The Battle for Lutafiyah

On April 9, 2004, we found ourselves participating in one of the fiercest battles ever fought inside the Triangle of Death. What began as a routine squad patrol with fifteen Marines ended with hundreds of Marines fighting their way through a town. For years I have thought about my actions that day and what could have been done differently. This is why I tell anyone who carries a weapon for a living to train hard. You never know where you may end up or whose life may be on the line. What follows is my account.

On April 5, 2004, Fox Company, 2nd Battalion, 2nd Marines participated in a five-day battalion operation to protect Shia pilgrims along Highway 8 — Route Jackson. Over the course of the week, thousands of Iraqi Shia were expected to travel on foot between Baghdad and the cities of Najaf and Karbala in observance of the Shia religious event known as Arba'een. It was the first time in decades the pilgrimage had been permitted, and the number of participants exceeded what had been anticipated.

1st Platoon occupied a firm base inside the Karch Oil Facility, while the rest of the company occupied a firm base several miles to the south at an ice factory. The company sent out patrols throughout the day and night to deter attacks on the thousands of pilgrims walking south. Fox Company's positions were in Lutafiyah, in the southern portion of the battalion's area of operations, while the other two companies occupied positions to the north in Mahmudiyah.
The company experienced contact every day — through the detection or detonation of IEDs, mortar attacks on the firm base, or short firefights with insurgents. The company firm base was attacked with mortar and machine-gun fire each night, and several Marines were injured outside the ice factory when mortar rounds landed nearby. While the company saw multiple engagements throughout the week, no pilgrims were attacked within Fox Company's area of operations.
I was the platoon sergeant for 1st Platoon at the time, responsible for the welfare of my Marines and for the platoon's operational readiness while advising the platoon commander. We had set up a patrol base the day prior in an abandoned building the locals had turned into a trash collection area. It wasn't the best place, but it didn't stink, and we could pull all the vehicles and Marines into the shade.

The night before, the lieutenant and I climbed one of the highest tanks in the oil field. We did this at sunset so we could get eyes on patrol routes without skylining ourselves. After we had figured out the route the 1st Squad patrol was to take, we sat for a while and watched the sunset. We had been up there about forty minutes when a long line of tracers appeared overhead and started impacting the oil tank. Two mortar rounds impacted in the area at the same time. We slid down the back side of the tank to take cover. The attack was over in twenty seconds, but it drove home the fact that we were always being watched and that the insurgents would exploit any opportunity we gave them.
Once we got off the tank, we launched a squad on patrol. Their first checkpoint was the area where the insurgents had launched their attack. From there, they were to head north while skirting the city on the east. The squad didn't expect contact — insurgents typically did not attack and then remain in the area. The patrol was to return to base in four hours.
As soon as the patrol reached its northernmost checkpoint, it was heavily engaged. Murphy's Law kicked in and all communications with the squad went down. I remember looking to the north and seeing tracers flying through the air in all directions. I felt like a father watching his kids get into their first fight at school, and hoping they would come out unscathed. As the other two squads were preparing to depart and link up with the Marines in contact, communications were re-established. No one was hurt, and the squad was returning to base.
Once the squad was back, I debriefed them. Plans for first light were to launch another squad into the same area to search for evidence the insurgents had left behind. You might not think that would be important, but it really does help to know where the enemy set up, how long they were waiting, whether they were employing multiple belt-fed machine guns, bolt guns, and so on. Every bit of intelligence you can gather is important.
The next morning, I had the Marines reinforce an observation post on top of the tallest tank in the field. That would let us keep an eye on the patrol and, more importantly, an eye on the town. I took up an M82A3 (.50 cal sniper rifle) and an M40A3 (7.62 mm sniper rifle) — and most importantly, a Marine who could call wind. Cpl Tucker had been a range coach on Parris Island prior to coming to our unit, so he had a great understanding of how wind affects bullets and how to read it. His ability to do so would prove critical that day.
The squad was to depart and head straight north to the southern edge of the town, then patrol through the easternmost part of the town until they reached the previous night's attack point. The patrol left base around 0700.
As soon as they were moving toward the town, Cpl Tucker, who was behind the spotting scope, noticed a dead animal on the side of the road. Not too out of the ordinary — except he picked up a slight reflection coming off the carcass. I got behind the glass and noticed the same glint. The squad was notified of a possible IED and proceeded with caution. As they approached the dead animal, they saw the wires leading into it, so they set up a cordon per SOP.
Shortly after the cordon was set, we noticed women and children clearing out of the area. Every Marine on the ground knew what that meant, but no one knew where the attack would come from. Cpl Tucker and I were actively scanning to the north for any sign of insurgent activity. EOD was called and gave a 45-minute ETA from their location.
Moments later, a motorcycle with two men on it drove past the squad. As they passed, they dropped two grenades. By the time the grenades went off, the bike had disappeared behind buildings and made its way out. Then it seemed like all hell broke loose, and the squad started taking heavy fire from the northwest.
I immediately called for our remaining two squads to mount up, link up with the squad in contact, and extract them. They were to come into the town via the MSR and head east to link up. After that call, both comm systems on the tower stopped working. We had zero ability to communicate with anyone.
The first shots out of my rifle were just over a thousand yards. Not an issue for the M82A3, especially since the one I had with me was one of the few that drilled — it shot exceptionally tight groups for that platform. Cpl Tucker and I were both lying on a metal roof, surrounded by metal barriers. The combination reflected sound and made us nearly deaf after the first shot. We took four seconds to jam in some ear protection; otherwise we would have been completely deaf within minutes and useless.
The effect the Mk 211 rounds had on the insurgents was devastating. Each man hit by one of my rounds was blown into pieces and left a pinkish mist in the air. The insurgents tried to flank the squad from the east, but our precision fires kept that from happening. While all this was happening, the other two squads at the patrol base were loading up to drive into the fight. Meanwhile, the company commander and 2nd Platoon left the ice factory to reinforce 1st Platoon.
The squad in contact was taking more and more fire as the minutes went on, so they started moving to find a defensible position. As they were moving north, two of the Marines became separated from the squad, and the insurgents tried to maneuver on them. Cpl Tucker and I kept mixing metal and meat, and the two Marines were able to rejoin the squad.
The squad eventually found themselves deep in the town. In their search for a defensible position, they kept moving northwest, which made supporting them from my position even harder. As they bounded from one area to another, Cpl Tucker and I scanned for targets of opportunity and killed them as they popped up. Unlike how Hollywood depicts it, this was not "one shot, one kill" 100% of the time. Most of the targets were moving and only stopped for seconds at a time. They were at varying distances, and the winds were coming from multiple directions and gusting. If a round missed and Cpl Tucker saw the splash, he fed me an instant correction and the next round was out a second later. That allowed us to connect repeatedly on distant targets in bad conditions.
The squad finally located a small schoolhouse they could defend. They cleared it and set in for one hell of a fight. The school was the best defensible position around, and they were being surrounded by insurgents the second they took it over.
While the squad was defending its position, Cpl Tucker and I kept the insurgents off the rooftops. If they got onto a vantage point, they could lay down effective machine-gun fire and kill my Marines. I was not about to let that happen. We noticed three insurgents with belt-fed machine guns heading up a tall building north of the schoolhouse. The roof of that building would have allowed them to fire down into the school and to keep reinforcements from reaching the squad. Taking that team out became our priority.
The first round we sent out was off by a few mils. Cpl Tucker picked up the splash and gave me a correction. The second round was also off, but a lot closer than the first. The third round landed on the stairway wall the insurgents were crouched behind. The back side of the wall turned red, and we did not see any further activity from that position. During the debrief at the COC the next day, the distance from our position to the insurgent machine-gun team was measured at 1,614 meters by FalconView.
EOD arrived along with one of the battalion's CAAT sections. As they approached the squad's position, the CAAT section saw the muzzle blasts from our position and mistook our fires for an enemy sniper. They engaged us with .50 cal machine-gun fire as they tried to link up with the squad. This went on for a while. We would fire, then receive a volley of .50 cal back at us from multiple machine guns. When the rounds started impacting the oil tank, I became a little worried — after all, we were sitting on top of hundreds of thousands of gallons of flammable liquid. Lucky for us, the Russians who built the tanks built them well, and they withstood the hundreds of rounds of .50 cal that slammed into the side.
Due to the volume of fire on their planned route, the company had to find an alternate way in to reach the squad. The company commander, the battalion FAC (forward air controller), and the 2nd Platoon commander, along with a squad from 2nd Platoon, moved to establish eyes on the enemy. They came under fire from the east-west road on the south side of Hy Salaam and the palm grove. They returned fire and tried to move to a position where they could better observe the enemy and call for air support.
As they moved farther east, I noticed an insurgent heading down an alleyway with what looked like an RPK. As he turned, I noticed the forend and the scope. By the time my round made it out there, he had jumped a wall and was gone. Seconds later, Cpl Speer — a squad leader in 2nd Platoon — was shot as he came around a corner. I did not know it at the time.
By this point, the QRF from 1st Platoon had two casualties needing to be airlifted out. I later found out that as the 1st Platoon QRF came under heavy fire, Marines whom I had once considered lazy, unmotivated, or weak-minded were stepping up and taking charge.
The Battalion QRF was called in along with a Huey to evacuate the dead and wounded. When the BN QRF arrived with a full company — more than 150 Marines — and the BN jump CP, both companies got on line to clear the town from south to north. Fighting was intense for a few hours, but once the FAC got the F-14s rolling, the insurgents began heading back home. That was when time was on our side.
From our position we could see insurgents running back home with weapons in hand. Most went inside and did not come back out. Those who did were now targets of opportunity. I remember one middle-aged man who ran to the hut behind his house. He dropped off his RPG and came back out with a pitchfork and started working his garden. The first round just missed him, and he ducked behind a palm tree. Not only will the Mk 211 round penetrate armor — it will also penetrate palm trees. The second round made another pink mist cloud. These were people who had been trying to kill Marines, so in my mind, and in accordance with the ROE, they all needed to die.
As the day wound down, there were fewer and fewer people who needed killing. People started storing weapons and ammunition in coffins on top of vehicles so they could drive them south out of the town past the Marines. I saw one group dump a body out of a coffin and fill it back up with weapons. We were out of Mk 211 by that point, and using my M40 would not have been effective. Had we more rounds for the .50, I would have thoroughly enjoyed dropping more bodies around the coffin.
The sun was starting to set, so Cpl Tucker and I packed up shop and got off the tower. When we got back to the patrol base, we were not surprised to find everyone gone. So we walked over to the guard building of the oil field. Inside we found nine guards with AK-47s. We did our best to ask for the keys to one of the trucks, and eventually Cpl Tucker was able to talk the man into handing them over. For those who know Cpl Tucker, you know he is a diplomatic man with certain abilities to persuade people.
As we walked outside the building, the armed guards followed us. They started looking around for other Marines. The hair went up on the back of my neck, and I started talking on my non-operable radio. I pointed to various locations in the field and waved. The guards started looking too. I pointed to my sniper rifle, then pointed to more locations. I was trying to give them the impression that we were under observation from multiple sniper teams. It must have worked — the guards got quiet and went back inside.
As Cpl Tucker and I walked out to grab one of the vehicles to drive back to base, one of the CAAT teams drove in to pick us up. The driver would later become the SNCOIC of the Marine Scout/Sniper School in Quantico. As that day was the last day of the Arba'een pilgrimage and the operation had concluded, the company consolidated on Route Jackson and returned to FOB Mahmudiyah.
Once we linked back up with the platoon, I learned of our two casualties and Cpl Speer. When I heard what had happened to him and where it happened, it was a kick in the gut. All I could think about was the insurgent with the scoped rifle and whether he was the one who killed Cpl Speer. The ride back to the FOB was depressing.
When we got back, I went to the company CP to pick up my platoon's mail. Next to 1st Platoon's stack was 2nd Platoon's. On top of 2nd's stack was a letter from Cpl Speer's wife, with kisses all over it and little hearts. I knew she would be getting a visit from some Marines in dress blues shortly — and that's a visit no one ever wants.
It is one of those thoughts that will never leave you. Always wondering "what if." Could I have done something different? Could I have trained harder? Should I have had that area inside my field of view?
I was surprised that no other Marines were killed in that battle. It was more than twelve hours of constant fighting, with the sound of gunfire never leaving the town until sunset. That outcome can probably be chalked up to the tactics the Marines employed and the leadership of the commanders. 

Semper Fi
Steve Reichert

Comments from those Marines on the ground on Bad Friday:

“I had the privilege of commanding the “Warlords” of 2d Battalion 2d marines during this action and to this day I remember the reports, the radio calls, and the action on the ground clearly. I also remember the gut wrenching feeling of losing Sgt (posthumously) Mike “Papa Smurf” Speer and knowing that Good Friday took on a completely new meaning for me in terms of sacrificing one’s life for ones friends as Sgt Speer did. He was leading from the front, as I would expect any Marine NCO to do, and did so because it came naturally to him and because he was “heading to the sound of the guns” when he was struck down. Staff Sergeant Reichert has done a superb job of recounting the events of that day, the uncertainty surrounding actions in an urban insurgency environment, and the exceptional professionalism, skill, loyalty, and confidence exhibited by so many who are part of this Nations newest “greatest generation.” I will pass on to those of you who will read this a small excerpt from something I wrote about these amazing young people and ask that you keep Eliza Speer, and so many others in your prayers this day and every Good Friday. My Marines and Sailors have always been my heroes. My last letter to the families of 2d Battalion had the following at its conclusion and while I am seldom happy with things I say or write, in retrospect, this describes my admiration for those Marines and Sailors well: In closing, I will say yet again what an honor it has been to have been given the rare privilege of commanding such fine men under difficult conditions. They led, they fought for a nation and for a people, and they kept faith with each other and with you. They inspired the world with their example of what is best among the youth of our country and they have established a legacy of leadership and courage that will become the foundation for the leadership of the Naval Service well into the twenty-first century. As we reunite with our families and recall the moments of courage and compassion that changed our lives during the past seven months, I think you will see a change in these men. That change will reflect the special knowledge of what it means to have given freedom to a nation, hope to a people, and strength to each other during moments when the measure of a man’s life is defined by his actions. You and they will find that those actions will stand the test of time and be remembered with great pride. Freedom has taken hold in Iraq and it will not let go because of what these brave men have done. God Bless each of you, God Bless America, and Semper Fi from your Marines and Sailors in Iraq!”  Col Giles Kyser “Warlord Six”

“I was the company commander of Fox 2/2 as a captain during the action Steve described above. Scenes from that day are etched in my memory as they are, I’m sure, for all the Marines that fought that day. I was with the rest of the company at the company’s firm base in an ice factory about three miles south of 1st platoon. We were tracking via radio how 1st Platoon was investigating a suspected IED when we got a call that a squad from 1st platoon was in heavy contact and pinned down with two Marines wounded. I grabbed Lt XXXXX, the 2d Platoon Commander, and we mounted up with his platoon to head north. We screamed up Route Jackson until we reached the palm grove west of Hy Salaam and the road that leads into the town on the south side of the palm grove. Once we arrived, I made radio contact with 1st Platoon. I was only able to reach 1st Platoon sporadically on the radio, but I heard enough to know that most of 1st Platoon had reached the engaged squad and now the entire platoon was pinned down. A canal, chain link fence, a line of market buildings, and a few hundred meters of palm grove separated us from 1st Platoon. The battalion quick reaction force (QRF), along with a forward air controller (FAC), arrived shortly after we did. As I explained the situation to the QRF, the FAC made contact with a couple of F-14s that had arrived overhead. The F-14s reported a large group gathering down the road to the east, but the pilots couldn’t tell if the group was armed. If we could get eyes on this group and they were armed, we could drop a bomb on them and put an end to this fight. Lt XXXXX and I pushed down the road with one of his fire teams and the FAC, using the market buildings for cover as best we could. Within a few dozen yards we drew fire and dropped to the prone. The rounds snapped over our heads. We were putting almost no fire back in return, as we had trained not to shoot unless we could positively ID a target. I saw a fighter running across the road at about two hundred yards away and pulled the trigger on my shotgun (back then a rifle company didn’t have enough rifles for the whole company- it’s a different Marine Corps now). I knew I’d have no effect at that range, but I hoped to get the Marines around me firing back at the enemy. The muzzle was just a couple feet from Lt. XXXXX’s ear and he was deaf on that side the rest of the day. It was obvious at this point that we were not going to get down this road and get eyes on this group gathering. We started bounding back the road, firing to cover one another’s movement as we went. At this point Lt. XXXXX got a call on his ICOM radio and I heard it on mine: “Cpl Speer’s been hit.” “How is he? Is he OK?” “I’d rather not say, sir…” By the time we bounded back up the road to where the rest of the company was, Cpl Speer was laid out on the ground, his legs sticking out from under a poncho. One of those rounds going over our heads as we were in the prone had hit Cpl Speer just above the plate in his body armor and exited under the back rim of his helmet (Michael Speer was promoted to Sergeant posthumously). I checked back with the QRF section leader and told him to hold the corner of Route Jackson and the road leading into Hy Salaam with his heavy machine gun vehicle while 2d Platoon and I would move around the north side of the palm grove to clear Hy Salaam from north to south. Shortly after we stepped off, the fire at the intersection increased and I doubted that the QRF could maintain their position while we went all the way around to the north side of Hy Salaam. We turned the group around and then plunged through the canal, pushing through the waist-deep mud and filth and then broke a hole in the fence. Now we were in the palm grove. I told Lt. XXXXX to spread his Marines out on line and we advanced toward where 1st Platoon was still pinned down. Episodic shots rang out to our south. As we advanced through the palm grove, I walked up next to one the 2d Platoon Marines. “Hey XXXXXX, how you doing?” “I’m fuckin scared sir.” “Yeah, I know- the enemy’s scared, too.” Within a few minutes, we reached 1st Platoon. The enemy had either broken contact after getting atritted by Reichert’s fire or they had seen 2d Platoon coming and pulled back. We led 1st Platoon back out of the palm grove to the road that we could use as an LZ for the wounded and to link up with LtCol Kyser (the battalion commander) and Easy Company who had just arrived from Mahmudiyah to our north. A couple of helicopters arrived and the company loaded Cpl Speer once one of the birds landed on Route Jackson. Our wounded were still being carried out of the palm grove when we got the word that the helicopters had to leave to support the assistant division commanding general, whose convoy had just been ambushed several dozen miles away. We raced to get our wounded out of the palm grove and on the bird just before it took off. Once the helos lifted, the battalion commander, operations officer, the Easy Company CO, and I gathered on the hood of a HMMWV and scratched out a quick plan to clear Hy Salaam. We put both companies on line and cleared through the densely packed neighborhood house by house. The enemy broke contact in short order. We later learned that the enemy fled out of Hy Salaam and the neighboring ville to the south with their weapons tucked in coffins. We had heard of the enemy using coffins to hide their weapons before; now the insurgents had to fit those weapons in the coffins along with the bodies of several of their fighters. We consolidated back on Route Jackson and prepared to head north- this was when Reichert and Tucker were making their way back out of their hide site and back to the 1st Platoon patrol base that 1st platoon had emptied during the fight. Lt. XXXXXXX (the 1st Platoon Commander) told the QRF he had lost contact with Reichert and they raced back in to the oil depot to pick the two Marines up. We returned back to FOB Mahmudiyah. wo days later I was back in Lutafiyah with a Fox Company Platoon to meet with the town council, our first meeting since the Hy Salaam firefight. As we approached the town we could see columns of black smoke rising to the sky- it turned out to be smoke from burning vehicles that were part of a logistics convoy that was driving up Route Jackson unannounced. It had been ambushed and was now in disarray for several miles up and down Route Jackson. It was the start of another long day in Lutafiyah. As I write this from Afghanistan ten years later, I find my memory of Bad Friday works in patches, with images, conversations, and short reels of time seared into my brain, but with foggy gaps between those sharp memories. I recall that radio call and the conversation in the palm grove like it was yesterday. I don’t remember a word that was said over the hood of that HMMWV. A lot of our Marines did some extremely brave things that day. I’m deeply in their debt for their actions on that day and many others. And I’m still awed that they all kept moving toward the sound of the guns every time they were called upon to do so. Semper Fidelis”  LtCol Tim Bairstow “Fox 6″

“I will never forget you and I thank you with all my heart. You made many men humble and kept us safe engaging from your nest! THANK YOU SIR!” Cpl Jimmy Chappell  1st Plt Fox Co Team Leader

“Even among the small arms fire and other unspeakables, that 50 thundered and cracked across the sky with vengeance. Thank you.” Doc Aye-Vita 1st Plt Fox Co Corpsman

“Our son was one of the injured Marines airlifted out during this engagement… He was a member of 2Marines 2 D, Mike Speer was one of his best friends. My wife and I are forever grateful for your service. Thanks for keeping our son alive… ” Scott