Desert Sabre, our war – it wasn’t like you saw on TV

Military and civilian photographers captured many thousands of images during Desert Shield and Storm. Oddly enough though, there are only a handful from VII Corps’ epic fight against the Iraqi army.

The names of Objectives Norfolk, Waterloo, Medina Ridge and Collins registered barely a blip on America’s collective radar in 1991. Even less so today, nearly 30 years after. Yet these were just a few of the important places in the climactic phase of the Gulf War. VII Corps – including the 1st Armored Division (depicted above) – formed the hammer which destroyed Iraq’s warfighting ability. 

I served in the 1991 Gulf War with another of VII Corps’ powerful armored units, the US Army’s 1st Infantry Division, the fabled Big Red One. As a cavalry scout in an armor battalion, I lived the war through what I think of as a worm’s eye lens. Many decades ago, noted Marine and author Colonel John Thomason wrote words about his unit in World War I that applied equally to our Big Red One as we marched to combat in 1991:

There is nothing particularly glorious about sweaty fellows, laden with killing tools, going to fight … All that is behind those men is in that column too: the old battles, long forgotten, that secured our nation … traditions of things endured and things accomplished, such as regiments hand down forever. (Note 1.)

Most military buffs are familiar with the Battle of 73 Easting, during which a cavalry troop from the 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment took on an Iraqi armored brigade. This single slice of our war has been depicted, documented, and dissected in countless ways on TV and in print. Hardly anyone – at least who wasn’t there with us in 1991 – knows that this battle wasn’t a standalone. In fact, 73 Easting was one of many engagements in that huge tapestry of Desert Storm.

I took the above picture from my turret right on the border between Saudi Arabia and Iraq. These were the last rocket salvos going in before we moved into our breach lane. My unit was assigned to a deep attack against the Iraqi 26th Division tank battalion. At this stage, we were probably 100 miles away from the Kuwaiti oil fields. But even out here, the clouds and smoke from the burning wells still cast a pall in the sky. As we moved further north and east toward the Republican Guards, it got much worse.

All of our objectives during Desert Sabre, the ground war of Desert Storm, were nothing but circles drawn on the map. Even with GPS, they were hard to find. Today, except for a few rusting tanks slowly getting buried in the sand, you probably couldn’t locate them without original maps and graphics. Oh, and a lot of luck.

It was probably 1600-1630 with visibility less than 200 meters when I snapped the above picture with my single-use camera. We were assaulting across our task force objective when we passed this Type 69 tank that one of our tanks had destroyed. We found probably 40-50 tanks on this Iraqi battle position, a good number still manned and attempting to engage us. We were taking sporadic artillery, RPGs, and machine gun fire as well. At one point a Sagger antitank missile flew past my track.

In the above picture, you’re looking at two BRDMs that shot at my scout section when we were pivoting north back into Iraq. These vehicles were driving side by side, and at first, we didn’t see the one further away. My gunner and I hit the closest one a couple of minutes before I snapped this picture. As it rolled to a stop, we spotted the second one, which my wingman destroyed. Just a few seconds after this, the closest BDRM exploded in a fireball that rocked us and sent pieces of junk flying everywhere.

So, based on what I’ve written, and the admittedly poor quality of my photos (I had a good excuse), here are a few guidelines you can use to tell if you’re looking at actual combat images from our war.

1. If the sun is shining brightly, the picture wasn’t taken during the ground war where VII Corps fought. The weather was miserable and cold. It rained off and on the whole four days. Frequently, visibility was a few meters better than zero. All the burning oil wells – hundreds – sent up giant pillars of pitch black smoke that covered the sky like an evil roof. My nose was constantly running. Every time I blew it, my snot was totally black. We all coughed up thick black loogies all the time.

2. If the people look clean, it wasn’t us because we were filthy. We broke our brand new chemical (MOPP) suits out of the foil packages just before G-Day. They were impregnated with charcoal, and LOTS of it. We wore Nomex uniforms and body armor under our MOPP suits. After the ceasefire in Iraq, my clothes were so filthy, smelly and stained, I burned them in a fire pit. When I tell that to people, some say, “Oh, you should have saved your uniform as a memento.” Okay, sure, but they didn’t smell it like I did.

3. If people in the pictures are wearing t-shirts and boonie hats, it wasn’t the VII Corps during Desert Sabre. We wore full battle rattle, although we called it something else back then. Different name, same thing. My weapon was a 9mm pistol, and it stayed in the holster on my body the entire time. Same with my gas mask, which also carried a decontamination kit, and nerve agent injectors. I never took that gear off once we rolled into combat. Actually, we spent a good deal of the time wearing our gas masks in the ground war because our chemical alarms kept going off. When I dismounted, I put on my helmet and carried a rifle.

Compare CPT Acevedo’s watercolor with my pictures and you’ll see many similarities. The sky in both is muted and washed out. You can almost taste the haze and smoke. Imagine how the dust and fumes would taste deep in your mouth. Think of the way it would feel when you breathe. Imagine the bright hot fires contrasting against the colorless background. The starkness of the flames, the oily, thick black clouds climbing into the air.

In this picture, we’ve moved north out from beneath the horrific clouds of smoke and fire that blanketed Kuwait. We could finally see some sun. Here we’re skirting Safwan, and still taking sporadic fire. My platoon sergeant (closest Bradley) was firing at an RPG position to our left. Not a single head, including mine, was out of our hatches. Standing in my turret, I was in what we called eyeball defilade (nose, eyes and the top of my tanker helmet sticking out the hatch).

William T. Sherman stated in 1864 before burning Atlanta that war is hell. We all know that. On one hand, the phrase has been repeated so often that it’s useless. Yet at the same time, it’s relevant in a way that time cannot erase. After all, war is hell. I don’t know whether I like or hate the phrase. But in the case of Desert Sabre, Sherman got it absolutely right.

We fought in terrible conditions during the invasion of 24-28 February 1991. You probably think, “It was just a hundred hours.” Well, unless you were there, you have no idea. It passed in the blink of an eye, yet took a lifetime. Each of us who was there has his or her own memories, but they all blend into a tapestry of the largest armored battle in our nation’s history. CPT Acevedo was there and he captured a piece of the essence of our war.

Never forget, Mark

Note 1: The cited passage is from Fix Bayonets! by Col John Thomason, USMC, Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1925, page xiv.

Note 2: The Center for Military History has published a definitive history of VII Corps in the Gulf War. It’s available in PDF format by clicking this link.