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AFGHANISTAN - Every Nov. 8, Chaplain Ric Brown posts a photo and
bio to his Facebook timeline of his friend, Command Sgt. Maj. Steven
Faulkenburg.
This year will mark 10 years since he died.
It was during the opening hours of Operation Phantom Fury, the
military name for the Second Battle of Fallujah, which commenced on
November 7, 2004. Faulkenburg was at the head of a group of Iraqi
soldiers, whom he led into an intense urban battle like they were
his brothers. They were among the first to engage the enemy in their
stronghold.
“The insurgents catch them cold. Buildings on
both sides erupt with muzzle flashes... it is the first major
firefight of the battle.” (From House to House: An Epic Memoir of
War)
It is strange to think how quickly a decade has passed
since that battle. What was once so emblematic now seems like a
curious footnote.
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Maj. Rick Brown, chaplain with 4th Infantry Division, addresses a crowd of U. S. and NATO service members and civilians during a morning Regional Command (South) Memorial Day ceremony at Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan, May 26, 2014. (U.S. Army photo by Sgt. 1st Class Brock Jones)
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The Islamic State has control of the city that Americans
bled so mightily to secure. In a little over ten years,
then, Fallujah has gone from Baathist control, to nominal
coalition forces, to Iraqi security forces, to a foreign
insurgency, back to Americans, to the Iraqi government, and
now to a Sunni-led terrorist quasi-state.
As The
United States quietly exits the war stage in Afghanistan,
Soldiers and those who support them would do well to
remember the ferocity and commotion in Iraq a decade ago.
2004 was the second calendar year of Iraqi Freedom. Troops
were pouring into the country to quell a growing insurgency
after the U.S. had toppled the government and dismantled its
military.
Chaplain
Brown was one of those nearly 100,000 troops.
I met
him in May of this year. He was serving as the 4th Infantry
Division chaplain as that unit prepared to leave
Afghanistan. I was just arriving in Kandahar with my unit,
and we were attached to the 4th ID. Brown was my chaplain.
At the time I was immersed House to House: An Epic
Memoir of War, in an effort to acquaint myself with a
chapter of American military history that was too quickly
being forgotten.
Its author, Staff Sgt. David
Bellavia, also knew Faulkenburg, counting him more a father
figure than a friend. Bellavia was an infantryman whose
prose matches the tempo and efficiency his military
occupation demanded.
“A bullet strikes Faulkenburg
just above his right eyebrow, a millimeter below the rim of
his Kevlar helmet. He falls. The fight rages. Inspired by
his examples, the Iraqis charge on and drive the enemy back.
Others risk their lives as they dash to Faulkenburg's aid.
Our sergeant major lies unmoving in the street.” (From House
to House: An Epic Memoir of War)
It is a harrowing
account of what was probably the most ferocious battle in
over a generation of Americans fighting. A character in his
tale is his chaplain—the same one I had just met in
Kandahar.
"Sergeant Bellavia," said Brown one evening
before the battle, "would you like to pray with me?"
Bellavia, a squad leader with Alpha Co., 2nd Bn, 2nd
Infantry Reg., "Ramrods," participated in some of the most
hellish combat of the battle. He writes reverentially of
Brown, whose calm and earnestness underscored the violence
and chaos about to be unleashed on the men of 2-2.
“Lord, give this young man the strength and wisdom to
protect his soldiers. Give him the courage and conviction to
deliver them from the unknown. Give him the faith and
guidance to know your path, Lord. Give him the perseverance
to stay on it.” (From House to House: An Epic Memoir of War)
As I passed by the chaplain one day in southern
Afghanistan a decade later, I asked him, "Did you serve in
Iraq in 2004?"
"Yes," he said with a smile. (Chaplain
Brown almost always wears a smile).
"Were you
featured in a book about your service in Iraq in 2004?"
"Come talk to me about it sometime," he replied,
knowingly, his smile growing.
So I did.
We
sat for about an hour and chatted. It was not long enough
for me to satisfy my curiosity about the Battle of Fallujah,
and not long enough for him to do his experiences—or his
fallen friends—justice.
He described, in spiritual
terms, what Bellavia wrote about in House to House.
The story needed an inject of something good. According to
Bellavia, Fallujah was hell. Empirically, it was the
bloodiest urban battle since Vietnam. But you wouldn't know
that from talking with Brown, who seemed as comfortable as a
little old lady in one of his stateside church services.
Brown was on the front as the task force prepared to
breach the outer berms guarding the city. He took indirect
fire in his soft-side Humvee, but made sure, according to
his own recollection and that of Bellavia, to check on
Soldiers under his pastorship.
“I went from vehicle
to vehicle so I did the same thing when we got staged that
day. Talking, praying, heading in one direction and then the
mortars started coming in in like they were targeting me. My
assistant yells, ‘mortars!' ‘I know! but we gotta go check
on these people,' I reply. Besides, the safest place to be
is where the mortar just hit, so we checked on one side and
head to the other side of the perimeter. By this time the
company commander says he wants everyone in the vehicles.
But I've got a canvas top. Just then, a mortar round did hit
close to one of my guys, so we had to go check on him.”
What motivates a Soldier like Brown to walk around in
defiance of the enemy's indiscriminate firepower?
"I
like what Stonewall Jackson said," he told me. "My religious
beliefs teach me to feel as safe in battle as in bed."
Essentially, that's the way I live my life. I try not to
take unnecessary risks, but there are some risks that are
worth taking. Being where your boys are, being in the thick
of it... there is no way I was going to miss being in
Fallujah. I was not fearful."
Bellavia can't make the
same claim; he readily admits to the fear that taunted him
in fits throughout the operation. His account of the battle
is gritty and honest. But he was there to kill, while Brown
was there to help young men like Bellavia find strength to
complete their awful task, and to help remember those whose
missions were cut short.
Today marks exactly ten
years since Brown, Bellavia, Faulkenburg, the Ramrods, Task
Force 2-2, and the rest of the Marines-led warriors that
were part of Phantom Fury began amassing themselves on the
outskirts of a city that would soon be awash in blood and
brass.
And Chaplain Ric Brown will be posting more
memorial photos to his Facebook timeline of some of those
Soldiers who gave their lives a decade ago.
By U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Richard Stowell
Provided through DVIDS
Copyright 2014
Remembering Fallujah Part 2: Preparing For A Battle Against Evil
Remembering Fallujah Part 3:
Urban Combat Is Hell
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