Without discipline an Army would just be a bunch of guys wearing the same color clothing.
Frank Burns
When I was back home my wife and I decided to drive to Lake Tahoe for the weekend. The drive was gorgeous, the ebon ribbon of highway slipped through mountains casting off their winter cloaks and sprouting the jewel bright raiments of Spring. As we climbed deeper into the Sierras lush conifer forests gave way to granite cliffs adorned with pulsing necklaces of snowmelt. After climbing through a unbroken chain of majestic vistas we arrived at Lake Tahoe. You would think that after seeing so much raw beauty the eye would be deadened - but you would be mistaken. It’s difficult to describe the cascading blues of Lake Tahoe. Those deep, clear waters are glacially blue – fatally blue - a blue usually reserved for afternoon dreams of a sapphire sky that seems to stretch on forever.
Shortly after arriving on those beautiful shores we decided to stop at a small little restaurant to let the tangled knot of roads ease their grip on our stomachs. And it was there that I had my sole run in with television news. During leave I methodically avoided watching television. Other then sitting down with my wife to watch DVDs I don’t think that our set came on once.
The restaurant was a cozy, warm little place in the way only a lodge high above the snowline can really be. Since we were only stopping for a few minutes to settle our stomachs we decided to pull up a seat at the bar. We were sitting there enjoying some piping hot soup and a deliciously cool beer when the news caught my attention.
An immaculately coiffed local newscaster was there on the screen prattling the latest "news" from Iraq. In a perfectly measured voice the anchor rattled off the number of bombings and Iraqi and US casualties like she was reading off the results of a local baseball game. "Today in Iraq insurgents set off three massive explosions targeting Iraqi troops" came the anchors voice as the camera panned over a smoking crater "resulting in 43 Iraqi casualties" she continued as the camera swept over the splintered remnants of the ruined neighborhood. "In Mosul US soldiers died, bringing the total of US personnel killed to…." At that point I turned away. It was too much, listening to that disembodied voice pick through tragedies like a vulture. That broadcast was like a cloud passing over the sun for a brief moment. But just as quickly as that segment intruded in our happy gathering it faded as the scene cut away to the next news segment. The cloud passed over and the news faded before my wife’s loving smile.
I didn’t think back to that clipped broadcast until I returned to Iraq. Here in the throbbing heart of Baghdad, swimming in a sea of shimmering heat - that news segment seems almost disingenuous. I’m sure that yesterday, half a world away that same newscaster spent 10 or 15 seconds covering the latest insurgent ambush before moving onto the local weather forecast. And I’m equally certain that someone watched that broadcast and grew a little more despondent about the situation here in Iraq. But what was lost in that syrupy smooth slice of news was a story that shows just how much Iraq has changed, and about how disciplined some Iraqi Army units have become in a few short months.
I heard the story this morning from one of our NCOs who works hand in hand with the Iraqi Army unit that was ambushed. After conducting operations outside of our sector the IA unit was returning in the shadowy silence of early morning. The unit was moving in a snaking column, a long sinuous file that took them right into the waiting ambush. I can imagine the silence of that morning, the only sound echoing off the urban canyon the grumbling clamor of Bongo trucks and Iraqi vehicles making their way down the road. And then the silence was broken, and the sky was aflame with a storm of machine gun fire. The insurgents had set their ambush in the middle of a quiet residential area an arrangement that guaranteed that any returning fire would careen through a densely populated neighborhood and compound the tragedy by killing innocent civilians sleeping in their beds. The Iraqi unit took the worst the insurgents had to throw at them, making the wrenching decision to limit their return fire to protect the civilians the insurgents were using as unwitting shields.
When the vehicles staggered back to their compound several were awash in clotting rivers of crimson. Once their comrades were evacuated several Iraqi soldiers slipped away into the darkness. But these soldiers weren’t shirking their duty, they were slipping back to their own vehicles hoping to find the perpetrators and repay them in kind. As the vehicles started to head towards the gate the commander had to cooly intercede and order his troops to stand down. His order stood, and the flow of traffic heading for the gate slowly scattered and parked next to their respective barracks.
In the coming days I am sure the IA unit will find their attackers, and deal with them in an appropriate fashion. But that won’t be their defining moment – that came early one morning when they put the lives of their innocent countrymen over their own lives. In that moment they transcended personal desire and exhbitied the backbone of any professional army... discipline.


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