The
order had come down at last. The ground invasion of
Kuwait was about to commence. My battalion would cross
the Kuwaiti border as part of Operation Desert Storm.
I was the second in command of 130 brave Marines who
were about to face the most daunting challenge of their
military lives.
We’d
already dodged heavy artillery fire and now we’d
likely face more dangers, like land mines and oil fires.
Thousands of Iraqi troops waited just beyond the Kuwaiti
border. It was time for us to make the final strategic
push. Dear God, I prayed, help me to lead my troops
wisely. Watch over us. Keep us safe.
I
walked from one group of Marines to another, talking
to them about the mission and trying to keep their spirits
up. Hunched against the dry, biting desert winds, we
wrote letters home. Maybe our last.
Just
before dawn the next morning I gave the order to move
out. The skies were clear. We slung our gear into our
Humvees and began advancing toward the border.
I
felt a drop of rain, then another. In a matter of minutes
it was pouring. The rain came down hard and fast, so
thick we could barely make out the desert landscape
ahead of us. It went on for days. Each morning we’d
awaken soaked to the bone after another night with only
camouflage netting for cover. Bad enough we had the
enemy to worry about. Now the elements were against
us too. Father, please make this rain stop and protect
us.
The
rain continued to pound us relentlessly until we finally
neared the Kuwaiti border. There the battalion halted.
On the other side, the enemy waited. Rain or no rain,
we’d soon be going in.
We
awoke on the day of the invasion to clear skies and
glorious sunshine. As we closed in on the border, we
couldn’t help but stare at the astounding sight
before us. The torrential rains had washed away the
sand to reveal metal disks planted all across our path.
It was an Iraqi minefield.
