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This is a letter that I sent home to family of friends following a tough week in Iraq when I was in battalion command in Baghdad. I've previously shared it in a couple of venues and hope RallyPoint finds it of interest.
From: Russell, Samuel L LTC MIL USA FORSCOM
Sent: Thu, 3 Apr 2008 4:10 pm
Subject: Another Memorial
Family and Friends...
I've been trying to get out another update on the events of the past two months, but we've had a busy couple of weeks -- large spike in insurgent activity. Unfortunately, our brigade lost several Soldiers. Again, my battalion was spared any casualties. I can't bring myself to write about my trivial goings on with the weight of the latest combat operations, and the burden of the associated loss. That will have to wait.
One of the missions my unit performs is recovering heavily damaged vehicles that units are unable to self-recover. We had several over the past week into heavily contested areas. Our follow-on missions after a recovery are to sanitize the damaged or destroyed vehicles, process the human remains and prepare the fallen Soldiers for transport through the mortuary in Baghdad and on to the mortuary in Dover. Unless out on a mission, I am always present when remains are brought back and vehicles are sanitized. It is the most solemn of missions and at the same time potentially the most psychologically demanding that my Soldiers encounter.
One of my recovery teams went out with 2nd Battalion, 16th Infantry Regiment -- Rangers -- to bring back a destroyed HMMWV and two of their fallen comrades. This mission involved running a gauntlet of improvised explosive devices (IED), rocket propelled grenades (RPG) and small arms fire--there and back--and, thank God, our guys returned unscathed, despite being hit by all three. I was there when we downloaded the severely damaged gun truck, which was missing an armored door after receiving the full blast of an explosively formed projectile (EFP). After untarping the vehicle and beginning the sanitization, I moved to the mortuary affairs collection point where I met those two young Rangers, not in life but in death. The earthly remnants of their bodies were void of the souls and spirits that so recently filled them with life and aspirations, but had now moved onto a better place. After fourteen months of hard fought combat, these two Rangers were only days from going home; each was in his early twenties. I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with my chaplain as he prayed over the bodies of these two fine young men.
No movie can capture the essence of war, not even the beach landing scene in Saving Private Ryan. Rightfully, such true to life experiences should not be seen and felt by anyone. Beyond the sights and sounds of battle, the movies can never bring to the viewer the overwhelming crush to the other senses: touch, taste and smell. My attempts to describe the variety and severity of each sensory input would make this message unreadable. So, I'll spare you those details. Suffice it to say that the most overwhelming sense is that of loss.
Today we held the traditional memorial ceremony for both of them. It was comforting to see photos of them when they were whole, strong, motivated and proud to serve. Unfortunately, what I'll carry with me is the images of my meeting with them at my mortuary as we prepared them for their hero flight home.
General of the Army Douglas MacArthur once said, "The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war."
While this is true, the Soldier also prays for his life, the life of his buddy next to him, the loved ones he is serving to protect, and his safe return home where he can peacefully enjoy that blanket of freedom for which he has sacrificed so much. He prays for victory, for strength in battle, for the annihilation of his enemy, and for retribution of fallen comrades. But what separates a Soldier's prayer from any other God-fearing American, is that he puts his prayers into action. Wielding his God-given strength he storms into the cauldron of fire, takes the fight to the enemy, places his life on the line for his buddies, seeks vengeance for his fallen comrades, and annihilates the enemy.
May God continue to bless our Nation with young men like Specialist Durrell Bennett and Private First Class Patrick Miller, young men that not only pray for peace but are willing to answer the prayers of millions of Americans by waging into battle to protect and preserve that blanket of freedom. Sleep gently tonight America, for your brave young men are standing firmly at their post.
God Bless, Sam
SAMUEL L. RUSSELL
LTC, LG
94th BSB Commander
FOB Rustamiyah
From: Russell, Samuel L LTC MIL USA FORSCOM
Sent: Thu, 3 Apr 2008 4:10 pm
Subject: Another Memorial
Family and Friends...
I've been trying to get out another update on the events of the past two months, but we've had a busy couple of weeks -- large spike in insurgent activity. Unfortunately, our brigade lost several Soldiers. Again, my battalion was spared any casualties. I can't bring myself to write about my trivial goings on with the weight of the latest combat operations, and the burden of the associated loss. That will have to wait.
One of the missions my unit performs is recovering heavily damaged vehicles that units are unable to self-recover. We had several over the past week into heavily contested areas. Our follow-on missions after a recovery are to sanitize the damaged or destroyed vehicles, process the human remains and prepare the fallen Soldiers for transport through the mortuary in Baghdad and on to the mortuary in Dover. Unless out on a mission, I am always present when remains are brought back and vehicles are sanitized. It is the most solemn of missions and at the same time potentially the most psychologically demanding that my Soldiers encounter.
One of my recovery teams went out with 2nd Battalion, 16th Infantry Regiment -- Rangers -- to bring back a destroyed HMMWV and two of their fallen comrades. This mission involved running a gauntlet of improvised explosive devices (IED), rocket propelled grenades (RPG) and small arms fire--there and back--and, thank God, our guys returned unscathed, despite being hit by all three. I was there when we downloaded the severely damaged gun truck, which was missing an armored door after receiving the full blast of an explosively formed projectile (EFP). After untarping the vehicle and beginning the sanitization, I moved to the mortuary affairs collection point where I met those two young Rangers, not in life but in death. The earthly remnants of their bodies were void of the souls and spirits that so recently filled them with life and aspirations, but had now moved onto a better place. After fourteen months of hard fought combat, these two Rangers were only days from going home; each was in his early twenties. I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with my chaplain as he prayed over the bodies of these two fine young men.
No movie can capture the essence of war, not even the beach landing scene in Saving Private Ryan. Rightfully, such true to life experiences should not be seen and felt by anyone. Beyond the sights and sounds of battle, the movies can never bring to the viewer the overwhelming crush to the other senses: touch, taste and smell. My attempts to describe the variety and severity of each sensory input would make this message unreadable. So, I'll spare you those details. Suffice it to say that the most overwhelming sense is that of loss.
Today we held the traditional memorial ceremony for both of them. It was comforting to see photos of them when they were whole, strong, motivated and proud to serve. Unfortunately, what I'll carry with me is the images of my meeting with them at my mortuary as we prepared them for their hero flight home.
General of the Army Douglas MacArthur once said, "The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war."
While this is true, the Soldier also prays for his life, the life of his buddy next to him, the loved ones he is serving to protect, and his safe return home where he can peacefully enjoy that blanket of freedom for which he has sacrificed so much. He prays for victory, for strength in battle, for the annihilation of his enemy, and for retribution of fallen comrades. But what separates a Soldier's prayer from any other God-fearing American, is that he puts his prayers into action. Wielding his God-given strength he storms into the cauldron of fire, takes the fight to the enemy, places his life on the line for his buddies, seeks vengeance for his fallen comrades, and annihilates the enemy.
May God continue to bless our Nation with young men like Specialist Durrell Bennett and Private First Class Patrick Miller, young men that not only pray for peace but are willing to answer the prayers of millions of Americans by waging into battle to protect and preserve that blanket of freedom. Sleep gently tonight America, for your brave young men are standing firmly at their post.
God Bless, Sam
SAMUEL L. RUSSELL
LTC, LG
94th BSB Commander
FOB Rustamiyah
Posted in these groups: 
Baghdad
Fallen Soldiers
Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF)
Battalion Commander
Command Post
Baghdad Fallen Soldiers Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF) Battalion Commander Command Post
Posted 10 y ago
Responses: 42
1
1
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10 APR 03-?
25 NOV 03 Day 229
So there you have it folks. With all the time and thought i have here on my hands(mind) thats what i came up with. Its simple , fits the situation.
i had thought about some topics to write about. That changed this morning when i woke up , and saw that we were getting rain here. now its not the first time. just the fist time ive seen the ground here reach saturation. so we are getting rain, not a sprinkle. wet and cold. a dream come true for us . for this summer was a hot ive never experienced before.(even being form tucson) and dry.
as far as my memory goes back. the last time i saw moisture here was sometime in may. there was a huge dust storm going on, and it began sprinkling. or more like mudding. never thought i would ever see mud drops fall from the sky. not a time to let the kid in you run around with your mouth open. dont know how good it would taste.
so my feet get to feel mud today . its been awhile. there was a little rain in germany, always seems to be wet there. but to see it here, has a profound effect on the soul.
will write more tomarrow. i plan on back peddling some and covering all the days past. of course it will be a condensed version. i cant remember em all anyhow. tell you the truth i dont want to. there are things to be told though. events that deserve some telling. part of the picture i am painting for you all of this place. the experience , mine and others.
take care, i thank those of you who keep contact .
joseph
25 NOV 03 Day 229
So there you have it folks. With all the time and thought i have here on my hands(mind) thats what i came up with. Its simple , fits the situation.
i had thought about some topics to write about. That changed this morning when i woke up , and saw that we were getting rain here. now its not the first time. just the fist time ive seen the ground here reach saturation. so we are getting rain, not a sprinkle. wet and cold. a dream come true for us . for this summer was a hot ive never experienced before.(even being form tucson) and dry.
as far as my memory goes back. the last time i saw moisture here was sometime in may. there was a huge dust storm going on, and it began sprinkling. or more like mudding. never thought i would ever see mud drops fall from the sky. not a time to let the kid in you run around with your mouth open. dont know how good it would taste.
so my feet get to feel mud today . its been awhile. there was a little rain in germany, always seems to be wet there. but to see it here, has a profound effect on the soul.
will write more tomarrow. i plan on back peddling some and covering all the days past. of course it will be a condensed version. i cant remember em all anyhow. tell you the truth i dont want to. there are things to be told though. events that deserve some telling. part of the picture i am painting for you all of this place. the experience , mine and others.
take care, i thank those of you who keep contact .
joseph
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Here's another letter (email) that I sent to my wife about a month before the above.
From: LTC Sam Russell
Sent: Monday, March 03, 2008 11:33 AM
To: Russell, Kimberly
Subject: Hey
Kim.... Hope all is well at home.
It's about 01:00 on 27 Feb, and I'm sitting in an all but abandoned pax terminal, really just a large Air Force maintenance tent, at the Baghdad International Airport (BIAP). I still laugh at the name, as the only flights in and out are Air Force aircraft, but since they head to Kuwait, I guess it is still technically an international airport. I'm on my wireless notebook; there is a signal, but I don't have the password. So, I can't send this until I get a connection -- probably a couple of days from now.
I'm headed to Camp Bucca -- not quite sure where that is in Iraq -- somewhere south of Baghdad. Unfortunately, I have to fly there by way of Ali Al Salem Air Base in Kuwait. Still can't figure that one out.
One of my captains arranged my flight to here by Black Hawk. I was supposed to take off from Rusty at 19:45, but the flight was about an hour late due to the rain today (yes, my boots are covered in mud again) that stalled everything. When we finally took off we flew up to Camp Taji, north of Baghdad, where we dropped off a couple of passengers then flew to the refuel point there. All the passengers (seven of us with all our bags crammed into a compartment for eight) got off while the birds took on fuel. After loading up again we flew down to Camp Liberty located on the same complex as BIAP. Everyone one got off but me. As seven more passengers with bags began getting on board, the loadmaster yelled over the rotor blades, "where are you going?" I screamed back, "BIAP!" He hollered back, "We don't go there! Get off!" I had a couple of the recently-boarded-pax hand me my ruck sack -- about 70 lbs -- snatched up my computer bag and jumped off. By then the NCO that was scheduled to pick me up and drive me to temporary lodging assumed I wasn't on that flight and left without me. I called and arranged for a shuttle to take me to the airport.
My mistake was assuming the flights still stopped off at BIAP since they did in 2005. The CPT that arranged my flight assumed I knew to get off at Liberty and meet my escort. After dragging my bags onto the shuttle, off again, and over to the terminal -- still wearing my body armor and ballistic helmet, I confirmed that I don't need to show up for my flight until 1600 tomorrow! Seems like travel around Iraq is as painful as I remembered from last time.
The airman at the terminal told me I can get a cot in a tent at one of the adjacent camps. I called back to my TOC and asked if CPT R was available. The response I received was, "he's right here looking for you." I chuckled and said "where exactly is he looking for me?" When my errant CPT got on the phone I said "now that I've already executed actions on the objective, what exactly was the plan?" CPT R said "Sir, you never got off the aircraft at Liberty and SGT C is on the phone trying to figure out where you are." After informing him that I was at the air terminal at BIAP, he offered to have SGT C come get me. I asked if he'd already arranged for lodging. Of course he hadn't. At that point I was too tired of dragging my ruck and body armor everywhere. I told him to stand SGT C down, and I would find a place to crash here.
So, here I sit in a cold, empty maintenance tent with about 15 hours to kill before I need to be here. Looks like another sleepless night in Baghdad.
I'm heading to Camp Bucca for two weeks to head up a board considering the release of detainees. Camp Bucca is the theater's largest internment facility and holds Iraqi detainees, some that have been detained since 2003. It should prove to be a very different assignment as I'll preside over a board of officers and NCOs that review files and hear the pleas of Iraqi prisoners (oops, I mean detainees). Some are really bad guys, some are schmucks caught up with "the wrong crowd," some where just in the wrong place with the wrong people. Everything from murderous Al Qaeda to Saddam loyalists, from Shi'ite militiamen to uneducated, unemployed young men trying to earn a few bucks for their families by placing an IED on the side of the road. The higher ups think it will help reconciliation if we release as many detainees as possible. Fortunately, the boards consist of Soldiers from brigade combat teams that have an interest in making sure the really bad guys never see the light of day.
Did the Valentine's cards ever arrive? If not, they should get there soon. Seems like I mailed them around the 11th of Feb.
It's 02:00 now and I'm going to try and get some rest -- as best I can on this hard ass chair in this freezing tent. I'll write more later.
28 Feb, 22:30. I'm at Camp Buehring in Kuwait in another large tent with about two dozen other Soldiers and civilians. At least it's heated. We'll pass the night here (an Army cot is a bit more comfortable then a floor, but just a bit) and fly out early tomorrow morning to Bucca, which I've learned is only about 8 kilometers north of the Kuwaiti border. I've linked up with four of the five guys that will comprise our board, one captain, one master sergeant, and two sergeants first class. The major that is supposed to be in our group left a day earlier and I assume is already there.
We landed last night at Ali Al Salem and bunked down in an Army temper tent. They put me up in a VIP tent (the only difference was 8 beds instead of 16). Not having ate breakfast, lunch or dinner yesterday I stayed up to go to midnight chow. I choked down some Swedish meatballs and noodles, but regretted it later when I woke up with severe cramps at 04:30. After crapping my guts out for 30 minutes I managed to get a couple hours sleep. Nothing like food poisoning from an Army DFAC to make traveling all the more challenging.
At noon we took a bus over to Buehring and have twiddled our thumbs for most of the day. There is a wireless signal here, but again, I don't have the password. I checked out the MWR internet café, but it's closed today. I guess I should try and get some sleep. Should be a challenge as there are several snorers in the tent.
3 Mar 19:00. Well I made it to Bucca on Friday without any problems. Haven't been able to get a connection until now. I'll give you one more update and hit send on this. I've spent the last three days listening to detainee cases and deciding who we should recommend for release. Some of them have been really baaaadddd guys. Some aren't. The highlight so far was hearing the case of Saddam Hussien's cousin. He didn't pass go and went straight back to jail (oops, detention). I took a rather sick pleasure in asking him what he felt when he heard about Saddam's execution. For the record, he was "filled with deep sorrow." Tomorrow we've got some particularly baadd insurgents and don't think we'll be recommending many releases. Among them is Saddam's nephew. Should be entertaining.
Hope all is well. I do miss you guys and pray that you're all getting along. How is soccer season going for this kids?
Love, Sam
From: LTC Sam Russell
Sent: Monday, March 03, 2008 11:33 AM
To: Russell, Kimberly
Subject: Hey
Kim.... Hope all is well at home.
It's about 01:00 on 27 Feb, and I'm sitting in an all but abandoned pax terminal, really just a large Air Force maintenance tent, at the Baghdad International Airport (BIAP). I still laugh at the name, as the only flights in and out are Air Force aircraft, but since they head to Kuwait, I guess it is still technically an international airport. I'm on my wireless notebook; there is a signal, but I don't have the password. So, I can't send this until I get a connection -- probably a couple of days from now.
I'm headed to Camp Bucca -- not quite sure where that is in Iraq -- somewhere south of Baghdad. Unfortunately, I have to fly there by way of Ali Al Salem Air Base in Kuwait. Still can't figure that one out.
One of my captains arranged my flight to here by Black Hawk. I was supposed to take off from Rusty at 19:45, but the flight was about an hour late due to the rain today (yes, my boots are covered in mud again) that stalled everything. When we finally took off we flew up to Camp Taji, north of Baghdad, where we dropped off a couple of passengers then flew to the refuel point there. All the passengers (seven of us with all our bags crammed into a compartment for eight) got off while the birds took on fuel. After loading up again we flew down to Camp Liberty located on the same complex as BIAP. Everyone one got off but me. As seven more passengers with bags began getting on board, the loadmaster yelled over the rotor blades, "where are you going?" I screamed back, "BIAP!" He hollered back, "We don't go there! Get off!" I had a couple of the recently-boarded-pax hand me my ruck sack -- about 70 lbs -- snatched up my computer bag and jumped off. By then the NCO that was scheduled to pick me up and drive me to temporary lodging assumed I wasn't on that flight and left without me. I called and arranged for a shuttle to take me to the airport.
My mistake was assuming the flights still stopped off at BIAP since they did in 2005. The CPT that arranged my flight assumed I knew to get off at Liberty and meet my escort. After dragging my bags onto the shuttle, off again, and over to the terminal -- still wearing my body armor and ballistic helmet, I confirmed that I don't need to show up for my flight until 1600 tomorrow! Seems like travel around Iraq is as painful as I remembered from last time.
The airman at the terminal told me I can get a cot in a tent at one of the adjacent camps. I called back to my TOC and asked if CPT R was available. The response I received was, "he's right here looking for you." I chuckled and said "where exactly is he looking for me?" When my errant CPT got on the phone I said "now that I've already executed actions on the objective, what exactly was the plan?" CPT R said "Sir, you never got off the aircraft at Liberty and SGT C is on the phone trying to figure out where you are." After informing him that I was at the air terminal at BIAP, he offered to have SGT C come get me. I asked if he'd already arranged for lodging. Of course he hadn't. At that point I was too tired of dragging my ruck and body armor everywhere. I told him to stand SGT C down, and I would find a place to crash here.
So, here I sit in a cold, empty maintenance tent with about 15 hours to kill before I need to be here. Looks like another sleepless night in Baghdad.
I'm heading to Camp Bucca for two weeks to head up a board considering the release of detainees. Camp Bucca is the theater's largest internment facility and holds Iraqi detainees, some that have been detained since 2003. It should prove to be a very different assignment as I'll preside over a board of officers and NCOs that review files and hear the pleas of Iraqi prisoners (oops, I mean detainees). Some are really bad guys, some are schmucks caught up with "the wrong crowd," some where just in the wrong place with the wrong people. Everything from murderous Al Qaeda to Saddam loyalists, from Shi'ite militiamen to uneducated, unemployed young men trying to earn a few bucks for their families by placing an IED on the side of the road. The higher ups think it will help reconciliation if we release as many detainees as possible. Fortunately, the boards consist of Soldiers from brigade combat teams that have an interest in making sure the really bad guys never see the light of day.
Did the Valentine's cards ever arrive? If not, they should get there soon. Seems like I mailed them around the 11th of Feb.
It's 02:00 now and I'm going to try and get some rest -- as best I can on this hard ass chair in this freezing tent. I'll write more later.
28 Feb, 22:30. I'm at Camp Buehring in Kuwait in another large tent with about two dozen other Soldiers and civilians. At least it's heated. We'll pass the night here (an Army cot is a bit more comfortable then a floor, but just a bit) and fly out early tomorrow morning to Bucca, which I've learned is only about 8 kilometers north of the Kuwaiti border. I've linked up with four of the five guys that will comprise our board, one captain, one master sergeant, and two sergeants first class. The major that is supposed to be in our group left a day earlier and I assume is already there.
We landed last night at Ali Al Salem and bunked down in an Army temper tent. They put me up in a VIP tent (the only difference was 8 beds instead of 16). Not having ate breakfast, lunch or dinner yesterday I stayed up to go to midnight chow. I choked down some Swedish meatballs and noodles, but regretted it later when I woke up with severe cramps at 04:30. After crapping my guts out for 30 minutes I managed to get a couple hours sleep. Nothing like food poisoning from an Army DFAC to make traveling all the more challenging.
At noon we took a bus over to Buehring and have twiddled our thumbs for most of the day. There is a wireless signal here, but again, I don't have the password. I checked out the MWR internet café, but it's closed today. I guess I should try and get some sleep. Should be a challenge as there are several snorers in the tent.
3 Mar 19:00. Well I made it to Bucca on Friday without any problems. Haven't been able to get a connection until now. I'll give you one more update and hit send on this. I've spent the last three days listening to detainee cases and deciding who we should recommend for release. Some of them have been really baaaadddd guys. Some aren't. The highlight so far was hearing the case of Saddam Hussien's cousin. He didn't pass go and went straight back to jail (oops, detention). I took a rather sick pleasure in asking him what he felt when he heard about Saddam's execution. For the record, he was "filled with deep sorrow." Tomorrow we've got some particularly baadd insurgents and don't think we'll be recommending many releases. Among them is Saddam's nephew. Should be entertaining.
Hope all is well. I do miss you guys and pray that you're all getting along. How is soccer season going for this kids?
Love, Sam
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