Letters from Iraq ~ Rough Few Weeks
The past few weeks have been tough on us here. Sectarian violence has risen tremendously in our area. Shiites killing Sunnis and Sunnis killing Shiites. Between the two are the coalition forces, and it seems that killing us is just as satifactory as killing each other to the two sects.
One town in particular that lies in our area has been ravaged by this sudden rise in violence. Until recently the town was peaceful, but lately it has become a serious problem area. Urban fighting and mortar attacks are the issue. To assist our coalition elements located in the town a team was assembled and dispatched to assist in the fight. I was on it.
The convoy to the town was easy as IED's aren't really a threat there. Upon arriving we set up shop, and joined in the fight. Our mission was to help secure the coalition patrol base, patrol the area, access the situation, and assist in locating enemy mortar teams.
Securing the base was actually redundant in my opinion. The small base is manned by military police units and cavalry scout units from my brigade. These guys are as tough as they come. That little patrol base might have had a lot of things to worry about, but getting overrun was not one of them. To those guys I imagine our presence might have seemed an intrusion at first, but once they realized who we were and why we were there they were glad to have us.
Patrolling the area is just a part of accessing the situation. We had received reports that as many as 50,000 people had evacuated the city that was previously home to 150,000 residents. The reports were not accurate. Our fourth day there we estimated the number to be much closer to 90,000 who had evacuated. While on patrol the few people we saw were on the market streets, or loading their belongings into trucks. We also came across makeshift barracades in the back streets of the town. These barracades were made up of rocks, trash, or anything large enough to make an automobile stop. It seems that our enemies place these obstructions, uniform themselves as Iraqi Army or police, and then sort through the civilians that pass through. Often resulting in murder. On one of our patrols I saw a small boy setting up one of these barracades. Our cowardly enemy cannot even do that for himself. I call them cowardly because thats what they are. They place roadside bombs, d rop mortars on us, and use hungry children to commit murder. Rarely do they ever chance a confrontation with us directly as they know the result before it even begins. If they ever do fight us it is because they are cornered and trying to escape, but even then our treatment of detainees is such that often they simply surrender in the hopes that they will be released to fight us again. Unfortunately this does occur, and I will keep my opinion on that to myself.

I mentioned before that patrols were a part of our situation accessment. Another factor to access was the mortar issue. While at the small patrol base we were mortared at least four times a day, and sometimes six or seven times. Fortunately for us, the enemy mortar teams do not have enough time to aim with much accuracy. This is because as soon as that first mortar round fires from the tube we know almost exactly where they are, and the Apache attack helicopters are on the way. The enemy has adapted to this by firing the mortars from tubes located in the beds of pick-up trucks. They fire six or seven rounds and then run for their lives. Besides the lack of accuracy it is actually a very effective method of engaging us. Only the enemy is not engaging us alone. Their mortars were landing all throughout the town as well. Killing innocents in the process. On one occasion I witnessed a mortar that passed over our location and landed in town. Approximately ten minutes lat er a man approached the compound with a boy in his arms that appeared to be about twelve years old. The boy was injured so our guys let them in. While they were in the base I was on the roof and unable to see what was happening. Shortly after the man's arrival I saw him leave, and he still carried the child. The boy was dead. The first of many civilian casualties me and my friends would witness in the days to follow.

About an hour after that mortar strike an Iraqi Police truck entered the compound. In the back of the truck were four detainees dressed as Iraqi Army. I watched as the IP's laid into these guys. The prisoners were snatched from the truck and (in southern terms) got the absolute stew whipped out of em'. To the point that I thought maybe I should step in, and not because I felt sorry for them. Not that at all, but out of duty as I was the only American present at the time. Now, had I not seen what happened to that child an hour earlier I might have stopped the beating these guys were getting. However, in that moment I merely watched, and I have to say it made me glad. After all, these men would live, but what of the people they had murdered. "Beat em', and beat em' til you find the rest," I thought. Later, I worried about feeling this way. That feeling of sweet vengeful hate. I refuse to lose my humanity here. So I prayed on it and God reminded me of "righteous anger." That is the feeling I had, and not hate at all. Hate is reckless, and has no purpose other than to do evil. Our anger has purpose. The evil and madness here must stop.

In the face of all that horror and pure hatred that men create for themselves it is very easy to lose sight of hope. All those things that are right, pure, and good just fade. All that is left is personal courage, love of the soldier next to you, and faith in God Almighty. Honestly, it is very hard to see the Lord in such circumstances. I must admit I found myself asking "Lord, where are you? Don't you care?" In His sweet Grace He answered. You see, when the time came for me to be relieved, I requested to stay because my friend who would replace me is much younger than me and a father. The thought of anything happening to him in my stead was just too much for me. Now, I don't mean to sound like " oooh look at me, I'm a tough guy." On the contrary, I was very afraid the whole time. I am writing this because of the miracle that occurred after my request to stay was denied. As soon as I found out Jeff was coming to replace me I hid in my h um-v and began praying for the Lord to guard him just as He had guarded me. God did. The morning after he relieved me, Jeff and another friend of mine were talking by their trucks. Niether of the two were wearing their body armor or their helmet because they had just woke. Just then a mortar round whistled overhead and landed with a thump fifteen feet away from where they stood. The round landed in the area where our "piss tubes" are located. The ground was too soft there to set off the charge. It caught the mortar like a pillow. As per usual the Lord was with us the whole time. He just wanted to make a big entrance to make sure we knew it. God is good, and I am thankful "its all in His hands."

Shaneyfelt,Tate SPC
B Co. 1STB 4ID
Unit#50001
APO AE 09378-0001
tate.shaneyfelt@us.army.mil