My Time in Iraq: Part 7

I Should Have Died:

Before our occupation, Camp Bucca was an Iraqi radio station and naval base. As with any radio station, you must have an extremely tall radio tower. The same was true at Bucca. Dead center in the middle of our camp was the tallest piece of criss crossed iron that I had ever seen. Although aesthetically displeasing, it served as a wonderful bullseye for any insurgent wanting to take their best shot at producing US casualties. Of course, after I left, higher command decided that it should come down. Also- have you ever been in a desert before? They are definitely hot and sandy, but more than that- at night, we had endless miles of darkness...except for the blinding lights of a non stop 24 hour U.S. Military Camp- plugged up to hundreds of diesel sucking generators. So yea, we were easy to find.
If you picture a large square patch of dirt, covered with gravel and projecting a phallic metal pole in its center, then you have Bucca. At one side of the square was the motor pool and storage. Near that was the MWR (Morale, Wellness, Rec) tent- that's where the computers and phones were...when they were working. If you work your way backwards from that side, you will run into a trailer park full of gun swinging Commando types- the male MPs. Keep walking a bit farther and you hit the PODs. They were set up in rows-kinda like an old folks community. To the far left of the PODs you have the DFAC and food storage buildings. Another large square sat beside our dwelling. It came complete with tents,towers,Constantine wire, guards and 6,000 alleged insurgents. It was just like home.
One night, no different from any other, I was about to rack for the night. I took off my ballistic helmet, my Flak vest, camel back and boots, and layed in bed. You know that moment when you are crossing the threshold into sleep- your body relaxes and your mind drifts. Everything is dark and peaceful then ZZZZIPPPPPPPPP BOOOMMMM!!! I jumped up from bed, put on my tennis shoes because they were easier, grabbed my rifle, flak and helmet then ran out the door. Everyone was running aimlessly. Some were wearing towels, naked underneath and suds still in their hair. Everywhere you looked you saw beams of flashlights and mismatched uniforms scurrying about in search of their leaders. I ran to the bunker nearest my POD and put the rest of my gear on. Then, the WHOOOOOP WHOOOOOOP sound of the Incoming alarm went off. A bit late, I remember thinking.
SGT Davis came looking for me. It was standard operating procedure for complete accountability after any event. All around me there were SGTs running about with rosters and walkie talkies. It was a total mess. Since my "team" was accounted for, SGT Davis and I decided to go get a closer look where the mortar round struck. It had torn through the male showers and blown a huge hole in a refrigeration unit. The shrapnel pieces had sliced their way through an iron dumpster. The casing of the rocket was littered about everywhere and there was an impact crater large enough to give a small dog a proper burial. We stood there amazed and silent. It turns out that there were a couple of guys in the shower but they happened to be in different stalls and the ceramic walls shielded them from most of the explosion. In fact, the only thing that died that night were several cases of Coca-Cola and some raw chicken breasts.
Our Quick Reaction Team came back thru the front gates with their report. The QRT's job was to immediately search and destroy any combatants in the event of an assault. Their news was disturbing. It turns out that there were 4 rockets aimed at us that night. The one that hit us was on the far left. The other 3 rockets were set at the same trajectory. My POD was perfectly aligned with the showers and storage, about 100 yards away. If the other 3 hadn't been duds, the 3rd rocket would have been mine.