Spare Parts by Buzz Williams

Author:Buzz Williams [Williams, Buzz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Technology & Engineering, Military Science, Persian Gulf War (1991), General, United States, Biography & Autobiography, Military, Persian Gulf War; 1991, History
ISBN: 9781592401055
Publisher: Gotham Books
Published: 2005-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

S P A R E P A R T S

151

Dougherty would be right about that. Fate wasn’t finished with Morrison and me yet.

29 NOVEMBER 1990

We started our first training day crowded together elbow-to-elbow, in the bleachers that encircled the outdoor training area.

A strange captain took his place at the center of the circle and waited for our attention. “I am Captain Ricks, the officer in charge of your battalion-level training and preparation for Operation Desert Shield in Southwest Asia.”

Some of us paid attention to him. Some Marines heard the standard welcome statement and quickly tuned him out. Capt. Ricks, however, was no standard instructor and this was no standard class.

He introduced the lesson with the generic statement “This is lesson one . . .” while he held a small metal canister, the size of a de-odorant spray can, over his head. Then he pulled a tab and threw the canister on the ground in the center of the circle. We sat, stared, and waited for something to happen. There was no sound. There was no smoke. When I finally looked up at Capt. Ricks, he already had his mask on and was touching his shoulders with his hands, the universal signal for a gas attack. Capt. Ricks’s assistants threw other canisters under our bleachers as their muffled voices shouted through the filters of their masks, “Gas! Gas! Gas!” By the time I figured out what was happening, it was too late.

The stinging sensation started inside my nostrils and under the lids of my eyes. I looked down through the blur of tears at the canvas bag strapped to my leg, and felt around to find the button that secured its flap. Inside was my gas mask . . . at least I hoped it was.

It had not seen the light of day since it was issued to me. None of us had paid much attention to our gas masks. For that matter none of us had paid much attention to any of our nuclear-biological-chemical gear. Prior to the Gulf War we had perceived the threat of chemical or biological warfare to be negligible. The gear entered our 152

B u z z W i l l i a m s

consciousness only occasionally as an accessory to an exercise, but even then it was viewed by most as an obstacle that impeded the really important training. We joked that the initials, NBC, represented

“No-Body-Cares,” which reflected our indifference to its value.

Capt. Ricks’s class was about to change that mindset for all of us, forever.

I had the wherewithal to keep my mouth shut but instinctively drew air in through my nose. The first whiff burned and I blew hard to get the air back out. Then, without thinking, I opened my mouth and inhaled.

It felt as if someone forced a flaming torch down my throat and singed my lungs. In an attempt to recover, I closed my eyes tightly and held my breath. I heard shouts and whoops as the Marines around me, too, wrestled with the bags on their hips.

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