CAMP PENDLETON, Calif. – It has been a decade since Marines fought for their lives — and their brothers-in-arms — in Iraq’s bloodiest battles, which would spark a turning point in the eight-year war.
Nearly 100 Americans, mostly Marines, would die in the battles of Fallujah during some of the toughest fights in the campaign. Fallujah secured its place in Marine Corps heritage, alongside battles fought during the same era, like that in Sangin, Afghanistan, as well as those of past wars, like Iwo Jima and Tarawa.
WEBCAST: Commemoration of the Second Battle of Fallujah, Operation AL FAJR
On Sept. 14, 2004, Maj. Gen. Larry Nicholson, then a colonel, was medevaced from the city that had become an al-Qaida stronghold after he was wounded in a rocket attack the day after taking command of 1st Marine Regiment. Back stateside, Nicholson recovered at Bethesda Naval Hospital in Maryland, as Operation Al-Fajr, a door-to-door fight in Fallujah, kicked off on Nov. 7.
Within months, Nicholson was back in Iraq, seeing the last moments of the operation and how the city would change for years to come.
“I think Fallujah will always be remembered as that gritty, hard fought, room by room, house-by-house battle where our Marines and soldiers prevailed,” Nicholson told Marine Corps Times. “It will always be synonymous with an urban fight where small unit leaders won the fight.”
It was Marines and soldiers fighting block-by-block, street-by-street, kicking in doors during the most intense urban warfare the Corps waged since the battle of Hue City in Vietnam in 1968.
Nicholson, now the commanding general of 1st Marine Division, planned a reunion and commemoration here for Marines who fought in the deadly battles in Fallujah. He shared his thoughts about the battles during an interview here on Nov. 5. Excerpts, edited for space and clarity:
Q. What made the battles of Fallujah important, and why will they be studied by recruits and senior officers?
A. I think it was really a turning point in the war there in the sense that no matter what we were trying to do, the largest city in Anbar province was occupied by al-Qaida, including Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. There was no Iraqi government, no police — this was a terrorist stronghold. By the time of the battle, a city of normally 400,000 people was just 10 percent of that, determined to be the elderly, the infirm and the enemy.
It was very challenging for Marines going house to house to house to identify who was left. And of course, many were abandoned, and when you hit a house where the enemy was well-entrenched and well-supplied, there were some incredible fights.
Q. What sorts of changes did you start to see?
A. After the city was cleared, it really began the awakening. Giving that city back to the Iraqi people was critically important. It facilitated elections in Fallujah, and also in Ramadi and all over Anbar province.
When we came back with the 5th Marine Regiment in 2006, we started to see a lot of dramatic change in terms of Iraqis taking responsibility for their own security. We started to see Iraqi tribal leaders turning against al-Qaida.
That really hit full throttle in late 2007. The Sons of Iraq was exploding all over Anbar, all over Iraq. By 2009, it was relatively quiet, and we left and turned Fallujah over to the armed forces of Iraq. None of that would have been possible without taking Fallujah away from the enemy.
Q. What are some of the major accomplishments that stand out when you remember Fallujah?
A. Lance Cpl. Chris Adlesperger’s Navy Cross citation is one I’m very familiar with, having known his family. He’s one of eight Navy Crosses Marines earned in Fallujah, and what that young Marine did was so far above and beyond any reasonable expectation and is what helped characterize this as an iconic battle. And I’m a beneficiary of it still today.
When I talk about Marines about Fallujah, I think about the individual actions. There weren’t great formations of battalions or companies or platoons. We were down to squads and fire teams. The amount of trust and confidence and responsibility put on young lance corporals and corporals was phenomenal. And they answered the bell every time.
When I think of Fallujah, It’s not the generals and the colonels. Our job, I think as leaders, is to man, train and equip our young Marines to make them successful in the fight. And if ever there was a validation of that, it occurred in Fallujah, where young lance corporals and corporals and sergeants were leading fire teams and squads and doing incredibly heroic things. That’s what won that battle.
Q. You were wounded right after you took over as head of 1st Marine Regiment. What was this like for you, following the battle as you recovered in Bethesda?
A. What a mix of emotions. For me, I went from being very angry I wasn’t there to feeling guilty. But you’re immensely proud as you’re watching and you’re glued to this thing. And you’re watching what’s occurring and you’re hearing from old friends and teammates and you’re incredibly proud of what your team is accomplishing, even if you can’t be a part of it.
And that’s not unique to me. Even tremendously, egregiously wounded Marines laying in a bed at hospital without a limb will say, “Sir, I want to get back in the fight.” And I’d say, “OK, OK, I get that. But let’s take care of you for awhile.”
All of us — Marines, sailors, soldiers — we build teams, we train as teams, we deploy as teams and we fight as teams. When you can no longer be part of that team, it’s tough, no question.
Q. You also have two sons who were deploying. How did your family take your return to Fallujah?
A. My oldest son was in Fallujah during my second tour, and my youngest son was in Afghanistan during my tour there. I served in combat with both of my sons.
It’s really much harder for my wife. She knew what I did for a living when she married me, but I don’t think she knew a part of that deal was that my sons would be deploying to combat as well. They’re both home now, and I know she’s very pleased. From 2004 to 2013, either I or one of my sons was deployed for seven of those nine years.
Q. When you went back, could you tell Fallujah was going to be so pivotal?
A. We knew early on. Of course, there were two battles — there was one in April that didn’t end the way we wanted. We knew that there was only one way we were going to dissolve what was happening there, and we were going to have to come in and take this city piece by piece.
Q. Just five years later, the Islamic State group is seizing portions of Anbar province. What do you say to Marines who are wondering whether the fight there was worth it?
A. We did our job and we did it well, despite what’s going on there today, or in the past or in the future — there’s not much we can do about that. While we were there, we did our job and we did it very well and at a hell of a cost.
I think this was one of those iconic and epic Corps battles; we knew exactly what we had to do. There was no ambiguity in terms of our mission. Our mission was to kill, capture and eject the enemy from Fallujah, and that was accomplished.
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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.
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.
