Sunrise Over Fallujah Read Free

according to the situation,” Captain Coles said. “You’re assigned to a vehicle mostly so we can hold you responsible for keeping it in good order.”
    First Squad was Jones driving, Kennedy on the squad gun, me, and Captain Coles.
    Second Squad was Sergeant Harris driving, Darcy, another girl, on the squad gun, and Evans.
    Third Squad consisted of Love driving, Danforth on the gun, Pendleton, and a really quiet guy named Corbin who had worked in a rehabilitation center in civilian life.
    Ahmed Sabbat was our field interpreter. He was American, but his parents were from the Middle East.
    We were all up for whatever happened, and everyone had an opinion about what that might be.
    â€œYou know, the Iraqis are talking about how they let the UN inspectors in and how their people are suffering from the sanctions,” Evans said. “If they were getting ready to fight they wouldn’tbe doing so much talking. This is March. I’m betting by the Fourth of July I’ll be home fishing.”
    â€œThere’s no use watching the news to see what’s going on.” Sergeant Harris had his feet up on his foot locker. “Saddam is getting ready for us and we’re getting ready for him. That’s all there is to the thing, man.”
    â€œSaddam’s clever.” Captain Coles’s voice was soft, measured. “He has to remember the Gulf War and he’s savvy enough to understand that he can’t stand up to the United States. No Iraqi general is going to give him a different take on things. If he lets it get to the point where we start going in, he’s going to be taken out.”
    â€œOkay, I hear what you saying,” Harris answered. “But you tell me this, sir. The president is telling him to step down and get out of Dodge. Where’s Saddam going to go? Everybody over here hates his butt. He had a war with Iran, so he can’t go there. The Egyptians don’t like him. Everybody in Kuwait hates him for invading them. Where’s he going to go? If he ain’t got no place to go, he’s got to stay and fight.”
    â€œHe going to stay and get smoked!” a guy named Lopez said. He was olive-skinned with dark short-cropped hair. The dude looked dangerous. I had asked him what the initials tattooed on his hand—alkn—meant and he just looked at me and laughed.
    â€œYou know where Saddam could be safe?” Sergeant Harris was on a roll. “In the United States. We could put him in the witness protection program. Give him a million bucks so he could livegood—maybe a little business—that would be funny. Yeah, he could sell pictures of Elvis on black velvet.”
    â€œYou really want to get into this war bad, don’t you?” Marla Kennedy was playing solitaire on the foldout table.
    â€œLook, Miss Molly. These people need to learn what’s going on. You see what I’m talking about? What they understand over here is power.” Sergeant Harris glanced toward Captain Coles to see how his remarks were being taken. “They got to see your power. They got to see you take out their cities, kill a few folks. In a way, we’re teachers getting ready to let them know what American power is really all about. That’s why I’m here.”
    â€œWhat I think”—Jonesy put talcum powder in his boots and shook them—“is that Saddam got a tune in his head and he wants to play it real bad. And when it don’t go right he just play it louder. A lot of dudes do that. They call it music, but it could just be war.”
    â€œJones, what are you talking about?” Coles asked.
    â€œHey, Captain, why are you over here?” Kennedy looked up from her cards.
    â€œI joined the army when I was twenty-two and trying to figure out what to do with my life,” Captain Coles answered. “I kept thinking I was going to make up my mind on some career path and then get out. Haven’t quite