Troops Have a Nervous Ride to Nighttime Raid

As his men geared up for the arrival of the choppers, Capt. Jeffrey Dirkse turned his iPod on full blast. Richard Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” blared through the barracks.

“Hit ‘em hard and hit ‘em fast,” he told the men of Delta Company, after the music used in “Apocalypse Now” had died down.

So many soldiers from the 1st Battalion, 184th Infantry Regiment, 3rd Infantry Division have been killed by roadside bombs, troops have begun flying to their missions.

In the last six weeks, this area just south of Baghdad has become one of the main battlegrounds for American soldiers, and the fighting has taken its toll on this California National Guard unit of 700 troops, known as the Night Stalkers.

The battalion commander, Col. William Wood, was killed by a roadside bomb Oct. 27 as he responded to another explosion that had mortally wounded another soldier. Since mid-September, the Night Stalkers have lost 11 soldiers and more than 100 have been wounded. The 105-member Delta Company lost four men in eight days.

Every man in Delta has experienced the blast of a roadside bomb.

“We’ve been taking it bad,” said Dirkse, of Ontario. “We’ve been hit well over 100 times. I lost count after 80.”

Soldiers now stay away from Humvees when they can, preferring Bradley fighting vehicles or M-1 tanks instead. But even those cannot withstand the more powerful bombs. Recently, one 60-ton Abrams tank was lifted off the ground when it hit 1,000 pounds of explosives, leaving a 15-foot-wide crater. Two soldiers were killed in the blast.

The 1-184 operates in a Sunni Muslim area a short drive across the Tigris River from downtown Baghdad. The district is home to numerous farms that U.S. commanders suspect insurgents use as hide-outs and bomb-making facilities.

Initially, resistance in the area came from Saddam Hussein stalwarts. Grand mansions dot the riverfront, most of them property of former members of the dictator’s Baath Party. But groups pledging allegiance to Jordanian-born militant Abu Musab Zarqawi are taking over, American commanders say.

“It’s like the New York Yankees: Everybody wants to play for the Yankees,” said Capt. David Conkle, the battalion’s intelligence officer. “They’ve got the money, so they’re winning. Nobody wants to play for the Expos.”

Assassinations and sectarian killings are rampant in the area. On the day of last month’s constitutional referendum, election workers refused to set foot in several polling sites here for fear of being slain, leaving frustrated American troops to watch over empty sites and long lines of disgruntled voters. A few of the Iraqis walked for hours to get to an open polling site, but most did not get to cast ballots.

To try to improve security for the National Assembly election in December, the battalion has stepped up offensives.

On Saturday, Dirkse and his Delta Company soldiers, nicknamed Demons, rehearsed for hours in a sandy patch at Forward Operating Base Falcon. By 8 p.m., 50 soldiers were lined up on the landing strip, awaiting five Black Hawk helicopters that would take them to search a cluster of houses for guerrillas and explosives.

Although they were supported by Apache attack helicopters carrying Hellfire missiles and an AC-130 plane with a cannon, the soldiers were jittery.

Some smoked cigarettes. A sandstorm was making its way from the Syrian border toward Baghdad, and Dirkse worried that having flown to their target, the men might need to walk for miles to a spot where they could get a ride back with a convoy.

Just as they were about to depart, a bomb exploded outside the camp, echoing across the strip.

Dirkse heard on the radio that the “iron claw” -- a vehicle that clears the roads of bombs -- had been hit and a soldier wounded.

A few minutes later, the helicopters landed, the noise of their blades deafening. The men ran to get aboard.

As they took off, the men hollered in excitement. Their night-vision goggles glinted green in the dark chopper. Below, lights thinned out as city gave way to palm groves and vast farm fields.

The helicopters touched down. The men jumped out and started making their way across a field, crisscrossed by plowed ridges. They slowed to wade through a 5-foot-wide ditch full of water, weighed down by rifles and ammunition.

Running along a dirt road lined by palm trees, the soldiers cast long shadows in the night. Dogs barked madly as the troops passed.

The soldiers arrived at the targeted house and took up positions in front. A few of them kicked in the door and began searching for suspects. A child’s pair of red shoes sat on the carpet of the front room. In another room, propped up against a sack of dates, two tiny children’s backpacks lay in a corner -- handouts from the Americans.

At least six women and children and three men were inside. After the house was emptied of people, Dirkse moved to the roof, where he monitored the platoons’ work by radio.

“We’ve got about one hour to wrap this up,” he told a platoon leader on the radio. “You need to go shake a leg.”

A few men wearing dishdasha robes were brought in from neighboring houses and sat squatting in the front yard, cuffed and blindfolded. Among them was one suspected insurgent who had gotten away during a previous sweep that cost the lives of two troops.

Soldiers photographed the suspects and tested them for explosives residue.

“How hot are these cats?” Dirkse asked. He eventually decided the traces of explosives were too weak to warrant detaining four of them, and let them go.

“Today’s your lucky day, stupid,” one of the soldiers told a man as the plastic handcuffs were cut. The freed man sat down and lighted up a cigarette. Another held his head in his hands. No weapons were found, but three detainees would be brought back to the base for questioning.

The sky was still clear enough for the choppers to fly, and the soldiers made their way back across the field. Moments later, the helicopters touched down with a roar, kicking up dust. As they took off, the men yelled again, this time with relief.

Dirkse quickly briefed the battalion commander as he returned. “A good mission,” he told Lt. Col. Denton Knapp. At three hours, the operation had been fast and, although the catch was meager, no one had been hurt.

Outside the barracks, soldiers were standing around, smoking. Their faces were covered in dust, except around their eyes, which had been protected by goggles. They looked like raccoons. Their laughter sounded through the darkness.

Less than 24 hours later, Dirkse and his men began to plan the next mission, Operation Double Barrel, to search for explosives. As the meeting began, Sgt. 1st Class Joe Barker yelled:

“For this one, sir, we want Beethoven’s Fifth.”