I didn’t have a picture from this embed yet, and out of sheer desperation I asked permission to walk around with the engineers. The GIs told me that I was an idiot; I could get killed out there, but it was my life. I hopped out, ran over to one of soldiers, and started taking pictures, dancing around him the whole time so snipers wouldn’t consider me an easy target. I got his unit—“18th engineers, 3rd (Stryker) brigade, 2nd I.D.,” my notebook reads—his surname (Gardner) from his flak jacket, his rank (sergeant) from a patch on his chest, and ran back to the truck. I just wanted to be back behind the armor of the Humvee. Another engineer was shouting at him, “Get off the sidewalk.” They were frightened of bombs buried beneath itFrom the "Don't want to go back" link.
I was back inside the Humvee lighting a cigarette to calm my nerves when a massive concussion shook our truck. It was an IED. All I could see was a huge cloud of dust. The gunner made the only sound, a ratchet-click of the spinning turret, while he searched for the man who triggered the bomb. Then the radio squawked, “Gardner is fucked up! Get a CASEVAC! Gardner is fucked up!” Gardner had been split in two by the bomb.
Yes. The mission was accomplished, for a start.
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posted by growabrain at 10:45 PM on June 18, 2007