After about five minutes, I heard someone on the net say “Request to return fire!” I thought that was strange because by that time everyone else had responded.
As I focused on our rear flank I saw two attack choppers (AH1 Cobra Gunships) emerge from the buildings behind us. The choppers first launched a lethal heavy machine gun attack that demolished the cement wall. Then it launched a missile. But the missile was off course and we were in its destructive path. I could see the head of the missile and I knew if I jumped out of the vehicle I risked being shot by friendly fire, but that was the safer bet. I bailed out. Master Sergeant Howard was furious.
“Thompson, get back in the vehicle now! Right now!” The missile made a slight right and skimmed right by us.
“Did you see that? Did you see that?” I said as I got back into the vehicle.
“See what?” said Howard.
“The freakin’ missile that almost killed us,” I said in defense of my actions.
Then Hussein pointed to the long streamer-like tail draped across our right wing mirror.
“What’s this?” Hussein asked.
“Damn! That’s a wire from a TOW missile. It’s wire guided from the chopper. I guess it just missed us,” Howard said.
I felt validated by the evidence Hussein was holding. No one saw it but me, and I wish I hadn’t because I didn’t know it was wire guided. If it had stayed its course, it would have been a direct hit.
Every second of this attack seemed like an eternity. The deafening sound of tank fire and the stench of sulfur weighed heavy on me. The worst part was watching the bursts of machine gun fire shifting towards us and having to brace as it hit. It was like an insane rollercoaster ride that you couldn’t get off. The ride was non-stop…for forty minutes.
After forty minutes of engagement, the bursts became more intermittent until they ceased permanently. Although the firefight had ended, I couldn’t stop from being overstimulated. Howard looked back at us in the rear.
“Everyone okay?” Howard asked.
Aside from being seconds away from being executed in cold blood, dodging heavy machine gun fire and a near miss from a lethal TOW missile, yeah I was doing just peachy.
Chapter 32: Takedown of Aidid’s Forces: Part 4
7 January 1993
Imminent Thunder lived up to its bold name and delivered the knockout punch on the backs of the tanks, heavy machine gun fire and attack choppers. Our sub unit was one of the twelve to sweep the compound and help ID Aidid. I saw a number of Aidid’s men that were wounded, and a few tried to escape. I heard a few shots but I didn’t know if they were kill shots or warning shots. As we dismounted our vehicle inside the compound, I realized we had guests. Journalists and cameramen appeared from nowhere. Major cable news outlets wanted our stories. We had a love-hate relationship with them. They loved writing about us and we hated their stories. I really could not be bothered; I had a job to do. Master Sergeant Howard found some of Aidid’s men holed up in a large crate and wanted assistance. On my way there, the interior of the compound was sprayed with sniper fire but we couldn’t tell where it was coming from. I saw one of our guys get hit sitting in his vehicle. Ramirez and I hid behind the corner of the building. Howard, Hussein and the cameraman ducked below the cement wall. Someone radioed in for help because the sniper was not visible to us. One of the choppers returned and spotted a sniper and took him out, but we were still getting hit. I was hunched on the ground and Ramirez was scanning both right and left sectors.
“Gunny! I see him! He’s in that tall building about 600 yards away.”
I couldn’t see anything as our side of the building was getting pelted by AK rounds.
“If he would just stay still for a second, I could probably get a shot off,” Ramirez said.
I looked up and saw Ramirez aim in, his rifle was steady. His breathing slowed and his body became rigid.
“Sight alignment, sight picture,” Ramirez whispered to himself.
He shot.
“Gunny. I got him!” Ramirez yelled.
I looked around the corner and I saw a man hunched over in the window.
The sniper fire ceased.
“Ramirez! You got him, what a shot!” I said as I stood.
At that same time, my elation was stifled at the sound of two other shooters also claiming responsibility.
“Ramirez. I know you got him, and when we get back to base, I will tell the Colonel it was you.”
We confiscated a truckload of weapons and detained many of Aidid’s men. A few of them spoke decent English. We treated them as the soldiers they were, with respect and dignity. At the conclusion of Imminent Thunder and the safe house take down, we still were no closer to catching Aidid.
Chapter 33: The Flies Have It
7 January 1993
Our mission was complete around 0900 hours. Everyone was still in high-octane mode as we passed through the safety of our gates. I had a hard time processing what I had just experienced but I felt proud. In my mind, I passed the test. I gave myself a “C,” but I gave Ramirez an “A” and I was going to make it my mission in life to see that he got what he deserved. I wrote up my report, handed it in and stood in front of Captain Shaffner’s desk.
“Sir. I would like to put Corporal Ramirez in for an award for his actions today. I am sure you have heard about it.”
“Gunnery Sergeant Thompson. Yes I have heard, but I also know that there are two other shooters claiming they made the kill.”
“But Captain, you know Ramirez is the only one who could have made a shot like that. He’s a distinguished marksman!”
“So what do you want me to do? Recover the body, remove the bullet and do ballistics? You can write up an award if you want to but it won’t make it past my desk,” Shaffner said with a scowl on his face.
“So can we acknowledge all three of them? That way all could be recognized for their actions?”
“He just did his job! Nothing more! Now get the hell out of my office!” Shaffner shouted as he stood.
I became angry as I walked away. With thirteen years under my belt, I was careful in picking my battles. This would be one of them. I could not walk away in silence. I needed to say my peace. I turned around and spoke my mind.
“Captain Shaffner. The reason why you wear those bars is because of NCOs like Ramirez, who just did their job. Have a good day sir.”
The next day I noticed a rash of small itchy red pimples on my left hip. It was painful so I went to the doc. The Navy Corpsman referred me to a medical officer who examined me and gave me a diagnosis.
“Gunnery Sergeant Thompson, you have developed shingles.”
“Shingles? What is that?” I asked as I buttoned up my trousers.
“Shingles is similar to chickenpox and is a member of the same herpetic subfamily. You have an infection in your nervous system.”
“I bet I know who gave me this, my ex-girlfriend.”
“No, no, no. This is not a sexually transmitted disease. Have you been under some stress recently?” asked the doctor.
“Yeah, you could say that,” I responded.
“Well it appears that your immune system has been weakened but not compromised. Normally we see this in much older adults like fifty-ish. In this case it’s probably a symptom of traumatic stress.”
“Okay. So just give me a shot or pills. It doesn’t matter,” I said nonchalantly.
“Gunnery Sergeant Thompson. You may have this for the rest of your life. There is no cure for shingles, but we can prescribe medicine to reduce the frequency of attacks. Some of my patients are on suppressive therapy.”
“What is suppressive therapy?” I asked, feeling totally uneasy about this freakin’ disease that I got that I couldn’t get rid of.
“There are two types of therapy. Suppressive therapy is daily medication to minimize the potential for attacks. The other type of therapy is reactive, in response to the viral attacks. I will monitor you to see which type of treatment you will re
quire, but first I need to get you some meds.”
The doc then handed me a bottle of blue-colored 400mg horse pills.
“Now let’s discuss potential side effects,” the doc said.
“Side effects. Doc if this is gonna give me chronic diarrhea or nightmares, I’m gonna struggle to stay on the meds.”
“Only 2.2 percent get diarrhea, and there are no reports of nightmares. Eleven percent of patients do complain of an ill feeling, but nothing serious.”
“Okay…meds for life. I got it,” I said after a big sigh.
Two days later, I found out there were rumors I broke out in hives.
Lance Corporal Knox approached me in passing.
“Hey Gunny. I heard you had hives. I think I do too. Can I show you to see if you got the same thing I have?”
“I don’t have hives, it’s kind of complicated but you can show me what you have. It might be similar.”
He couldn’t show me in public so he showed me behind the Operations Center building.
He lowered his trousers and I saw the nastiest boil I had ever seen in my entire life. It was near his inner right thigh. It was huge, full of fluid and there was movement inside.
“What the hell is that? Man you need immediate medical attention.” I said in disgust.
Lance Corporal Knox took my advice and went straight to the corpsman. A medic lanced the boil…it was a maggot infestation. He required minor surgery to remove the larvae that burrowed deep under the skin tissue.
When he returned to work, his co-workers gave him a baby shower celebrating the live birth. He saw no humor in the gag. In fact, he spiraled into a mild depression and had his weapon taken off him as a preventive measure.
Chapter 34: Mightier than the Sword
8-11 January 1993
The next day I told Ramirez about the Captain’s decision not to recognize him for his actions the day before. He wasn’t bothered at all.
“Gunny. It’s enough for me to know I got the shot off. It will give me something to tell my grandkids one day,” he said smiling.
I wrote the award up anyway just so Captain Shaffner had to go through the motions of kicking it back denied. As expected, he denied it.
That night I ran into Staff Sergeant Sheffield at the recreation tent. He was talking to another Staff Sergeant about a JTF Meritorious Sergeant Board. The winner of that board would be promoted on the second of February.
“Sheffield. What’s this I hear about a Sergeant Board at JTF Headquarters?”
“Yeah, there are two boards, a Sergeant Board and an NCO of the Quarter Board, both on 11 January. They are looking for a Staff NCO to sit on the boards. I volunteered but they wanted a Gunny. Are you interested?”
I was all over that like a pit bull on a milk bone.
The beauty of the board was, the recommendations were enlisted recommendations. An officer was a senior member of the board but only voted if there was a tie. I could recommend Corporal Ramirez and Captain Shaffner could not block my endorsement. I never once considered NCO of the Quarter because all you got was a handshake and your picture mounted in the corridor. As an NCO, I won a few boards myself and was meritoriously promoted to Sergeant back in 1984, so I knew exactly what needed to be done. I just needed to get Ramirez prepared…in three days.
I sprung the idea on Ramirez that night over two-handed spades. He was excited about it but not very confident.
“Gunny, I’m down with it but you know Corporal Warren will be nominated and he’s everyone’s favorite son. How can I compete with that?” Ramirez said as he played his little joker on my ace of spades.
“This is a JTF board, not a Security Battalion board. No one knows either of you and my write up for you will be first rate, especially after that shot you made. You can do this!”
“Why are you so intense?” Ramirez said as he took yet another book from me.
“Because a lot is at stake here, and this means a lot to me. It should mean a lot. I have a lot of respect for the rank of Gunnery Sergeant. And this is what Gunnys do. We have two days to get you ready. So when do you want to start?”
“Can we start after I finish busting you up in Spades?” Ramirez said laughing.
I purposely did not tell him I was sitting on the board because I wanted him to earn it and not think I would use my influence to advance him in any way.
We studied custom and courtesies, uniform regulations and tactical maneuvers. We went over and over the same things until I was confident he could pull it off.
“Hey Gunny. What about current events?” Ramirez asked.
I had completely forgotten about current events. We discussed many topics of interest, particularly politics, since we had a new Commander-in-Chief. I hit him with many hypothetical situations and he was exceptional.
The next day was my 32nd birthday. The only thing I wanted for my birthday was to see Ramirez promoted to Sergeant.
The NCO of the Quarter board was scheduled at 1030 and the Meritorious Sergeant board was on for 1130.
On my way to JTF, I saw Ramirez and he waved to get my attention. He looked upset.
“What’s up Champ?” I asked.
“Gunny, I just had a chat with Captain Shaffner and he said I was ineligible for the Sergeant board because I had been in the unit less than three months. I am going up for NCO of the Quarter instead.”
Ramirez showed me his endorsement. It had been rewritten and signed by Staff Sergeant Sheffield.
I felt hatred at that precise moment and had thoughts that I could never tell anyone.
“Gunny, you spent a lot of time getting me prepared. Because of that, I will do my very best. Why waste all that preparation.”
Ramirez was way more mature than I would have been given his position.
I shook his hand and tried to think of a few words of encouragement but I struggled to find any. I just said “You stay focused on the board, I will talk to the Captain later.”
I was running a little behind so I high stepped it to JTF to make the two boards.
On the board was a Sergeant Major, two Master Sergeants, a Captain and myself. We waited for candidates for the NCO of the Quarter Board to arrive but Ramirez was the only one in the hallway standing by. The Sergeant Major was angry that no one wanted to support the NCO board, but I knew why no one supported it. There was no real benefit compared to a promotion. At 1045, Marines started to arrive but they were all for the Sergeant board.
Sergeant Major came storming back in the office where we were seated.
“This is bullshit. Both boards need to be supported. Gentlemen, this is how it is going to be. One board, the winner gets Sergeant and the runner up is NCO of the Quarter!”
That perked me right up. It sure did. Ramirez was back in the running. He just had to earn it.
There were nine Corporals vying for Sergeant including Ramirez and Corporal Warren. I had to be objective and put my bias aside. Corporal Warren went first and set the bar at a very high mark. I was impressed. I was particularly impressed with his answer to the question “Why should we promote you to Sergeant?”
“Gunnery Sergeant. You should promote me to Sergeant because my everyday job requires me to interact with all ranks, both officer and enlisted. In those interactions, I must demonstrate courage, knowledge and a high degree of professionalism. I represent the base commander in every encounter and I have to make him look good.”
His uniform was impeccable and he could talk the talk. His previous board experience made him a contender, a worthy one at that.
Ramirez was last to be boarded. I was hoping he would be motivated by his second chance. He was, and it showed.
When asked why he should be promoted to Sergeant he responded.
“Master Sergeant. I should be promoted to Sergeant because I am the most technically and tactically proficient among the NCOs here. I realize that these are mere words but I am asking for a chance to prove myself. I will not miss any of your questions and…I am the best damn
shot in the NCO Corps.”
Board members perused his record book and saw all the documented marksmanship awards. They all noted it on their board sheets. He just needed to answer all the questions right as Warren did. The final question was “What is your basic pay?” He answered it to the penny.
I felt so proud. Ramirez was amazing. But it was up to the board to decide.
“Gentlemen. This is a two-horse race. Who is for Warren?” asked the Captain.
The two Master Sergeants voted for Warren, while the Sergeant Major and I voted for Ramirez. It was up to the Captain to make a decision and the suspense was just too much.
“To be honest, I liked both and would have a hard time choosing one. I have a tie-breaker question and would like to base my opinion on their response.”
Corporal Warren went first.
“Corporal Warren. Our new Commander-in-Chief has vowed to let Gays openly serve in our military. What is your personal opinion on the matter?”
Warren looked at each one of us before he answered. Then he cleared his throat before he spoke.
“Sir, my beloved Corps was founded on virtues that have been tested over time. In my opinion the Commander-in- Chief has deviated from the principles that keep our country safe.”
Immediately I knew Warren overheard my conversation with Sheffield because his answer was almost verbatim.
Ramirez followed Warren and snapped to the position of attention.
“Corporal Ramirez? What do you think about our President’s position on letting Gays serve openly in the US military?”
I was curious about how Ramirez would respond since the topic never came up in conversation.
“Captain. As an NCO of Marines it is not my position to question the judgment of our Commander-in-Chief. However, it is my duty and responsibility to uphold his policies and directives to the very best of my ability.”
The two Master Sergeants looked at each other. I looked at the Sergeant Major. We were waiting for the Captain to make his decision.
The Captain called both Warren and Ramirez back in to hear the verdict.