The Lieutenant and falling asleep

I served as a Platoon Sergeant in a Rifle Platoon during Operation Iraqi Freedom I, during “the March Up”. I had just under ten years in the Marine Corps. My Platoon Commander was a Lieutenant from Long Island, NY. He worked in finance or some white-collar job in the city until the towers fell. He put all that on hold and joined the Marine Corps as an infantry officer in response. He winded up serving two tours in Iraq, completed his service, then returned to NY and the corporate world. I always thought that was honorable, classy.

I on the other hand grew up in the southern Appalachians among people who didn’t even wear collared shirts. The two of us were a good pair though. We got along well and had a great platoon. Lt Mac was a little lacking in what one might call military appearance. I don’t mean weight or physical fitness. He was as tough as the other infantry officers in the battalion. The spit and polish, crisp, smart uniform…that type of thing wasn’t his forte. It wasn’t really a big deal since most of our attention was focused on more important things, like warfighting. I did get chewed out several times by my Company Gunny because of Lt Mac’s appearances, such as an untucked skivvy shirt, or missing a belt. It went something like this:

Gunny: “Staff Sergeant, YOUR Lieutenant is naassty. He is a direct reflection of your leadership…or lack thereof! FIX HIM!!
Me:” Aye Gunnery Sergeant”

I would then appeal to, cajole, and in exasperation yell at Lt Mac. He would fix the infraction with a laugh, and we moved on to things that really mattered.

I took pride in having a good work ethic and in knowing my trade. There’s a lot I didn’t know, and I would have failed without the influence and peer leadership of the other platoon sergeants, Ferg and Hernandez. I also had great NCO’s, so if I failed in that environment it was my fault.

Once we began “the March Up” on the road to Bagdad sleep was almost non-existent. I knew where we were when we departed Kuwait and crossed the breech into Iraq (Safawan Hill). Right before we rolled out, I was given an ammo can with one hundred unlamented maps. I had no idea where we were, only that Bagdad was north. Wherever the ramp dropped was enemy territory, so I never used any of those maps.

I rode in the TC hatch of an AAV (Amphibious Assault Vehicle) with half of my platoon in the back. Lt Mac rode in the TC hatch of the other AAV with the other half of the platoon. When we stopped to set up security it might be ten minutes or several hours. After a few minutes we would drop the ramp and set out local security, then load back up and continue the road march. Day and night, round the clock. Days turned into weeks. There were no nights of sleep. Naps were stolen, rare, and brief. I checked my journal the other day. It recorded a three day period during this time. The first night I slept twenty minutes, the next night thirty minutes, and the third night I slept for an hour and a half. I felt guilty for sleeping that much the third night. I am neither making up nor exaggerating these details.

In the TC hatch I wore a CVC (Combat Vehicle Crewman) Helmet. It’s a helmet with radio and earpiece installed. I could communicate on the company net and with the AAV driver & commander. I could also communicate with Lt Mac. One night while we were halted, I leaned my head forward, resting it against the AAV and closed my eyes. The next thing I was aware of, Lt Mac is in my face. He climbed up the side of my track and yelled at me, inches from my face. “Staff Sergeant, I was trying to call you on the radio! You didn’t answer, we have to remain alert!”

I was furious. Rage. An experienced Staff Non-Commissioned Officer corrects and steers a young officer. A Staff NCO should not be getting corrected by a Lieutenant. What really angered me though…he was right. I fell asleep.

As he went back to his AAV I was so worked up that I no longer felt the slightest twinge of drowsiness. I sat there fuming. Approximately an hour later I hear “Guidons, guidons”. This is the code word for all platoons to “roger up” on the net in platoon order. Generally, the officers (in this case the platoon commanders) chimed in to receive orders while the platoon sergeants listened in for situational awareness. I heard “Kilo 1 roger” ….then silence…followed by “Kilo 3 roger, Kilo Guns roger, Kilo Mortars roger, Kilo 5 roger”. Lt Mac didn’t chime in, so I keyed the net “Kilo 2 roger” with an angry, disgusted look on my face.

We then received orders to send out a local security patrol to take a look at a structure in the distance. I dispatched Corporal Fitz’s squad. Routine, nothing significant. I then climbed down from the TC hatch and walked over to Lt Mac’s AAV. I climbed up the ladder and was inches from his face. He was wearing the CVC helmet with his head leaned against the AAV… out cold. I stared at him for a few seconds with a scowl on my face. I then took my helmet off and slammed it against his as he was violently jolted awake. His stupor disappeared instantly. He looked at me and burst into side splitting laughter. “You’re, right, you’re right Staff Sergeant! We’re only human. We gotta take turns. We have to get some rest”. Just rolling in laughter.

The anger evaporated in an instant and I grinned. I said, “you suck Sir”. I then informed him of Kilo 6’s orders, the squad patrol, and other details of the tactical situation. Then we took turns and took naps.

I’ve never been one to treat young officers in a condescending manner, inflating my own experience and saltiness; but in this one incident…if felt pretty good to know I was right.

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