'Here comes the fork in the road.' A Photographer's Diary, Part 3

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|| SportsShooter.com: News Item: Posted 2004-05-16

'Here comes the fork in the road.' A Photographer's Diary, Part 3
By Justin Sullivan, Getty Images

Photo by Justin Sullivan / Getty Images

A U.S. Marine from the 2nd platoon, Golf Company, 2nd Battalion, 7th Marines, 1st Marinies Division watches as a herd of sheep crosses in front of the convoy during a patrol of checkpoints operated by the Iraqi Civil Defense Corp (I.C.D.C) May 14, 2004.

(Editors note: Justin Sullivan is a staff photographer for Getty Images based in San Francisco. He is currently on assignment in Iraq.)

May 15, 2004

Are you looking to get somewhere in a hurry? Let me tell you, don't call the military for a ride. I'm not complaining, it is just the way it is. I left Baghdad this past Monday to be transported out to the Syrian border to embed with the Marines and it wasn't until Thursday that I arrived at a completely different location, far from the original destination. I believe they call that a "fubar."

It all began when I reported to Camp Fallujah on Monday afternoon, bags packed and ready to go. I was scheduled to catch a convoy that evening up to Al Asad and continue on to the Syrian border the next day. My first rule when dealing with the military, don't ever get your hopes up, nine times out of ten, the plans will change or get cancelled. So, it was no surprise that the convoy was rescheduled for the next night. No big deal, what's a night in a tent, right?

The next day, all was looking really good until about an hour before the departure time, there was word now that there might not be a seat for me. Fortunately, that wasn't the case. By 8:30 PM, we were rolling out of the gate and "Oscar Mike" (on the move) for a nearly 100 mile trip through hostile territory.

Photo by Justin Sullivan / Getty Images

Members of the Iraqi Civil Defense Corp (I.C.D.C.) practices defense manuevers using batons duing a hand-to-hand combat class taught by U.S. Marines on May 15, 2004 at the I.C.D.C. headquarters in Hit, Iraq.

The idea of a convoy at night was a little unnerving, especially since we would be traveling in blackout conditions on route where several Marines had recently been killed with no lights and navigation by night vision goggles. Of course, I didn't have those fancy goggles, so it was a pretty lonely and mysterious trip for me. The areas that we would pass through were heavy with Iraqi insurgents that use small arms fire and IED's (improvised explosive device) to disrupt the travel of military convoys. The IED's are basically a spent mortar shell packed with explosives and shrapnel, buried in a hole on the roadside and wired with a remote trigger, usually a garage door opener. With the exception of one truck getting a flat and delaying the convoy, the trip was safe, no hostile fire or explosions. It was a little stressful at times, wondering if and when we would be shot at or blown up.

We arrived in one piece to the Al Asad base at a little after 1AM and crashed out in a big tent with cots.

I was feeling pretty good about getting back on track and getting myself out to my embed until I met with the Major at the main post public affairs office. The Major told me that he had no way to get in touch with my point of contact at the Marines RCT7, the unit that would get me out to the embed. He said I was on my own and would have to take a bus or find a way out to the unit. Mind you, the RCT7 is about a half mile from this guys office. No way to contact him? Are you kidding me? So, I waited for a bus for close to an hour in 100 degree heat and found my way out to the RCT7 camp. When I got there and checked in, I noticed that they had a phone, actually, several phones.

O.K., Here comes the fork in the road.

Photo by Justin Sullivan / Getty Images

A teenage member of the Iraqi Civil Defense Corp (I.C.D.C) stands guard May 15, 2004 at the I.C.D.C. headquarters in Hit, Iraq.

My guy at the RTC7, Major Kendall, was a very accommodating man. He arranged to have me driven back to get my stuff at the place I stayed the night before and set me up with a little trailer type room at the camp. Then, He broke the news to me. Kendall informed me that their actually had not been communication between Camp Fallujah and the base at the border and there was no room for me there since they were experiencing an overload of media. Great. Time for Plan B, or is C now?

Assuming that the Major would rather not having me just hanging around his camp, he and his team were now trying to find someone else to pawn me off on. By the time I was getting ready for bed, there was still no word on what I would be doing the next day.

I spent the night in my little trailer thingy with the air conditioner only blew warm air. I must have sweat off a few pounds, it was so hot in there. I was going crazy, it had been days since I last took a picture.

Figuring I had nothing to look forward to, I slept in until about 8AM. I made the half mile from my cube to the PA office at about 9AM, still no news for me. I was now accepting the fact that I would be here at least another day. Thankfully, Major Kendall is a man of action and he arranged for me to be transferred to the US Marines Battalion Taskforce 2/7. Cool, but I wondered how long it would be before they schlepped me off too.

Photo by Justin Sullivan / Getty Images

Justin Sullivan in Iraq.

Two corporals picked me and my gear up from my cube and drove me out about 5 miles to the camp, past open desert littered with unearthed Iraqi MIG fighter planes, destroyed military equipment and fields of ammunition.

The 2/7 would be my new embed and a decent one at that. They don't see much action, but they are involved in some interesting things with the Iraqi Civil Defense Corp. (I.C.D.C.) and some civilian school building programs. Since arriving here, I have been going on patrols searching for IED's and have also spent a day with the I.C.D.C. while the Marines trained them in hand-to-hand combat. It took me quite a long time to get here so I think I will stay a while. Besides being constantly blasted with sand and the extreme heat, the place is great. The food is decent and the air conditioner in my room is fantastic. I better make the most of it, who knows how long it will take me to get back to Baghdad.

Related Links:

Justin Sullivan's member page

Flying into Hell: A Photographer's Diary, Part 1

'Weird things happen here.' A Photographer's Diary, Part 2

'I am back in Baghdad.' A Photographer's Diary, Part 4