Special Forces soldiers from ODA 571 give soldiers of the Kuwaiti Interior Ministry a safety briefing prior to a live-fire training exercise north of Kuwait City. 5th Special Forces Group keeps a full company of soldiers in Kuwait at any given time.
JOHN D. GRESHAM
Here we would watch a team from the 3/5th SFG, ODA 571, train Interior Ministry troops in the use of M16 combat rifles, which have slowly been coming into service in Kuwait. Today they would be working on middle-distance shooting from various positions.
These particular trainees, I learned later, were essentially military police with training in special weapons and tactics (SWAT) procedures, and were learning the finer points of crowd and riot control. The ODA 571 guys considered them to be fairly well motivated, though hardly the crack soldiers you might find back home at Fort Campbell.
As we approached the range, several soldiers were attaching paper targets to wooden posts with staple guns, then pacing off various range marks. Others were breaking open cases of 5.56mm ball ammunition.
About this time a convoy of trucks arrived, carrying a platoon-sized detachment of Interior Ministry soldiers. As the men got out of the trucks, the ODA 571 team leader chatted with his Kuwaiti counterpart about how things should go this morning. This seemingly minor detail is actually important, for the Americans must not be seen as commanding the Arab soldiers. One of the first rules SF soldiers on JCET missions learn is to work through their host nation counterparts, not around or over them. By doing this they avoid falling into the “ugly American” syndrome. (By advising the officer rather than telling him what to do, the status of the officer is enhanced in his own eyes and in the eyes of the young soldiers. Despite the temptation that “I can do it better myself,” SF soldiers must be mentors, not masters.)
5th Special Forces Group soldiers supervise marksmanship training with troops of the Kuwaiti Interior Ministry. These troops rarely receive such fine training, making it a treasured experience for the young Kuwaiti soldiers.
JOHN D. GRESHAM
Some moments later, with the ODA 571 soldiers observing, the Kuwait officers led their soldiers a dozen at a time to the firing line, while the rest, for safety, were kept to the rear on a walled berm. After a short safety talk in Arabic, the soldiers on the line were shown firing positions and stances. If one developed a problem, an SF soldier of similar rank would work with him until he had the position down. When they all had their positions and stances down successfully, the Kuwaitis were taken through a series of dry-fire drills before live ammunition was distributed. Then ODA 571 personnel issued one full thirty-round magazine to each man and the firing began.
Each man was allowed to fully exercise his weapon from every position and a variety of ranges, while SF soldiers moved up and down the line to help those Kuwaitis who needed it. Clearly the young Arabs were enjoying the training. Most soldiers in this part of the world are lucky to get to a firing range more than two or three times a year. These lads were blowing off a year’s worth of ammunition in a single morning, and they’d be doing it again later in the training.
When the first group had finished, the second group made ready, while the weapons were safed, ammunition was downloaded, and the targets were replaced. This took less than ten minutes, and soon another batch of troops were taking their turns on the firing line. These soon made room for the third and last group.
As they changed places, I glanced over at the ridge to our north. Though only 300 ft./100 m. tall, it stood out like a mountain over the flat local desert. A moment later it hit me that I was looking at something important, and I took out my escape map and GPS receiver to make sure. I was right. I was looking at Al-Mutlah Ridge and what had once been called the “Highway of Death.”
An ODA 571 soldier counsels a trooper from the Kuwaiti Interior Ministry. Special Forces soldiers are careful to never “talk down” to foreign troops, and always respect local laws and customs.
JOHN D. GRESHAM
In 1991, coalition air forces had caught thousands of Iraqis there retreating from Kuwait City. Using the pass over the ridge as a choke point, the allied aircraft had bombed the first and last vehicles in the line, trapping the rest, which were then bombed at leisure. The images of the “Highway of Death,” broadcast on TV and printed in papers, contributed to the early ending of the Gulf War.... In fact, most of the vehicles destroyed were not Iraqi military vehicles but stolen cars and trucks, carrying whatever loot from Kuwait City the retreating Iraqis could get away with. And when the bombing started, most of the Iraqis had sense enough to run off in the desert; very few actually lost their lives. It wasn’t so much a “Highway of Death” as a “Highway of Abandoned Loot.” Still, the burned out hulks of their vehicles had impressed Western civilians and Western leaders, and the war was ended.
Though today the highway is like any other freeway, it was for me a bizarre and compelling sight. A small but significant piece of history had happened here.
As I turned my attention back to matters at hand, ODA 571 was calling a halt to the morning’s drills. There would be others following the noon meal. But I would miss them, as it was time to move along to my next event back toward Kuwait City.
Sunday, November 22nd—Emiri Guard Brigade Compound, Kuwait
It took forty-five minutes to drive to ODA 594 at the barracks compound of the Kuwaiti Emiri Guards, with Kuwaiti drivers zooming by in huge Chevrolet Impalas (according to Chief Wade, the most popular automobiles in the Middle East).
The Emiri Guards are just what they sound like: the personal security force for the Al-Sabah family, and they take their job seriously. During the Iraqi invasion in 1990, many Kuwaiti military units just dropped their weapons and ran south. Only the desperate sacrifice of the Emiri Guards bought time for the Emir and the rest of the royal family to escape to Saudi Arabia. Casualties were heavy, and only recently have the ranks of the guards been fully filled.
Special Forces soldiers from ODA 594 teach pistol skills to troops of the Kuwaiti Emiri Guard. Assigned to defend the Kuwaiti Royal Family, these are elite troops with excellent equipment and skills.
JOHN D. GRESHAM
The Emiri Guard barracks is a huge complex, perhaps five miles square, and protected by an impressive security fence and a full battery of Kuwaiti Patriot surface-to-air missiles (this says a lot about the importance of this brigade-sized security unit).
Because Arab armies have all been built after the British colonial period on a tradition of fully automatic personal weapons like the AK-47 and the M-16, they have no real tradition of precision marksmanship. This lack of capability is now turning into a serious problem in a part of the world where hostage rescue and antiterrorist situations can occur at any time. The Kuwaitis aim to remedy this by training Emiri Guards in precision marksmanship skills; and it was the job of ODA 594 to establish a certified sniper program.
After clearing the security checkpoints, we drove to the rifle ranges on the north side of the base. As we approached, we could hear the throaty sounds of heavy rifles and pistols being fired. We parked, grabbed packs and water, and walked to a covered range where a small flock of Emiri Guards were working with a half-dozen 5th SFG soldiers.
While the shooters set up the weapons for the next round of firing, an SF warrant officer named Sam filled in some background. Normally, he explained, the Emiri Guards are armed with the M16 combat rifle and the SIG 220-series 9mm pistol, hardly suitable for precision marksmanship. Meanwhile, even an elite unit in wealthy Kuwait has limited funds for new weapons; they could not at the moment afford a first-class sniper system such as the American M24 or one of the Barrett-series rifles. Fortunately, there had been a few benefits (not many) resulting from their recent war with their unfriendly neighbor to the north. When the Iraqi forces abandoned Kuwait in 1991, they left behind a large stock of Soviet-made SVD Dragonov 7.62mm sniper rifles. Though not exactly state-of-the-art, the Kuwaiti soldiers had reconditioned the Soviet arms and were using them to train thei
r first teams of combat snipers.101
Soldiers of the Kuwaiti Emiri Guards practicing with a Russian-made SVD sniper rifle. ODA 594 Special Forces soldiers were helping them develop a sniper capability for the Kuwaiti Army.
JOHN D. GRESHAM
Now the soldiers of ODA 594 were teaching the basics of zeroing and sighting to the young Kuwaiti gunners. Each of the six firing positions had two of the Emiri Guards assigned to it, with a single SF soldier coaching them along.
The Dragonov has an evil crack, and you could see puffs of dust kicked up from the big 7.62mm rounds hitting the berms and backstops downrange.
After a time, I could see that some of the Kuwaiti soldiers were showing a real aptitude for the sniper trade. An observation Chief Sam confirmed. A few were so good, he explained, that the SF guys were going to teach spotting to their most talented students, and perhaps bring out their U.S.-made M24 rifles to give them a taste of what might be in their future.
As I watched, a very talented young Kuwaiti marksman and an American began a friendly competition shoot at the targets downrange ... which, in a way, is the whole point of the JCET program.
At this point, the chief offered me the chance to shoot a Dragonov for myself. I didn’t have to be asked twice!
Soon I was prone on the warm concrete in the shooting position, steadying the SVD on a sandbag, and following the chief’s suggestion to suck the stock hard into my shoulder. With my eye at a safe standoff from the sight, I pulled the trigger slowly until it broke. There was an ugly crack, and the stock punched hard against my shoulder. Downrange, there was a puff of dust behind the target. A moment later, Chief Sam on the spotter’s scope scored me.
ODA 594 troopers counsel their Kuwaiti counterparts during sniper training at the Emiri Guards compound west of Kuwait City. The Kuwaiti soldiers learned quickly, and were quite competent in the use of the Russia-made SVD sniper rifle.
JOHN D. GRESHAM
“Up at two o‘clock” was his assessment.
I could just make out the hole in the paper target downrange through the sight, and adjusted my next round appropriately. The next few rounds were solidly in the center of the target. “Not bad!” I congratulated myself.
Recalling Fort Polk, I was reminded of the worth of good spotters. Now I was seeing that for myself.
(Back at the hotel, the shoulder bruise from the mule-kick of the Dragonov came on in all its livid glory. I was sore for days.)
It was time for the midday meal. The ODA 594 team gathered up their weapons and gear, and piled into a pair of rented Range Rovers for the ride back to their team house—a pleasant officers’ barracks inside the Emiri Guards compound, with air-conditioners fighting hard against the midday heat.
After lunch with the SF soldiers, we headed back to Kuwait City ... and into a haze that left a bite in our throats. “Kuwait cough,” Chief Wade explained. “It’s a combination of fine desert dust and the sulfur from oil production. Drinking water helps.”
He was right; it did. But I was glad for the relatively cleaner air of the hotel, and a chance to rest and pack for home.
The remains of Iraqi armored vehicles along the Iraq/Kuwait border. Hundreds of such wrecks litter the desert, moot testimony to the fighting that took place here in 1991.
JOHN D. GRESHAM
Tomorrow would be my last day in the Persian Gulf. But before I left, there was a final major event scheduled.
Monday, November 23rd—Udari Bombing Range, Kuwait
After breakfast and checkout from the hotel, Major Neil and I met Chief Wade and the two security men from the embassy and headed west toward the Iraqi border. Our objective was the Udari bombing range, just under 6 miles/10 km. from Iraq (and about 60 miles/100 km from Kuwait City). Here the Iris Gold CSTs practiced their CAS skills. We were going to watch them work with Kuwaiti Air Force (KAF) F/A-18Cs.
On the way, we passed the huge Ali Al Salem airbase, home to many of the Kuwaiti, American, and British air units enforcing Operation Southern Watch, the “no-fly” operation that patrols southern Iraq. Four Tornado fighters were rising into the morning sky as we drove by.
On the edge of the base, you could see with field glasses what appeared to be a row of broken mounds. These were hardened aircraft shelters that had been destroyed by BLU-109-armed 2,000-1b. laser-guided bombs during Desert Storm—a still impressive statement about the power of U.S. weapons.
Also grimly intriguing were occasional stretches of road asphalt hit by cluster munitions during the war. They had left hundreds of large potholes, now patched. What they had done to living flesh could only be imagined.
After another half-hour we reached the turnoff for the Udari range. This brought us onto a rutted dirt road heading northwest. Putting the Suburban into four-wheel-drive, Chief Wade then kept the wheels carefully in the ruts. In a few minutes, we saw why. All around us were abandoned Iraqi fortifications and bunkers, built in 1990 and 1991; and scattered across the desert was an incredible array of weaponry—land mines, unexploded cluster munitions, antitank and surface-to-air missiles, and stacks of artillery shells—a devil’s den of unexploded ordnance.
Though the oil fields and populated areas of Kuwait had been made relatively safe after the war, to walk in this area would be sure death.
“If we break down,” Chief Wade warned (though no warning was necessary), “stay in the vehicle and wait for rescue. Don’t walk anywhere without a guide.”
Special Forces soldiers of ODA 595 controlling close air support aircraft at the Udari Range near the Iraq/Kuwait border. These troops operate in support of Operation Iris Gold, a joint U.S./Kuwait exchange program.
JOHN D. GRESHAM
By 1000 hours, we had arrived at the Udari Range, where we met a pair of CST teams from ODA 595, out to call in the bombing runs from GMVs (whose array of radio, navigation, and spotting gear allows them to call in almost any kind of ordnance from iron bombs to LGBs).
Over the next hour, flights of Kuwaiti F/A-18Cs called in and requested bombing coordinates. Once these were given by the CST teams, the aircraft made runs over the target arrays—a line of derelict Iraqi tanks several miles/kilometers away. The Kuwaitis were using the little BDU-33 7-1b. practice bombs, and they did a good job of placing their weapons (which the F/A-18 makes almost automatic).
After about an hour, the F/A-18s were headed back to Ali Al Salem, and I had a chance for a serious talk with the CST team.
It was short and to the point: If there were another Iraqi invasion, as long as the Kuwaiti brigades made any kind of stand, they would be able to call in enough firepower from above to keep the Emirate safe. These were confident young men, but they had no illusions about what would happen if the Kuwaiti forces did not make a stand.
After a careful walk back to the Suburban, we climbed aboard for the ride back to Camp Doha, where Neil and I would wait until our flight later that evening.
As Chief Wade threaded the vehicle along the rutted path to the highway, I could not help but wonder about the waste of war. “How long before this land is safe for humans again?” I asked myself. A Desert Storm officer I know once told me that archaeologists a thousand years from now will have a thrilling time digging up the ruins of the 1991 Kuwaiti battlefields with all that unexploded ordnance around.
In Kuwait City, at Major Neil’s insistence, we made one last stop. In the southern part of town is a two-story house that had been a safe house for Kuwaiti resistance fighters during the Iraqi occupation. Just prior to their retreat, the Iraqi secret police rounded up young men to use as hostages after the war (many of these are still held in Iraq—if they are alive at all). But when they pulled up to this house, the Iraqis ran into more than they counted on. More than a dozen heavily armed resistance fighters were waiting there to fight back. The Kuwaitis were so vicious the Iraqis had to call in a T-55 tank and armored personnel carriers to suppress them. Though most of the Kuwaiti fighters died in the carnage that followed, a few slipped away to tell the tale.
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A pair of Kuwaiti Air Force F/A-18 Hornet fighter-bombers scream low past the Udari Bombing Range. These aircraft would be guided to their targets in wartime by U.S. Special Forces soldiers in Ground Mobility Vehicles.
JOHN D. GRESHAM
Today the building stands as the Resistance Martyr’s Museum, and it is open to visitors.
When I entered, I found it exactly as it had been on that violent day in 1991. None of the bullet or shell holes had been repaired, and dried blood remained on the walls and floors—a stunning reminder that on this spot brave men had fought and died to oppose tyranny.
Monday, November 23rd—Camp Doha, Kuwait
After dinner at Camp Doha that evening, I was escorted over to the morale and welfare center, which was known to the troops as “Uncle Frosty‘s”—a large warehouse converted to look like a Stateside roadhouse. Here the troops can get free burgers, fries, hot dogs, and drinks, and listen to music or watch TV and movies on a large-screen projector. Tonight was “slasher” night: a trio of Jamie Lee Curtis horror flicks was playing. All around the troops were sucking down sodas and nonalcoholic beer, and blowing off steam.
All too soon, it was time to leave the howling crowd, and take one last ride in Chief Wade’s Suburban—the first leg of the day-long journey home.