Editor’s note: I wrote this not too long after the ground offensive – we were still in Iraq at this time conducting clearing and denial operations. And it was the evenings that I put pen to paper – sometimes you could read (and write) during the night with the well fires illuminating the binder paper in front of me.
At press time (when I posted this page online – 7 August 2026) it was the first time I had read this account since the very early nineties.
I rewrote this from my handwritten notes, and have not changed anything – it remains true to the missions that we undertook and is historically correct.
There are no dates – since we didn’t know what days these were. There is no mentioning of the Battle of 73 Easting or the Battle of Norfolk since we didn’t know those names yet – even though we were right in the middle of it.
And it seems that even after all of these years, my memory is still quite fresh with what we did. I haven’t forgotten about too much, if anything at all.
So please join me as a Staff Sergeant, a squad leader in a forward combat engineer sapper unit – readying itself for the inevitable ground war, and performing combat operations against a well trained and dug in enemy.
Sappers lead the way!
Here is a cast of characters:
SSG Bryan Bailey
SSG Ben Gapelu
SSG Todd Anderson
SGT Randles
SPC Billy Byrd
PFC Todd Nash
PV2 Zavian Benson
SPC Franks
SPC Jones
PFC Ramsbottom
SGT Gary James
SGT Malinosky
CPT Treleaven
LT Giamatteo
A little background. I had recently (January 1989) been assigned to the 9th Engineers in Aschaffenburg, West Germany after being transferred from the 27th Engineers (Combat Airborne) which I spent eight years doing all that fun paratrooper stuff out of Ft. Bragg. At this point in time, the wall had come down and we no longer had East German guards staring us down at the border. It was sort of a European holiday with folks full of peace and love, until Saddam Hussein had other ideas…
At the time of deployment, I was the company’s training NCO. The company commander Captain Treleaven and 1st Sgt Barkley decided that was a waste since they needed me in a line platoon. So I replaced the NCO who was the squad leader of 2nd Squad, 2nd Platoon, Delta Company, 9th Engineers.
When second squad, second platoon arrived in Saudi Arabia, a sense of wonder of what was to come and the anxiousness to get this mission over with and go home was shared by all. None of us wanted to be here.
Within two days the squad was assigned a new squad leader, SSG B. Bailey from Monterey California. PFC Nash from Santa Cruz Calif., was the assigned driver for D22 the squad’s M113 Armoured Personnel Carrier. PV2 Benson from Thompson Georgia was assigned duties as the Squad’s M60 gunner, SPC Billy Byrd from Ft. Myers Florida was the demolitions specialist and assistant driver, SGT Malinoski from NY, New York a team leader and SGT Randles from Michigan the Track Commander and assistant squad leader.
We started repetitive but needed training in common tasks and NBC. This included relentless MOPP4 exercises and weapons familiarizations. Life at port was easy. The chow was good, lukewarm showers were available, we could wear PT uniforms and lie around on our cots during our off-time – and there was an occasional female to look at. We never knew we had it so good. (Editor’s note: there were no females in combat units at this time. Most of us didn’t see or talk to any for months.).
We waited for our vehicles to arrive. The next milestone to the big move to our camping spot in the desert. When they did arrive, the questions about when they would be painted arose. Like our concerns about for obtaining desert issue uniforms, we didn’t want to look like “newbies”.
About this time, we were beginning to get an idea on what type of mission we might be getting into if hostilities were to break out. It wasn’t pretty. The Iraqis had set up an extensive obstacle defence system. In depth and complex. Most of the battle drills that we had trained on back in A’burg relied on dismounted hero tactics. The thought of being dismounted in an Iraqi minefield and along with the holy tank ditch of fiery death didn’t sit too well with any of us, but hero mission or not – we were here for one reason – to rid Kuwait of Iraqi aggression one way or another.
Finally the day came when we would leave port. We boarded the buses relieved to be getting out of garrison mode. We looked forward to the desert where we were to make our home.
The ride to our first base camp was grueling. The busses were school buses designed for four-foot-tall passengers with tiny legs. Not much room for grown men with weapons and field gear. It was at this time that we realized that the desert gets cold at night.
After 18 hours of crampedness we arrived. Home away from home. I think everyone was taken aback – and yours truly – to the vastness, the flatness, the endless horizon of the desert. There were an awful lot of sheepherders roaming around us. Some of us wondered what sheep grazed in this environment. It turned out that these sheep herders did their own “grazing” of spot reports sent to their Iraqi superiors. A desert full of spies.
The base camp was established and tents went up. I wish it was as simple as that. We had to put the GP Mediums in formation and dress on each other after lining up on a magnetic azimuth or that. (?) Garri-field.
The next hurtle was Christmas and New Years. Morale was good considering the separation from our loved ones and families. The chain of command tried to make the holidays a little more bearable by letting us sleep in, tree decorating (a plank of plywood – no trees here), Christmas caroling and putting together a skit that brought laughter to a lot of bummed out faces.
The holidays (?) came and went quickly since it was really only one day. We soon were preparing for whatever mission we would receive. MICLIC drills, mine marking, lane marking drills. Day by day. Train, train, train.
After several weeks we moved from this initial base camp and set up at another location. This was to become a very familiar exercise. Pick up and move.
At the second base camp, we received our first real mission. We were to set up blocking positions at Tapline road. We picked up and moved several miles. It was here that the situation finally got serious. Our tracks were dug in and the level of awareness came up.
It was here that the news of the “Gulf War” reached us. We continued our mission and listened to the bombings at night.
We returned to our base camp the following day and awaited word on our upcoming mission. It was then when we saw our first SCUD missile launched into the sky. An awesome sight – a brilliant star-like object shooting through the clouds above and disappearing with a jet-like roar to the south. This was a sobering indicator that we were in a combat zone.
The weather at this point took a turn for the worst. It started to rain more often and the coldness set in during the day as well as the night. We moved again and set up at our attached units’ base camp; the 1st Engineer Bn., 1st Infantry Division from Ft. Riley Kansas. We still awaited an actual mission, but at least we were attached to someone.
From here we moved to another location. This was the last of our lengthy homesteads. The last of our “hot showers” and decent chow. And the beginning of endless relentless guard duty (stand to).
Time for training was over and we started to mentally prepare ourselves for the inevitable ground offensive. At this base camp we lost Sgt. Malinosky to Headquarters Squad and in walked Specialist Jones from somewhere in Oklahoma.
We moved again. From this day we moved daily with the 1st Engineers “Jump TOC”. We moved within eyesight of the border between Saudi Arabia and Iraq. The border was a berm that ran along the horizon. Our engineer equipment had removed sections, and there had been reports of skirmishes here and there.
Within minutes of setting in, an adjacent unit of MLRSs unloaded a massive daytime attack on Iraqi positions presenting one heck of a display of firepower.
Within hours of setting in, a couple of Brits drove by in their Land Rover, and asked in a barely understandable accent if we had anything to “swap”. SP4 Jones swapped his beat up cot for several cases of much needed batteries. They (the Brits) desperately needed some cold weather gear and promised to return with a bottle of whiskey to exchange for some field jacket liners. They never did return.
Each day brought another bivouac site, again and again. Finally,we had an actual mission. We were to clear a building that was occupied by Iraqi troops. There was a chance that the Iraqis had booby trapped the structure somehow. It was our mission to clear the building of all booby traps and personnel. (Editors note: this is one major task for combat engineers – clearing mines and booby traps by hand).
Before going on this mission, we test fired our weapons. It was here that PV2 Benson and SP4 Byrd “busted themselves out” in front of the company commander AND the battalion commander by feeding the rounds of their M60 upside down. Live and learn.
The building clearance mission went as follows: we approached the building in a platoon wedge from the south. We waited for 1st and 3rd squad to clear around the outside of the building before going in. When we received word that it was clear, we moved in. PFC Nash raced the track to within 100 meters of the front entrance. He dropped the ramp and we dismounted.
SP4 Byrd and PV2 Benson served as the support team by covering SSG Bailey, SP4 Franks, and SP4 Jones with their machine gun. SGT Randles covered the squad and the front entrance with the mounted M2 50 Cal while PFC Nash waited patiently in the driver’s seat.
We entered the building and were shocked at the thrashed interior. Garbage and rubble littered every room. Broken furniture, torn up carpets, emptied filing cabinets, and scattered about were personal belongings were strewn everywhere. The worst was probably the kitchen. Greasy pots and pans, corn meal and rotten food added to the stench of the rancidness of the entire room.
We checked each room deliberately and carefully. Using a grappling hook, we took turns tossing it several times and drug it through the rubbage seeking any hidden trip wires.
After a couple of hours our search had been fruitless until SP4 Jones and SP4 Franks found a hand grenade in one of the downstairs’ rooms. This caused quite a stir with the higher chain of command – the search had finally come up with something, now what to do with it.
We finished clearing the building with 3rd squad who came in to expedite matters. Mission tally: one dead rat, one hand grenade, rotten garbage, one dead cat and one live one that scared the bezeesus out of SSG Bailey and SP4 Jones when it fled from underneath a carpet in a room they were clearing. Mission accomplished.
The next day was uneventful, except that it was decided to begin the ground offensive against Iraq the following morning. We conducted our pre-combat checks and double checked our load plan. We were finally given a high speed mission to marked wheeled vehicle lanes and to react to anything else that came down.
At zero five hundred that following morning we formed the platoon in a column formation and followed the tanks across the border. The order to “lock and load” came down. A little more reality crossed our minds.
We followed the scouts across different phase lines: Vermont, Minnesota, Iowa, Kansas, Wisconsin, it was like a geography lesson. Before we reached our objective, the mine field lanes, spot reports of surrendering Iraqis came over the radio and could be seen in the distance.
When we reached the minefield we followed the CEV (Combat Engineer Vehicle) that was plowing the minefield in from of us. They suddenly stopped dead in their tracks – its mine-plow had snapped and they were stuck. We were thinking WTF – yeah, we are sitting in a minefield waiting for direct or indirect fire to rain down on us. Our LT – Lieutenant Giammatteo – in his tracked called out over the commo that there were no mines, and pulled out from behind the column and hauled ass past us. I told Nash to carefully follow the LT’s APC and stay within the LT’s tracks EXACTLY using them to clear a lane through the minefield with their treads. Nobody hit anything, and we got through.
That night we set up camp and considered ourselves lucky that everything had gone rather easily. So far the Iraqis had not put up too much of a fight and were giving up all along the border.
The next morning we packed up and prepared to move. We were told that there were bunkers and fighting positions that needed clearing. We advanced north and approached a hilltop that had several dug in positions. There was one position an Iraqi was spotted hanging out. Third squad was to our left and HQ and 1st Squad to our right. Within 30 meters of the position, SGT Randles and 3rd Squad’s .50 cal gunner opened up on the position trying to scare the lone soldier out. An order of “cease fire” was given and third squad dismounted to clear the fighting position.
2nd Squad dismounted and provided covering fire for third squad. After a couple of minutes, SSG Bailey went to SSG Anderson to see if they needed assistance. It was then someone spotted somebody moving around in one of the bunkers and began to crawl out.
SSG Bailey and PFC Ramsbottom from 3rd Squad were at the entrance when the Iraqi emerged. The Iraqi, unshaven, barefooted, and obviously disoriented and confused – he wouldn’t put his hands up as we called him out to do so. He had a small satchel in his hand, and he looked wildly confused.. I glanced briefly at Ramsbottom, and I could see in his face that he was about to open up on the guy. At this point throwing caution to the wind, I tackled the Iraqi pulling him to the ground tossing his satchel to the side, and quickly searched him for any explosives – as other squad members secured him. He kept panicking so I punched him upside the head. This seemed to calm the prisoner down a bit.
At this moment the prisoner started crying “I don’t want to die’ in broken English. SP4 Franks came to action with an act of humanity – something I will never forget – but as the prisoner was pinned to the ground sobbing, SPC Franks began calming the prisoner by stroking the Iraqi’s forehead saying it was going to be alright. That he’d be OK.
I’ll never forget that.
He gave the prisoner a sense of comforting relief. Second squad was in charge of him now.
After binding his hands, the prisoner was led to D22 where he was seated on the ramp. We were given the mission to bring the prisoner back to the EPW detention site, that was now vacant, and that was about a kilometer south of us. CPT Treleaven told us to feed him an MRE, give him some water, and guard him with approximately 150 prisoners that were due to be delivered there sometime that day.
So we brought our EPW to the detention site – this was merely a 100 meter plot of dirt surrounded by one strand of concertina wire. We unbound his hands and gave him some spaghetti. He seemed hungry and he didn’t seem to know what to make of us. We tagged him with a EPW tag, nicknamed him “Bob1” and had him join in with the other prisoners as they were dropped off.
Soon we had twenty EPWs, which grew to about ninety. Within two hours we had two hundred. Mind you 2nd Squad consisted of seven folks including myself.
SSG Bailey had the prisoners separated into three groups: soldier, sergeants, officers and ordered them to sit in rows facing away from each other so that communication between the groups was nil. One English speaking officer assisting SSG Bailey in organizing the the EPWs and translated special instructions to the Iraqis.
Everything went as planned until it started raining. By nightfall we had 351 prisoners – and the plan to keep them separated was abandoned. The wind whipped the windchill factor down a few notches – and the underfed malnourished Iraqis really started to snivel. Questions of when they would leave this place arose constantly. They longed for beds and a shelter. SSG Bailey explained that transportation to the rear would probably arrive in the next 12 hours. They didn’t like to hear that. This was war and it’s not always comfortable.
So the squad, all seven of us, stood and guarded the prisoners in the cold desert rain. One prisoner came up to me asking if they could borrow a D handled shovel – we had one in the track. At first my reaction was “no” thinking of Iraqis using it as a blunt instrument to cause harm – but I second thought that as the wind began to whip around us. I handed the shovel to the guy and he went back to the mass of misery and began digging shallow trenches like a madman. The Iraqis began lying in these trenches while he dug away protecting them from the windchill. I was witnessing the same sort of brotherhood that we have with our own troops. Caring for one another.
Cries from within the guarded area could be heard as one by one, a prisoner would succumb to hypothermia and other medical problems. The EPWs were allowed to bring their ailing to the side of the track vehicle where SP4 Byrd performed first aid. I don’t think we’ll ever forget how one Iraqi cried for Allah over and over and over as SP4 Byrd was probing his arm with an IV needle.
One guy was in real trouble – hypothermia had kicked in and he was shivering uncontrollably. The first thing I thought was oh shit, I’ll be accused of a war crime if this guy goes, so we drug him to D22 and I put him into my sleeping bag to warm up.
About this moment we got word that relief was on its way, food, water, and medical personnel – and it was at this time that I remembered my D handle shovel.
The EPW compound was rudimentary with just that one strand of concertina. PV2 Benson and SPC Franks were manning the M60 at the far corner, and that was about it. Entering into the compound in the midst of Iraqis, I would go in unarmed knowing that some Iraqi might take advantage of a fully loaded M203. So here I was and asked about my shovel – and the response was overwhelming. I was surrounded by smiling, grateful men, and this lone troop had the shovel in his hand and was handing it to me, as another grabbed it from his hand and tried to hand to me, as another tried to do the same – kneeling to the ground to hand the shovel back. They all wanted to be the one to hand me the shovel. It was at this moment I realized I was unarmed in a sea of Iraqi soldiers. I was glad to get my shovel back.
I went back to the APC and the Iraqi who I put in my sleeping bag – who I thought was on his way out – was standing next to the track smoking a cigarette. I said “WTF? get the fuck out!’ and he went back to the crowd. We were finally relieved – medical personnel finally did arrive – and the last thing I remember was seeing loads of MREs being tossed to the Iraqis in the compound in the dark – and the wind and rain kicked up.
We rejoined the platoon which was ready to depart on a night mission – movement to contact.
We followed the tankers for miles and miles with no incidents of enemy contact, until we reached some encampment of some kind.
A tank battle ensued in front of us. Massive fireballs and tracer rounds filled the horizon. Awesome displays of exploding tanks and and vehicles kept our minds and eyes alert. As we crossed a road, SGT Randles spotted a dismounted troop walking towards us. We quickly called the siting in. Earlier we had been given instructions to shoot all dismounts.
(Editor’s note: we were a “bastard” unit and we had only our eyeballs for night vision unlike the M1s and Bradley around us – they all have night vision capabilities.)
We had one night vision scope that we attached to one of our M16s. I watched this dude walking towards us, but he seemed unarmed walking towards us with his hands in his pockets. I had my finger on the trigger at that moment – but thought otherwise and myself, SP4 Byrd, and SP4 Franks dismounted and approached the man. He immediately threw his hands in the air, and said in broken English that his weapon was in his vehicle. We took his ammo bandoleer, but let him keep a bag of rice that was in his pocket and sent him on his way – telling him to walk south.
We continued the march, following the M1s as they pushed forward. At approximately 0400, tanks began exchanging fire in front of our track. Two M1s had the crap knocked out of them right in front of us. At the time it was difficult to tell if it was a rocket from an RPG-7 or from another tank. I know what I saw – and it was a rocket blast – not a tank round as the initial round – but a rocket that streaked in front of us. (Editor’s note: years later I find out that I was correct, the first round was a rocket which did not penetrate the tank, but the successive blasts were from other M1s that mistook the original blast as an enemy tank firing back at them. Sadly the gunner in the tank in front of us was killed by the M1 rounds that hit his tank).
We dismounted and dug in hasty fighting positions for the M60 and ourselves. And we watched the tanks burn through the night. As dawn set in, we could soak in the carnage as three M1s cracked and burned with an occasional burst of its stored explosives.
It was here that we regrouped, refueled and moved on. Throughout the day we pushed forward. The desert looked like some great stock-car race. Both track and wheeled vehicles swarmed and weaved across the desert. The great race to destroy the Iraqi army was on.
Fog set in and sporadic gunfire from the M1s reminded us of the Iraqi threat. Scattered remains of T-55s and T-72s burned along our trail.
We slept well that night, In the morning we set off again unopposed and jubilant over the unprecedented victory. We were notified at 0800 that morning we were to cease fire. The Iraqi army was devastated if at all even existing. The “Mother of Wars” was in fact the “Mother of Defeats.” 2nd Squad, 2nd Platoon can feel pride in taking part in defeating one of the worlds largest and best equipped armies in the world, and the satisfaction freeing a nation that had been under trodden by the boots of tyranny.
SSG B. Bailey
D co. 9th Engineers
The above was written during our clearing and denial missions that kept us in Iraq/Kuwait until the first week of May (another two months). Reading these pages decades after I had written this underscores what I remember of these events. If any of my brethren would like to contribute to this – like their own first hands accounts, please contact me here: me at bryan bailey dot com.
You can view all my photos of Desert Shield (pre-combat) Desert Storm, and the Clearing and Denial missions here: Desert Storm and the 9th Engineers