Cheater5
05-30-2016, 09:33 AM
This is unbearably long and I'm not sure how this will be received, and frankly it’s more for me than for anyone reading it. Our country, our society, is war-weary. Not from actual fighting as only .05% of our population has donned a uniform during the last 15 years; but tired of the ceaseless hero worship, running death tolls, and combat sortie film footage/war porn. This message isn’t political, and if it turns out that this has to be moved to the D.C. forum, then I find it sad that people on both ends of the spectrum cannot show restraint for one thread.
They call it the ‘fatal funnel’; it’s the most dangerous position when entering a room or building, and is the cone-shaped area that leads from the outside in for the assaulter. It’s a killing ground, and defenders will concentrate fires and obstacles at this critical entryway to prevent the assault team from gaining a foothold. You’ve all seen it; a four man team ‘stacked’ up outside a building or room preparing to enter in a controlled rush (“slow is smooth and smooth is fast”) and the Number One Man is the most vulnerable. He’s the first to expose himself and has to clear the fatal funnel to allow Number Two, Three, and Four Man into the room to bring their weapons to bear. What was once the practice of elite SOF units became a drill passed down to the regular Infantry and requires hundreds if not thousands of repetitions to learn in multiple scenarios. It’s incredibly hard, despite whatever skills you’ve mastered on your favorite first-person shooter game. Sometimes, due to casualties and the chaos of combat you find yourself in a four man stack with people you’ve never drilled or rehearsed with. And you make eye contact with each man, line up, and go. Right now.
Sean Sims. Every time I hear his name or think about him my jaw clenches, my breath catches and I look down. He was a military brat as the son of an Army Colonel, but he wasn’t a brat. He was a really good kid. He was calm, intelligent, respectful and could have pal’d around with other wholesome boys like Beaver Cleaver catching pollywogs and sleeping with his baseball glove underneath his mattress to break it in. Sean said sir and ma’am to the 18 year old cashier at Wal-Mart or the custodians at his high school in Korea. There wasn’t a pretentious bone in his body; he didn’t even know how to brag or even fake it.
He’d went to Texas A&M, was a company commander in the Corps of Cadets and graduated with a mechanical engineering degree before going straight into the Army as an officer and finishing at the top of his Infantry Officers Course. Ranger school didn’t faze him much; (‘yeah, there were some tough days I guess’) and he went to the 101st Airborne for his first assignment before asking for Germany as a Captain for his second tour in 2000. Afghanistan kicked off and was a fight for SOF and ‘light’ units like the 101st and 82nd Airborne due to the difficult terrain. Germany was a ‘heavy’ unit; they rode armored Bradley Fighting Vehicles and M1 tanks in the 1st Infantry Division (Big Red One). And then, Iraq happened.
Captain Sims commanded ‘A’ Company, 2nd Battalion 2nd Infantry Regiment (Ramrods), and in November of 2004 found themselves attached to the Marines for the assault on Fallujah; if you recall this was soon after the Blackwater team was ambushed and their charred remains were hung from a bridge. Fallujah would be some of the heaviest urban combat our forces encountered since Hue City in 1968. It was house to house, room to room, clearing thousands buildings littered with IEDs and snipers. Constant chatter of machineguns, artillery, mortars or attack aircraft 24 hours a day. In the first 10 days, Alpha Company had over two dozen wounded, but none killed.
On the morning of Saturday November 13th, Sean went forward with a small team grunts and his attached Air Force combat air controllers (JTAC- Joint Terminal Attack Controller) so he could find a location to call in close air support. The best place to do so is to position yourself above ground; find a rooftop that overlooks your avenue of approach (where you want to go) and designate targets. JTACs can work magic and bring attack aircraft within 30 yards of your position with a gun run, or a precision guided munition; in Fallujah it was a common leap-frog tactic. Isolate a building with tanks or Bradleys, use the close air to kill fleeing targets or reinforcements, move the infantry team in to ‘clear’ the building (the close fight). The four man stack technique, with teams passing through one another over and over again. It was time to ‘stack up’ for Captain Sims and his ad-hoc team.
His men were beat tired. They’d been conducting combat operations for nearly 10 straight days with only catnaps here and there, and MREs hurriedly choked down with stale water from their camelbacks. They needed to get to the roof top of the two story building across the street. Sean looked at his men splayed around him in the room. The Air Force guys were carrying heavy, cumbersome HF radios and spare batteries along with the same weapons and ammo his men were. His small team of infantrymen were sitting with legs wide open, filthy, exhausted, at the end of their rope. He made the decision- he’d go first. The CO was Number One Man. They formed two teams, and his would make the dash across the street first and he’d be the first man into the fatal funnel. “All right boys- ready? Follow me.” were the last words he spoke.
Into the blacked out doorway he went, but unfortunately Number Two Man was delayed a few seconds. It really wouldn’t have mattered as Sean was killed only about ten feet into the room as he charged the man shooting at him. When it was over he lay there, still. The call over the radio stating they had a casualty, a KIA, was met with open weeping by his men when they heard his call sign to identify Sean as the man killed. He made sure he spoke with every one of the 150+ men in his Company before they deployed to combat. He knew their wives and girlfriend’s names; their children’s names. Sean would let them talk and ask questions about where they grew up. He was soft spoken and introspective and was a genuine human being. He was a man for others.
I have tears in my eyes while I write this. This essay is not well written and I know it. It’s a ham-fisted attempt to remember my friend today. He left a wife and son behind that he only knew for five weeks. If he could live again, Sean would still go first. So here’s the obligatory ‘dead guy’ quote to tie this all together, because Mark Twain says it better than I could with a fraction of the words.
“Unconsciously we all have a standard by which we measure other men, and if we examine closely we find that this standard is a very simple one, and is this: we admire them, we envy them, for great qualities we ourselves lack. Hero worship consists in just that. Our heroes are men who do things which we recognize, with regret, and sometimes with a secret shame, that we cannot do. We find not much in ourselves to admire, we are always privately wanting to be like somebody else. If everybody was satisfied with himself, there would be no heroes.”
http://fadmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/B1-41x30.jpg
http://www.stripes.com/polopoly_fs/1.33475.1273614848!/image/3626049884.jpg_gen/derivatives/landscape_804/3626049884.jpg
http://www.sahs-reunion.com/000/8/6/4/2468/userfiles/image/n655830297_4877893_704.jpg
They call it the ‘fatal funnel’; it’s the most dangerous position when entering a room or building, and is the cone-shaped area that leads from the outside in for the assaulter. It’s a killing ground, and defenders will concentrate fires and obstacles at this critical entryway to prevent the assault team from gaining a foothold. You’ve all seen it; a four man team ‘stacked’ up outside a building or room preparing to enter in a controlled rush (“slow is smooth and smooth is fast”) and the Number One Man is the most vulnerable. He’s the first to expose himself and has to clear the fatal funnel to allow Number Two, Three, and Four Man into the room to bring their weapons to bear. What was once the practice of elite SOF units became a drill passed down to the regular Infantry and requires hundreds if not thousands of repetitions to learn in multiple scenarios. It’s incredibly hard, despite whatever skills you’ve mastered on your favorite first-person shooter game. Sometimes, due to casualties and the chaos of combat you find yourself in a four man stack with people you’ve never drilled or rehearsed with. And you make eye contact with each man, line up, and go. Right now.
Sean Sims. Every time I hear his name or think about him my jaw clenches, my breath catches and I look down. He was a military brat as the son of an Army Colonel, but he wasn’t a brat. He was a really good kid. He was calm, intelligent, respectful and could have pal’d around with other wholesome boys like Beaver Cleaver catching pollywogs and sleeping with his baseball glove underneath his mattress to break it in. Sean said sir and ma’am to the 18 year old cashier at Wal-Mart or the custodians at his high school in Korea. There wasn’t a pretentious bone in his body; he didn’t even know how to brag or even fake it.
He’d went to Texas A&M, was a company commander in the Corps of Cadets and graduated with a mechanical engineering degree before going straight into the Army as an officer and finishing at the top of his Infantry Officers Course. Ranger school didn’t faze him much; (‘yeah, there were some tough days I guess’) and he went to the 101st Airborne for his first assignment before asking for Germany as a Captain for his second tour in 2000. Afghanistan kicked off and was a fight for SOF and ‘light’ units like the 101st and 82nd Airborne due to the difficult terrain. Germany was a ‘heavy’ unit; they rode armored Bradley Fighting Vehicles and M1 tanks in the 1st Infantry Division (Big Red One). And then, Iraq happened.
Captain Sims commanded ‘A’ Company, 2nd Battalion 2nd Infantry Regiment (Ramrods), and in November of 2004 found themselves attached to the Marines for the assault on Fallujah; if you recall this was soon after the Blackwater team was ambushed and their charred remains were hung from a bridge. Fallujah would be some of the heaviest urban combat our forces encountered since Hue City in 1968. It was house to house, room to room, clearing thousands buildings littered with IEDs and snipers. Constant chatter of machineguns, artillery, mortars or attack aircraft 24 hours a day. In the first 10 days, Alpha Company had over two dozen wounded, but none killed.
On the morning of Saturday November 13th, Sean went forward with a small team grunts and his attached Air Force combat air controllers (JTAC- Joint Terminal Attack Controller) so he could find a location to call in close air support. The best place to do so is to position yourself above ground; find a rooftop that overlooks your avenue of approach (where you want to go) and designate targets. JTACs can work magic and bring attack aircraft within 30 yards of your position with a gun run, or a precision guided munition; in Fallujah it was a common leap-frog tactic. Isolate a building with tanks or Bradleys, use the close air to kill fleeing targets or reinforcements, move the infantry team in to ‘clear’ the building (the close fight). The four man stack technique, with teams passing through one another over and over again. It was time to ‘stack up’ for Captain Sims and his ad-hoc team.
His men were beat tired. They’d been conducting combat operations for nearly 10 straight days with only catnaps here and there, and MREs hurriedly choked down with stale water from their camelbacks. They needed to get to the roof top of the two story building across the street. Sean looked at his men splayed around him in the room. The Air Force guys were carrying heavy, cumbersome HF radios and spare batteries along with the same weapons and ammo his men were. His small team of infantrymen were sitting with legs wide open, filthy, exhausted, at the end of their rope. He made the decision- he’d go first. The CO was Number One Man. They formed two teams, and his would make the dash across the street first and he’d be the first man into the fatal funnel. “All right boys- ready? Follow me.” were the last words he spoke.
Into the blacked out doorway he went, but unfortunately Number Two Man was delayed a few seconds. It really wouldn’t have mattered as Sean was killed only about ten feet into the room as he charged the man shooting at him. When it was over he lay there, still. The call over the radio stating they had a casualty, a KIA, was met with open weeping by his men when they heard his call sign to identify Sean as the man killed. He made sure he spoke with every one of the 150+ men in his Company before they deployed to combat. He knew their wives and girlfriend’s names; their children’s names. Sean would let them talk and ask questions about where they grew up. He was soft spoken and introspective and was a genuine human being. He was a man for others.
I have tears in my eyes while I write this. This essay is not well written and I know it. It’s a ham-fisted attempt to remember my friend today. He left a wife and son behind that he only knew for five weeks. If he could live again, Sean would still go first. So here’s the obligatory ‘dead guy’ quote to tie this all together, because Mark Twain says it better than I could with a fraction of the words.
“Unconsciously we all have a standard by which we measure other men, and if we examine closely we find that this standard is a very simple one, and is this: we admire them, we envy them, for great qualities we ourselves lack. Hero worship consists in just that. Our heroes are men who do things which we recognize, with regret, and sometimes with a secret shame, that we cannot do. We find not much in ourselves to admire, we are always privately wanting to be like somebody else. If everybody was satisfied with himself, there would be no heroes.”
http://fadmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/B1-41x30.jpg
http://www.stripes.com/polopoly_fs/1.33475.1273614848!/image/3626049884.jpg_gen/derivatives/landscape_804/3626049884.jpg
http://www.sahs-reunion.com/000/8/6/4/2468/userfiles/image/n655830297_4877893_704.jpg