[LCM Articles] Jerusalem Post: War - a soldier's first hand account

Thu Aug 17 00:42:04 EDT 2006

 In a message dated 8/16/2006 6:24:15 P.M. Pacific Daylight Time,
madona_m at yahoo.com writes:

Please read this article. If you do not have time please read the
three paragraphs I have pasted below. Israel and the U.S. have
maintained that they are killing civilians because Hezbollah is
hiding among and firing from between civilians. If you had any doubt
about the Lebanese fighters hiding between civilians, this Israeli
soldier's account from the Jerusalem Post (very conservative paper
as you know) clearly states otherwise. It clearly states that
Hezbollah fighters were firing from the hills and the valleys while
Israeli soldiers were hiding among civilians in Lebanese houses.

It is important that the world acknowledges this fact (we can at
least try). So please distribute widely.
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________

After three days of training, we crossed the border into Lebanon on
foot, a week ago Sunday, and marched through the night, pushing
deeper and deeper into Hezbollah's backyard. At dawn, after the
first long night's march, we rushed the small village of Quzah in a
hail of gunfire, grenades and missiles, and blew down doors and
commandeered homes where we waited out the day.  Our orders were to
only move at night.

We tried to rest inside the home as best we could, considering the
intensity of the fighting all around us. Heavy artillery being fired
from the Israel side of the border rained around the blocky
outcropping of hilltop villas. Knowing we were in the area but
unsure of our precise whereabouts, Hezbollah operatives in the hills
surrounding us launched missiles and mortars shells randomly into
the homes in the village through the night. Automatic gunfire was
everywhere and we had no way of knowing if it was theirs or ours.

Early that morning we received horrible news over the radio: in a
village half a mile to our east, an advanced anti-tank missile was
launched into a window of a home where a unit we had been working
with in parallel was hunkered down. The result was devastating; nine
killed, forty wounded.

....We remained in that bombed out village for two nights, all the
while taking mortar shells and hostile gunfire into the windows of
the homes. You could hear the whistle of the mortars as they came
down, and you could do absolutely nothing but sit on the floor and
hope that it would not fall in your lap. It sounded as if Cadillacs
were being catapulted into the village and the explosions shook the
already shaky building and chunks of red-hot shrapnel rained down in
the streets. At night, we left the houses and commandeered different
homes so that Hezbollah would not zero in on our exact positions. We
monitored their radio transmissions and heard them directing their
fire to where they thought we were. We slept in one-hour stretches,
if at all.

Excerpts from the Jerusalem Post:
http://blogcentral.jpost.com/newsItems/viewFullItem$1183

The full article below:

August 15, 2006; 4:16:26 AM.
Lone Soldier: War. Posted by LONE SOLDIER.

After being called to emergency reserve duty two weeks ago and much
indecision on the part of the officers of how we would be utilized
in the raging conflict, my unit was assigned a complicated mission.
We were to penetrate some ten kilometers into Lebanon and root out
and engage Hezbollah guerrillas that were concentrated in bunkers on
a mountain slope facing northern Israel. Intelligence and aerial
photographs described a site that was heavily fortified and defended
by several cells of well-trained and equipped jihadists. Despite a
sustained aerial bombardment by the air force, Katyusha rockets
continued to be launched from the area into Haifa, Nahariya, Tzfat.
The decision was made that the launchers could only be destroyed and
the guerrillas eliminated by ground troops. The problematic nature
of the action foreboded heavy casualties on our side. It's like
trying to pull a rattlesnake out of its hole without getting bitten.
Mine is a demolition unit, so the mission fell on us. I was honored
to be the heavy gunner that would be on the point team.

After three days of training, we crossed the border into Lebanon on
foot, a week ago Sunday, and marched through the night, pushing
deeper and deeper into Hezbollah's backyard. At dawn, after the
first long night's march, we rushed the small village of Quzah in a
hail of gunfire, grenades and missiles, and blew down doors and
commandeered homes where we waited out the day.  Our orders were to
only move at night.

We tried to rest inside the home as best we could, considering the
intensity of the fighting all around us. Heavy artillery being fired
from the Israel side of the border rained around the blocky
outcropping of hilltop villas. Knowing we were in the area but
unsure of our precise whereabouts, Hezbollah operatives in the hills
surrounding us launched missiles and mortars shells randomly into
the homes in the village through the night. Automatic gunfire was
everywhere and we had no way of knowing if it was theirs or ours.

Early that morning we received horrible news over the radio: in a
village half a mile to our east, an advanced anti-tank missile was
launched into a window of a home where a unit we had been working
with in parallel was hunkered down. The result was devastating; nine
killed, forty wounded. We had been with those guys hours before,
sipping Turkish coffee around the buses before we crossed over the
border. Now we heard their cries for assistance over the radio.

Our initial objective was delayed as we were ordered to take up
positions on a hillside in order to secure the evacuation of the
dead and wounded under the cover of darkness back into Israel. In
the hours just before dawn, we assaulted the village again and
entered into the homes where we laid on the bathroom floor and in
other rooms that did not have exterior walls. Quzah would be our
home for two long days and nights.

In daylight hours, we peered out the kitchen window at a valley to
the east of us and watched as volleys of Katyushas were launched
from the brush into northern Israel to our south. It was surreal
seeing the Israeli towns across the border from the same perspective
as the enemy. It was terrible. It was beautiful.

We did our best to direct the artillery cells and the F16s to the
precise positions, calling in coordinates as we peered out of the
wreckage of previously shelled homes. If we saw a missile battery
that was close enough, we crawled into the streets and fired our own
rockets into the brush. The valley was bombarded relentlessly by
artillery shells, the cannons systematically sweeping the area,
tearing up huge swaths of earth. Every so often a shell would strike
something hidden amongst the trees and a secondary explosion would
erupt and missiles would fly from the brush in all directions like
fireworks on the fourth of July. The secondary explosions were
identified by us, and by pilot-less aircraft patrolling the skies;
we zeroed in, and F16s swooped in, dropping massive bombs. We
watched as huge silent explosions left moon sized craters, and
moments later the sound and the concussion would hit us. It was as
if the atmosphere would rip in the tremendous blasts, shaking the
homes violently.

We remained in that bombed out village for two nights, all the while
taking mortar shells and hostile gunfire into the windows of the
homes. You could hear the whistle of the mortars as they came down,
and you could do absolutely nothing but sit on the floor and hope
that it would not fall in your lap. It sounded as if Cadillacs were
being catapulted into the village and the explosions shook the
already shaky building and chunks of red-hot shrapnel rained down in
the streets. At night, we left the houses and commandeered different
homes so that Hezbollah would not zero in on our exact positions. We
monitored their radio transmissions and heard them directing their
fire to where they thought we were. We slept in one-hour stretches,
if at all.

After the last of the casualties was evacuated from the adjacent
village- an excruciatingly slow process in which another one of our
tanks was hit and four more precious soldiers lost - we left the
village and continued on our march deeper into Lebanon.

After two nights of hard treks through impossibly difficult terrain,
we arrived to a hillside a few kilometers from our objective.
Different units commandeered small villages along our route and
provided cover for us as Hezbollah cells fired on us from the
hillsides. The artillery was constant, pounding any structures that
were along our path a kilometer before we would arrive.

As planned, we arrived to a hillside where we waited amongst the
scorched brush and shattered terraces for supply helicopters that
were to come and drop off water and additional explosives that we
would use to destroy the bunkers. After receiving the supplies, we
were to continue making progress on  foot to execute our mission. We
were exhausted, filthy, but happy for the brief opportunity to drop
our>packs. And then, the unthinkable.

The helicopters arrived gloriously, six of them, flying low over our
heads.  We had thought the area was relatively secure and the
helicopters landed in a field maybe two hundred yards from where we
sat behind boulders. After making their drops, the helicopters
roared away again one by one towards Israel, again flying low,
directly overhead. Suddenly, as if in a dream, I saw a rocket rise
up out of a field maybe a hundred yards to the left of us.  It took
me a moment to realize what was happening. To my horror, the missile
struck the fourth helicopter's left side, maybe 40 feet directly
over my  head. There was a huge fireball, and I don't know if I saw
it or if I imagined it, but I pictured the pilot struggling with the
controls. We thought the helicopter would crash down on us and there
were a few moments of indescribable terror, but the crippled
aircraft flew another 50 yards, turned over on its side and fell
onto the hillside. There was a mushroom cloud of black smoke that
enveloped a huge orange ball of fire as the helicopter exploded. I
don't remember if I heard the explosion, I just remember my captain
next to me in the bush saying, "my God, my God."

Immediately, Hezbollah mortar shells began to rain down on our
position and we dove for cover as the earth boiled around us. The
remaining helicopters banked away and flew off, shooting off decoy
flares. A second land-to-air missile rocket narrowly missed a Black
Hawk that arrived to survey the scene of the crash. It too deployed
decoy flares and swooped away. Heavy gunfire ripped through the
pitch-black night, but I was uncertain if it was theirs or ours. I
saw from where the missile came but couldn't shoot for fear of
hitting one of our own in the darkness. This continued for many
hours, and when the barrage ceased we retreated back into the
valley, leaving a small force in the area to search for and watch
over the wreckage of the helicopter. Hezbollah was sure to try to
take the remains of the pilot and crew for ransom.

Later, we learned that five of the helicopter's crew died in the
crash. The loss was more than any of us could bear, but we
considered ourselves fortunate. The helicopter was struck after it
had made its drop. Minutes before, it had been full with some thirty
soldiers.

Because of the crash, we did not receive the supplies as planned, a
serious development considering that we were down to out last
canteens of water. In the few frantic hours before daylight, planes
parachuted crates of water to us, but we were unable to find them in
the rough terrain, and as dawn broke we retreated back to our
previous positions before the Hezbollah snipers and mortar men
emerged from their bunkers.

We quickly hollowed out and entered into bushes and waited for night
to come. To sleep was impossible. I was struggling against
exhaustion and dehydration following the previous night's frantic
search for the supplies. I had slept maybe four hours in previous
four days and the constant burden of the heavy machine gun I carried
and my battle vest with some thousand rounds of ammunition had taken
its toll. I received two saline infusions in the bush and tried to
eat from the few battle rations that remained but was unable to keep
anything down. Most of day, three other soldiers and I sat in
silence, unable to sleep, each absorbed in his own thoughts,
resigning himself to a singular and unforeseeable fate. Some day I
will find the words to describe the thoughts that go through your
head under such circumstances.  To try now would be futile.

When dusk fell, we again geared up. The officers were determined to
carry out the mission without further delay, but we were down to our
last drops of water. Over the radio we learned that the bodies of
the helicopter crew had been recovered. The officers decided to
divide the unit into two task forces; one to evacuate the wounded
amongst us: three soldiers who had broken or sprained ankles and
legs in the previous days' frantic marches over the harsh terrain.
They would be airlifted along with the remains of the helicopter
crew back into Israeli territory. The second unit was to search for
the water that had been dropped from airplanes the night before.
After, we were to reunite and make our final push to the mountain
slope to put an end to the firing of rockets from that area into our
cities in the north.

I was placed in the squad to evacuate the wounded, and as we made
our way to the landing site carrying the stretchers, a call came
over the radio. A General Staff order was made to all forces
operating in the area:  immediately stop all proactive measures in
observance of a cease-fire, a cease fire that we had no idea was
even in the works. Just like that, the war was suddenly over, for
now.

With news of the end of hostilities, the decision was made to
evacuate me in my weakened state along with the wounded. Again, I
found myself in the same area where I watched a helicopter shot down
the night before, preparing to board a helicopter myself. The Black
Hawk emerged from the black depths of the valley below us. As soon
as it landed we ran to it, carrying the stretchers and the sacks
with the remains of the dead. We dove inside and immediately the
helicopter rose sharply and banked away, shooting flares from its
sides to act as decoys for incoming rockets. I found myself lying
amongst the dead and injured as the flight crew trampled over us. I
could only see the fire from the flares and could have no idea if
the extreme banking of the helicopter was a defensive measure or if
we had been hit.  After a few moments of terrifying uncertainty
thinking we would hit the ground at any second, the helicopter
leveled off and we rose sharply out of the range of any Hezbollah
rockets and flew back into Israel.

I was released from the hospital a few hours ago after being treated
for severe dehydration and exhaustion. I just wanted to let
everybody know that I am fine. Sorry if I made you guys worry too
much.

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---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: "madona_m" <madona_m at yahoo.com>
To: aastudies at yahoogroups.com
Date: Thu, 17 Aug 2006 01:18:44 -0000
Subject: [aastudies] Jerusalem Post: War - a soldier's first hand account
Please read this article. If you do not have time please read the
three paragraphs I have pasted below. Israel and the U.S. have
maintained that they are killing civilians because Hezbollah is
hiding among and firing from between civilians. If you had any doubt
about the Lebanese fighters hiding between civilians, this Israeli
soldier's account from the Jerusalem Post (very conservative paper
as you know) clearly states otherwise. It clearly states that
Hezbollah fighters were firing from the hills and the valleys while
Israeli soldiers were hiding among civilians in Lebanese houses.

It is important that the world acknowledges this fact (we can at
least try). So please distribute widely.
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________

After three days of training, we crossed the border into Lebanon on
foot, a week ago Sunday, and marched through the night, pushing
deeper and deeper into Hezbollah's backyard. At dawn, after the
first long night's march, we rushed the small village of Quzah in a
hail of gunfire, grenades and missiles, and blew down doors and
commandeered homes where we waited out the day.  Our orders were to
only move at night.

We tried to rest inside the home as best we could, considering the
intensity of the fighting all around us. Heavy artillery being fired
from the Israel side of the border rained around the blocky
outcropping of hilltop villas. Knowing we were in the area but
unsure of our precise whereabouts, Hezbollah operatives in the hills
surrounding us launched missiles and mortars shells randomly into
the homes in the village through the night. Automatic gunfire was
everywhere and we had no way of knowing if it was theirs or ours.

Early that morning we received horrible news over the radio: in a
village half a mile to our east, an advanced anti-tank missile was
launched into a window of a home where a unit we had been working
with in parallel was hunkered down. The result was devastating; nine
killed, forty wounded.

....We remained in that bombed out village for two nights, all the
while taking mortar shells and hostile gunfire into the windows of
the homes. You could hear the whistle of the mortars as they came
down, and you could do absolutely nothing but sit on the floor and
hope that it would not fall in your lap. It sounded as if Cadillacs
were being catapulted into the village and the explosions shook the
already shaky building and chunks of red-hot shrapnel rained down in
the streets. At night, we left the houses and commandeered different
homes so that Hezbollah would not zero in on our exact positions. We
monitored their radio transmissions and heard them directing their
fire to where they thought we were. We slept in one-hour stretches,
if at all.

Excerpts from the Jerusalem Post:
http://blogcentral.jpost.com/newsItems/viewFullItem$1183