Stories

Grenada

The Alert-Beruit or Grenada

Grenada happened just after I hurt myself in Ranger School. I was back in the 82nd, my tail between my legs, and questioning my decision to go to that school in the first place. Kim was still at home in Birmingham. I was living in the barracks.

Just before the alert hit Ardennes Street, the news was ripe about the bombing in Beruit. I noticed a small blurb about a coup on the little Caribbean island of Grenada and discussed this with Kim from the pay phone at the little 3rd Brigade PX across Ardennes from our barracks.

I don’t remember the time of day that we got the alert, but we weren’t on Defence Ready Force (DRF), so it was unusual that we were alerted. We knew it was for real when they began issuing bayonets and M1911 pistols. We usually only took those out for bayonet training or pistol ranges.

Bravo Company 2/505 was attached to the 325 because one of their battalions was a new Cohort Company, fresh out of Basic Training, AIT, and Jump School and considered non-combat-ready. Our Battalion would deploy with Alpha, Charlie, and Combat Support Companies.

Back then, the Scout Platoon consisted of a First Lieutenant (1LT) Platoon Leader, His Driver/Dadio Operator (RTO), and a Sergeant First-Class (SFC) Platoon Sergeant. The Three Sections included a Staff Sergeant Section Leader (the Battalion hated when we called them Sections instead of Squads), a Sergeant Assistant Section Leader (who we called a 2IC for Second in Charge), Two Drivers, usually a Specialist or Private First Class, and two Gunners. The Medical Platoon attached a Medic to us, making Twenty-two Scouts.

Standard Operating Procedures sent the Scouts to the Motorpool first to dispatch and load our vehicles.

We then drove the scout jeeps to the gravel lot between Charlie and Alpha Barracks and began packing radios, arms, and our scouting equipment. This equipment included Dragon Missiles, M60 Machine Guns, M203 Grenade Launchers, M16 Rifles, M1911 Pistols, Mine Detectors, Direction Finding Equipment, RT 524 and PTC 77 Radios, Binoculars, and Night Vision Goggles. We rode in one Command Jeep and six Gun Jeeps.

My buddies and I were all convinced we were going to Beirut; Grenada was not on our radar.

PHA and Basic Load

When we arrived at the Personnel Holding Area (PHA), which at the time was in the Old Division Area, bordered by DeGlopper, Pratt, Collins, and Ogden Streets, more signs pointed to this alert being the real thing. MPs manned checkpoints and bunkers all around the area. Long lines of equipment, ammo, and chow were across the street.

We parked our Jeeps in the Vehicle Marshalling Area, where they waited until it was time to go to the Heavy Drop Rigging Area and then moved to the PHA.

Once assigned to the barracks, we grounded our rucks and went to join the queue. Each trooper had a card telling the supply personnel what we would be issued, called our Basic Load. I got an M203 Vest (the first one I had ever seen), M203 rounds, M16 rounds, M60 rounds, a Claymore mine, a LAW, grenades, smoke grenades, signal and parachute flairs, C-Rations (we would get our first MREs on the island), a Flack Vest. It was a lot of shit. Drivers got the Dragons, and the Machine Gunners got 45 rounds and more M60 ammo. Mitch Pigg, 3rd Section Sergeant, carried the M21 Sniper System with Automatic Ranging Telescope (ART II) and 7.62 mm Match Ammo. The LT and each Section Leader packed a PRC-77 radio (dismounted from the Jeeps).

FRAGOs

Back in the PHA barracks, we began stowing our kit away in our ruck, “stripping” our C-Rations to lighten our loads and checking equipment.

During our wait, the leadership issued a warning order (WO) and an operation order (OPORD) with FRAGOs as the situation changed. It was a confusing mess. We decided that it probably wouldn’t settle down until we got there. We were correct.

Our initial plan was to jump in, the mission we had trained for, over and over, the fastest way to get us onto the island. The decision was made, however, to Airland the 82nd, leaving our Jeeps and drivers, our most experienced troopers, seven of our twenty-two, behind. I left Billy-Bob Howe and Kendall Nash. It also meant a slow matriculation of the 82nd to the island, one plane at a time. That’s all the runway could support.

As we loaded our aircraft, I remember two things - While waiting to load, a guy handed me his seven full magazines. Not knowing what to expect on the ground, I took them. Yay! Another five pounds. Also, once on the Aircraft, several Infantry guys, not ours, were bumped by 18th Airborne Corps REMFs (Rear Echelon MFs) trying (successfully) to get to the island. There was no Corps Mission.

Air-Land!

We air-landed a little after midnight on 26 October 1983 with fourteen Scouts, our Medic, three Dragons, and six machine guns - as heavy as any platoon ever went to war. When we unloaded the C-141, there wasn’t a soul around, no one to tell us what to do or where to go. We set up a quick perimeter just off the runway and waited. When it became obvious that no one was coming, we moved into a little wooded area at the end of the airstrip to wait for the rest of the Battalion, arriving that next morning.

During the night, we could hear the sound of firing to our east and could see the streams of tracer from the AC-130 Gunships.

I don’t remember much about the arrival of the Battalion, but I remember assembling along the southern edge of the airstrip in movement order for our first Battalion mission, to take Mount Hartman Estates. While we waited to begin this movement, I overheard our company commander giving our LT, Christian Jacques, orders to rehearse our room-clearing procedures. I pointed out that if we didn’t know them by now, then it was too late. I don’t remember seeing him again until Thanksgiving, a month later.

Sniper Fire

As we moved to Mount Hartman Estates, We began receiving ineffective sniper fire along the road. The lead elements, Alpha Company, I think, dealt with it. After I took cover, John Kelley, Mitch Pigg’s 2IC, said, “Hey Neely! Look to your Right!” I was lying right next to the body of a Grenadian People Revolutionary Army Soldier.

Our movement was slow because of the heat and the loads we carried. Many of us were wearing first-generation Battle Dress Uniforms (BDU), made of thick material with gigantic collars, dubbed by soldiers as John Travolta Collars. Our rucks were so heavy that we had to sit down, strap into the shoulder harnesses, roll over, and push ourselves up or have our buddies help us.

Pigg and the Pig

Sundown stopped our movement. The scouts stopped next to a pig farm.

The next morning, we woke to Mitch cussing at a huge sow, who was trying to root under where he was sleeping.

Turning South, the battalion’s route down the Mount Hartman peninsula was dominated by a long curved ridge to the East. The Scout Platoon occupied this ridge and set up a flank screen for the Battalion's movement south. We did a quick zone recon and there wasn't shit there, nor was there anything at Mount Hartman.

From Mount Hartman, the Battalion air mobiled to Westerhall Point to capture Hudson Austin.

Capturing Austin

The Scouts Landing Zone (LZ) was at the top of the peninsula, at the intersection of roads. There was no ”landing” going on. Our pilots refused to land because sugarcane covered our LZ. All we could do was jump. To the sound of our Platoon Sergeant, Tony Arguello, yelling, “Get Off The Fucking Bird,” we dumped our rucks and lept into the sugarcane. That cane was at least ten feet tall. Luckily, no one was hurt.

We straddled the road, pulling security in every direction while Mitch, with his Sniper Rifle, took up an overwatch of the house supposedly occupied by Austin. Sadly, Austin surrendered to Alpha Company.

Back to Point Salines

We caught Blackhawks back to the Airstrip to prepare for our next mission. While waiting, many of us hit the ocean at Hardy Bay to cool off, took the time to change into our lightweight Camouflage Fatigues (Cammies) or OG-107s (Jungles) if we had them (I did), and downloaded non-essential items, like the Flack Vest, t-shirts, sleeping bags, and heavy-weight BDUs. We never saw that stuff again.

Our next mission was to fly by C-130 to relieve the Marines at Pearls Airport. The Scouts were given the South Western edge of the Airstrip for an Assembly Area and a contact patrol north to Pearls, Upper Pearls, and the area around Boulougn Estate.

Callaloo

At Pearls, I had my first taste of Callaloo. I usually took my food to field training exercises because of my hatred of C-rations. I was living on C Ration canned peaches and pound cake. Everytime we went through a farm, I liberated fruit, mostly grapefruit. I ate a lot of coconuts. At Pearls, a little lady approached our assembly area with a large pot of pea-green porridge. It smelled heavenly. Though we had strict orders not to eat anything locally, I dove in, emptying my canteen cup numerous times. It was amazing.

Victoria

On our second day at Pearls, LT Jacques came running back from Batallion HQ, arms waving, yelling, “Our birds will be landing in a few minutes! SOP! Get on them. No Time to explain.” Sure enough, two or three Blackhawks landed, and we got on them, like we had many times before, and headed out for we knew not where. To make matters even more fun, the pilots flew way out over the ocean, so navigation was next to impossible, especially using travel maps.

We flew into a small town on the West Coast, landed on a soccer pitch, immediately unassed the birds, and, again by SOP, moved to secure positions around the field. We were now in charge of Victoria, Grenada. We would spend more time in Victoria than in any other part of the Island. Most of my memories are from there.

We waited. When nothing happened, we assembled and moved into the jungle. We patrolled up to Bocage Estate where we ran patrols to check the area around Diamond Estate and St. Mark’s River. We issued orders and then moved back to Victoria the next day. Our first Order of business was to fire the police and relieve them of their weapons. LT Jaques met with the town leadership to get them on our side. We set up Road Blocks at night and patrolled the city during the day. One section was always at our HQ, an old school on the edge of the soccer field, as a QRF. The other two sections patrolled the streets and set up roadblocks.

Hearts and Minds

In no time, we had people coming to us with information on the bad guys in town and the locations of weapons and ammo.  

One bad guy, a PRA lieutenant, I remember his name as “Rufus,” had been threatening the townspeople “when the Americans leave.” Pigg’s section and mine went to this guy’s house in the middle of the night. Pigg slipped in a back window while I banged on the door. Rufus, or whatever his name was, quickly found himself face to face with me and Pigg’s gigantic Bowe knife at his throat. In seconds, we bagged and tagged and loaded him on a chopper to the POW compound.

Through some pretty effective search operations, we found several small weapons caches. The two I remember the most were a small Beretta Model 12 Sub-Machinegun and a brand new AKMS, with an ash-colored forearm still in the cosmoline. Man, I wanted those two guns and the .303 Infield I took from the Police Station. I carried that .303 around with me for weeks, convinced I’d get to take it home. I was finally ordered to turn it in and was sad to see the .303s made inoperable and turned into plaques for participating units.

Island Jeep Tour

Sometime during our stay in Victoria, my two Gun Geeps, CSC-5 and CSC-7, got to Pearls Airport. The Battalion confiscated CSC-7, and I flew to Pearls to pick up CSC-5. I took along Howe, Nash, and a Machine Gun. We mounted the machine gun on the Jeep as we drove around the top of the Island from Pearls to Victoria. Before we left Pearls, we took a little R&R time on the beach. After a dip in the surf, I lay down under a palm tree, letting the cool off-shore breeze cool me down. A Centipede stung me between the shoulder blades. I gave him a warrior’s death. I had a quarter-sized, half-inch thick knot under my skin for about four months that helped me remember him.

Rock the Chickens

When we were on QRF duty at the schoolhouse, we slept. When we couldn’t sleep, we were bored. We found things to do. One of our favorite things was the Chicken Game. There were a large number of chickens in the backyard and a large number of small stones in the front. You bought several rocks for your turn. During your turn, you threw rocks at the chickens for points. Make a chicken hop, one point, cluck, 5 points, knock one down, 50 points. You got nothing for winning, but we collected enough money for beers at the local store.

Mount Stanhope

The Batallion sent word that they wanted Scouts to recon Mount Stanhope and Little St. Mark’s River. I got the mission, so I took my section there by chopper and followed the river down. It was a tough trip through the jungle, which was sometimes impenetrable. We began wading in the stream in places. We came to a small waterfall, which we decided to slide down. I went first. It bottomed out in a pool that was about fifteen feet deep. Though my ruck weighed close to seventy pounds, it was still buoyant enough to float me, my ammo, and my rifle back to the top, though slowly. Thank goodness for dummy cords and waterproofing, necessary tools in the jungle, learned in Panama Jungle School. The rest of my section followed their rucks down.

Cubans on the Beach

A little boy came to the CP one day, repeating, “Cubans on the Beach." That's all we could get out of him. Mitch, George, and I loaded the Kid on the Jeeps and told him to show us where. The Kid took us south on the main road to a beach. There were no Cubans, footprints, or boats in the area. We sent the LT a SITREP, telling him we were hitting the jungle. We found nothing. When we returned to the CP, the little Kid asked for a "Box." He wanted a C-Ration.

We realized the second-order effect when the Battalion Commander landed in a chopper. He was pissed off, wanting to know why we hadn't called for an AC-130 gunship, demanding an update, and telling our poor LT how fucked up he was. I took it as long as I could. "You’re so right, Sir. The next time a 6-year-old boy shows up saying he's seen a Cuban but can't tell us where and probably only wants a C-ration, we'll call you so you can send a Gunship. You can decide which beach." He didn't say another word and flew out a few minutes later. We never heard another word.

The Block Party

Before we left Victoria, one of the sections got word that the townspeople were holding a block party one night. Well into our occupation of Victoria, we decided that instead of shutting the party down, we would "supervise." We danced with the girls and added to the party atmosphere with our Strobe Lights with the infrared covers off. We had a fantastic time and were well-received by all.

Making Friends with Technology

After washing their clothes, the ladies of Victoria dried them in the sun by spreading them over the bushes around their houses. One of these ladies befriended us, bringing us Callaloo with chicken, which we traded for C-Rations. It was a good trade. To pay her back for her kindness, we collected the wooden clothespins that the Scouts carried to make mechanical ambushes. With some of our Parachute Cord, we built her a clothesline. Her clothesline became an instant hit with the other ladies in the neighborhood.

Scouts equivalent to a Company

When the 1/505 left the island, the battalion began repositioning units to cover the whole place. Scouts relieved a company at Gouyave and then at Vendome. The little map I drew for Kim shows we were at Brandon Hall, Mount Hope, and Crochu, but I have no memory of either. We reacted to anything that needed covering quickly.

Cuban Radio Operator  

Radio Communications were sketchy across the Island. Even the RC-292 antennae on the roof of the house we occupied in Vendome couldn’t reach Pearls. Battalion Commo couldn't figure it out. Why didn’t they put a Retrans Station up on Mount Hope?

I calculated and built a long-wire antenna that worked best (Thanks, Dad). Now, the battalion could call us with their requests and brilliant ideas.

By far, the most ridiculous was to send us, again and again, to hunt down the “Mysterious Cuban Radio Operator.” Supposedly, Corps Radio Intercept was picking up radio transmissions somewhere on the island. The battalion would send us a grid coordinate, and off we'd go. We never found a thing. We were pretty sure he never existed and that Corps Radio Intercept was full of shit.

R&R and Thanksgiving 

Sometime during the deployment, my section took R&R at Saint George's Grand Anse Beach. It wasn't great. We played football on the beach. They gave us warm Cokes and MREs to eat. That is all I remember. Mitch and his squad never got to go. I told him he didn't miss anything.

At Thanksgiving, the Islanders treated us to a feast of traditional American food. I have zero memory of this. I had an empty wine bottle from the day, which I kept for years, the same brand as the wine in a photo of the event with Bob Snelson. Mitch says he remembers Christiane Amanpour at the dinner, but I don't. I remember getting Casual Pay while there, and I think it was about this time.

Range Day

Just before we left, the battalion conducted a range day, firing all our rounds into the ocean. We mounted the M60s on our Jeeps and fired them from the pintle mount. M16s and M203s, we fired from the standing position. Full Auto was the name of the game. I think we turned in the LAWs, Claymores, and hand grenades.

Bad Dragons

We were to fire the Dragons. We had been carrying these damn things the whole time, and we were happy to get rid of them. None of us had ever fired a live Dragon. The oldest Dragon Gunner in each Platoon, who had never fired one, would fire it. Hell, that was me! The Second went to John Kelly. The third never was fired, nor were any others in the battalion.

I locked my tracker, sat under my launcher, lowered and adjusted the legs, checked my backblast area, and fired. Sixty-five meters downrange, it exploded. Shit, the thing was defective. Next, John got under his and fired it with the same results. We called battalion. They stopped firing the Dragons.

Once back at Ft. Bragg, John and I figured it out. While humping these things around the island, the front shock absorber had fallen off almost every round. The front absorber removes the humidity indicator from the front of the tube. When we fired our dragons, the round had hit the humidity indicator, crushed the double nosecone, making electrical contact. The missile armed itself at 65 meters and exploded. We reported our idea to the Battalion as a Paratrooper Error! In our defense, we trained to do this fast (as I recall, I could do it in about 25 seconds for the EIB Test). There was no step for checking the Humidity Indicator.

Redeployment

The battalion departed Grenada on 12 December 1983. I don't remember the flight home.

Kimberly was at Green Ramp when we landed, waving a tiny American Flag. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. That little flag was in the green Coteaux De Mascara wine bottle on my bookcase in the War Room for years.

Props to the Marines, Rangers, 325AIR, Delta, and Seals who got there before us - They did all the hard work. All they left for us to do was mop up and arrest a few people.