Grandpa’s War – Part 25 – The Rockets White Glare

That night there were more battles. We stopped while one was being fought. We knew from reports that we’d inflicted serious damage to the Iraqi army and that they were falling back.

About a mile from our location, the MLRS (Multiple Launch Rocket System) batteries started firing. These are multiple rocket launchers and at night it was like something straight out of Star Wars. With loud booms, the rockets ignited, then hurtled into the skies, a trail of fire behind them.

Every time one fired; it was like a flash of lightning. In that split second, I could see the launchers, and even make out the faces of those around me. One after the other they fired, the rockets hurtling up and away over the horizon.

MLRS has often been referred to as the Division Commander’s personal shotgun. I don’t know what they were shooting at, but I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.

I tried to get some pictures, but they were disappointing at best. If I’d had my Pentax 1000 instead of a small Kodak camera, I might have got some really good shots. As it was . . .

I don’t recall sleeping much that night.

The next day was more of the same. We rolled through and past more ruined positions. It’s funny but we’re in the middle of a historic event, and we didn’t know what was really going on. All we knew were now moving east. I’d expected us to keep

heading north till we got to Turkey, shake hands with the Turks, and call it good. That wasn’t happening.

Years later I was to learn that the battles I’d witnessed had names. To us, they were points on a map, nothing more.

I began to understand the Republican Guard had at last begun to put up a fight.

We heard that Iraqi forces were leaving Kuwait. That put us in a rather interesting position.

First, we had to make sure they didn’t get out. We’d be talking several heavy divisions retreating North. They were almost directly in our way. There was nothing to say they might not turn and join up with forces already in the area.

There was no doubt we couldn’t have handled them; they’d just have made our mission harder.

That afternoon, we went through yet another minefield.

Scattered across an area a dozen city blocks in size, the Air Force had dropped land mines. What we’d done is to push the Republican Guard through it.

Now, we had to go through them.

The Engineers had opened paths through the minefield for us. Using M1 tanks with a rotating drum of chains, they had driven through them. The chains beat the ground and detonated anything they hit. The mines were about the size of a frozen juice can. They were too small to present a danger to the tanks.

But that couldn’t be said for the trucks and HUMVEEs in the convoy. Once again, we were funneled down to a few lanes of traffic. The idea was to go straight, don’t steer to the left or the right. If you were off even a little, it could mean disaster.

At one point I noticed a mine less than three inches from our front tire. They were scattered everywhere. I had to hope that the engineers had gotten them all. There was very little room for error.

As we started to clear the minefield, we heard a loud explosion from one of the other lanes. A Humvee belonging to the Division Chief of Staff had found a mine.

The explosion shredded the back tire, and shrapnel punched a hole in the fuel tank.

Another piece of metal exploded up through the floorboard. All of the HUMVEEs had sandbags on the floor placed there for a little extra protection. The sandbags helped save the driver’s life. The shrapnel ripped through the floorboard, the sandbags, and through the back of the driver’s chair. The driver was wearing a flak vest that stopped the shrapnel. It still struck her with enough force to knock her face first into the steering wheel. That broke her nose and knocked out some teeth.

I understand she got the Purple Heart for that. She confessed she felt like a damn fool receiving it for something so minor. (Never tried to confirm if that happened or not).

But the sandbags might have made the difference between getting the purple heart and a ride home in a body bag.

Shortly after clearing that minefield, we stopped for the night. There were still mines in the area, and I remember soldiers marking them. We’d long since run out of yellow caution tape, and they were using the next best thing. Toilet paper which we had in abundance.

I do recall looking at three or four tank turrets that had been set on a small rise. From a distance, it looked like tanks down in a fighting position. In reality, all they were the turrets of long scrapped tanks set up to fake us out. They had just been set out there, maybe to drive us in another direction, maybe to make us waste ammo. Through the thermals of an M1A1 there would be no heat signature associated with them. They were decoys, nothing more.

We heard of more battles on the radio, and we watched all night long. Then it was announced that a cease-fire would be in effect the following morning. We were hours away from the cease-fire when the big guns opened up. Not far away, the 155s were firing. It was the final chance to get a few licks in on Iraqi positions. They fired right up to the minute the cease-fire started.

I remember my father telling me of seeing artillery rounds arching across the sky when he was in the Army. Now I got to see what he’d seen. I could track and how they moved like stars up and then down in their ballistic arcs.

Then the guns went silent.

The General called everyone together and explained the cease-fire was in effect. We were told to get our maintenance done, get some food, and then go to sleep.

I recall walking back to the Humvee and thinking about how with a few simple words, it was over. But I had a deep feeling of dread, as if there was unfinished business.

I recall the LT asked me, “What do you think?”  He knew my interest in history and was wondering what I was thinking in terms of a historical perspective.

I remember looking out into the desert as we walked. “Sir, I think our children will be back to figure out who won it the first time.”

God, I do hate being right.

I got out of the MOPP gear I’d been wearing. The uniform I’d been in for days now had gone from Camo Green to black. No amount of scrubbing got that uniform clean and I ended up throwing it away.

Greg got out his little gas-powered stove. Using it, I heated up a canteen cup of water and bathed and shaved out of it.

I tried to eat an MRE but was too tired to enjoy it.

I lay down on top of the HUMVEE and went to sleep.

All photographs Copyright – Richard L. Muniz

All photographs Copyright – Richard L. Muniz