Battling Bravo: Commemorating the 20th Anniversary of Desert Storm

This article, “Battling Bravo,” discusses one tank company and its experiences during Desert Storm. The experiences of B Company, 3d Battalion, 67th Armor, 1st Tiger Brigade, 2d Armored Division, are not unique in the history of this era, they are similar to numerous small units that went to war in the winter of

1990. Battling Bravo is a microcosm of the Army’s experience as it learned to fight as combined arms teams in the mid 1980s, and reached a high mark of readiness at exactly the time it was needed to deploy and fight in the summer of 1990. The story of Battling Bravo began in the 1980s as the majority of its 64 members joined the U. S. Army at a time of vast and positives changes. My own story was of joining the U. S. Army National Guard and attending one station unit training as an infantry private in 1981, while simultaneously enrolled as a Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) cadet. At the time, I thought the training to be tough and realistic. My drill sergeants were all veterans of Vietnam and understood the importance of basic rifle marksmanship and physical conditioning. I had heard rumors regarding a lack of discipline in the Army as the popular movie Stripes portrayed, but it was clear that times were changing. We were introduced to anew physical readiness test, anew battle uniform, rations, and a greater emphasis on tough, realistic standards-based training. As we left Fort Benning, we caught a glimpse of the new Infantry fighting vehicle, known as the “Bradley,” which would complement the new Abrams tank. As I progressed through ROTC, I was exposed to an Army focused on training and readiness. My ROTC cadre were combat veterans who took the time to mentor and prepare our class with a sincere belief that because of the Cold War, we would have to be prepared to join our units overseas and possibly “fight tonight.” Following my commissioning, Armor Officer Basic Course, and initial assignments, I was part of an increasingly disciplined Army that did not tolerate drug use and offered constant opportunities to validate training. It was not uncommon to spend weeks and months on end in “the field” replicating realistic maneuvers using new systems, such as multiple integrated laser engagement systems (MILES); training against a challenging and unpredictable opposing force at the blossoming combat training centers; firing countless main gun rounds in simulation on the newly fielded, miraculously high-tech, unit conduct of fire trainer (UCOFT); conducting live fire; or rolling out at a moment’s notice, unsure if it was another readiness test or the beginning of an actual conflict. Furthermore, it did not matter much where they had served previously, whether it was a tank battalion in Germany, Korea, 6

Fort Polk, Carson, or Hood, the standardization of doctrine allowed platoon sergeants or tank gunners to arrive with a common understanding of how a company was employed in the field. Everyone knew what “LOGPAC,” “travelling overwatch” and “staggered column” meant. Common language was important but most important was hands-on practice. Battling Bravo got plenty of scrimmage time in the summer of 1990. Training During one of the last return to Germany (REFORGER) exercises, the Pentagon announced that the 2d Armored Division at Fort Hood, Texas, would inactivate as part of the reorganization caused by the unexpected collapse of the Soviet Union. Many of us serving at the time were unsure of what our future role would be with the Soviets out of the picture. Soon we were told that our mission was, as it had always been — to train and be ready to deploy and fight. The 1st Tiger Brigade, of which we were apart, had been given the resources to continue to train as part of a previously scheduled rotation to the National Training Center (NTC) at Fort Irwin, California. Following this rotation, we would then tackle the tedious task of dismantling and inac-tivating our beloved unit. In 1990, a rotation to NTC was an immensely significant part of a unit and individual leader’s credibility. It was nothing less than a test in which every scenario could be experienced, from a precarious night live-fire attack to the inevitable multi-hour replication of a persistent chemical attack, brought on by a training device dubbed “doctor doom.” No aspect of the battle was notional; casualties had to be evacuated to the rear, ammunition, albeit replicated as small simulators, was required to be brought forward in appropriately capable trucks. All of this replication to the overarching challenges of real battle was revolutionary for the time and unparalleled with any of our coalition partners. Because of the intensity of the training, no time was wasted at the NTC learning the basics. Units were expected to arrive at the peak of readiness, which led Tiger Brigade to embark on a rigorous training schedule, which started with the smallest combat team and built up to a brigade-level force-on-force event, known appropriately as “Hell’s Forge.” Live fire was a critical component of this training plan. A tank company was expected to maneuver well and employ devastatingly accurate fire. Our early model M1 tanks, although somewhat worn at the time, could still fire very accurately when properly boresighted by a disciplined and drilled crew. Battle Company, fully manned with crews from the inactivating 2d (St Lo) Brigade, progressed with high proficiency through the numerous tank gunnery gates, finally culminating in a combined livefire exercise on 3 August 1990. Just after completing this capstone exercise, word arrived over a small transistor radio — Iraq had invaded Kuwait. Although we had little knowledge of the region, we understood that there might be serious implications for the United States and even our small unit. While back in garrison, conducting the time-honored wash rack and recovery routine, I was called to the battalion commander’s office where I learned that we had been alerted for overseas movement to a combat zone. Deployment There was a high state of confidence as the company assembled the next day and began an intense period of maintenance and inspections. The preparation for NTC had proved to be incredibly well-timed. The company had formed into a cohesive team that trained together and, most importantly, was stabilized, avoiding the disruptive permanent change of station (PCS) cycle, which inevitably damaged readiness. In Battle Company’s case, all tank commanders and key leaders remained in place for an unheard of 9 months. For the next 3 months, the company fell into a routine of nearly 18-hour days, 7 days a week, accomplishing an increasing list of tasks that revealed the serious nature of our upcoming endeavor. The length of the work schedule was not an indicator of being ill-prepared, but was due to the ever-increasing availability of resources. Continental United States (CONUS) units usually did not have priority on class IX parts, and due to tight budgets, it was difficult to obtain some high-dollar end items. Soon, truck loads of track, gun tubes, fire-control components, tents, cots, weapons, radios, and basic load items appeared. All vehicles, which were once painted woodland camouflage, were converted to chemical-agent resistant coating (CARC) sand paint within a 24-hour operation. Driving down the main roads of Fort Hood, one could see row after row of motor pools, illuminated by flood lights, revealing a state of constant activity. These preparations continued until, to the relief of the crews, the order was given to rail load and convoy the brigade’s hundreds of vehicles to the port of Beaumont, Texas. Once at Beaumont, vehicles and connexes were loaded on to commercial and military transport vessels, marking the end of an important phase of Bravo’s preparation for combat. Having completed an enormous amount of training and now separated from our tanks, we were able to take a short respite. As we waited for the order to move forward by aircraft, we cleared the entire barracks of all personal items and left the garrison ready for occupation by follow-on reserve units as was the plan for general war. We felt that we were leaving for the duration of the conflict, a conflict which could last a matter of months or perhaps a year or more; it would be over when it was over. This uncertainty made me appreciate the feeling of previous “Our early model M1 tanks, although somewhat worn at the time, could still fire very accurately when properly boresighted by a disciplined and drilled crew.” 7

“By December 1990, as news reports exposed an ebb and flow of diplomatic efforts, the general feeling among soldiers was fatigue and the hope of getting on with whatever the future might bring. If it was combat, then the only way home was through the Iraqi army. That same month also brought the greatest boast in morale — the announcement that the company would receive brand new M1A1s, which would be arriving from prepositioned sites in Germany.” generations of soldiers whose primary emotion was to get to the combat theater and get the job done. In 1990, the only combat veterans in the brigade were a small scattering of Vietnam veterans whose experience spanned from intense small-unit combat to support activities in rear areas. For the vast majority of soldiers, there was a curiosity of what combat would bring. What would it be like? Would it be similar to combat training? All of these questions were yet to be answered as the brigade eventually received the order to deploy by charter aircraft to the distant and unfamiliar country of Saudi Arabia. The arrival and staging of units into Saudi Arabia was a logistics undertaking of immense proportions. Although much has been written about what went wrong in the following months, it was only the institutional experience of exercises, such as REFORGER, that prevented deployment and staging in Saudi Arabia from being a total disaster. For a small unit, such as Bravo Company, the problems of theater logistics were of little concern. We arrived late at night after along flight and the inevitable “hurry up and wait drill.” We were bused to a large, foul-smelling warehouse alongside a pier in the port city of Ad-Damman. The huge building was predominately empty except for the presence of piles of Army cots. Soon the air was filled with the sounds of hundreds of cots being unfolded and noncommissioned officers (NCOs) establishing order. For the next 10 days, the company fell into a routine of physical training, basic survival skill training, and standard operating procedure (SOP) reviews. The conditions were fairly primitive, but compared to the usual experience of living on vehicles in the field, the availability of homemade shower stalls and two hot T-ration meals a day, the main complaint was inactivity. To note, this was a time when instantaneous communications was not expected; there were no phones available and the only method of connection home was through letter writing — not much had changed since our 2d Armored Division veterans landed in North Africa. Once the ships carrying the brigade arrived in port, the units quickly disembarked all vehicles and moved by an eclectic array of civilian trucks and buses out to the Saudi Arabian desert. Although the move seemed to be chaotic, within 48 hours, Bravo company was set in a company assembly area in one of the most remote places on the planet. For the next 4 months, units lived in this most austere environment. Field sanitation training came into practical and critical use as small units built field latrines and showers, washed clothes by hand and ate a mixture of meals ready to eat (MREs) and T-rations for months on end. To maintain discipline and prevent training atrophy, a weekly training schedule was constructed. Rarely, had the U. S. Army been in such a position. There were no civilians, buildings, or distractions for miles around; there was nothing but endless miles of featureless sand, and for Bravo Company, tanks and weapons. Due to concerns over maintenance wear and tear, mounted movement had to be limited. The loss of a major component, such as an engine, could result in a vehicle being deadlined for a number of days or weeks, as class IX parts were precious. Thus, training had to be creative. Leaders looked to time-tested methods, such as tactical exercise without troops (TEWTS), radio rehearsals, cross training, lectures, and rock drills to keep battle focus. One skill emphasized by Bravo Company was prep to fire boresighting, which became a twice daily event. Having come from Cold War deployable units, it was expected that if a fragmentary order (FRAGO) was given to move, the company could react in minimal time with combat loaded tanks immediately ready to fire. Chemical training was the other area of expertise that needed little justification for inclusion. The most feared scenario was one of being hit by chemicals, whether delivered by artillery, mine, or aircraft spray. It took little imagination to visualize the potentially horrible outcome of not being prepared. Day after day, masks were donned, decontamination techniques were rehearsed, and a M8 alarm was constantly placed upwind of the unit assembly area. Contamination was not a theoretic scenario. Due to experience from the recent Iran-Iraq wars, it was thought that a chemical attack would be an inevitable part of the upcoming operation. Chemical officers and NCOs achieved anew status, as they were inundated with requests for information. The company gained anew-found urgency in chemical equipment maintenance. By December 1990, as news reports exposed an ebb and flow of diplomatic efforts, the general feeling among soldiers was fatigue and the hope of getting on with whatever the future might bring. If it was combat, then the only way home was through the Iraqi army. That same month also brought the greatest boast in morale — the announcement that the company would receive brand new M1A1s, which would be arriving from prepositioned sites in Germany. The M1A1, with its 120mm smoothbore cannon, NBC filtration system, and vastly improved reliability, meant a huge leap in the company’s survivability and lethality. The company moved back to Ad-Damman and within 48 hours, dropped off 14 M1s and received 14 brand-new, freshly painted, and literary “new-car smelling” M1A1s. Within days, the battalion conducted live-fire qualification and participated in a large-scale exercise, giving great confidence to the crews. The last piece of preparation had fallen into place. The company had returned to its training routine when, on a cool January evening, a radio announcement confirmed that Desert Shield had transitioned to Desert Storm. In the sky above, hundreds of aircraft were moving northward into Kuwait and Iraq, only visible by their faint navigation lights. Within an hour, the distant horizon was marked by brilliant flashes and the dots of antiaircraft fire. Although there were shouts of encouragement to the U. S. Air Force to “get some,” the sobering facts revealed a shooting war and casualties on both sides. Ground Combat The start of the air war brought an increased intensity back to our preparation for combat. At this point, the operational scheme of war was unknown and meaningless. For Bravo Company, the world revolved around the actions of our battalion, 3d Battalion, 67th Armor, “The Hounds of Hell,” and at times our brigade, 1st Tiger, from which we drew much pride due to its unique deployment identity as a separate formation without a division headquarters. One manifestation of this pride was in the 2d Armored Division patch, which we wore on the left front of our uniform, as General George S. Patton had originally directed. This made us unique and we felt we were better than all other units, certainly better than the 1st Cavalry Division, which we had deployed with from Fort Hood! In 1990, most heavy divisions in the U. S. Army were comprised of two active duty maneuver brigades and one reserve component “round out.” With our parent brigade minus a deployable division headquarters, due to the ongoing inactivation, it just seemed logical that the Fort Hood maneuver brigades would deploy together to form a fully manned 1st Cavalry Division. Still, we wondered what our ultimate mission would be. At the company level, we heard the inevitable rumors. One such rumor had Tiger Brigade designated as the reserve brigade of the reserve division (1st Cavalry) of the 7th Corps. Being young and inexperienced, it was the general consensus that we wanted to be tested in combat and that such a role would not offer us the chance to be at the heart of the action. Another rumor indicated that we would somehow fight with the U. S. Marine division that had deployed to our west. We figured the Marines would have a prominent role in the assault of the ever-thickening Iraqi defenses. Ironically, this rumor proved to be exactly on target as we were informed during an operations order that the brigade would replace the British 7th Armored Brigade “Desert Rats” and become assigned to Marine forces. We were unsure of the implications of this change in mission, but were convinced that our ultimate role in whatever plans were being developed would be decisive. The movement to join with Marine forces in the southwest corner of the Saudi-Kuwait border involved along road march that stretched all logistics planning. Furthermore, due to operational security, the entire movement was conducted in radio listening silence. Looking back years later, it is still amazing how smoothly the operation went at the small-unit level. Without the use of radios, applying established road march SOPs and rehearsed techniques of short maintenance halts, Bravo Company, along with hundreds of other vehicles, moved the entire distance without incident and sighted the prepositioned fuel vehicles just as the low-fuel lights in our tanks illuminated. My own tank, B66, Bounty Hunter, took on 495 gallons of fuel. Some tanks ran out at the fuel point, but eventually, we arrived at our assembly area with all combat-ready equipment. Bravo Company had not only moved physically, but also mentally, closer to war. At this point, we were only a few kilometers from the Kuwait border and the evidence of ongoing war was clear. Air strikes were clearly visible and occasionally a B52 mission would illuminate the horizon with its pay load. We would feel the shock waves of immense bombardment and see the contrails of jet exhaust as they turned southward out of Kuwaiti airspace. At night, there was constant air activity and the sight of anti-airtracers firing randomly into the sky. We maintained a heightened state of readiness — 50 percent of the company remained ready to move 24 hours a day, with the remainder of the company prepared to follow within minutes. On the evening of 29 January 1991, normal routine radio checks were broken by the battalion S3’s electrifying report that large columns of Iraqi armor were attacking into Marine forces not far from our position at a forward observation point. The situation was clearly serious as the Marines had reported that at least one of their (LAVs) had been destroyed by direct fire (later to be realized an unfortunate fratricide). The S3 continued with the FRAGO, outlining the most challenging of all combat operations — night movement to contact. The battalion’s mission was to conduct an attack to make contact with the Iraqi formation and destroy it. Bravo Company, as was SOP, would lead. It was a cool and nearly moonless night. In the darkness, the assembly area came alive with the sounds of equipment being hastily stowed 9 and the unique sound of sponson boxes opening and closing. Within a matter of 15 minutes, the entire company was ready to move. Tension was palatable, but the overall mood was one of confidence. If the war was going to start — it was tonight — but under conditions nobody had predicted. Even with all the advances in armored warfare technology during 1991, techniques in land navigation had changed little for a tank company since 1941. Looking at our paper maps, we set a magnetic azimuth and distance to the suspected enemy formation. Using a barely visible landmark in the night horizon, our gunners identified the point and then designated these lead vehicles as navigation tanks. They would keep their gun tubes in stabilization mode, orientated continuously on the landmark. The only technical solution came a few weeks later with a one-per-company issue of a commercial Loran boating navigation device. The Loran gave location in latitude and longitude measurements. I soon found the previously ignored tics found on the margins of my 1:50,000 map for “lat and long,” and marked my map accordingly for a quick conversion to military grid reference system (MGRS). Although a bit clumsy, the Loran proved to be very accurate and became the single most important piece of command and control equipment in the war. As we waited for the order to attack, we shut down our engines to conserve fuel and stand by for future orders. It was an incredibly long night as we waited to conduct a counterattack that never materialized. As the sun rose on the empty desert, the Marines gained better situational awareness, and air strikes began to attrite the stumbling Iraqi attack. We were ordered to stand down in a mixture of disappointment and relief. We were satisfied that if we had been called to attack, the company was ready. Within a few more weeks, the long-awaited order arrived, describing our ultimate G-day or ground day (24 February 1991) mission. We received an operations order with a large map overlay and began the well-practiced drill of military decisionmaking. Each unit had sufficient time to issue its operations order, conduct rock drill rehearsals, and review the task and purpose for each unit. The overall plan directed the Marines to cut a wide breach into a multi-kilometer band of mines and obstacles along the Kuwait border and then pass the brigade on parallel lanes. Time seemed to pass slowly on G-Day as the company awaited the call forward to holding areas short of the anticipated breach site. Eavesdropping on the progress of the Marine operation revealed that Iraqi mines were in greater density than anticipated, but resistance was light with occasional mortar fire. The most chilling moments were when the breaching force reported the presence of chemical agents. Already at MOPP-level 2, realizing that the impending battle would be fought in chemical conditions added to the tensions of waiting, but soon the first report was changed to indicate “all clear.” Surveying the assembly area and seeing the quiet confidence of the untested company brought to mind the dedication of earlier generations of soldiers who waited to cross aline of departure in North Africa, Pusan, and Vietnam. No one fully knew what the future would bring, but each leader was consumed with a myriad of details and responsibilities that did not allow him to dwell too long on the potential hazards of a frontal attack into a defending enemy force. By 1500 hours, the company received word to push forward and begin its attack. The initial sites of destroyed and damaged Marine equipment, and the occasional stray indirect fire burst, “The sky was unnaturally dark as the now-infamous oil fires, caused by Iraq’s destruction of Kuwait’soil wells, burned. The overall scene was best described as “Dante’s inferno” due to the black sky mixed with the fiery howl of burning gas.” 10 brought the growing realism that this undertaking, although similar in sight to the many force-on-force exercises we had endured, was the “real thing” with the genuine possibility of injury or death. This realization was accentuated by the sudden blast of an antitank mine that easily blew off the track of a flanking unit’s tank. No crew members were injured, and as rehearsed, the lane was bypassed and the mission continued. Time seemed to accelerate as the company completed its movement through the breach site, passed through the 6th Marine Regiment’s “Objective C” and on to the battalion’s first objective, “New York,” near an oil-gathering center. The sky was unnaturally dark as the now-infamous oil fires, caused by Iraq’s destruction of Kuwait’soil wells, burned. The overall scene was best described as “Dante’s inferno” due to the black sky mixed with the fiery howl of burning gas. Out of the darkness, a group of 70 Iraqis emerged in front of our position and slowly walked forward waving shards of white cloth. The group was quickly searched and organized for transport to the rear. The lasting memory was the look of resigned apathy on their faces. I thought how different it must be to surrender to Americans than Iranians. That evening, the company conducted its first combat logistics package (LOGPAC) operation exactly as rehearsed, to include a hot chili-mac meal, a promise from the headquarters and headquarters company commander to have “hot chow at the first objective.” The plan seemed to being going exactly as planned with resistance far lighter than expected. The company was ready to be unleashed and keep moving, but orders were to remain in position. Once again, we could not see the bigger picture. We could not see the larger scheme, which had Tiger Brigade fixing many Iraqi units in position for the great “left hook.” In our minds, we were ready to go straight to Kuwait City. The 25th day of February was marked by a pause, but once the order was given to attack in the afternoon, the company had a series of continuous contacts as it passed through the defenses of the 116th Brigade of the Iraqi 7th Division. At one point, 3 T-55s were engaged at a range of more than 2 kilometers — it was here that the incredible lethality of the M1A1 and its “silver bullet” service Sabot round was revealed. Direct hits were immediately followed by immense secondary explosions that blew turrets high into the air. By late afternoon, Objective Ohio was secured. Bravo had destroyed a number of enemy vehicles and began collecting more Iraqi enemy prisoners of war (EPWs), and awaited further orders. Darkness fell with the expectation of another day of attacks; although, we were eager to continue, no new orders came until the next day. The 26th day of February was marked by a series of FRAGOs, which were modified due to rapidly changing opportunities on the battlefield. It was a classic environment for armored warfare. As long as we had a map, radio, and mission orders, we were comfortable “developing the situation” and working on the fly. The opportunity came at just around noon when, with little notice, we were given anew axis of attack and orders to seize a road intersection north of the Al-Mutla ridge. Along the way, the company would pass by Ali al-Salem airfield and attack from west to east. With a quick huddle and confirmation brief, the compa- “The 25th day of February was marked by a pause, but once the order was given to attack in the afternoon, the company had a series of continuous contacts as it passed through the defenses of the 116th Brigade of the Iraqi 7th Division. At one point, 3 T-55s were engaged at a range of more than 2 kilometers — it was here that the incredible lethality of the M1A1 and its “silver bullet” service Sabot round was revealed.”

ny began movement and immediately made contact with scattered vehicles and isolated pockets of shattered Iraqi soldiers. Due to the speed of the attack, these groups had to be bypassed. Mass and momentum was the essence of the attack. Due to the recent issue of mine plow kits, the company was able to conduct a hasty breach of a suspected minefield and continued to press forward, firing on the move at any enemy vehicles. It felt exhilarating to break free and move quickly as the company, and then battalion, collapsed into a staggered column formation. No significant enemy defenses were encountered until the company crested a small slope and was presented with an unforgettable scene. The Al-Mutla ridge was the site of utter chaos as the Iraqi army attempted to flee in a mangled column of moving, recently destroyed, and burning vehicles. Tanks, trucks, and civilian vehicles were all mixed together. Although there was gruesome evidence of the recent air attack, there were many Iraqi military vehicles moving northward, oblivious to the sudden arrival of a tank battalion to their left flank. The lead vehicles of Bravo engaged several T-55s and a 2S1 artillery piece at a range of less than 400 meters. The company then pushed forward to clear a path for the battalion’s follow-on units. Secondary explosions filled the air with debris and added to the hellish atmosphere of the scene, which later became appropriately named “The Highway of Death.” The battalion’s attached mechanized infantry company subsequently passed through our chaotic position and proceeded to assault the nearby police building in a violent, close order fight. Although there was no organized resistance, small firefights and clearing operations went on throughout the night. It was in the midst of this chaos that we received the sobering news of the death of our battalion master gunner. As the sun rose the next day, it revealed a scene akin to the Falaise Gap, where the German army was trapped and destroyed in

1944. There was little pity as almost every destroyed vehicle, military and civilian alike, revealed that the Iraqis had stuffed them with stolen Kuwaiti goods. Stacks of electronics, clothing, or anything that was not bolted down lay scattered on the road. It was not the picture of a military defeat, but the destruction of a pillaging band of thieves. Bravo Company then received word that a friendly vehicle would approach from the north, and a short while later, an FV432 (armored personnel carrier) of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards conducted the informal, yet official, linkup of U. S. Marine Central Command (MARCENT) and U. S. Army Central Command (ARCENT) forces, ironically performed by an allied and non-Marine unit. This was about the time we heard the news of the cease fire and the apparent end of hostilities over a short-wave radio. There was little interest in strategic debate — for the soldiers of Bravo Company, combat operations were over and it was time to focus on the long process of recovery and redeployment. Legacy There has been much written on the legacy of the First Gulf War, which inevitably includes debate on lost strategic opportunities. Those are debates for strategists. Desert Storm was a tactical war for the soldiers of Bravo Company, one in which they felt su-premely trained and equipped to win. Expecting to fight in a campaign that might cost high casualties and carry on for months, the end result was a powerful knockout blow that few predicted. Years of tough training, high standards, and ever increasingly superior equipment had come at exactly the right time. The sweat spilled at home station and training centers, combined with a process of self-examination, allowed the company to fight with great confidence in themselves and each other. The stabilization of personnel had built a strong, cohesive team that recognized each other’s voice on the radio and shared a common experience on how to solve tactical problems. This is not to say there were no weaknesses — in an after-action review following the cease fire, the lack of military operations in urban terrain (MOUT) training was the number one training deficiency identified. There was a clear realization that the company would have been hard pressed to fight in an environment of multiple buildings, manage intermingling civilians, and be successful without interpreters. We clearly felt like we were unprepared for such a fight and were fortunate not to have encountered it. This deficiency would have to be dealt with in future exercises and ultimately a future generation. For the time being, the soldiers of Battling Bravo reflected on the shared bond of comradeship, and using a few needles and thread, removed the 2d Armored Division patches from their spare uniforms and hand sewed them on their right sleeves, signifying their rightful moniker as combat veterans. This article is dedicated to the soldiers of B Company and Tiger Brigade. Colonel (Retired) Bart Howard is currently the operations manager, Center for Civil-Military Relations, Naval Postgraduate School, Monterey, CA. He was commissioned as an armor officer in 1984 from Santa Clara University’s Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) program. He is also a graduate of the Australian Command and Staff College and the U. S. Army War College. He has commanded at every armor formation level, from platoon to brigade. He has served in various command and staff positions, which include commander, B Company, 67th Armor, Operation Desert Storm; chief of staff, Combined Forces Command-Afghanistan; executive officer to the International Security Assistance Force commander, Afghanistan; and special assistant to the Supreme Allied Commander Europe, Mons, Belgium. “As the sun rose the next day, it revealed a scene akin to the Falaise Gap, where the German army was trapped and destroyed in 1944. There was little pity as almost every destroyed vehicle, military and civilian alike, revealed that the Iraqis had stuffed them with stolen Kuwaiti goods. Stacks of electronics, clothing, or anything that was not bolted down lay scattered on the road. It was not the picture of a military defeat, but the destruction of a pillaging band of thieves.” 12