October 7 In Baghdad
by Larry Gill

On October 7, 2003, Staff Sergeant Larry Gill was severely wounded during an insurgent attack in Baghdad, Iraq. This is my story.

“Eagle Base, Eagle Base, this is Eagle One-Alpha-One. Be advised, there is a large demonstration beside the mosque and the 214th’s precinct, Southbound on highway 8. ..Break…” “There are several-hundred civilians protesting. Signs only at this time, no weapons visible, can you advise any further, over?” “Eagle One-Alpha-One, be advised that is a planned, peaceful demonstration.” “Drive-on and advise any further updates when possible; Eagle Base, out!”

At 0715 hours, October 7, 2003, radio silence was broken when the first squad leader, 1st platoon, 1165th Military Police Company, notified us of a large demonstration along highway 8. Highway 8 is a large, six-lane highway, which runs North and South into Baghdad and branches east into the “Green Zone” and west to the Baghdad Airport Highway. Probably the most dangerously traveled road in Iraq. It was apparent that the Operations Section was aware of this demonstration, however, they had forgotten to pass it along to those of us who were patrolling outside the wire!

The 1165th Military Police Company had been in Baghdad for approximately 5 months. Our original mission was to secure five police precincts in Baghdad, provide assistance for the newly formed Iraqi Police, and bring these precincts into full operational readiness. This particular morning, our mission was to provide escort and personnel security for a Captain with the Judge Advocate General’s Office (JAG), to the Iraqi Police Internal Affairs Headquarters. As we approached the location of the demonstration, I made radio contact with our operations center, and asked them to verify the information on the demonstration. I knew the radio traffic would alert my men to the potential risks that may be just ahead.

The North and South bound traffic had been slowed to a crawl due to the large number of protesters. The on-lookers, in both cars and pedestrians, as well as the protesters, stared at us as if to say, “What are you going to do about this?” All ten members of my squad had learned the importance of an automatic, constant, and thorough scan. Nothing moved near us or around us, that didn’t have a watchful eye (and weapon) trained on it. It took us about five minutes to transit that stretch of highway. It would have normally taken about 45 seconds! I recalled thinking to myself, “the fresh, cool morning air would soon be gone,” and “so would the tempers and patience of these protesters!”

Our drive to the headquarters was conducted with the usual, high speed, lane changing, and borderline reckless driving that my squad had become accustomed. We had learned when traveling through the overcrowded streets of Iraq, you did what you could to avoid snipers or the roadside bombs. The only thing missing was a bumper sticker that read: “If you don’t like the way I drive, stay off the sidewalk!”

When arriving at our destination, our vehicles were driven into the compound and positioned in a defensive posture. I escorted the captain into the precinct and my team leaders assigned gear guards and security for half the squad, while the other half went inside to soak up a few minutes of air conditioning before switching with those left outside to maintain our security. Sometimes, depending on the duration of our missions, my men and I would take the opportunity to meet and greet some of the locals in the police precincts.

At approximately 1300 hours, I had walked out to the vehicles to make sure all the men had eaten, and hydrated themselves with water. While talking to the men, the radio squawked the following message,

“All Eagle Base elements, be advised: Avoid the demonstration southbound on route 8,” use alternate routes back to base, out!”

My gut instincts told me it was time to return to base while we could. I instructed my men to “gear-up” and prepare to move out. We mapped out a couple of alternate routes to the base camp, and I went inside to inform the JAG officer of the changes in the status of the demonstration. I briefed the Captain and suggested that we return to Eagle Base as soon as possible. He concurred, but stated we were to follow the Iraqi Colonel and some of his officers to a different precinct. I was given a grid coordinate of where we were going, and after mapping out the route, we headed back out into the mean streets of Baghdad once again.

We traveled to another precinct in the middle of downtown Baghdad. High-rise office buildings and apartments surrounded the precinct. The entrance and drive way was a one-lane alley. A sniper’s dream! The vehicle entrance was barricaded by Iraqi Policemen armed with AK-47 assault rifles. The driveway into the police compound was block with the vehicles of an MP unit from Montana. We positioned our vehicles into a tactical “herringbone” staggered formation and remained parked in the alley. This meant no one was going inside and that all of us had to remain 110% vigilant. I only hoped this Captain would not take too long.

We received another radio message from Eagle Base.

“All Eagle elements, be advised: Highway 8 is now closed to all military traffic in the vicinity of the demonstration. All Eagle elements, the demonstrators have closed down the highway, No military traffic is authorized into this area until further notice. Eagle Base, out!”

We had mapped out yet another route to the base camp, I advised the captain, and we were soon underway to our base camp.

Our route back took some time. We arrived between 1700 and 1730. My men had been debriefed and I returned to my billeting area to ground my gear. We had been on the move since 0630, and eleven hours in full gear and the heat was something you just had to deal with! I was looking forward to getting a cool shower (we had no hot water), and cooling down with a nice dinner from our newly built dinning facility. Little did I know I would not make it to dinner!

What we didn’t know about the demonstration was that just prior to returning to the base camp that afternoon, the protesters had spilled onto the highway and completely closed it down to all traffic. Highway 8 is one of the main routes into Baghdad and therefore, all the trade, commerce and military supply lines were closed off and were now at the mercy of the protesters. Division MP’s from First Armor Division had responded to the protest from the northern end of the demonstration, approximately 5 miles from our base camp. Upon their arrival, two armed insurgents exited from the buildings near the edge of the protesters, and opened fire on the division commander and his security team. When the MP’s returned fire and the smoke cleared, the two gunmen lay dead. This seemed to incite the protesters even more, and the division commander requested an immediate call for additional MP support, and a Quick Reaction Force (QRF).

I had just gotten out of my body armor and grounded my gear, when my platoon leader came running into my billeting area. His disposition appeared on the verge of panic! Excitedly, he said, “Sgt. Gill, get your squad and vehicles on line, we are moving out in five minutes!” Apparently, our long day was about to be longer! The 1165th and 214th Military Police Companies were quartered in the same building. Both units had been summoned to assist with the demonstration. All we knew at that point was that the MP’s on scene needed our help. We were briefed on the status of the demonstration while in route to the scene. There were approximately forty HUMVEE’s that responded to the call for assistance. All were armed with a variety of crew served and individual weapons. It was an awesome display of force.

The stern looks and concern on our faces were met with looks of anger and the non-flinching pride of the Iraqi people, as we maneuvered through the open-air markets to the Northern most side of the demonstration. We arrived at the scene about 1800. The crowd of demonstrators had grown to about 2,500 persons. Iraqi flags and red banners scribed in Arabic writing were waving. Screams and chants filled the air and clinched fists shook in our direction. We posted counter sniper teams on the rooftops and the Apache gun ships were circling overhead. As additional forces from the 82d Airborne and 1st Armor Division arrived on the scene, the commander used a piece of chalk and drew a plan on the hood of his vehicle. We aligned our vehicles side by side, with just enough room in between to open the front doors. These were the shields for the dismounted MP’s. We aligned from each shoulder of the highway, and faced the crowd from about three hundred meters. My gut feelings from that morning about the tempers of the protesters were now a reality.

With our vehicles side by side, front doors opened as shields, we placed four to six MP’s in between each vehicle. The vehicle gunners remained mounted as over-watch security. The infantry lined up in rows about fifty feet behind us. Behind them were the medics and support vehicles. With everything in place, I quickly briefed my team leaders. “Once our forward movement is halted, we will send two men at a time, from between each vehicle, grab anyone who is not retreating, and pull them through to our rear.” “At that point, they are to be turned over to the infantry at our rear, who will secure them and place them in the vehicles for transporting to the prison.” I concluded my brief by telling them, “IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT THE VEHICLES STAY ON LINE, AND THAT WE HOLD THAT LINE!” My squad was in the center of our skirmish line. The absolute most important and vulnerable location! If there was any doubt in the minds of my men that this was a deadly task, it no longer existed.

As we begin our advance, the screams of the angry mob were deafening. As we neared the front lines, the helicopters overhead dropped down to tree top level, pitched their rotors, and began to sandblast the crowd with dust and debris. Everything appeared textbook at this point. Some of the protestors began to flee the scene. As our forward progress was halted, the protestors began beating on the hoods of our vehicles. On command, we began, two by two, moving into the crowd, taking the protestors into custody. The crowd began pelting us with rocks, and sticks and anything else they could throw. Their screams were murderous, and their eyes were blood red with hate. Suddenly there was a flash of light and a deafening explosion that threw me off my feet. The burning pains of the hot shrapnel peppered my lower extremities like hot, molten lava. The blood, my blood, was soaking through my left trouser leg. It was an arterial bleed. I had to get it under control. I could no longer hear the crowd! Had they stopped yelling? I knew I needed a medic, but the rocks and sticks were still raining down on us.

I had to move, but did not know if I could. I staggered to my feet, and headed back to the front lines. There were several of us who had been injured, and we were all picking ourselves up. Although our vehicles were at the forefront of the action, I knew I could not leave this situation. I managed my way back to my vehicle and relinquished some maps and other classified documents I had in my possession, to the private driving the vehicle. I was trying to remain calm as I pinched-off my left leg to slow the bleeding. I could practically feel the razor sharp shrapnel cutting inside my legs. I told the driver I need to find a medic and exited the vehicle. I walked about fifteen feet to the rear and was met by one of the Special Forces medics, who grabbed me and began dragging me to the rear away from the crowd. The medic began to cut my uniform off me. No doubt I was in shock, because I wasn’t hurting anymore.

All I could think of was my family and that I refused to orphan my sons over there in this place! I remember asking God to have mercy on me and give me strength. As I lay in that street being worked on by the medic, again, all I could think of was my family. This was the first time that I felt I would survive. About ten or twelve of us had been loaded into the field ambulance. I realized by my placement in the ambulance, that I was the most serious. The medics were working feverishly on me in the back of the ambulance. I wanted to look at my legs, but then again, I didn’t. Just before they closed the doors to the ambulance, my friend, SSG Barnes, climbed in the rear. He had caught shrapnel in his head and face. I began to wonder who was going to take care of my troops since he and I both were injured. In fact, I carried that grief inside me for several months, as to who was now in charge of my men.

It seemed like it took forever to get to the 28th Combat Support Hospital (CSH). The trauma ward came to life as we were brought in. All my life, I have heard how disoriented a Chinese fire drill would be. Well this was it! Pure chaos! I was strapped down to a stretcher, and could not look around too well. Clearly the pain medicine was working! At some point, one of the surgeons told me we were about to go into surgery. I told him, “Look Doc, I am a policeman back home and need my leg.” I said, “Don’t cut it off if you don’t have to.” He said he would try his best. And that’s when the lights went out! When I awoke, I was in an intensive care unit in Landstuhl, Germany. I thought I was still in Baghdad. In fact, I had spent three days in intensive care at the 28th CSH, and had been in Germany for four days! So, there were seven days out of my life, seven days in October 2003 that I have absolutely no recollection of anything!

When I came to, Barnes was sitting in a wheel chair beside my bed. His head was wrapped in gauze, and he had shrapnel wounds in his foot. He said he did not recognize me at first. My body had swollen and I had tubes and monitors hooked everywhere. It was comforting to see a familiar face. I asked Barnes what had happened. Barnes told me that on the night of the demonstration, while he and I were returning to the front lines, “He saw the grenade bounce off the back of a HUMVEE.” He continued, “By the time I realized it wasn’t a rock, rather a grenade, it detonated before he could yell at me.” I guess he was feeling guilty because I was lying there with my legs split open, but I told him there was nothing that could have been done. In fact, had I dove on the ground, I may have landed closer, or been killed. I was eventually stabilized, and evacuated to Walter Reed Army Medical Center. I went through eight surgeries and 21 months of intense physical therapy and rehabilitation. I was medically retired from the Army on June 30, 2005.

Sometime later, I learned from the soldiers in my squad, that the protest turned so violent they had to call in armored vehicles to assist in disbursing the crowd. Later on that evening, one of the transport trucks containing 20 of the detainees from the demonstration was in route to the Iraqi detention facility. A roadside bomb was detonated killing most of these prisoners and severely wounding the others. No U.S. personnel were injured in this incident!

Larry Gill is Founder/President of First Person, Inc., a group of disabled, Purple Heart recipients who are available to speak at conferences and seminars about the war on terror. Visit their web site at: www.FirstPerson-WaronTerror.com