May 19, 2004.
That morning their duty in Iraq had been extended indefinitely, then a roadside bomb blasted their Humvee, but a group of sailors from Whidbey Island Naval Air Station still had coffee and tortilla chips in their care packages. The day could have been worse.
Sailors seek
fun, action
Petty Officer 1st Class Heath Nettleton pities admirals who must sit in offices all day and never have fun. Petty Officer 1st Class Chad Munroe might not admit he pities admirals, but he fled work in a windowless office below decks on an aircraft carrier for more action.
What is fun to Nettleton and action to Munroe involves jumping from helicopters and airplanes, diving from boats, blowing things up and driving fast. The two are stationed with Explosive Ordnance Disposal Mobile Unit 11, which does everything they love.
Don’t believe they earned medals
Thursday morning, the U.S. Navy petty officers received Purple Heart medals for injuries they received May 19, 2004, when a roadside bomb detonated next to their Humvee on a road in Iraq.
The men accepted the awards but don’t believe they are the most deserving of the the medals.
“So many people in many wars were injured so badly — they’ve lost limbs or their sight,†Nettleton said. “My injuries don’t count.â€
Munroe said it’s nice the military acknowledged what happened but concedes the medal is a bit much.
Nettleton’s and Munroe’s injuries aren’t visible, nor do they seem mentally punishing. Nettleton said the explosion merely “knocked us silly.â€
The explosion of a 220-bomb near their Humvee left them with minor hearing damage. Munroe bit his tongue hard.
Nettleton was driving. Munroe, armed with an M16 machine gun carrying an M-203 grenade-launcher, was behind him.
The explosion knocked Lt. Mark McGuckin unconscious and ruptured Petty Officer 1st Class Barto’s eardrum. Barto was assigned to an M60 machine gun.McGuckin and Barto were team members assigned to the Humvee’s right side where the bomb exploded.
Speed and safety harnesses probably saved the team.
Because the Humvee was traveling between 45 and 50 mph, the insurgent couldn’t time the remote-controlled detonation with much precision.
Safety harnesses secure passengers to the vehicle. Even a wounded person won’t be ejected during wild accelerations.
Exact moments after the explosion are a bit hazy for everyone. But Munroe and Nettleton have the least blurry memory. They didn’t feel the brunt of the blast.
Munroe said the pressure wave made him feel like he was under water.
According to Munroe, Nettleton, the driver, was yelling, “Drive,drive,drive.â€
Nettleton knew insurgents detonate a roadside bomb to disable as much as to kill. Killing comes once a vehicle is stranded.
Everyone knows to get out of the “kill zone.â€
McGuckin was unconscious in the front passenger seat slumped against the radio. Nettleton couldn’t see Barto.
Munroe was staring into a cloud of dust, aiming his weapon, ready to act once conditions cleared.
They drove about a quarter-mile to clear the area.
Munroe was still dazed but jumping out to grab a medical kit before Nettleton, the team leader, could yell those directions.
Once medical help determined no one had immediate, life-threatening injuries, the team went back to secure the blast zone.
EOD doesn’t stop for busted out windshields or heads ringing from shock waves. Their job is to locate bombs and other explosives and render them harmless.
When they arrived at the blast site, fragments from the bomb littered the road. Typical roadside bombs use small artillery shells.
After examining the crater, the team estimated the bomb’s weight at more than 220 pounds.
They suspect Iraqi insurgents stole the airplane bomb from a not-too-well-guarded airfield.
Eventually, they began the 45-minute drive back to base. McGuckin was helicoptered to a hospital in Bagdahd where a CAT scan and MRI diagnosed a concussion.
The team prepared to answer their next call.
Porcupines
now armadillos
Nettleton was driving an unarmored Humvee May 19, 2004.
Embedded media have reported dangers people in these vehicles face from bombs. Certain military families have wailed about lack of armor. The issue’s been debated in Congress. Now armored vehicles are mandatory.
But EOD members aren’t sure they like the armor. As Munroe explained, showing force from an unarmored Humvee can be a great deterrent.
“Look aggressive and you are aggressive,†Munroe said. He said EOD members may hang out of vehicles with their weapons ready. He compared the look to that of a bristling porcupine.
EOD experts believe Iraqis aren’t as likely to attact when they see people manning weapons.
Unarmored vehicles still have blast plates to protect passengers.
It’s hard to see passengers traveling in armored vehicles.
And Munroe said these vehicles resemble armadillos, not the most aggressive creature around.
Porcupine or armadillo, Humvees own the road.
On highways, they may travel at 75 mph right down the center. On dirt roads, speed may drop a bit. And in traffic jams in towns, people lean out and tap civilian cars with rifle butts, notifying those drivers to yield.
Kendra Nettleton said her husband’s driving has improved since he returned.
“I got rid of road rage demons,†Heath Nettleton laughed.
Shelle Munroe said her husband’s driving deteriorated.
He grips the steering wheel and yells, “We own the road.â€
Shelle reminds him he’s no longer in Iraq.
Nettleton and Munroe don’t use hearing loss to advantage. Instead, their wives say the men use normal male selective hearing.
More injuries, more medals
EOD 11’s commanding officer, Cmdr. Amos Gallagher, expects more EOD team members will earn Purple Hearts as duty in war zones continues.
“In Iraq, the most hazards to civilians and military come from IEDs,†Gallagher said. “Our mission is to make these bombs safe. It’s a dangerous job.â€
On very quiet nights, Nettleton and Munroe listen to souvenirs from the May 19 bomb as their ears ring.
Soon, Nettleton, Munroe and the rest of their team will be stationed on a ship. They’re hoping to finagle land time. That’s where the fun and action are.