In March of 1991 I was tasked with handing out and training locals in the use of small arms and light crew served weapons in the Shia areas of the swamplands of southern Iraq. I did not enjoy any part of this work as the locals really were horrible people. We were at first assured their would no intervention by the baathist's. A few days later we were hung out to dry and had to hump for weeks with no support to find government positions that were not under heavy air fire from the same idiots they swore would be suppressed. We were run into the water by every kind of fire that could be mounted on slow and fast movers. The air conditioned force would chase the fast movers around a bit if they saw them but the rotary wing aircraft (mostly our old stuff) would hound us day and night with chain guns/.50/rockets and antitank missiles.

One of the 6 persons who had my 6 and saved my life more than once in the following weeks was a young man of color who had a lily white wife and a whole passel of mixed children. He had to move three times to keep his family safe in the ten years we worked together.

Character matters.