A-4 and took him out.”

Nowicki said his squad killed at least five insurgents that day. After the firefight, he remembers Anderson, who emerged unscathed, taking off his neck gaiter (cloth cover) and discovering a gunshot hole in it.

“He turned white as a ghost,” Nowicki said with a slight smile.

‘Welcome to Ramadi’

2/5 Marines recall that daily firefights were the norm when they arrived in September 2004.

“October got better,” recalled Nowicki, who now serves with HQ Plt., E Co., “but things got crazy again for five or six days in November when the fighting was heavy in Fallujah. Then it quieted down. The December firefight I was in and another one a couple weeks later were the last big ones of the initial deployment.”

The battalion lost 15 KIA during that tour of duty. After a month into their current tour, which began around April 1 for most of the battalion, only a handful of the Marines had experienced contact with the enemy.

“I haven’t fired a round since I’ve been here,” said Cpl. Aaron Autler of 2nd Plt., E Co. “By this time on our last tour, I think we already had four Marines killed.”

The battalion’s first KIA on the initial deployment, Pfc. Jason Poindexter, a 20-year-old Marine from San Angelo, Texas, never even got a chance to put his boots on the ground in the city.

On Sept. 12, 2004, as he was riding in a seven-ton truck in a convoy into the city from Camp Ramadi for the first time, a car bomb exploded next to his vehicle. Shrapnel from the blast hit Poindexter in the head, killing him instantly.

“We had only been operational for three days,” said Staff Sgt. Juan Carlos Guzman of 2nd Plt., E Co. “It led to a 2?-hour firefight. Every time we thought it was over they would come back at us.”

As attrition began to cleave 2/5’s ranks, new Marines joined the battalion to replace those who had been killed or sent home wounded. Staff Sgt. Stacey Judge, currently with 4th Plt., E Co., was one such replacement, joining the battalion in January 2005. He described arriving in the war zone as an “eye-opening” experience.

“These guys were a family and had lost buddies,” Judge recalled. “I had seen coverage of the war on TV like everybody else, but as a Marine I knew that it could be me there. I remember one day after I got here I was in the middle of the street and it hit me, ‘I’m in Ramadi.’ Right then I saw a flash on top of a building about 75 yards away. It was an RPG [rocket-propelled grenade] that had been fired at an Army Psyops vehicle not too far from where I was standing. I remember thinking, ‘Welcome to Ramadi.’ I learned a lot from that.”

Nearly all of 2/5’s veterans of the initial deployment have stories of losing a friend. Cpl. Matthew Weisler, a 22-year-old husband and father from East Jordan, Mich., who serves with HQ Plt., F Co., remembers a buddy taking “three rounds to the neck standing about 10 feet away from me. The last time here, I shot off more rounds in a week than I probably will this whole deployment.”

Cpl. Michael Gonzalez of 3rd Plt., F Co., said he engaged in some 15 to 20 firefights in 2004-05, and “lost a couple friends.” But, like Weisler, he hadn’t fired his weapon through the first month of the current deployment.

Sgt. Alejandro Tejeda of H&S Company recalled that the last Marine killed on the first deployment, Lance Cpl. Richard Clifton, 19, of Milford, Del., died in a Feb. 3, 2005, mortar attack while “inside the wire,” or within the relative safety of Camp Ramadi, which Marines called “Junction City” back then.

Autler says the first time he left the wire in 2004, a good friend of his was killed: “The last time I fired enough rounds to last a lifetime. It’s crazy how much you appreciate the value of life after you’ve been here.”

More than 100 men in the battalion were wounded during the 2004-05 tour, and many, like Nowicki, chose to extend their Marine contracts when they found out earlier this year that the battalion was returning for another seven-month deployment.

“We’re all real close,” Nowicki explained. “We’re like a family. We all joined to fight in Iraq. We got the opportunity to come back to a city that we viewed as a success when we left in 2005. By then, we believed we had control of it.”

Controlling Ramadi, though, has proven elusive over the last four years. Fighting flared again on June 18, 2006, when the Army’s 1st Brigade, 1st Armored Division (along with elements of the 8th Marines and 101st Airborne Division) mounted an offensive to drive jihadists out of the city.

It came at a steep cost. During a typical week last summer, a third to half of all U.S. combat deaths in Iraq occurred in Ramadi. According to statistics compiled by the independent, nonprofit Web site iCasualties.org, from June 18 to Dec. 31, 2006, 136 Marines, 63 soldiers and 11 sailors were killed in either Anbar province or in Ramadi itself.

‘People are Just Tired of the Fighting’

Now on their third tour in Iraq (the battalion also participated in the March 2003 invasion, where it fought through Baghdad and onto Samawah before coming home), 2/5 Marines say insurgents in Ramadi are keeping a low profile for now.

“We’ve faced the guys who want to fight, and we’ve defeated them,” battalion commander Lt. Col. Craig Kozeniesky said. “My Marines are seeing the results of their hard work for the first time.”

The battalion’s staff officers attribute the more peaceful Ramadi to two main changes: more Marines living in and patrolling downtown, and more cooperation from the citizens.

“The enemy had never seen 800 dismounted Marines in the city before,” said Capt. Jeff O’Donnell, the battalion’s operations officer. “The locals see our presence full time now. They’re more willing to talk to us. They feel safer.”

O’Donnell says the insurgents’ four-year murder and intimidation campaign, which killed “hundreds of people, including old ladies and children,” has backfired. Marines living downtown at the battalion’s eight outposts agree.

“The people are just tired of the fighting,” said Capt. Ian Brooks, commanding officer of Fox Company. “They’re so tired of it they’re willing to help us help them. More life has come back here in the last month than in the last four years.”

Brooks, as part of the battalion’s command element, arrived in early March 2007 for the current deployment. Soon after, he was wounded in an ambush downtown some “200 meters outside friendly lines.”
By the middle of April, while traveling in a convoy near Ramadi’s infamous Government Center, which houses the city’s and Anbar’s provincial governments and had been a favorite target of enemy snipers, he said the change was dramatic.

“You couldn’t do this a month ago,” he said. “You’d get shot at.”

Statistics provided by the Army’s 1st Brigade, 3rd Infantry Division, which controls U.S. operations in Ramadi, bear this out. They showed that weekly attacks on U.S. forces had dropped from 136 at the end of January 2007 to 21 at the beginning of April 2007.

During the height of fighting in the city last summer, some 334 IED (improvised explosive device, or roadside bomb) attacks occurred during the month of July. By March 2007, that number had dropped to 67. Monthly mortar attacks during the same period dropped from 129 to 31. At the same time, the number of weapons caches found increased from 11 in July 2006 to 60 in March 2007.

‘You Appreciate the Value of Life’

It’s a trend VFW magazine witnessed firsthand while accompanying 2/5 units in Ramadi earlier this year. On April 15, the battalion participated in Operation Kangaroo to drive insurgents out of southern Ramadi. The large operation included U.S. Army, Marine and Navy units, along with Iraqi army soldiers and policemen, working at various points in and around the city.

For its part, 2/5’s Echo Company, led by Capt. William Weber, cleared a peninsula on Lake Habbinayah southeast of the city. Inserted by CH-46 helicopters, Echo Company fanned out on the peninsula searching for enemy combatants and weapons caches in the town of al Angur, known to be a safe haven for terrorists.

During a previous tour, Army units working the area had apprehended about 50 insurgents—including the bodyguard of the “No. 3 bad guy in Anbar,” according to Marines. But for Echo Company, Operation Kangaroo passed with no firefights, no IED attacks and no significant contact with the enemy.

The biggest news of the day for Capt. Weber and his Marines was the confiscation of a relatively small weapons cache, a small amount of U.S. and Iraqi money and apprehension of the two “military-aged” males at one house, with the younger of the two testing positive for gunpowder residue on his hands.

Echo Company’s part of the operation, expected to last about 18 hours, was wrapped up in about 12. Several Marines were convinced the locals had been tipped off about the upcoming operation and any “high-value individuals” had moved on.

Overall, for Echo Company the operation became more of a goodwill tour than a combat mission. The Marines set up a supply point in the town that distributed food, water and toys to local residents.

As the Marines waited for helicopters to extract them from the peninsula, a Navy corpsman treated a little boy’s infected foot, while Capt. Weber traded two apples to the boy’s mother for some of her homemade bread. It was quite a change for those Marines who had been to Ramadi in 2004-05, some of whom believe the current calm is only a temporary lull.

“The enemy has to try something dramatic to regain their credibility with the locals,” Capt. Brooks said.

In the meantime, 2/5 Marines will rely on training that has taught them “when to fight, but also when not to fight,” according to battalion executive officer Maj. Daniel Healey.

“We have exceptionally talented Marines, from sergeants on down,” he said. “They’ve been able to adapt to a different Ramadi.”

E-mail tdyhouse@vfw.org

Part II: 2/5 Marines conduct raids, patrols and humanitarian missions from outposts in downtown Ramadi. Also, some of the battalion’s Marines explain why they joined the Corps.

Sidebar: 1st Marine Division Traces History Back 96 Years

The 1st Marine Division—the oldest, largest and most decorated division in Marine Corps history—traces its roots back to March 8, 1911. That’s when its 1st Marine Regiment was formed at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.

Another of its regiments, the 5th Marines, was created in 1914 and participated in 15 major engagements in WWI, including Belleau Wood, Chateau and St. Mihiel. During the war, the 5th and 6th Marine regiments formed the 4th Brigade, which lost 2,461 killed and 9,520 wounded.

“The Old Breed,” as the division is known, was formally established aboard the battleship USS Texas on Feb. 1, 1941. Some 18 months later during the first major U.S. offensive of WWII, the division participated in the Battle of Guadalcanal, earning its first of three (also awarded for action on Peleliu and Okinawa) Presidential Unit Citations (PUCs) of the war.

During WWII, the 1st Marine Division sustained the most combat deaths of any U.S. Army or Marine division in the Pacific Theater with 3,470 KIA and 14,438 WIA.

The division landed at Inchon on Sept. 15, 1950, earning another PUC, its first of three for the Korean War. The second was for its “attack in the opposite direction” as it fought its way out of the Chosin Reservoir area. Battles from April to September 1951 earned the 1st Marine Division its third PUC of the war and sixth overall. Total division casualties during the Korean War were 4,004 KIA and 25,864 WIA.

In 1965, the division’s 7th Marines participated in the first major U.S. ground operation in Vietnam. In 1966, the division established its headquarters first at Chu Lai and later at Da Nang, conducting 44 operations in I Corps from October 1966 to May 1967, which earned the division its seventh PUC. Its eighth PUC was awarded for battles between Sept. 16, 1967 and Oct. 31, 1968. From 1965 to 1969, the 1st Marine Division sustained more than 6,000 KIA, nearly half of all Marine fatalities in Vietnam.

In 1990, the 1st Marine Division defended Saudi Arabia in Operation Desert Shield and participated in 100 hours of combat between Feb. 24-27 in Kuwait during 1991’s Persian Gulf War. Eight of the division’s Marines were killed in the war.

From December 1992 to April 27, 1993, battalions from the division’s 7th and 11th (Artillery) regiments deployed to Somalia in Operation Restore Hope. Two Marines were KIA and nine WIA, along with one Navy corpsman killed during the division’s participation.

The division earned its ninth PUC for its part in the invasion of Iraq in March 2003, conducting the deepest penetrating ground operation in Marine Corps history. It redeployed to Iraq in February 2004 and again in 2006. As of May 26, 2007, the 1st Marine Division had sustained 341 deaths in Iraq.

Since WWI, 87 “Old Breed” vets have been awarded the Medal of Honor, the last in Iraq.

August 30, 2007

Mojave Viper still stings

MARINE CORPS AIR GROUND COMBAT CENTER 29 PALMS, Calif. (Aug. 30, 2007) -- August 22 was an early day for Company I as they prepared for war during the final part of the Mojave Viper Training at Twentynine Palms.

http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/mcn2000.nsf/main5/4C7080837372B016852573470071DB4D?opendocument

Aug. 30, 2007; Submitted on: 08/30/2007 04:43:37 PM ; Story ID#: 2007830164337
By Pfc. Paul Torres, MCB Camp Pendleton

The training they received the previous day included classes and practical application of setting blocking positions, reaction to sniper fire, executing a cordon and search, site exploitation and reacting to an improvised explosive device.
Each squad ran a cordon-and-knock drill in the mock Iraqi town.

“Running the drills helps us refine our immediate action,” said Cpl Sergio Zacarias Jr., a rifleman with Company I, 3rd Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division.

The most dangerous threat in Iraq right now is IEDs and snipers, said Zacarias, 22 from Los Angeles.
Upon discovering a roadside IED, Sgt. James A. Whitwan, who was in charge of setting up the outer cordon blocking, called Explosive Ordnance Disposal.

Company I also began to take sniper fire from the second story of a building, said Whitwan, a squad leader with Company I.

They then had to locate and suppress the insurgent, said Whitwan, 25, from Eauclair, Wyo.

“Our objective was to block off the cordon and gather intel,” said Whitwan.

“I don’t like being in the house longer than 30 minutes,” said Whitwan. "But if I am getting good information, I will stay longer."

“We always search the entire house,” said Zacarias, who has deployed twice with Company I.

Performing a search gives them the location of the entry and exit points of the house.

“In case there is a high-valued individual or a high-valued target inside we can come back and we know the layout,” said Cpl. Raymond A. Smith, 23, from Granite City, Ill., a rifleman with Company I.

The most important thing is remembering to be friendly, but being prepared to kill, said Cpl. Brandon A. Koch, a mortarman with Company I.

“No greater friend, no worse enemy,” said Koch, 24, Potosi, Mo.
“We don’t want to stay too long, because it could endanger the Marines and the family who lives at the house,” Whitwan said.

If there happens to be a high valued individual in the house and Marines want to come back, doing a cordon and knock will provide intel.

“The training is helpful, it gives the new Marines an introduction to what they will experience in country,” said Sgt. Lamont R. Finney, 25, St Louis, a squad leader with Company I.

The simulated improvised explosive devices and the role players will never compare to the real Iraq, but at least it is a good start, Finney said.

Prior to doing the Mojave Viper training, Company I has also completed training at Stu Segal Studios, which focused more on squad based maneuvers, Finney said.

Between Stu Segal Studios and Mojave Viper, these Marines are now better trained for Iraq.

August 29, 2007

Loved ones remember Marine who died in Iraq. Ramirez, 21, attended Pasadena schools

PASADENA - As a child growing up in Oceanside, Rogelio Ramirez idolized the Marines he saw so often at nearby Camp Pendleton. He longed to be one of them, his father, Jose Ramirez, of Pasadena, said Tuesday.

http://www.pasadenastarnews.com/news/ci_6746349

By Emanuel Parker Staff Writer

Article Launched: 08/29/2007

"I thought he'd grow out of it, but he didn't. He watched the Marines, saw how they lived, saw them work as a team."

But before he could realize that dream, Rogelio had to work past his own demons. Short in stature at 5 feet 5 inches tall, he felt picked on at school because of his size, said his sister, Tina Cordero. As his self-esteem sank, Rogelio lost interest in education, dropped out of Pasadena High School and felt unappreciated.

"It was in his head," she said. "He had some personal issues,

some dark moments and times. We always saw the potential in him, but he didn't." With rekindled determination, however, Ramirez in his late teens tried again to realize his dream of becoming a Marine, his family said.

But before the Corps would accept him, they told Ramirez he had to go back to school and earn his diploma, complete some college credits, clear up some truancy issues and cover over some tattoos, Cordero said.

Ramirez fulfilled all those requirements, she added.

"He was able to climb from that dark place to an honorable place," she said.

A year ago, Ramirez joined the Marines and later was sent to Iraq. He was there just five weeks when his Humvee hit an improvised explosive device.

On Sunday, U.S. Marine Pfc. Rogelio Ramirez was killed in Iraq. As of Monday, at least 3,731 members of the U.S. military have died since the beginning of the Iraq war in March 2003, according to an Associated Press count.

The 21-year-old Ramirez left behind his immediate family, a girlfriend who is three months' pregnant with his child, and plans to buy a home, raise a family and get into real estate after returning home to Pasadena from his stint in the Marines, his relatives said.

His mother said the family plans to bury the young serviceman at Mountain View Cemetery & Mortuary in Altadena. Funeral plans are pending.

Knowing her son died doing what he wanted to do brings comfort to his family, his mother said.

"He was in the infantry, a gunner," said Irene "Binky" Ramirez. "He wanted to be the first one in. He said, `If I go, I don't want to be the handle on the sword, I want to be the tip of the sword."'

"He wanted to be an American hero," Cordero said. "He was short, but everybody looked up to him. He had more heart than other guys and people liked to be around him. He was always looking to get the maximum potential out of a situation. He took pride in being a man."

Ramirez attended Wilson Middle School before going to Pasadena High.

"He was my little homie," said Carlos Martinez, who attended Pasadena High with Ramirez. "I knew him since the 10th grade. We did the same stuff together. We went through good and bad times together."

Before joining the Marines, Ramirez covered up a tattoo on his side with another, a quotation about war by John Stuart Mill. It read:

"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things ... The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself."

Eyes, brain, brawn: Anatomy of TF 1/4's indirect firepower

CAMP AL QA’IM, Iraq (Aug. 29, 2007) -- The ground shook ferociously as the 81 millimeter mortar round ripped through it, propelling debris everywhere and destroying any living thing in its area of impact. Forward observers up on a hill viewed this destructive force through their binoculars, ready to call in air support.

http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/mcn2000.nsf/main5/FFA58539049F996185257346003224C7?opendocument

Aug. 29, 2007

By Cpl. Eric C. Schwartz, 2nd Marine Division

Weapons Company, Company C, and Headquarters and Support Company, Task Force 1st Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment, Regimental Combat Team 2, proved their devastating capability of denying any offensive against Camp Al Qa’im during the Fire Support Coordination Exercise.
“It’s like the hand of God,” said Sgt. Randy L. Whitmore, a Reno, Nev., native, and forward observer field instructor with Headquarters and Support Company. “It reaches down from the heavens and brings death to the wicked.”

“Indirect fire is a combined team effort,” said Gunnery Sgt. J Boyle, an artillery operations chief with the battalion’s Mobile Assault Platoon 3, Weapons Company.

Unlike a rifle, considered an extension of a rifleman, indirect fire is a being combined of three parts.

“Forward observers are the eyes, fire-directional control is the brain, and the gun line is the brawn,” Boyle said.

As much as this mechanical life-taker destroys the enemy’s spirit and fighting force, it is also a savior to its allies.

“In battle, infantry units can use this long-range weapon to give them a bigger cushion, saving lives and keeping people out of harm’s way,” said Lance Cpl. Michael Walk, a fire-directional controller and Sierra Vista, Ariz., native, with MAP 3.

Marines who were new to calling-for-fire trained in the art of forward observation while communicating with fire-directional controllers near the gun line. The FO would use a compass to find the distance and direction for their chosen target, communicating this information to the FDC.

“This is these Marines’ first time calling for fire and they are making a good effort,” said Whitmore.

The FDC would input the direction and distance of the target into a specially designed notebook computer, which outputted data explaining air temperature, barometric pressure, air density and wind speed.

“All four of these affect the trajectory of the mortar,” Boyle said.

The computer can also find the accurate target location comparing the distance of the mortar’s location to the inputted information. This new system gives much more information to the FDC than the M16 plotting board, traditionally used by FDCs.

“You still want to check your grid with the M16 plotting board because the mortar ballistic computer is usually correct but it’s good to double-check your coordinates,” Walk said.

Mortarmen adjusted their M252 81mm mortar tubes to the FDC’s new coordinates. One Marine dropped the 81mm mortar round down the tube, crouching down below the explosive noise while another Marine simultaneously braced the bottom of the tube for a more accurate impact.

”I was really nervous the first time I dropped the mortar down the mortar tube,” said Lance Cpl. Blake Gorecki, a Minneapolis Native, and machine gunner with MAP 3. “My hands were sweating and my heart was racing.”

This long-armed creature, in theory, should work perfectly, hitting the target on precisely the same spot each time; but it is still effective even when it doesn’t hit the target, as long as it impacts near the enemy. The thunderous noise smashes easily through the sound of rifles cracking, reminding the enemy how fragile their bodies really are; if they are still alive after impact.

Police, neighborhood join forces to keep Al Qa’im’s streets safe

BATTLE POSITION TARAWA, KARABALAH, Iraq (Aug. 29, 2007) -- The success of Operations Mawtini and Combined Justice is equally weighed between the leadership of Al Qa’im’s police force, the Iraqi Army and the Marines. Behind the scenes, Iraqi Police leadership is working directly with Marines to secure the town of Karabalah from insurgency.

http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/mcn2000.nsf/main5/C6F631691D163F0A8525734600360C28?opendocument

Aug. 29, 2007

By Cpl. Eric C. Schwartz, 2nd Marine Division

“Al Qai’m District’s community policing is the best in all of Al Anbar,” said Staff Sgt. Steven Poelns, the Al Qa’im district security chief with the Police Transition Team, attached to Task Force 1st Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment, Regimental Combat Team 2.

The IPs normally patrol the area in vehicles, but this census mission requires a door-to-door-approach.

“The IPs don’t have platoons on standby like the Iraqi Army, so they have to switch their SWAT team out for this door-to-door census patrol,” said Capt. Steven Boada, a 2002 Central Connecticut State University graduate and the Al Qa’im district PTT officer-in-charge here.

The district headquarters is an old police station. Years ago, its courtyard walls were painted bright blue; but just as the past fades away, so has the wall’s coloring. The wall’s old coloring doesn’t bother the men who work at the station because they have a bright future ahead of them.

“The terrorists have hurt the people in Al Qa’im for a long time,” said Capt. Hatam, the force protection officer with DHQ and a 17-year veteran with the Iraqi police force. “Now the area is about ninety-percent safe.”

The operation is focusing on that ten percent where terrorists feel they can find a safe-haven from coalition forces. But as Marines and IPs go door-to-door, the insurgency will be pushed into the desert.

“The police have cleared houses and had gunfights in the past,” said Sgt. Dannyray Hernandez, an IP administrator and Orlando, Fl. native with PTT.

The insurgents now aren’t putting up much of a fight in the town because of the strong Marine and IP presence and the townspeople love their help.

“The town supports them because they feel protected,” Hernandez said.

Iraq’s shaky economy affects the IPs’ paychecks; there are times when money is scarce.

“Husaybah and Karabalah’s street vendors usually give the IPs food for their families on a loan until they can pay it back,” Hernandez said.

The police have a close relationship with the townspeople and this close bond keeps the town safe and the IPs fed.

The good people of the Al Qa’im district support its police force and the team effort works to stabilize the area. There has been much progress shown here by the upstanding citizens and police in the area. Its proof the transition process is working.

Viking Red trains Iraqi PSD to secure justice

CAMP GANNON, Iraq - (Aug. 29, 2007) -- It’s not news to read that politicians, famous athletes and even entertainers have bodyguards protecting them from dangerous people; but in Iraq, their judges need protection from the same people they sentence.

http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/mcn2000.nsf/main5/732154936992D98F8525734600324418?opendocument

Aug. 29, 2007

By Cpl. Eric C. Schwartz, 2nd Marine Division

This is why the Al Qa’im court system has a new personal security detachment fully trained by Marines with Viking Red Section, Mobile Assault Platoon, Regimental Combat Team 2.

“Part of setting up Iraq’s infrastructure is creating a normal working society,” said Cpl. Dustin Barlag, a Cincinnati, Ohio, native, and vehicle commander with MAP.

‘A normal working society’ protects its people by sentencing criminals in a court of law.

“As these judges are sentencing criminals, their life gets in danger more and more,” Barlag said.

If Iraq’s judicial system is to be fair but stern, the judges need to feel safe from any reprisals.

“This is why there was a PSD created for the judges,” Barlag said.

The newly-appointed PSD of Al Qa’im’s courts were eager to learn from the experienced Marines, who had trained in personnel-protection through a large security firm.

“You can tell, when you look at a class, who wants to learn and these guys really wanted to learn what we had to teach them,” Barlag said.

The Marines wanted to teach them as much as they were willing to learn, but the language barrier was hard to overcome at first.

“It’s hard to converse through an interpreter,” said Cpl. Dustin Engelken, a Wichita, Kan., native, and a squad leader with the section.

The Marines started explaining PSD tactics through examples and using hand motions, which the Iraqis quickly understood.

“They picked it up almost as fast as we did about a year ago,” Barlag said.

Iraqis watched Marines perform scenarios where their ‘principle,’ or VIP, is being targeted and the Marines had to quickly move him to safety. Once they practiced their actions slowly, the Iraqi PSD shadowed the Marines’ moves during their practical-application scenarios.

“I had them do everything slow at first but they ended up doing better than average,” said Cpl. Jose Corona, a Los Angeles native, and vehicle commander with the section.

Al Qa’im’s large residential areas meant that the training was focused on security in confined spaces such as one-way streets, houses, and arrivals and departures.

“They are now going to think to themselves, ‘Why is that car door open? Or why is that man’s arms crossed?’” Corona said.

The Iraqi PSD was hand picked from Iraqi Army units. They all knew how to shoot the AK-47 semi-automatic rifle, but most had never touched a pistol before their PSD training.

“They did well with the rifle-training because of their past experience but it took them some getting used to the pistol,” said Cpl. Adam Bailey, a Virginia Beach, Va., native, and vehicle commander with the section.

The Iraqi police use Glock pistols because their plastic bodies are inexpensive and easy to clean but the PSD needed a weapon that would hit its target every time. That weapon was the single-action Browning high-powered pistol.

“The Browning is more forgiving to everyone’s hands while the Glock will fit some people’s hands and others it won’t,” Bailey said.

The PSD was given classes on how to fix their new pistols and how to properly maintain them as well.

The three day course ended but the MAP will be training more PSD teams in the future. This PSD not only protects a person, it also protects the very foundation of the Iraqi court system: justice.

August 27, 2007

HOW MARINES PULLED FALLUJAH OUT OF HELL

FALLUJAH, Iraq - Fallujah and the Marines have some history. In 2004, one savage battle ended when the Marines were pulled out for political reasons. Later that year, they had to finish the job.

http://www.nypost.com/seven/08272007/news/columnists/how_marines_pulled_fallujah_ou.htm?page=0

Ralph Peters
August 27, 2007 --

And they did. They took down the terrorists' stronghold in a week of fury.

With a fundamentalist tradition, Fallujah seemed to fit al Qaeda perfectly. Robbed of their Saddam-era privileges and out for revenge, even secular locals had aligned with the terrorists. Despite the Marine victory, violence simmered on.

The extremists and insurgents believed they could wear America down. But between 2004 and 2007, two things happened: We wore them down - and al Qaeda wore them out.

With foreign fanatics butchering the innocent and enforcing prison-yard "Islamic laws" that far exceeded the Koran's demands, it belatedly dawned on the insurgents that, while we intended to leave eventually - on our own terms - al Qaeda meant to stay.

A wave of suicide bombings earlier this year, culminating in a massive attack on a funeral procession, made the population snap. The people of Fallujah may never love us, but they hate al Qaeda with the rage of a betrayed lover.

Since May, the change has been stunning. When the 2nd Battalion, 6th Marines were last in Fallujah, in 2006, they took casualties from snipers and roadside bombs. The city was violent, bankrupt and partly in ruins.

Now the battalion's back. And welcome. Marines banter with the locals where, six months ago, it was risky to ride in an armored vehicle.

Paradoxically, the violence of the past set the only possible conditions for the sudden reconciliation. The Iraqis had to grasp that we meant business. Now the 1st Platoon of the battalion's Fox Company lives and works in the Hadari Precinct with the Iraqi police.

The new police are recruited from vetted locals, and the policy has paid huge dividends. The locals know who doesn't fit, and they've got an immediate interest in their neighborhood's safety. Most encouragingly, the reformed police are popular.

Fallujah still isn't a place to buy retirement property, but it was encouraging to sit down with 1st Platoon's commander, 2nd Lt. Nick DeLonga, and his Iraqi counterpart, 1st Lt. Mohammed.

DeLonga joined the Marines immediately after 9/11, because "I didn't want to just sit and vote while others were dying." Now he's the sheriff of a sprawling neighborhood in a war-torn city.

FIRST Lt. Mohammed's fa ther is a sheik, giving him a brand of authority - and insight - an outsider could never attain. DeLonga has the firepower (if ever needed) and the resources, while Mohammed has the pull. It works.

We went for a stroll in the streets. The Marines still wear full combat gear: Despite security measures, a sniper might still sneak into the city. But there was no threat from the locals in the market. The worst mood the Marines encountered was aloofness. More often, they were welcomed with a polite greeting.

People are relieved that their streets are safe again. And the kids are out in regiments, surrounding the Marines in hope of candy or just a bit of attention.

For the Iraqi police lieutenant, our patrol was a triumphal procession. DeLonga let Mohammed have center stage as citizens came out to complain about lagging utilities or, in one striking case, to protest that, as former residents of Baghdad, they had come to Fallujah to be safe, but were being charged exorbitant rents. A ward pol as well as a cop, Mohammed told his aides to write it all down.

Mohammed is effective, but he might jar anyone with unrealistic expectations. In our one-on-one meeting, he quoted Saddam: "You must be sharp as a sword with civilians - and as soft as perfume." But he's no hard-core Ba'athist: You have to remember that Saddam shaped every Iraqi's life for more than three decades.

Anyway, men such as Lt. Mohammed have figured out that nostalgia solves nothing. And thanks to al Qaeda's blood orgy, the old Middle Eastern dictum applies: The enemy of my enemy is my friend. In a sense, al Qaeda set us up for success.

BUT there's more to it. Much more. The Marines and the Iraqi police find they get along surprisingly well. The Americans realize that the Iraqis know the buttons to press to get things done, while the Iraqis learn from the Marines' professionalism.

I laughed to see Iraqi cops marveling at a Marine's, uh, interesting tattoos, while the Marines are still surprised that the environment has gone "nonkinetic" so fast.

And we're truly winning over some Iraqis. "Crash," is a Basra-born interpreter (a "terp") who, more than anything else in the world, wants to become a U.S. Marine. He lives and works with the Marines, studies their rituals, works out with them - and carries himself like a Marine. Crash also carries a weapon for self-defense - a right he earned after pulling wounded Marines to safety in combat.

"His" Marines are doing all they can to help him enlist.

Fallujah? Some districts have ugly stretches of ruins, while others are largely intact. The population has returned. And there's a construction boom. Meanwhile, the Marines have repaired generators, turned trash lots into parks and created hundreds of jobs. Suddenly, the city's movers and shakers want to work with the Marines.

Oh, and the mullah of the city's strictest mosque just sat down for the first time with Lt. DeLonga. They got along fine.

Had I been asked three years ago if we'd ever be welcome in Fallujah, I would've called it wrong. Not that the Iraqis want us to stay forever, but they'd rather cooperate than fight at this point. Given Fallujah's past, that's no small thing.

And the locals are out in front of us in the fight against al Qaeda. Which is a big thing.

I was in the city during one of the last phases of Operation Alljah, which has been bringing the rule of law back to the city's precincts, one by one. In the hours of darkness, Marine engineers swept in and blocked the roads in and out of one of the last un-purged districts with Jersey barriers. The police moved in to bust suspected terrorists and kick out hoodlums who don't have local roots.

In a "swarm," identification cards are provided to all, beginning with the local movers and shakers. Volunteers are vetted to join the police or armed neighborhood-watch groups. And revitalization programs go into gear.

Capt. Mason Harlow, the Fox Company commander, was wounded by shrapnel two years ago. In Fallujah. Now he's back, overseeing the Hadari District and two others. His Marines haven't been attacked for months. And his former enemies are doing his work for him.

Capt. Harlow didn't think he'd live to see the day.

August 25, 2007

Lima Company 3/1 turns routine patrol into payday

NEAR KARMAH, Iraq (Aug. 25, 2007) -- Using the term “Motivating Marine Corps day” in the morning is usually an indicator of sarcastic optimism throughout the ranks. Generally speaking, “motivating” can mean tired, frustrated and dirty. Rarely is the term prophetic.

http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/mcn2000.nsf/main5/7745738049D35F3C8525734200321E0B?opendocument

Aug. 25, 2007; Submitted on: 08/25/2007 05:07:24 AM ; Story ID#: 20078255724
By Sgt. Andy Hurt, 13th MEU

Today, however, what began as a standard counterinsurgency patrol in Al Anbar Province turned into a truly motivating day as Marines from Lima Company, Battalion Landing Team, 3rd Battalion 1st Marines uprooted several large weapons caches, Homemade Explosives (HME) and a Vehicle-Borne Improvised Explosive Device factory.

Canvassing the remote desert region near Combat Outpost Chicago, Weapons Platoon Marines swept several routes and fields before a local citizen tipped them off and pointed them toward suspicious sites in the area.

Conducting a search based on this lead, Marines discovered numerous weapons, including a mortar tube, hundreds of automatic weapons rounds (of varying caliber and munitions type), a Simonov SKS rifle and American-made flares.

The citizen then escorted Marines to two buried containers, both filled to the brim with enemy “accelerants,” including a Rocket Propelled Grenade (RPG) launcher with several rounds and boosters, a 14.5mm anti-aircraft weapon with seven receivers, grenades, mortars, rifle magazines, primers and IED trigger mechanisms.

Continuing the search in close proximity to the buried containers, a house, identified as a car bomb factory, contained evidence of a massive HME-mixing operation, including tarps, several pair of rubber boots and a children’s swimming pool (used as a mixing vat).
Personnel from Combat Logistics Battalion 13’s Explosive Ordnance Disposal section destroyed the caches after site exploitation was complete.

Successful days like today are becoming surprisingly routine. As BLT 3/1 continues counterinsurgency operations here, willing locals are frequently offering up information on insurgent activity and weapons cache sites. The constant accomplishment is causing some Marines to make confident, early morning predictions of success.

“I woke up this morning, and I just knew it was going to be a ‘motivating Marine Corps day,’” said Lance Cpl. Randy Cantrall, a native of Peoria, Ariz. “And it was. It was beautiful.”

For more information about Battalion Landing Team 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines, or the warriors of the Fighting 13th Marine Expeditionary Unit, visit the unit’s Web site at https://ww.usmc.mil/13thmeu.


Cpl. Jason Dunham honored at Kings Bay, Ga.

NAVAL SUBMARINE BASE KINGS BAY, Ga. (Aug. 25, 2007) -- It was no average summer day Aug. 17, in Kings Bay, Ga., at least not at the Marine Corps Security Force Company’s barracks. There was a special feeling in the air for every fellow Marine, sailor, friend and family member of a true American hero.

http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/mcn2000.nsf/main5/2449F0B377EC35AB8525734100703216?opendocument
Please cLick on above link for photos.

Aug. 25, 2007; Submitted on: 08/24/2007 04:25:28 PM ; Story ID#: 2007824162528
By Cpl. Lucian Friel, 2nd Marine Division

This hero is Cpl. Jason Dunham, Marine Medal of Honor recipient.

The Marines dedicated their barracks to Dunham in a ceremony in front of his family, friends and Marines who served with Dunham during Operation Iraqi Freedom.

“Corporal Jason Dunham is a Marine hero for today’s era,” said Lt. Col. Andrew J. Murray, commanding officer of Marine Corps Security Force Company Kings Bay, Marine Corps Security Force Battalion, II Marine Expeditionary Force. “He will be a Marine leader to be emulated by Marines here (for years to come).”

On April 14, 2004, while serving as rifle squad leader in 4th Platoon, Company K, 3rd Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, Regimental Combat Team 7, 1st Marine Division, Dunham’s squad was conducting a reconnaissance mission in the town of Karabilah, Iraq, when they heard rocket-propelled grenade and small-arms fire erupt approximately two kilometers away.

Dunham led his team toward the engagement to provide fire support to their battalion commander’s convoy, which had been ambushed as it was traveling to Camp Husaybah near the Iraqi-Syrian border.

As they advanced, Dunham’s team began to receive enemy fire themselves. Dunham ordered his squad to dismount their vehicles and led one of his fire teams on foot several blocks south of the ambushed convoy.

Discovering seven Iraqi vehicles in a column attempting to depart the area, Dunham and his team stopped the vehicles to search them for weapons.

As they approached the vehicles, an insurgent leaped out and attacked Dunham. Dunham wrestled the insurgent to the ground and, in the ensuing struggle, saw him release a grenade.

Dunham immediately alerted his fellow Marines to the threat. Aware of the imminent danger and without hesitation, Dunham covered the grenade with his helmet and body, bore the brunt of the explosion, and shielded his Marines from the blast.

Sacrificing his own safety in an act of bravery which left him mortally wounded, he saved the lives of two fellow Marines. He gave his life fighting for his country.

On Jan. 11, 2007, the president of the United States awarded Dunham the Medal of Honor posthumously for his heroic actions and gallantry.

So here at the Marine Corps Security Force Company barracks, where Dunham served from 2001 to 2003, the Marines dedicated their building, which is now known as Dunham Barracks, to him.

General Robert Magnus, the assistant commandant of the Marine Corps, was on hand for the ceremony and offered these words to the audience as the barracks’ name was unveiled.

“He knew his mission was to stop the insurgents and protect his fellow Marines. He would stand up in front of those who would bully his fellows,” Magnus said. “ … Dunham (is) courage, honor and commitment. It is with great honor that we dedicate this barracks in memory of Corporal Jason Dunham.”

A few of the Marines who served with Dunham in 3rd Bn., 7th Marines, were there as well and they explained Dunham’s charisma and sense of pride and how it felt to watch the barracks dedication.

“He was a tough, good-looking, likable young guy with all the charisma in the world,” said Capt. Dave Fleming, Dunham’s platoon commander while he served with Weapons Platoon, Company K. “The Marines looked up to him. The sense of pride he had, he instilled in them.”

“I’m glad I came here to see this; it’s beautiful,” explained Sgt. Jimmy Moronta, who served with Dunham in Weapons Platoon.

Perhaps no one was more touched by the dedication than Dunham’s family, who was there in the front row.

“It’s an honor and it’s wonderful the Marines have the history they do to keep him alive,” said his mother, Deb Dunham. “(The Marines) are his family just as we’re his family.”

“It’s our family name (up there), but it’s about Jason. It’s not about us,” said his father, Dan Dunham. “Jason was very humble; this would have been something he really respected.”

Some say immortality means to be remembered throughout history. For the Marines and sailors stationed here at Marine Corps Security Force Company, Dunham’s memory will last for years to come, inspiring young Marine leaders to carry on the tradition built by Marines like Dan Daly, Chesty Puller, Smedley Butler … and now Jason Dunham.

To war and back: Injured soldiers find healing in the wilderness

LINCOLN CREEK VALLEY -- When Bryon Chambers stopped on a ledge halfway through the climb to catch his breath and plan his next move, everyone watching was unsure if he would continue.

http://www.aspendailynews.com/archive_21354

Christine Benedetti - Aspen Daily News Staff Writer
Sat 08/25/2007 08:01PM MST

But 10 minutes later, he was at the top of the pitch with a huge grin.

"It kicked my butt, but if felt good and I would do it again -- not today though," he said.

For Chambers, completing a rock climb is more than a physical accomplishment -- it's a metaphorical feat, too. A roadside bomb in Iraq injured the 20-year-old U.S. Marine Corps lance corporal in February. The driver of a light armored vehicle, he suffered a brain injury and a shattered right heel that ultimately cost him his leg from the knee down. Three others essentially walked away from the accident, but his vehicle commander, Chad Allen, was killed on the spot.

"The three-ton engine next to me was thrown 40 yards, so that tells you something," said Chambers. "I'm extremely lucky to be here. ... Everything I worked for I lost."

Chambers is spending a week in the Rockies with other recently injured Iraq war veterans as part of a program hosted by Challenge Aspen. Eighteen men are in town for the Aspen Wilderness Program, and after spending three days river rafting through Westwater Canyon on the Utah/Colorado border, they spent some time scaling rock up the Lincoln Creek valley.

Chambers has only had his prosthetic leg since mid-July, and learning to walk has been a hurdle.

"I was 200 pounds in February, and that's the last thing I remember," he said. "I woke up four months later, and had lost it all. I'm about 150 pounds now."

Chambers underwent 22 surgeries during that period, and while he wasn't in a coma, he says it almost felt that way.

"I was in a dream state. If I didn't like what I was doing, I would just go to sleep," he said. "I thought I would wake up again in Iraq and be late for post or patrol."

Part of his traumatic brain injury (TBI) was short-term memory loss, which affected long-term memory loss too. Basically for four months of his life he blacked out.

"I think when I stopped trying to wake up from the dream is when things changed," he said.

The Delta, Colo., native went home for the second time since the injury on Thursday night to visit family and friends. He's an outpatient at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C., and has also spent time at a brain injury facility in Tampa, Fla.

"I'm mentally stable enough not to go crazy, or I'd like to say I don't have it (post-traumatic stress disorder)," he said, laughing with a surprisingly good sense of humor.

PUSHING THROUGH
The Aspen Wilderness Program is in its third year and, like many Challenge Aspen programs, it's recreation-based therapy, said program director Sarah Volf. It encourages the soldiers to test their physical skills, in turn building self-confidence they may have lost along with their leg or arm. In September, Challenge Aspen will host the first TBI outdoor rehabilitation program in the country.

"It's a way to work back into society," said Volf. "Nature is so therapeutic. The changes we've seen, even in five days, is incredible."

She points out Jake Altman as one of those cases.

The 20-year-old Army Spc. was stationed in Germany. After five months of deployment in Iraq, his vehicle -- the lead car in his convoy -- was destroyed by a bomb.

"I didn't really feel pain when my hand was blown off," he said. "It felt like a lot of pressure and my hand was dangling by the fabrics of my uniform."

Besides losing his right hand and forearm, both knees were severely injured, and physical tasks like rock climbing and rafting have been work -- and fun.

"It's really boosted my self esteem and I think it's wonderful that they do this for the soldiers. It's inspired me to work harder," he says. "Honestly, this is the funnest experience of my life."

A support system is something Altman could use right now, considering his wife -- a German native -- and 10-month-old son are still overseas. He hasn't seen either since he left for Iraq, and he says securing a passport and dual citizenship so they can travel to America has been difficult.

"I still have fear but I just try to push through it," he said.

And that is one of the Aspen Wilderness Program's goals, notes Kristi Say, an occupational therapist at Walter Reed who accompanied the veterans to Aspen. It's her third summer participating in the program.

"The meaningful goal is to independence," she said. "That's breaking down all barriers, whether or not they're an able-bodied person or missing a limb. Some of these activities were a huge mental block before and it opens up the door to possibilities."

Those options are different for each man. After completing therapy at Walter Reed, Chambers is returning to the Western Slope to attend college at Mesa State University in Grand Junction, where he hopes to go into computer systems. Greg Robinson, a 28-year-old Army Corps of Engineers staff sergeant based out of Fort Bragg, Calif., said he'll return to his station for another 10 years to earn full retirement.

"It's not for everyone, but I like the lifestyle and I like what I do," he says.

Having been deployed to Kosovo, Korea and Iraq, Robinson was hit by a rocket-propelled grenade in Afghanistan in May, and it tore off his right leg. He already participated in a ski program for soldiers in Breckenridge and Vail last fall, and says gliding on two boards was easier than walking.

Looking back at where he's been is tough, though.

"I would rather be there (Afghanistan) than Iraq, because you can actually see hope," said Robinson. "Since the invasion the country has evolved, and it's the smaller villages that are unstable. But in Iraq, when I was there, it was chaos."

Volf said she's sees a difference in the injuries that are coming back from overseas. She said what used to kill people now leaves them amputees because of the changes in armor and technology, which means wounds tend to be more severe.

"It's a population that we need to proactively serve because in 10 to 15 years, these guys still don't have a limb," she said.

As a patient at Walter Reed, Robinson compares his progress rate with others to see where he should be in the future.

"If someone is six months ahead of me, I set goals to see where I should be compared to people that are already there," he says.

For this group, those physical checklists are much more visible this week, and they all cheer each other on as they take on things like climbing and paddling.

As Chambers rappels down the rock face, everyone watching hoots, hollers and gives him a round of applause.

"These people are great," said Altman. "They actually pushed me to keep going. ... Now I face that fear and before I didn't have the tools."

August 24, 2007

Outward Bound program helps veterans heal their emotional scars

THE nine men who climbed to the summit of the Colorado mountain were combat veterans who had fought in Iraq, Afghanistan and Vietnam.

http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/08/24/travel/24vets.php?page=1

By Conrad Mulcahy
Published: August 24, 2007

Several knew the pain of bullets tearing through flesh. Others couldn't gather memories blown away by an explosion. Some had seen combat so close they killed with their knives.

They were a wary group of strangers, guarded and slow to trust, who had arrived at the Outward Bound Wilderness school in Leadville, Colorado, a few days before, wondering how a one-week course in the wilderness could help them heal. But on the fourth day of their five-day journey in mid-July, after more than three hours of tough climbing up steep, moss-covered scree fields and beyond the tree line, these hard military men, ranging in age from 23 to 52, mourned in silence, 13,000 feet above sea level on the summit of Virginia Peak. Stripped of life's routines, they stood under an iron-gray early morning sky and finally allowed the tears to fall for friends who would never see this place.

"Look around this countryside: you guys deserve this," said Bob O'Rourke, a 62-year-old retired marine and one of the instructors for the Outward Bound course. "Don't forget this moment." O'Rourke, a Vietnam veteran, choked back tears of his own. The men with him were silent as they looked out across vast granite bowls speckled with old mine entrances among the evergreens. The imposing silhouette of Huron Peak stared back from the southwest.

All Outward Bound courses — whether for people seeking wilderness experience, for troubled teenagers seeking a new course in life, or for adult professionals taking a moment to reflect on the road they've taken — follow a carefully designed arc. Strangers come together, they are presented with activities that challenge them mentally and physically, and, ideally, their shared experience creates a strong bond among the members.

The five-day veterans' course, however, sought to be much more. These men may have left the war, but it never left them. This program was designed to be a part of their continuing therapy, which for some has lasted as long as five years. Physical injuries were common in this group, and they eagerly compared the bands of scar tissue, shiny and too smooth, that crisscrossed their bodies. But the specter of emotional trauma loomed just beyond most conversations.

By being pushed to their physical and emotional limits in the company of military men who had seen it all before, however, the veterans learned how to confront emotional injuries like post-traumatic stress disorder in a way that traditional group therapy cannot hope to replicate.

O'Rourke, who received two Purple Hearts in Vietnam, has participated in Outward Bound courses before and is a true believer. His first Outward Bound experience, five years ago, was not specifically designed for veterans, but it helped him look beyond his Vietnam experience.

It was in that spirit, after conquering the summit together, that the veterans held an impromptu memorial service on the mountaintop. One by one, they chose small rocks from the ground and gently piled them on a larger boulder. The solemn tempo of their procession was set by the crunching of boots on the ground and the clacking of stone on stone. Some spoke the names of dead comrades into the wind — Staff Sergeant Mike Conner, Lance Corporal Greg Rund. Others remained silent, letting the tears on their faces speak for them.

One of the men on the summit was Jonathan McMaster, an insightful 23-year-old former marine who was injured in 2004 in Iraq, when a piece of shrapnel from a roadside bomb slammed into his head. That wound healed, but unseen injuries remain.

"I wish that civilians and policy makers really understood, at an emotional level, the tremendous toll and cost of war on those who actually experience it," McMaster said the next day, as he hiked down the mountain and across a green field. He chose his words carefully, as if the night's sleep had crystallized the emotion of the previous day. Grieving in the safety of this group had been a welcome release, he added.

Kyle Stozek, a 27-year-old former soldier in Afghanistan, spoke to the struggles faced by the men who were there on the summit.

"I think if there's one message I could get across to the public, it'd be to not give up on us," he said as the group walked through the mountain sunshine to the trailhead.

The veterans' introspection was nonexistent when the journey began. After arriving at the Outward Bound facility, a collection of rustic but sturdy buildings tucked into a wooded corner of the old Leadville mining district, the veterans were taken outside and issued their gear. It was bright and hot, and the air was thin. People tried awkwardly to learn one another's names.

They were soon restless for activity.

Eventually, their patience was rewarded. The first challenge was a well-known standby for Outward Bound: the high ropes course. After a brief safety lesson, they were asked to navigate a path of beams, ropes and cables suspended 30 to 40 feet off of the ground.

The ropes course quickly brought out a time-honored military tradition: cross-branch rivalry. If a soldier hesitated as he moved from rope to rope, the marines gave him a hard time. When the marines had trouble, the soldiers happily reminded them how easy they'd found the course. "Boot mistake," they called out to each other, using the slang for a brand new recruit as they shook their heads in mock disgust. They were testing boundaries, trying to find the line between motivation and insult.

THE following day the men and their gear were jammed into a van and driven farther into the countryside for a day of rock climbing. Well before they traded asphalt for pockmarked dirt trails, some of the men started swapping war stories, from driving tanks across Kuwait to street battles in Falluja. Others rolled their eyes. Already they had grown tired of the constant talk of war. At one point, Matt Payton, a k a Doc, now 24, a former navy corpsman who served in Iraq and the lone sailor in the group, pressed for the conversation to be about "anything but the military," a worn out look suddenly darkening his youthful face.

With war stories off limits, the men again turned to one another for material. Their humor was rough and profane, locker room stuff but affectionate in a way. Throughout the sun-drenched afternoon they joked constantly.

The instructor tried to teach climbing technique, but the ropes and the harnesses never really captured the group's attention. Only two or three men could climb at any one time. And even though holding the safety line for another man meant holding his life in your hands, the group seemed unfocused. The only time the men snapped to attention was when two military helicopters buzzed past — the sound of the rotor blades was all too familiar.

After several hours, a fierce storm barreled down the valley. Within minutes, the men were soaked, and the rocks were too slick to hang on to. Climbing was called off, and the group decided to break for lunch.

Standing in the rainy lee of a rock face, the first signs of a bond were apparent. The men were hungry and wet, and still they looked after one another. Before one could ask for it, another man would hand him a chunk of sausage and a slab of cheese. "Got a blade?" someone asked. "Right here," and a knife came handle first across the circle.

The rain never let up enough for climbing again, and the instructors cut their losses. The group was driven to a trailhead while the storm continued to pound the woods. At this higher elevation, some 11,000 feet, the rain mixed with hail.

When the weather finally broke, each man shouldered his pack, now stuffed with 70 pounds of dehydrated food, clothing, stoves and the tarps that would be their only shelter. Thus laden, they began hiking for the first night's campsite, almost two miles away.

The night grew colder, and another storm came with the dusk. Some of the men ate a hurried meal, while others tried unsuccessfully to stay dry under the canvas shelters. David Sweet, the course director, later called it some of the worst rain he'd seen.

The next morning was clear, and after bagels and hot chocolate, it was another short hike to the next campsite. On the topographical map the route looked easy. The only challenge was a thin blue line labeled "Clear Creek."

Outward Bound has rules, and one is that the group must remain together at times like this. Adrian Maldonado Jr., a 26-year-old former marine who participated in the veterans' program twice before this year, following two tours in Iraq, eagerly waded into the stream ahead of the others. Sweet called out to him to stop. He didn't hear, or chose not to, and kept going. Voices rose, and a heated argument broke out.

Sweet, who is not a veteran, quickly became a lightning rod for simmering frustrations.

Standing toe to toe with Sweet in the cold mountain stream, Maldonado barked that if he wanted someone "to tell me what to wear, what to do, where to go, what to say," he would have stayed in the Marines. After 45 minutes of arguing, Maldonado threatened to walk off of the course. Immediately, three other veterans rose to his defense. "If he goes, I go," they repeated.

Maldonado's level of frustration was obvious as he folded his arms impatiently and clenched his jaw between bursts of speech. But the two Vietnam veterans knew what to say to draw the heat out of the argument. They spoke bluntly but also listened and gave him enough space to come around on his own. The resolution was tenuous, but the center held and the group waded through the knee-deep water before trudging on to that night's camp, wet and quiet.

Looking back on the incident later, the other Vietnam veteran, Bob Dawes, 59, a former Army Ranger and O'Rourke's co-instructor, felt that it was an important, albeit precarious part of this trip.

Most of these men suffered life-threatening injuries in combat, he pointed out. And then there are the emotional scars. Now, they're stuck trying to find their place in a civilian world that doesn't always understand what it means to come out alive from the white-hot forge of combat.

"They gave more for their country than what they were asked to give, and they just want some respect," Dawes said. They may have understood Sweet's rules, but they also needed him to know that they were not like any other Outward Bound group he'd ever seen.

It was a lesson for everyone — one of many on this five-day journey.

KYLE STOZEK had arrived at Outward Bound ready for a week of camping and spending time with other veterans, but also preparing to return to war.

Stozek nearly died of a gunshot wound in the abdomen in Afghanistan in 2001. His injuries forced him to leave the army, and he seemed adrift without its structure. He was considering a job with a private security company in Iraq, resigned to the idea that he would die violently. While Stozek has spent the last few years in marketing and consulting jobs, they never brought him the satisfaction or sense of duty that his time in the army did. At the same time, he acknowledged that this sense of fulfillment came at a steep price. He distanced himself from the people who cared most for him instead of sharing his complicated feelings and experiences with them.

But after the fierce emotion he felt on the summit, where the safety of being with fellow veterans allowed him to cry for the first time in years, he seemed reborn. "I think now it's time to get back to learning what love is and what I want my life to be about," he said, smiling broadly on the last day of the course. "This trip really helped me learn that."

MORE INFORMATION

OUTWARD BOUND has its roots in wartime.

In the early months of World War II, as German U-boats were sinking naval and merchant ships in the Atlantic, Lawrence Holt, a British shipping executive, resolved to improve the dismal survival rate of young seamen left to struggle in the ocean after the attacks.

He saw a possible solution in the teachings of Kurt Hahn, the founder of Gordonstoun, a Scottish school where Holt's son was a student.

Holt reasoned that the physical and psychological skills that Hahn was teaching could also help the young seamen. Though the younger men had formal training in seamanship, they seemed to lack a sense of self-reliance and camaraderie — qualities that often steeled older sailors in a crisis.

Hahn had formed his ideas while teaching in Germany in the 1920s. Before leaving for Britain, he had spoken out against the brutality of the Nazis and been swept up in mass arrests in 1933.

With money from Holt, Hahn opened an academy in Aberdovey, Wales, in 1941. At Holt's insistence, they called it Outward Bound, a nautical term used when a ship leaves port. Originally, the course lasted 28 days and included small-boat training, orienteering and community service.

By 1946, a group of prominent citizens seeking to relieve Holt's company of the burden of supporting the program established the Outward Bound Trust, which provided the groundwork for early fund-raising. First in 1950, and then again in 1955, the trust oversaw the establishment of new facilities in the Lake District. Hahn continued his work in Wales, and by the 1960s there were Outward Bound schools from Australia to Zimbabwe.

Now an international nonprofit enterprise with more than 30 schools on six continents, Outward Bound runs courses that not only try to help veterans recover from war but also guide adults through midlife renewal or even help young people to, as Hahn had said, "defeat their defeatism."

More than 70,000 people participate in Outward Bound USA programs annually, and more than 200,000 internationally. But John Read, the president and chief executive of Outward Bound USA, based in Long Island City, Queens, said the programs had reached "far more, as the participants who experience the transformative power of Outward Bound return to their friends, families and communities as more compassionate, service-oriented leaders."

The organization also runs a program called Expeditionary Learning Schools, which integrates the principles of Outward Bound into primary schools. In the United States, there are more than 140 such schools.

Outward Bound also has courses and events for its alumni, like the sea kayaking expedition to the San Juan Islands in Puget Sound scheduled for early September.

Course fees can run $695 for a 4-day backpacking trip in North Carolina to $9,095 for a 72-day program that takes students from the Andes to the Appalachians.

More details can be found at www.outwardbound.org, and information on the programs for veterans is at www.outwardboundwilderness.org/veterans.html.

For first time, Pentagon sending battalion of U.S. Marines based in Pacific to war in Iraq

CAMP FOSTER, Japan – Lance Cpl. Alexander Karman is waiting around the barracks for his friends to finish up so they can head to the gym and a karaoke joint just outside the gates. This is Karman's last payday on Okinawa, and he has to report back for duty at 3 a.m.

http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/world/iraq/20070824-0843-okinawatoiraq.html

By Eric Talmadge
ASSOCIATED PRESS
8:43 a.m. August 24, 2007

Karman's three bags of gear have been inspected and stowed in the locker next to his bunk. The scope on his M-4 rifle has been adjusted. He has finished the physicals, the marksmanship qualifications, the lectures on how to write a will.

His next stop: Iraq.
The 21-year-old explosives disposal specialist from Miami is part of the first full battalion of Marines from a Pacific base to enter the war. The deployment now under way from the Japanese island of Okinawa – site of a famous World War II battle and one of the Pentagon's most important outposts in the region – reflects shifts in both Washington and Tokyo.

It's part of Washington's increased emphasis on military mobility and the option to move forces to hotspots as needed. But Iraq has pushed this doctrine to the limits, pulling in troops already sent abroad on another mission. In Okinawa's case, it's no small assignment: countering potential threats from North Korea and the growth of China's military.

Japan, too, has been forced to examine what it means to host 50,000 U.S. soldiers spread across Okinawa and other bases. A debate rumbles over the role of American forces in Japan: whether to only fulfill a mutual security pact, or also to be battlefield resources for wars elsewhere.

And for the Iraq-bound troops, it's a little like deploying from limbo.

Karman, who like many in his unit has already been in Japan for about a year, said goodbye to his mother, father and fiance at Florida's Fort Lauderdale airport last month while on leave. They already knew they were in effect seeing him off to Iraq.

Now that he's back on Okinawa, there won't be anyone to see him off.

“It's hard,” he said, a big American flag from Wal-Mart pinned up beside the desk he shares with three roommates. “You get adjusted to life here, then you have to go home and say your goodbyes, then come back and wait. I just want to get going.”

What they'll leave behind is Japan's version of Hawaii.

Every August, the island's hotels swell with newlyweds and families with small children. Airlines promote Okinawa, which lies 1,000 miles southwest of Tokyo and was once an independent kingdom, as a “Paradise Island.”

But the Marines live in a very different world.

There's a midnight curfew for enlisted troops. Drinking is tightly restricted. Car ownership is banned.

And then there's the money. A private makes about $1,000 a month, which doesn't go far on Okinawa. The Japanese tourists on the beach are likely to be making at least twice as much as the Marines.

Few married Marines are allowed to bring their wives and children. But that also makes them more willing to head off into the dangers of Iraq.

“I want to see more action, to do my part,” Williams said. “But I also just want to get out of Camp Schwab.” Schwab is one of several Marine camps spread across the island.

The 1,000-strong battalion heading to Iraq is just a small part of the nearly 15,000 Marines based across Okinawa.

Until now, the Okinawa Marines sent only small contingents to Iraq to help other units. But with American forces around the world stretched thin – and with the demands in Iraq not easing up – the Pentagon has decided more help is needed.

In Japan, this feeds a debate that began with the 2003 invasion to topple Saddam Hussein.

Japan struggled over how much to support its American ally and whether U.S. forces in Japan should stay out of the fight. Opponents argued that U.S. troops are in Japan under a mutual security pact, not as a forward-based force for America's battles around the world.

In the end, Japan chose to support the U.S. and in 2004 even sent its own ground troops. They came home last year, having seen no combat and suffered no casualties.

Japan's top opposition party, energized by big gains in parliamentary elections a month ago, is calling for a reevaluation of the Japan-U.S. security alliance.

“Be it Afghanistan or Iraq, I don't think Japan-U.S. relations are all about following the Bush administration's policies,” says the party's leader, Ichiro Ozawa.

Even so, with attention focused elsewhere, stepped-up deployments from U.S. bases have gone largely under the radar.

The dispatch of a U.S. fighter squadron to Iraq from a northern Japan air base earlier this year – also the first of its kind – drew virtually no public comment.

Okinawa, however, remains a political mine field.

Protests after three U.S. servicemen raped an Okinawan schoolgirl in 1995 led to a major, ongoing streamlining of the U.S. military footprint, including the closure of facilities and the return of land.

Off-base restrictions imposed since then left a big mark. Once rowdy backstreets are now ghost towns after midnight.

An even bigger shake-up is in the works.

As part of a sweeping overhaul of the U.S. forces throughout Asia and Europe, Washington announced last year about half the Marines on Okinawa will be moved to the U.S. Pacific territory of Guam by 2012.

Black flags are up all across base, a warning the heat and humidity are so high physical exertion outdoors is to be avoided.

Most of Combat Logistics Battalion 4 is sweating it out on a training field anyway. It likely will be even hotter in Iraq.

They have just gotten the final pep talk from their commanding general and have broken up into smaller groups to wrap up any unfinished business. There are a few promotion ceremonies, cautions about breaking in new boots before packing them up, scheduling reminders.

“It's real,” a gunnery sergeant told his unit. “You're going.”

Keeping young Marines who are far away from home – often for the first time – both in line and combat-ready is no easy task.

“It's been a learning curve. It hasn't been ideal, but we are used to that in the Marine Corps,” said Lt. Col. Brent Spahn, the battalion's commanding officer. “We train hard, and we think our training is the best in the world. You fall back on that. That's what gets you through.”

Spahn said his main concern isn't getting the troops motivated to go, but keeping them reined in once they get to Iraq and start their primary mission, which will be running convoys.

“The Marine Corps doesn't recruit the same kind of people as the other branches of the military. We tend to get aggressive people, which is good if you want a strong military,” he said. “My biggest concern will be keeping the enthusiasm and the adrenalin under control.”

August 23, 2007

Cycle art captures Marine's 'spirit'

A painted likeness turns into an expression of tribute to Americans killed in Iraq.

It's been two years since Marine Sgt. James Randolph Graham III was killed in Iraq, yet on Wednesday a small bit of him -- his spirit, his mother believes -- returned home.

http://www.tulsaworld.com/news/article.aspx?articleID=070823_1_A1_hApai78400
Please click on above link for a slide show of photos and to listen to an interview with Katrina Graham.

By MANNY GAMALLO World Staff Writer
8/23/2007

"I believe my son's spirit is not very far from me," said Katrina Graham.

"This just firms up my belief," she said, gazing at a shiny black motorcycle bearing the painted likeness of her son, along with three other Marines killed in 2005.

The motorcycle is a rolling tribute to the sacrifices being made by America's young in Iraq, and the sacrifices made by their families.

That was what John Favorite of Cleveland, Ohio, had in mind when he decided to honor the troops and the military on his motorcycle.

A Marine veteran from the Vietnam War, Favorite is still embittered by what he says is the

lack of gratitude or even a simple thank you after his generation returned home from that war.

"I didn't want that to happen again for our fighting people in Iraq," said Favorite, saying that the Iraq war is fast becoming another Vietnam.

"So I had this idea to do something special to honor them, to honor their families."

Favorite has traveled thousands of miles on his Yamaha motorcycle since the Memorial Day weekend, going to the homes of the other three Marines painted on his bike, showing their parents how their sons have been honored.

The Graham home in the 6700 block of East Eighth Street was the last on the list, said Favorite, who left Cleveland, Ohio, on Monday morning for the cross-country trip.

Accompanying him on another motorcycle was a longtime Marine buddy from Vietnam, Carl Mitchell of Monroe, S.C.

Graham's parents, his mother and father, James Randolph Graham II, were overwhelmed by what they saw.

At one point, Katrina Graham fought back tears as she described what the tribute to her boy meant to her.

"I didn't know what to expect until I saw this," she said.

Her son's two boys -- James R. Graham IV and Thomas Graham -- also were highly approving of the homage paid to their dad. The two live in Coweta with their mother, who has remarried.

"I think it's pretty cool," said 11-year-old James, the oldest of the two, as he donned a helmet for a ride on the cycle.

In a flash, James hopped on the back of the bike and, with Favorite in the driver's seat, they whisked east along Eighth Street at a good clip.

Favorite has been to Maryland to visit the family of Marine Cpl. Norman Anderson; to Virginia for the family of Marine Lance Cpl. Karl Linn; and to Ohio, where Marine Cpl. Andrew Nowacki lived.

Together with Graham's likeness, the paintings on the motorcycle adorn the fuel tank -- two faces on each side.

Graham was killed Aug. 1, 2005, at Hit, Iraq, in an insurgent suicide attack.

His image on the motorcycle comes from a family photo taken of him in Iraq a few months before his death, his mother said. In the picture, Graham is dressed in full battle gear and his right eye is closed as a shield from the intense sunlight.

The image on the motorcycle was a good match to the family's photo of him, his parents said.

Favorite had a Vietnam veteran friend of his in Cleveland airbrush the faces on the cycle, and Favorite said he paid the $1,200 cost for having the work done.

When he got the idea to honor Iraq troops, Favorite