Frontlines
is a collection of real life essays from Wayland Baptist University students, devoted to military life and service. Some
have seen combat in Iraq and Afghanistan. Some support
those missions. Some are Army, some are Air Force, and
some are National Guard. Others serve the Navy, Marines
and Coast Guard. Some are career soldiers. Some are not.
All serve the citizens of the United States of America, and
these essays are a historical marker and testimony to that
fact. Frontlines and Wayland honors the sacrifice and service of these men and women.
“The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the
soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and
scars of war.”
~ Douglas MacArthur
Red Alert
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by David Toops
I
stirred at 3 a.m. to the familiar dull boom and
tremor of an insurgent rocket attack. After four
months on Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan, I was uncomfortably accustomed to the disturbance of these early
morning impacts.
I drifted back to sleep while awaiting the inevitable
Amber Alert signaling a routine rocket attack had just occurred. The Amber Alert never came. Instead, I was startled
wide awake when the “Ba-BOOM!” of a second, much
larger explosion was followed by the unmistakable sound of
machine gun fire.A Red Alert was sounded – Bagram was
under attack! I jumped out of bed and readied myself for
whatever could be outside my door. Thus began a day unlike
any other I have experienced or will experience again – a
day affecting me for months and maybe years to come.
While I don’t specifically remember throwing on my
uniform, I distinctly remember equipping my 35-pound
body armor and donning my Kevlar helmet. I made sure my
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M9 pistol was loaded and put it in my holster. I grabbed my
M16 rifle, inserted a full magazine and pulled back the
charging handle, placing a round in the chamber. All I
needed to do to shoot an enemy was disengage the safety
and pull the trigger. When Chris, my logistician, knocked on
my door moments later, I was ready for action.
“Holy crap Dave, we are being attacked!” he said as I
stepped out of my trailer. I took a brief moment to survey
the area and replied: “Let's go. Chris instinctively knew
what I meant, and we began the process of rousing our people and directing them to the safety of our bunkers.
Pre-deployment training asserted itself as we scouted
the perimeter while methodically moving to each of our 15
trailers to account for all 28 personnel. We could hear the
“chunga-chunga-chunga” of .50-caliber rounds echoing
from HUMVEEs across the base, making it very difficult to
determine directionality or intensity. Assuming the worst,
we pressed on, arriving at two second-story trailers overlooking a large, recently emptied supply lot. As Chris woke
our personnel, I scanned the lot. If an enemy combatant ran
across the lot I would shoot to kill. I am still shocked to
admit it, but this was war and in war you must defend those
in your charge. Luckily, the lot remained vacant, and I was
never forced to meet this demand.
After 10 minutes, we arrived at the last trailer. I will
never forget when the young female Airman opened the
door and gasped loudly as she saw me and realized what
was happening. Tears welled in her eyes, and I mustered as
soothing yet authoritative a voice I could.
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“Kristina,” I said, “remember yourself and remember
your training. Stay calm, follow what I say and everything is
going to be just fine.” I was so proud of her when she immediately relaxed her shoulders and composed herself with
a look of determination on her face. She became my second
in command throughout the rest of the day.
With everyone accounted for, all we could do was wait.
The fighting gradually subsided and just after 1 p.m. the
“All Clear” was announced. In the end, 30 insurgents had
attacked the base simultaneously at three different points
making the initial attack seem much larger than it actually
was. In the days and weeks that followed, more attacks were
predicted, but none came. Eventually, my time in
Afghanistan was up, and I headed home to my family.
One year later, the events of that night still occupy an
ever-shrinking space in my head. Even now, a distant boom
and vibration, though only the sound of a truck going over a
speed bump at the front gate, still brings me back to the
events of that night and the Red Alert.
About the Author:
David Toops is a native of Verona, N.J. He enlisted in
the U.S. Air Force as a Chinese Cryptologic Linguist in
1991. He has spent 20 years in active duty, 13 of which in
the 324th Intelligence Squadron on Hickam Air Force Base
in Hawaii.
He has served tours in Denver, Colo., and Fort George
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G. Meade, Md. In 2010, he went on a seven-month deployment in support of Operation Enduring Freedom as Operations Superintendent for
document and media exploitation at Bagram Airfield,
Afghanistan.
He is currently back in
Hawaii serving the final year of
my career before retirement
while finishing my bachelor’s
degree in Occupational Education from Wayland Baptist University. He is married to the
former Diane Malucky for eight
years, and they are blessed with the allotted two and a half
children: a five-year old daughter, Caroline; a two-monthold son, Parker; and our two-year-old yellow lab, Butter.
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