John Koopman - McCoys Marines: Darkside to Baghdad

DARKSIDE TO
BAGHDAD

JOHN KOOPMAN

To Isabel. I love you more than you will ever know.

And Jordi. Im proud to be your daddy.

I never intended to write a book. Im a newspaperman. I went to cover the war for the San Francisco Chronicle, thinking only that I would file regular stories about the fighting and the troops and such. After the invasion, everyone started writing books about the war in Iraq. I never gave it much thought until Richard Kane from MBI Publishing called to see if I wanted to turn my stories into a book.

If I had it to do over again, I would have made arrangements to tell this story from a different perspective. From a Marines point of view. But when it was all said and done, the only thing I had to write about was my own life, my own experience in the war. A lot of journalists have written books about the war, the planning and execution, and all the details. Soldiers and Marines have written personal tales.

All I had, and all I offer to you, is one mans experience. I tried to make the story about embedding, the good, the bad, and the filthy. It means you have to read a lot about me and my life. Its not very interesting, but its my story and youre welcome to it.

I couldnt have done any of this without the help, friendship, and guidance of Lieutenant Colonel Bryan P. McCoy and Sergeant Major David Howell. Its important to note here that neither of these Marines assisted in this book. Not because they couldnt or wouldnt. I didnt ask them. Bryan and Dave are honest and selfless. They do not seek attention or publicity. One of the first things Dave Howell ever said to me was, If I ever see my name in one of your stories, Ill pull your tongue out through your ass. He would do it, too.

When I started writing the book, I wondered if I should ask one or both to collaborate with me. But that would make them look like glory seekers, and they are anything but that. Plus, there are bound to be errors in this book. It is based on my notes, my stories, and my recollections. All of which are far from perfect. I felt that if the book were anything less than perfect, it would reflect badly on them as well as me. In any case, they did their jobs. Now its time for me to do mine.

There were a lot of other Marines who helped me in one way or another. Eric Gentrup, Jack Coughlin, Jean-Paul Courville, Jon Kenney, Sean Barnes, Kevin Smith, Matt Baker, Dino Moreno, Martin Wetterauer, and all of McCoys Marines, the 3rd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment.

The Thundering Third.

Thanks to my bosses, executive editor Phil Bronstein and managing editor Robert Rosenthal, for putting together a war plan that included me. I want to thank them, and foreign editor Andrew S. Ross, for keeping my family informed and close during some very dark days.

Thanks to features editor Carolyn White, who worked with my copy after I got back and made it a hundred times better. Same goes for Richard Kane of MBI and Suzanne Herel of the Chronicle, who copyedited the manuscript.

Thanks to my friend and attorney, Leo LaRocca, for his excellent legal advice.

Thanks to Amy and Marshall Senk for helping Jordi when he was missing his daddy.

Thanks to Takae Miller and Elizabeth Whipple for helping Isabel when she was missing her husband.

Thanks to mom and dad for trusting and believing.

Thanks to Bud Pagel and Dick Streckfuss for making me a reporter.

Thanks to the Marines families for keeping me in their prayers.

To the right of the road are buildings, houses, and shops. Its a crappy, cramped urban area. And its swarming with Iraqi Fedayeen.

The Marines move about 100 yards down the road....

Up ahead, we hear shots. Rifle shots, followed by machine gun fire. The column slows while the Marines engage in a slow-moving firefight.

Im tired. So damn tired. I could sleep. The sun is warm. More shots. My head drops. More shots. I dont care. I nod off. Right in the middle of a firefight.

Boom! An RPG round explodes mid-air above us.

Thatll wake you up.

I get out of the Humvee and move around to the back. Fire comes in from the buildings. Iraqi snipers firing from rooftops. RPGs rain down like the Fourth of July....

PPffffffffsssssssssstttt! Boom! An RPG round explodes 20 feet over our heads. Theres a puff of black smoke. We hear bits of shrapnel hitting the pavement around us.

I get down and try to take cover.

PPffffffffsssssssssstttt! Boom! Another RPG goes off overhead.

Boom! And another. Boom! A fourth RPG.

I think someone might be aiming at us, Moreno says.

You think so? I ask.

I hear that PPFFFFFFFSSSSSSSSSSTTTT again and dive straight for the dirt. Boom! Another one directly overhead.

For the first time in the war, I think I might die....

Someone told me once that the trick to keeping your wits in battle is to imagine that youre already dead. Or that you certainly will die. If you survive, all the better.

I try that now. It doesnt work.

But I am thinking I want to be one of those Marines on top of the vehicle. Give me a gun. Let me shoot back at those who are shooting at me. Its not that I want to kill anyone. I just want an equalizer. I feel completely exposed out there. And the First Amendment wont protect you for shit. Give me a gun and Ill feel better.

From behind us, I hear someone shouting. Iraqis are near the front gate of the military compound, trying to flank the Marines.

They called me Paperboy. It was a small joke in a small war. Im a newspaper reporter. One of the journalists embedded with U.S. troops during the invasion of Iraq. I went to the Middle East with a battalion of U.S. Marines out of Camp Pendleton, California. And stayed with them as they crossed the border into Iraq, fought in places like Basra, Diwaniyah, Kut, and finally Baghdad. These were the Marines who pulled down the statue of Saddam Hussein, the image flashed around the world. The moment that effectively signaled the end of the war. Well, the invasion part of the war. A lot more troops would fight and die later. But thats another story.

I dont like war, but it fascinates me. It must be the part of my male brain that harkens to the Stone Age. We dress up and act civilized these days, but theres still something primal in our brains. We seek conflict. We want to dominate, whether its other males, females, the world in general.

You can see it in gang warfare, in a thousand conflicts around the world, and in the corporate boardrooms. I dont understand it. I cant explain it or quantify it. But I know its out there.

I saw it when I served in the Marines. Some guys just want to kill. But I joined the Corps during peacetime. Not long after Vietnam. And later I became a newspaperman. Ive seen some death in my work, but not all that much. The bodies are usually gone by the time I get to an accident or murder. Not always.

But Id never seen death on a large scale. And Id never seen anyone die. So when I had the chance for a seat on the 50-yard line in Iraq, I took it. I rode along with the 3rd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment.