Hemingway Redux

Michael Yon... 9 Seconds... Sometimes IEDs blow through the Stryker, launching it into the air, and critically or fatally injuring the people inside. Odd body parts will often be left unscathed, such as a severed hand in a black glove on the road. About 43 Americans have died here during the past ten days. 8 Seconds... 7 Seconds... The men are cautiously watching us, still talking among themselves. The transmitter is armed. A push of the button might make the final dispatch. 6 Seconds... A terrorist is preparing to push the button, but the timing's got to be just right…not yet…not yet…we are almost there… 5 Seconds... One of the terrorists does a double take at the lead Stryker, blowing his cover. The call instantly goes out to "Block left! Lock 'em down! Two pax!" If all reporters were equal... This was an appropriate time to run for cover. Enemy bullets snapping by. I saw at least two soldiers smiling—authors are not allowed to carry weapons PaPaPGawGaw BOOM PaPaPpop zinnggg--dust clouding the air—sure would be nice to have a gun instead of a camera right now boompop Gawsnapsnap boom boompoppboomGawGawGaw. I looked back to where we had been because the prisoner [the American soldiers always remind me that I should call prisoners "detainees"] was still there, hand-cuffed, and on his knees, with the radio transmitter lying beside him on the ground. We had left the prisoner in the open. Bullets were snapping, and I'm crouched on a knee behind a Stryker. When I look back again, I see Kurilla standing out there, alone, next to the terrorist on the sidewalk. Bullets are kicking up dirt and Kurilla gives us a look, What the hell! You left the prisoner! And they most certainly are not... Fire in the hole, fire in the hole, fire in the hole! BOOM! Nothing. Just the C-4 exploded. One soldier said, “You’re not going to write about this are you? That wasn’t anything. Don’t make it sound like a big deal, okay? My mom reads your stuff, and every time you write about something dangerous she freaks out.” Michael Yon would be... Captain V is one of the most respected officers here. When things go wrong, soldiers love to hear his voice on other end of the radio. They know that things are getting better fast when Captian V is on the way. A couple months ago, I rolled out with his section, and soon we were sleeking on foot down the darkened streets and warrens of Mosul, far away from the Strykers. We got into contact and there was some minor shooting drama, and I ended up separated with only two soldiers. We were alone in Mosul. Guns were hot. There was a sergeant and a young soldier, and the sergeant's radio could not reach out. "Let's stay here and Captain V will find us," I suggested. But the sergeant was having none of that sit-tight stuff. He wanted to keep moving, and so we did. First among equals! After midnight, the ramps dropped and we slipped silently into the dark spaces of Mosul. Creeping through stinking alleys, we took cover in darkness, sometimes illuminating briefly under shop lights, then disappearing back into the shadows. No sound, no sight, just soldiers prowling through the murk of war, bringing worry to men who should be worried. The soldiers found the right house, and silently slipped inside. If you have read Michael's dispatches, then you know how good he is. If you haven't, then you are missing something extraordinary. A self-financed, totally independent war correspondent. You can and should read his Online Magazine. You can even subscribe, so that you will be notified via email when new posts are up. Technorati : Iraq, Michael Yon, Mosul, Stryker, War Correspondent