Street by Street

FALLUJAH, IRAQ -- Even before first light, Marines, soldiers and Iraqi National Guard troops swarmed into Fallujah. Tanks and heavily armored Bradley Fighting Vehicles used their main guns to blow up cars and buses parked on side streets just in case they might be booby-trapped. "This is a frigging ghost town," says Cpl. Steven Wolf, a squad leader for the CAAT (Combined Anti-Armor Team) Platoon. The streets are deserted.

FALLUJAH, IRAQ -- Nov. 10, 2004 -- Even before first light, Marines, soldiers and Iraqi National Guard troops swarmed into Fallujah. Tanks and heavily armored Bradley Fighting Vehicles used their main guns to blow up cars and buses parked on side streets just in case they might be booby-trapped.

"This is a frigging ghost town," says Cpl. Steven Wolf, a squad leader for the CAAT (Combined Anti-Armor Team) Platoon. The streets are deserted.

The Marines are operating with liberal rules of engagement.

"Everything to the west is weapons free," radios Staff Sgt. Sam Mortimer of Seattle. "Weapons free" means Marines can shoot whatever they see; it's all considered hostile.

Our Humvees pass a man's body in the center of the street. There is hole through his left eye socket where a Marine sniper round passed cleanly through.

Down another side street is a second man's body. This one is dressed in clean white sneakers and athletic pants. He is on his back, his arms are behind his head and his face seems nearly peaceful, content. Not far from him is a Russian-made Dragunov sniper rifle. Rounds have spilled to the ground from the black ammo vest strapped to his chest.

The Marines I'm embedded with are nearly ebullient. This looks to be a cakewalk.

One jokes they'll be sipping "pina coladas by the Euphrates River by 15:00."

There is the occasional crack of an AK-47 being fired, but usually just single rounds so the shooter can avoid detection. These "nuisances" are met with overwhelming firepower. The concussion from the main gun on an Abrams M1 tank is powerful enough to knock you off your feet if you get too close.

The deep "whoomps" flashing from long muzzles echo across the city while Bradleys wind down their 25-millimeter cannons on suspicious targets.

A vehicle down every other alleyway is engulfed in furious orange flames. Black smoke billows from a building in the distance.

Almost to a man, the 3.1 Marines I'm embedded with have lost friends in this war of attrition. They are eager "to get some," to pay "haji" back for the car bombs and IEDs (improvised explosive devices) that have killed or maimed so many of their brother "Devil Dogs."

These young Marines are extremely likeable,full of bravado and easygoing about the danger that surrounds them. Some thumb through Maxim magazine, others the Bible, while they wait patiently to rain down death and destruction on their enemies.

"We're going to let loose the dogs of war," says Staff Sgt. Mortimer before the Fallujah offensive begins. "It will be hell," he says, smiling after.

The levity continues until the Marines turn the corner onto a main street they've tactically dubbed "Elizabeth."

Weapons fire and explosions have accompanied our advance, but this is different. As a squad from India Company passes a wall with a spray painted rocket propelled grenade launcher, a real RPG round explodes against it. One Marine's face is burned by the powder and hot gas, another has caught shrapnel in the leg, and a third has been shot in the finger by the small arms fire that followed. The Marines are outraged. They turn their M-16s on the building to the west where they believe the shooter is hiding. But that's just an appetizer.

A gunner sitting in the armored turret of a Humvee fires 40-millimeter grenades nonstop into the building until the gun jams.

Staff Sgt. Terry Mcelwain of Burden, Kan., is pissed. He grabs the bazooka-like AT-4 rocket launcher from the back of another Humvee. Its fire trail zips into the now-smoking building. Mcelwain wants Weapons Company to fire a TOW missile into it as well, but low-hanging electrical wires make it impossible so he calls up the tanks instead.

Two Abrams tanks lumber toward the target. They stop and fire their main guns in unison. The explosion shakes the street. But the Marines aren't done yet. They pour more rounds from .50-caliber machine guns and their M-16s.

As the unit moves past the building, going from east to west, another RPG explodes behind them, then a third. More casualties. A Navy corpsman cuts the pants leg off one of the injured and wraps a gauze dressing around the bleeding wound while another Marine covers with a 249-SAW (squad automatic weapon). But regardless of how much firepower the Marines bring to bear they can't seem to silence this phantom enemy, which continues to fire on them from the rear.

Then insurgent snipers begin firing in front of the Marines as well. One round pierces the Kevlar helmet of a 20-year-old Mark 19 gunner in my vehicle. He is badly wounded. He's put on a canvas stretcher and six Marines run through the streets carrying him to a waiting military ambulance.

Shortly after, another RPG round hits a Humvee but doesn't explode. The Marines are rattled but uninjured. A Marine who has caught shrapnel in the face is led to the safety of an empty storefront, his eyes bandaged shut, his hands outstretched and probing the air in front of him.

The Marines know they are being hunted -- boxed from the east and west in a treacherous kill zone by an enemy they can feel but can't see. Their superior firepower is checked by the insurgent's knowledge of the city and cunning use of blind alleyways and the nooks and crannies of buildings to pick off the Marines.

The gun battle continues late into the night. Eventually an AC-130 gunship is called in and strafes Elizabeth Street with its mini-guns. With eight of their men wounded, it is a bloody and disappointing start for the Marines and a reminder that to win the battle for Fallujah they will likely have to fight as they did today -- block by block, street by street.

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