April 26, 2004. Echo Company 2/1

Probably the single hardest fought battle of the 2004 deployment was on the morning of April 26, 2004 between elements of Echo Company and a large insurgent force. I have seen estimates of insurgent strengths from ‘only’ 75 up to 200 – both numbers easily outnumbered 2nd platoon, even with attachments. Echo company was led by Captain Doug Zembiec and 1st Sgt Bill Skiles – both men were proven combat leaders with aggressive natures, and second platoon was staffed by a once in a lifetime mix of excellent squad leaders, corpsmen (medics) and a top notch machine gun team.

Embedded with 2nd platoon was a war correspondent from the LA Times, Rick Loomis. Rick was primarily a photographer, but for this very emotional battle stepped out of his comfort zone to write this excellent article of the fighting.

—–Imagine Dying – By Rick Loomis, LA Times.

2nd Platoon and attachments took over a dozen injuries, 4 life threatening, and Aaron Austin, a popular and hard charging machine gunner, was killed. Echo Company’s CO, Captain Zembiec wrote the following letter to his wife Pam describing that day:

From page 169-70 Selfless Beyond Service, by Pamela Zembiec,

….Finally, two weeks after Echo Company was ambushed in Fallujah, I received a letter from Douglas.

April 30, 2004

My marines and I got in a big fight on the 26th of April. My men fought like lions and killed many insurgents. The valor and courage of the marines was magnificent. The marines fought with such ferocity that any marine who went before us would have been proud. We had no less than 30 rocket-propelled grenades fired at our position and no less than 4,000 rounds of enemy machine-gun fire shot at us in the first 12 minutes of the fight. The enemy closed within 15 meters of our position before my marines forced them back. An insurgent fired at me from 20 meters away with an AK-47. His bullets whizzed by and between my legs. A bullet or a piece of shrapnel hit my left knee and a bullet ricocheted onto my dick plate (groin protector). It is our company standard operating procedure to wear them, and now you can see why. I threw a grenade at the enemy who shot at me. Sweetheart, when I ran over to the northern building we held to check on my marines at that position, I said, “Everything’s going to be OK.” The squad had a lot of injured and one marine who was fighting for his life, LCPL Austin. Later, two of my marines, LCPL Payne and PFC Sleight, said “Sir, you motivated me. When you showed up in that room I knew everything was going to be all right.”

I wanted to stay and fight, but I have four seriously wounded marines, so I told Warhammer 2 to fall back. The tanks requested showed up and really helped out. I am writing up two of my marines for the Silver Star, one posthumously as LCPL Austin didn’t make it. Many more I am putting in for the Bronze Star, and these are Marine Corps Silver Stars and Bronze Stars. When it was all said and done, 13 marines and sailors were wounded, and one of my marines killed. My marines killed at least twelve insurgents, and after we pulled out of our positions, we called in Cobras and mortars and killed many, many more. My men deserve official recognition of their battlefield valor. I couldn’t be more proud of my men. With men like the marines of Echo Company defending our nation, we will live free, forever.

The marines and corpsmen who medevaced our wounded, under fire, are true heroes. The marines who fought down in the alley, under fire the whole time, are heroes. The marines who fought on the rooftops are heroes. You would have to ask my marines how I performed that day to get an unbiased opinion. I think you will find that I made good decisions from the front, the only place I know from where to lead. I was unashamed when I shed tears for Austin. I told my men Austin was a warrior, and we will honor him by slaying more of our enemies, that his death will only strengthen our resolve. He died a warrior’s death, throwing a hand grenade at the enemy.

On that day I was woken up early in the morning by one of the other Marines in HQ platoon to inform me that 2^nd PLT (the one Aaron was attached to) had been sent on a mission to a cluster of houses about 500 meters away in order to take out a suspected sniper/mortar position that had been harassing us the past couple of days. He said I needed to get up and get my gear on in case of emergency.
            At about 1030 am (I think) the radio operator got a call that we had an urgent casualty (which I later found out was Zach Fincannon) at 2^nd platoon’s position, and we needed to get there ASAP. We loaded up and trucked over there and found that not only had he been wounded pretty badly (he later lost his lower left arm) but that Curnutt, Valencia, and Covington had been hit too. So we got them loaded up. (This was during the time that Aaron was doing what he did. I remember hearing a grenade go off across the street where he was, but I figured it was one of theirs because they were using them too.)
            As we were preparing to roll away from the house, it came over the radio that we had another urgent casualty in the 2^nd house and he needed immediate MEDEVAC. 1StSGT Skiles called for the XO to launch the 2^nd wave of MEDEVAC vehicles. We continued to the casualty collection point over at the battalion CP about three miles away. During that time, the CO had ordered a withdrawal and told the XO to stay where he was and that they’d bring the casualties to him.
            After we offloaded the four that we had, the rest of the MEDEVAC crew took off to the hospital with the 1^st set of four. I elected to remain at the CCP to wait for this second guy (we didn’t know who it was or what had happened). After about twenty minutes of waiting, I saw the Company Gunny, who had gone back to the FOB for ammo re-supply, pull up into the Battalion area because he had heard over the radio what was going on. He told me that if they hadn’t shown up in five minutes, we’d go get them.
            Five minutes passed and we had just loaded up when two more HUMMVEE’s came barreling into the area and screeched to a halt in front of the door to the BAS (Battalion Aid Station). One of them had Gomez-Perez, Magana, and someone else (my memory eludes me) in it, and the other had Aaron by himself. After checking on those three guys to make sure they wouldn’t die on the trip, I went over to where Aaron lay stretched out on the wooden trunk in the bed of the truck. He was still alive and breathing and someone else was talking to him.
            I jumped into the truck with LT Cooper (our Doc) and started to assess him for transport. He started slipping during that. Someone (who we later found out was the 18D Army special forces medic) had performed a cricothyroidotomy (where you cut a hole in the throat and insert a tube so he could breathe), and had put the wrong tube in. We didn’t see why he’d done it in the first place, because #1: Aaron didn’t have an airway injury; he was hit in the chest, and #2: he did it incorrectly. He had also inserted an IO IV line, which is where you insert the catheter in the sternum bone, which was done correctly, and necessary at this time as Aaron’s veins had collapsed from blood loss.
            We tried to unf— the cric and insert the proper size tube, which we finally did, and then I performed a needle chest decompression which is the preferred treatment for chest injuries, because it relieves the pressure on the lungs and heart caused by a sucking chest wound. Aaron had two of them. After re-bandaging those two wounds, which were done hastily and sloppy (due to the amount of fire they were taking I’m sure) we checked the line in his chest bone.
            During his thrashing about (some of those procedures are uncomfortable to say the least, but they work) he had ripped the line out. I decided not to waste time trying to start another one. He died shortly after, right after I came back from checking on the other wounded guys one more time before we rolled. I revived him with a cardiac thump and screamed for someone to get me an Ambu-bag, which we use in the field to artificially ventilate the wounded. One was tossed to me and Dr Cooper reminded me that I probably shouldn’t try to resuscitate him due to the lack of successful attempts in medical history.
            “F— That Sir!!!” I screamed at him, and then told the drivers to roll. He stopped breathing again after about five minutes and I hooked the Ambu-bag to the tube in his throat and instructed one the Combat Aidsmen Marines (given special first aid training to assist us when we are wounded or we have too many to handle on our own) on how and when to compress it, thereby forcing air into his lungs. I checked his pulse and found none. So, against my Dr’s orders, I began CPR. I continued it the entire ride to the hospital and every now and then (when you’re supposed to), I felt for a pulse and found one.
            When we arrived at the hospital, he had a weak pulse and was still being bagged by SSGT Gresham (2^nd PLT Platoon Sergeant) and I was still doing the chest compressions in order to assist his heart with pumping the blood. The hospital staff (God bless their souls) took over when we pulled up.
            I found out later that Aaron had passed again during prep for surgery. I guess if I’da stopped, he’da died then too. But I wasn’t letting him go. They tried again and again, but couldn’t bring him back from that one.
            He was pronounced dead by the doctor there. We prayed over his body for a moment and the Echo Honor Guard (1STSGT Skiles, me, and two other Marines—I can’t remember which ones they were) carried him to the morgue. We loaded up and went back to the defensive position where I gave my report to the Company CO, CAPT Zembiec, and I know I saw a tear in his eye.
            There isn’t much more to tell, but if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask—Doc Duty