Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, March 1, 1991 TAG: 9103010230
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: JOHN BALZAR LOS ANGELES TIMES
DATELINE: WITH U.S FORCES NEAR BASRA, IRAQ LENGTH: Medium
But for others, the suspension of hostilities in the Persian Gulf War came in what appeared to be the nick of time.
Viper is the name the Army gave its forward-most air assault position, here in the sagebrush just south of the Euphrates.
One group of soldiers built themselves a mountain of dirt, a mock Mount Suribachi, where they planted the American flag and where they broke from the fight at just before 8 a.m. to gather around a shortwave radio.
"Victory . . . " said the scratchy voice of President Bush.
The men at Viper, dirty and tired from a relentless drive across Southern Iraq, thrust their fists in the air and cheered.
Towering clouds pierced by morning sun, dirt-streaked faces and motley uniforms of faded camouflage etched the cease-fire scene in photographic majesty.
But the cheer was short.
Yes, the men at Viper could think about leaving this desert they had come to hate. "This is the place," they joked, "where God dumps all the vacuum-cleaner bags."
But they will be going home three men short.
Less than 12 hours before Thursday's halt in fighting occurred, a Blackhawk UH-60 helicopter was blown from the skies west of Basra. On a search and rescue mission from Viper to find a missing F-16 pilot, the Blackhawk flew low into anti-aircraft fire. An initial report said its tail rotor was shot off and the aircraft pitched end-over-end to its fiery destruction.
Three men from this unit, four from another and one medical surgeon were presumed dead.
Capt. Michael Pandol of Kalamazoo, Mich., commanded three of the lost Army crewmen. With a combat cameraman rolling, Pandol recited a proper reaction to the cease-fire.
"Wonderful news - I don't want to lose any more people," he said.
But off camera, Pandol let his bitterness show.
"I hope it's not going to stay over," he said of the cessation of fighting. "I want to get rid of [Iraqi President] Saddam [Hussein]. . . .
"These men," he continued, waving at the soldiers behind him, "they want to go out there and get some revenge, so to speak."
In one show of compassion, the troops ceremoniously "liberated" a 24-inch lizard they had captured and kept tethered as a pet.
On the other side of the coin were the helicopter commanders who had pushed frantically forward to Viper for what promised to be the slaughter of Iraqi tanks in full retreat.
Basra was the bottleneck through which the Iraqis were trying to squeeze Wednesday and Wednesday night to escape the encircling coalition army.
"It's about as close to a turkey shoot as you can get, " said Lt. Col. Paul Murtha, of Lansing, Kan. He was the executive officer of an attack helicopter battalion. He spoke from a rear area full of warrior optimism.
Up forward at Viper, it was another story.
Almost 40 of the Army's AH-64 tank-killing Apache attack helicopters arrived so short of gas that virtually nothing flew in the final half day of battle.
In this sector, most of the Apaches, a machine that the Army wanted to prove in battle as the long-distance striking arm of its airborne corps, sat parked on the open desert like grounded wasps with no sting, having outrun their logistics.
"No gas," shrugged Col. Emmit Gibson, the brigade commander.
Crewmen used the $10 million-plus helicopters as hotel rooms and shelters, in which to brew coffee and curse their bad luck.
by CNB