Support convoys ride a run of luck

By Hal Bernton
Seattle Times staff reporter

	Driving the lead gun truck is chilly duty in winter. The cab lacks a roof so the vehicle can accommodate a machine gun.
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FORWARD OPERATING BASE PACESETTER — The soldiers of the 44th Corps Support Battalion call their morning briefing "the last rites."

It is held around a map sketched in the earth with the aid of strings and wood. The map shows the route these drivers and shooters will take along a stretch of highway that is notorious for ambushes and bombs.

"All right, everybody. You know the drill," says a captain. "Take care of the guy behind, and if you do get attacked — keep rolling. ... If you have to stop, identify a target and get rid of your magazine. If they are in a building, cut it down!"

The battalion's 35 soldiers support the Fort Lewis-based Stryker brigade, which operates a new generation of high-tech, eight-wheeled vehicles that are here to hunt down insurgent forces. The transportation battalion also has an important, if less glamorous, mission. Each day over the past month they have made at least one, often two, daily round trips along this highway to bring water, mail and other supplies to the Stryker 3rd Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division.

It has proved to be a dangerous job.

	THOMAS JAMES HURST / THE SEATTLE TIMES A soldier with the 44th Transportation Support Battalion out of Fort Lewis keeps watch while his convoy is delayed by the discovery of a bomb on the road between Ad Duluiyah and Balad Air Base. Troops worry that insurgents might see Stryker-brigade supply convoys as soft targets.

During the past month, battalion convoys have survived a half-dozen close encounters with bombs, small-arms fire and rocket-propelled grenades. So far, there have been no injuries. But some soldiers are convinced that resistance forces have identified them as a weak link at a base that has otherwise bristled with the armored Strykers.

"We can't help but feel that they're gunning for us," said Spc. Clay White, a Mississippi National Guardsman who is attached to the Fort Lewis-based transportation battalion.

Yet their job is considered support, rather than a frontline combat mission. The soldiers say the battalion lacks a priority status for getting the latest in battlefield protection. The 44th Battalion soldiers have trouble even getting simple repairs done to improve their comfort.

Some examples:

• The lead gun truck lacks a working heater. To accommodate the vehicle's 50-caliber machine gun, mounted on the back bed, the cab also lacks a roof. So during the winter months, the driver has a chilly ride.

"We tried to order the parts to get this fixed," said Spc. Sarah Vinge, a 21-year-old driver from North Dakota. "We made the order months before we departed."

• The lead gun truck is also vulnerable. White, the Mississippi guardsman, mans the machine gun. He wears body armor, but the gun mount has no armor down low to offer White additional protection from hostile fire. Nor is there any armor along the sides of the bed.

A second gunman, fellow Mississippi guardsman Spec. Keith Polk, also rides in the exposed back bed.

"We go on our intuition," Polk said.

"And our prayers," White added.

• The 44th's Humvees have a few metal inserts to bolster the bulletproof sides. But the vehicles still fall far short of the protection offered by fully armored models.

Despite the hazards of the road, the battalion has kept up its morale. The soldiers have a kind of morbid humor, and their run of luck on this stretch of road may have lasted long enough: As the Stryker brigade relocates to Mosul, in northern Iraq, later this month, their convoy route will change, too.

To try to confound resistance fighters, the battalion solders have altered the daily departure times for their supply runs. They also have some unusual driving etiquette. They speed through intersections. They hog the middle of the road to avoid bombs that might lie along the sides. And they scan the rooftops for spotters tracking the convoy's progress.

They have learned to read some unconventional rules of the road. They've noticed, for example, that there always seems to be trouble waiting when the pool halls are closed in the nearby town of Ad Duluiyah. And they keep a wary eye out for a red motorbike with a fancy chrome tailpipe. Whenever it's around, something bad usually happens.

On a recent trip south in a nine-vehicle convoy, the signs are contradictory. The pool halls are open, but someone spots the motorbike. The convoy already is on high alert. In the morning briefing, the troops were warned of several spots where they might encounter bombs or small-arms fire.

The first few miles pass without incident. But on the outskirts of Ad Duluiyah, they come up behind another convoy and have to stop. Demolition experts sweeping the road ahead have found two bombs — improvised explosive devices, or IEDs. The skies unload a chilly downpour that soaks the driver and two gunners in the lead truck.

The soldiers are uneasy. "I don't like being here," says Sgt. Arthur Murns, who directs the convoy's movements from the front of a Humvee. "This is a good place to get mortared."

There is a loud boom, but it's not a mortar shell. It is the sound of the first roadside bomb as Army demolition experts safely detonate the charge.

Within an hour, the second IED is cleared, and the southbound convoy is free to travel on. The rest of the trip is smooth.

As soon as they pull into the Balad Air Base, a frigid Vinge, the North Dakota driver, piles into the Humvee to catch some warmth.

The soldiers would also welcome a hot meal at the base's big, well-outfitted mess hall. But they are running late, and there's no time. So they fall back on their prepackaged Meals Ready to Eat.

"As soon as those water bags are full," Murns said, "we're going home."

Hal Bernton: 206-464-2581 or hbernton@seattletimes.com

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