Mosul attack haunts troops

U.S. soldiers patrol streets and fortify outposts as they cope with the deaths of comrades in suicide bombing two days ago

BY DIONNE SEARCEY | STAFF CORRESPONDENT

December 24, 2004

CAMP MAREZ, Iraq - Soldiers patrolled the mostly empty streets of Mosul with caution yesterday, shoring up security at combat outposts, checking on their Iraqi National Guard allies stationed throughout town and arresting two locals who carried suspicious belongings -- all with scant mention of the horror that struck this week just four days before Christmas.

But in the quiet moments, when troops stopped to smoke a cigarette or paused from their paperwork, the apparent suicide bombing that killed at least 21 other people at an on-base dining hall weighed on them. Some can't seem to shut their eyes without reliving the gruesome scene. Some don't want to discuss it at all and some can't quit talking about it. Sgt. 1st Class Creed McCaslin was waiting for the hearing in his left ear to return, an aftereffect of the massive boom. He credits the salad bar he ducked behind with saving his life.

While much of the camp was sleeping yesterday, one lieutenant of a Stryker armored vehicle unit that lost four soldiers in the blast marveled at the incongruity of it all. Softly, he recalled navigating the dozens of dead and wounded lying in a makeshift triage center in front of a nearby military hospital as mortars dropped nearby. He walked down the short corridor to get to the most gravely injured in the emergency room and passed under shiny red and green holiday trimmings. "Have a holly jolly Christmas!" read one of the dozens of cards taped to the wall.

"Merry Christmas," the officer recalled mumbling to himself. " -- -- that."

The attack disrupted normalcy in ways big and small. Troops no longer had a mess hall where they could gather and snack on fried comfort food. They ate prepackaged Army meals or nibbled on goodies sent from home. One sergeant marveled at the timing of a 12-pound block of sweet sausage that arrived from his mother-in-law. Last night, workers handed out bologna sandwiches and fruit to everyone.

As much as soldiers tried to carry on with regular life, there was an undercurrent of sadness here yesterday, tinged with anger and confusion. How could someone packing explosives penetrate the guard posts, concrete walls and checkpoints of the U.S. military?

"It could happen to anyone," said Sgt. Mark Owens, a member of the 1st Battalion, 24th Infantry Regiment who was about to enter the mess tent when the blast went off Tuesday.

Owens thinks the Army ought to crack down on outside workers. He said the military should inspect their living quarters, revoke their access to ammunition and ban them from leaving camp.

"It makes you worry about security," he said. "It makes you want to frisk everyone who's not American."

U.S. Brig. Gen. Carter Ham, commander of forces in northern Iraq, told CNN yesterday the suicide attacker was likely wearing an Iraqi military uniform. His troops in Mosul later put out a news release praising the Iraqi National Guard for applying a tourniquet to a injured American during the blast. Troops "continue to work together with members of the Iraqi Security Forces, leaders and citizens of Iraq to make it a safe, prosperous, and democratic nation," the release said.

And the leader of the 1-24 said he has taken pains to remind his troops that the Iraqi people are not the enemy. "I think the world of our Iraqi National Guard battalion," said Lt. Col. Erik Kurilla, who heads a Stryker unit.

His good relations with the Iraqi troops were evident throughout the day as he visited vacant police stations in western Mosul that the Iraqi National Guard was helping to man since the local police fled when insurgents attacked last month. Kurilla restocked their food and water supply, shook their hands and praised their work, and generally tried to boost morale.

Throughout the day, Kurilla led soldiers through the quiet streets, stomping through a hilly dump where insurgents are known to stash weapons and checking on soldiers holding down the once swanky, but now barren, Mosul Hotel.

Soldiers also arrested two men, one of whom carried an address book containing the name, address and description of an Iraqi man who sold generators to the Americans. The soldiers worried the suspects might target the man for helping U.S. forces. The arrests were a boost for the soldiers, who felt like they were keeping the bad guys off the streets.

"I want to keep these guys out there to keep the edge off," Kurilla said. "There's a time to grieve and it's not now."

But the grieving process has started back at camp, said Chaplain Tim Wilson, a Southern Baptist.

Wilson knew the four who died from the 1-24: a funny soldier whose foot was once squashed but not broken when a Stryker ran over it; a huggable man with a toothy grin; a young man who liked movies; and a soldier with whom he discussed theology.

"I went into his room to get his personal effects," Wilson said of the last soldier. "His room was exactly like his life -- neat and in order."

By nightfall last night, revenge was on soldiers' minds when a group of them rushed from their quarters to cheer an Apache helicopter in the distance gunning down the enemy.

"This," said one soldier as the staccato fire pierced the quiet night, "is real war."