To Lead by the Unknowing, To Do the Unthinkable tells the story of a squad of marines on the front line of the war in Iraq. It tells of the battles the marines were in and how they had to improvise, adapt, and overcome to complete their missions, as well as the personal struggles they endured and their thoughts while the war was unfolding right in front of them. From Marine Corps boot camp to life out of the marines, To Lead by the Unknowing, To Do the Unthinkable is a must read. To Lead by the Unknowing, To Do the Unthinkable By Michael Waseleski AuthorHouse Copyright © 2009 Michael Waseleski All right reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4389-5675-6 Contents Introduction........................................................xiChapter One In the Beginning.................................1Chapter Two Kuwait...........................................25Chapter Three The Invasion.....................................39Chapter Four The Sandstorm....................................55Chapter Five The Battle of Nasiriyah..........................59Chapter Six The Bridge.......................................73Chapter Seven The Line of Death................................79Chapter Eight Baghdad..........................................87Chapter Nine The Palestine Hotel..............................107Chapter Ten The Warehouse....................................113Chapter Eleven Going Home.......................................117Chapter Twelve Thoughts of the War..............................121Chapter Thirteen The Ship.........................................125Chapter Fourteen Home on the Horizon..............................133Chapter Fifteen Preparing for OIF II.............................137Chapter Sixteen Operation Iraqi Freedom II.......................163Chapter Seventeen Preparing for OIF III............................191Chapter Eighteen Operation Iraqi Freedom III......................197Chapter Nineteen Life Out of the Marine Corps.....................239Chapter Twenty Chapter for New Marines..........................247 Chapter One In the Beginning Some people believe you can judge a man by the way he looks, talks, and walks. I thought the same thing, but what makes a man a man? I thought my high school graduation would never come. I was going to leave for boot camp in six days. It wouldn't be much of a vacation, but I had to go. That was a story in itself. My parents were having problems with their relationship. My dad and I were having father/son problems, and my girlfriend and I just wanted to get away. I knew I'd have to go into the military. There weren't very many options out there for me. I lived so far in the country that, if I did get a job, I'd have to spend my whole paycheck just on gas and insurance. College was out of the question. I barely made it through high school. I was so sick of school that I would have flunked out the first day. I had seen the recruiting commercials for the Marine Corps. They always talked about being the best. I wanted to be the best. I wanted to go through the hardest boot camp. I wanted to be trained by the best. I thought about the other branches, but, to me, nothing came close to being a marine. I talked to my recruiter a couple months before I graduated high school in May 2002. He asked, "What do you want to do for an MOS (military occupational specialty)?" I said, "I want to build, like construction, but I don't want anything to do with war or infantry." "Well, you want to be a combat engineer then." "Combat?" "Yeah. They don't go to war. They are construction." Being the nineteen-year-old boy I was, I said, "Okay, I'll do that then." I signed the papers. Three days later, I arrived at Marine Corps Recruit Depot at Parris Island in South Carolina. As soon as I got there, I heard a lot of yelling. The yelling wasn't only from the drill instructors. In fact, very few drill instructors were there at first. But one came on the bus as soon as it stopped. He climbed on the bus and forced his body down the aisle. "On behalf of the commanding officer, welcome to Parris Island. Now get off my bus! Get off my bus right now!" Once we got off the bus, we had to stand on yellow footprints that formed us into a platoon formation. When we went into the first building, they took our names, social security numbers, dates of birth, and so forth. They were all yelling at us, asking for the information. It was hard to think. If someone couldn't remember it, he had to dig it out of his wallet or pocket, which just made them yell even more. I really didn't know what to expect. I trembled while standing in line. Someone behind me said in a forceful voice, "Stop moving!" I tried, but I wasn't doing very well. They separated us into platoons, and we got what was called a receiving drill instructor (DI). It wasn't that bad during the first two days. We just got all our gear and went through the check-in process. I told myself, "This