Matthew Guard

Matthew Howell
English 1
10JUN2015
Into The Unknown
March 19 2003, Baghdad, Iraq; After an eerie silence, the night sky erupts with blinding
light as the United States and its coalition forces begin the air campaign to disable key threats for
the impending ground invasion. I remember the events clearly, watching it all unfold on CNN in
my digital design class. I had always wanted to join the military, especially after the events that
transpired on 9/11/2001. After watching the impressive shock and awe military might directed
towards uprooting Saddams forces, I knew that I had to be part of history and rebuilding Iraq.
Shortly after graduating from high school in the summer of 2004, I decided to go meet
with the nearest military recruiters. I knew that I wanted to be on the ground in an infantry unit
but was unsure of which branch of the military I wanted to join, the Army or the Marines.
Another obstacle in my path was the fact that I wasnt in the best shape and slightly overweight
(okay maybe a little more than slightly). After deciding upon the Army, the recruiter worked with
me for three grueling months to get down to the right weight and to be physically fit enough to
start basic training. Thankfully my family was supportive of my bold decision, besides for the
occasional Are you crazy, dont you know there is a war going on?, and helped steer me the
right way in getting prepared mentally and physically for entering the military. My Grandfather,
father, and all of my uncles were in the military in some form so I spent time soaking up as much
useful knowledge as I could before heading off into the unknown, Fort Benning, Georgia; home
of the infantry.
0430, deep sleep is violently interrupted by loud, percussive explosions and blinding
white light, driving everyone out of their beds and into their physical training uniforms. This had
become a normal routine while going through basic training. The Drill Sergeants sure had a way
to make sure you got out of bed in the morning. Flash-bang grenades worked like a charm.
Scrambling out of bed, ensuring that you had all of your equipment and a fresh shave before
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heading to formation while Drill Sergeants are in your face, reminding you of what will happen
if you are late for morning formation, what was I thinking? While basic training was a definite
culture shock, it became easier after a short time and everything started to fall into place. We
learned the importance of paying attention to detail and being able to rely on your fellow soldiers
through rigorous exercises and team bonding drills that required the participation of the whole
team to accomplish. Honing our skills on the armada of weapon systems that the Army
employed, we spent many long hours laying prone in the baked red clay earth that makes up the
ranges of Fort Benning, sending rounds screeching downrange on blistering hot summer days.
Even though we knew that most of us would be sent to different units after graduating, it was
impressive how much that everything that we had went through while navigating through basic
had brought us together as a cohesive unit, many of which I would keep in contact with after
graduating. Graduation came on a chilly November morning, I dont think that I have been more
excited or proud in my life. There were times were things got fairly rough and I questioned
whether or not I could make it, but I had pulled through and was seeing the light at the end of the
tunnel. It was a brilliant light.

My Father and I after graduation from the Army School of Infantry, 2006
I arrived at my first unit in December of 2006, the 10th Mountain Division, stationed at
Fort Drum, New York . Shortly after being integrated into my platoon and just as I was starting
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to get the hang of things, our unit received deployment orders. We were set to do a 15 month
rotation in northern Iraq. This was the reason I had signed up in the first place and here it was
staring me in the face in bold print. After completing a checklist of activities that were required
in order to deploy, such as making sure your family situation back home was taken care of and
receiving the proper shots and vaccines, I was once again off into the unknown, Iraq.

My fire team in Iraq (me on the far left)

It was shortly after three in the morning local time when the hulking C-130 cargo plane
that was carrying us dived from the nightmare black sky, screaming towards the unseen desert
floor in a combat landing maneuver that helps prevent a RPG (Rocket Propelled Grenade) or
rocket from getting a lucky shot on the plane while descending to the sand covered runway
below. If anyone on the plane had dozed off they were wide eyed and awake after that jolting
landing. Upon exiting the bird we were met with a dry, life sucking, wall of hot air. The sun
isnt even out yet and its already over a hundred degrees, youve got to be kidding me! my
Platoon Sergeant exclaimed upon learning the local temperature. We had landed at FOB
(Forward Operating Base) Warrior, in the northern Iraqi city of Kirkuk, which we would call
home for the next grueling sixteen months. I will never forget my first patrol outside the
protection of the FOB gates, traveling in our six ton, up-armored war horses known as
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HUMVEEs, loaded down with crew served weapons and plenty of ammunition. I had no idea
what to expect but I knew that there was no turning back now. The air in the crudely constructed
towns around the base was filled with the pungent smell of trash and sewage that lined the
streets. Sun-faded black trash bags could be seen everywhere, even stuck to the barbed wire that
was hastily placed at traffic control points around the city. Livestock roamed freely about the
city, grazing on the garbage filled land. Merchants and vendors lined the bustling city streets,
peddling anything from freshly slaughtered goat to counterfeit handbags and stilettos. The local
population was varied, some wearing traditional Muslim garb and others showing off more
westernized styles. I waited for that first round to crack over head or to run over that first IED
(Improvised Explosive Device) detonating under my truck on that first, frightening patrol but it
never came and we rolled back into the protected gates of the FOB, drenched in sweat and
exhausted. It wasnt long however until Al-Qaida and the various local militias let us know that
they were there. We spent the days avoiding IEDS and visiting with the area police and Iraqi
army, helping with training to make sure they were able to take over one day and patrol their
country on their own. We spent time interacting with the local populace, to get a feel for what
they wanted to change in order to further secure peace in their homeland. Using school supplies
donated from back home, we helped establish schools in which the children could learn without
the fear of being the next victim of a deranged suicide bomber. During the nights we conducted
raids and snatch and grab missions based on intelligence that we had received from various
vetted sources. We would insert a mile or so out from the target, usually via smaller Blackhawk
helicopters, in order to maintain the element of surprise. Stalking through the pitch black alley
ways, the only light coming from the moon, we relied on the night vision goggles that were
mounted on our already heavy Kevlar helmets. Everything is lit up in brilliant green hue looking
through the goggles, making it incredibly easy to navigate through the darkness. We hit our
targets with overwhelming force, catching them off guard and gaining control of the tense
situation before the insurgents knew what had just hit them. Just as soon as it had happened we
were off with our target to the designated pick up point, watching for anyone that might be
coming for their fellow insurgents. Waiting for the helicopters to pick us up was always a very
tense moment, waiting for that familiar thud sound of the propellers cutting through the arid,
desert sky. This had become my life, flirting with death on a daily basis.

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On Patrol
It was hard to believe that we completed our arduous journey, navigating a worn torn
country but on a chilly October morning we landed (a much softer landing) back at Fort Drum,
New York. I had accomplished what I had set out to do and to this day feel that I made a
difference in some peoples lives while conducing operations in Iraq. April of the next year I took
the next step in my Army career and reenlisted for another three years and relocated to the 101st
Airborne Division, stationed at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. I deployed once more, this time to the
mountainous tribal regions of Afghanistan. Afghanistan proved to be a different fight with more
challenging obstacles and much more determined enemy combatants. While I was lucky to not
have personally lost a fellow soldier in Iraq. That unfortunately cannot be said for Afghanistan,
as I am constantly haunted by the memory of losing some of the best friends I have ever known.
I have since left the service to pursue other options in life but I will never forget my time in
service and the build up to going off to war in a faraway country that I had previously only seen
on news segments. I wouldnt change a thing if I had it all to do over, not a single thing. I am
proud to have served with the greatest fighting force this planet has ever seen and would go back

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at a moments notice to protect my own and those around the world that cannot protect
themselves.

The price of war, never will they be forgotten.

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