Thomas F. Gingerella Jr

Security Director
From Wyoming, RI

Army, Specialist
Military Police
Fallujah and Balad, Iraq 3/03-4/04

11 JUN 2003
The silent darkness of the night
Broken by the piercing
Hollow wail of
Call to prayer
Beautiful, ominous
Romantic, threatening
Surreal

Equipment check- green light
We roll
Through the business district people stare
Through the market they scatter
Over an old iron bridge
Through the residential area

The architecture, the history
The music, the smells
The holy land
Cradle of civilization
Once proud and majestic
Now decrepit and impoverished

We turn
Head back
Through the sea of
Toothless smiles and
Waving dirty hands
The women and children
“Mista, mista. U.S.A.”

We keep rolling
Through town
Toward the marketplace
Empty streets
Shutters closed
Not right, not good
My heart pounding in my ears
I can barely hear my hummer’s engine

BOOM! An explosion to our left
A shot
Another shot
Then all hell breaks loose
Tracers in the dark
Like a ballet of red lasers
More explosions, RPGs

We stop
In the kill zone!
This is not procedure
We dismount
Return fire

The sounds
The smell of gunpowder
Two more explosions punctuate the
Steady intense rifle fire
Adrenaline rush
Yelling
Ducking
Firing
Steady streams of red
Dancing back and forth
Surreal
Almost beautiful

“Let’s Go!” “Un-ass This Place!”
You don’t have to tell me twice
We scramble into our humvees
Everybody leaves
The hummers don’t move fast enough
Plunk plunk
New holes in my hummer

Ten minutes and we’re “home”
Nobody hurt
Except the hummers
A few holes
Need new windshields

My heart still pounding
But we are still alive
Thank you GOD