The second installment in a three-part-series chronicling the experiences of Marines with 1st Battalion, 6th Marine Regiment, during their participation in Operation Moshtarak in Marjah, Afghanistan.
MARJAH, Afghanistan — In a dark room, inside of a compound in Marjah, Afghanistan, several Marines huddle together, March 20. Some nights it's for warmth, but at this moment it's to relive the first few days of fighting when they participated in Operation Moshtarak. All the men in the room were there that day, but there's something about seeing it on a screen that makes it more real.
After checking to make sure everyone is ready, Lance Cpl. James R. Borzillieri, a gunner with 81 mm Mortar Platoon, Weapons Company, 1st Battalion, 6th Marine Regiment, presses play on his personal video camera, and the show begins.
Feb. 14, 2010 — Valentine's Day in Marjah
The screen glows white and then the image comes sharply into focus. Marines lounge about a dusty compound, the time stamp on the bottom of the screen reads 8:30 a.m. The camera pans over Marines curled up or huddled together in the corners of the room, trying to catch just a few more minutes of sleep before the day really starts.
As the screen goes black and Borzillieri plays the next clip, made just an hour after the first, something is clearly different. The camera is shifted upward, and the face of Lance Cpl. Allan J. Fenley with the 81 mm Mortar Platoon, Weapons Company, 1/6, looks down at the screen.
"Alright, there's some firefights going on outside our compound right now," says Fenley, his voice raspy, but clear. Panning downwards, Lance Cpl. Richard A. Louke a mortarman with 81 mm Mortar Platoon, Weapons Company, 1/6, sits on the floor fiddling with something in his hands. "Louke's sewing up a sheath for his knife, but we're gonna go take a look at this," continues the narration, interrupted momentarily by the sound of intense gunfire from the guard posts around the compound.
The camera points up toward the gun positions, where Marines engage a distant enemy with their machine guns and respective weapons.
As the sounds of frantic voices and impacting rounds blare over the video camera's small speakers, the scene is strangely peaceful. The Marines inside the compound walls calmly go about their daily chores; shaving, making breakfast, reading books or napping.
"When I woke up, only one day had passed and I knew it was just the beginning," said Louke, who after getting his bearings on where he was that morning, finally ate his first meal since the invasion began. Eating a chicken, bacon and ranch sandwich from his MRE, he took a moment to look around.
The gun line was set up, which was a good thing, he said, because when daylight breaks, the Taliban start shooting.
"At around five in the morning we heard the morning prayer, played over the loud speakers and knew that it was going to hit the fan all over again," Louke said. "Hearing that sound, it's ominous and eerie, like a harbinger, because you know what's going to happen next. Soon all the posts were getting engaged and we didn't even have a fire mission yet, we were just sitting there. With the posts getting shot at and guns engaging, but you're not firing back, it gets frustrating when people are fighting and you're not. As much as you'd love to get up there and fight, you'd just get in the way, and for what?" said Louke. "For your own validation? You need to know your part and perform it well."
Louke touched upon a feeling that was likely present in all the Marines that day; a sense of frustrated uninvolvement, and at times, powerlessness or even resignation.
"The sound of whistling bullets turns back the evolutionary clock and turns our finely tuned brains raw and primal," Louke said.
"There comes a point in combat when all the adrenaline has faded. During that time I was working on a sheath for my knife. I could either stand out there and gawk at the post being shot at, or occupy myself in some way. There's a point where you have to realize that things are out of your control."
As the day is revisited through the series of short clips which start and stop, picking up anywhere from a 30 minutes to an hour after the last, a scene of tense waiting and frustration unfolds. Marines stand at their mortar tubes with rounds in hand, waiting for permission to fire, while those on post continue to take small-arms fire from insurgents.
Abruptly, a three-letter word is screamed, which causes every Marine to react instinctively.
"RPG!"
Spinning through the air, a rocket flies past the post closest to the bazaar, hurdling toward the gun line, and the platoon of Marines caught out in the open. It flies over their heads, slams into the doorframe of the compound and skids along the ground, failing to detonate.
By the time it has stopped, there's not a Marine in sight, everyone having jumped behind cover or leapt through broken windows.
Looking up from the camera, Borzillieri smirks as he remembers. There is one clip left. His smile is contagious, and the other Marines start to chuckle prematurely as he presses the play button.
The screen is black. The time stamp reads 6:32 p.m. As the camera pans, a red glow comes into focus. The skyline is engulfed in flames. Marines talk amongst one another as others yell in the distance trying to figure out what is going on.
Fenley, still narrating, comments to the camera, "I think we just got mortared and they blew up the gas station, but this is as far as I'm gonna go, in case it blows up, 'cause I don't wanna be in the middle of it."
"I was sitting there, listening to Credence Clearwater Revival played over speakers on my iPod, and I kept thinking, 'I hope it doesn't blow up anymore, but if I'm dying, I'm listening to music,'" said Borzillieri, with a chuckle.
By the time night fell, the realization sunk in — this was only the second day of the invasion, and it already had the feel of a Hollywood blockbuster.
"When the gas station lit on fire that night," Louke pauses and lets out a laugh, which slips into a giggle as he remembers, "it was unimaginably surreal. It was definitely something out of a movie. I just sort of surrendered myself to the idea that it was completely helpless. I didn't put gear on; I just sat there and watched resignedly."
"It was like a dark and demented wonderland," said Louke, and was made more poignant when a sergeant with Bravo Co., 1/6, poked his head into where Louke and the other mortarmen were taking cover and warned them to "keep their mouths open in case the gas station explodes, or else their eyes might pop out of their sockets and their ear drums might explode."
"Of course, all this [the entire event] happened just at sunset and the prayer call was happening all over again like some haunting refrain," said Louke.
As the clip finishes, the Marines talk amongst themselves, joking and smiling as if they were enjoying the rerun of a show that they caught live.