Local Guard nearly 'good to go'

By DENNIS ANDERSON
Valley Press Editor

The band struck up John Philip Sousa's "The Washington Post March," followed by the Army marching standard, "The Caissons Go Rolling Along," about rolling artillery pieces. And the nearly 300 pairs of boots that march as the 1498th Transportation Company fell into step, or nearly.

Spc. Peter Mavropoulos of Riverside has a hard time keeping in step, and does a half-skip from time to time. Nobody really noticed, though. Mavropoulos, 47, one of the citizen soldiers of the National Guard, is one of the best drivers of "The Big Awesome Truck Co."

First Sgt. James Norris called the cadence with the hundreds of troops marching in a company gathered from the Antelope Valley, Riverside and San Bernardino counties, Sacramento and San Diego.

They'd been called and cobbled together from all compass points of the nation's most populous state. They'd volunteered to go to "The Box," otherwise known as "The Sandbox," otherwise known as Iraq.

Now, they were nearly ready.

Capt. Paul Schellbach, the Eastern rite chaplain from Hesperia and Victorville, mounted a stage above the troops of 1498th gathered at the "Soldier's Bowl" amphitheater at historic Camp Roberts. He spoke to a sea of green uniforms, surrounded by green grass and soft winds, far from the winds of war and sand blowing across the deserts of Kuwait and Iraq.

"Heavenly Father, memory eternal is granted to the soldiers who served you in this operation," the chaplain said on the first Saturday morning of the war to topple the regime of Saddam Hussein.

Next, Brig. Gen. James P. Combs, commander of the 49th Combat Support Command, U.S. Army National Guard, mounted the stage.

For weeks, these hundreds of local civilian soldiers had trained, labored, shivered, suffered, strained and finally grown stronger under the command of Brig. Gen. Combs. The nights they spent in fox holes, on moonlit sentry posts and on firing ranges and fields of battle drill, fell under Combs" orders.

Put simply, one Army major described the general's philosophy for bringing the troops to combat readiness as one of "imposing discomfort" and "watching to see who would live, and who would fall by the wayside."

Now, these hundreds of citizen soldiers got a good look at the man who set the pace of the past month's march.

Combs, over six feet tall, paced the stage in combat boots, general's belt and black beret. He had a large voice, big enough to carry without a microphone. Like many in the Guard, he was a veteran of combat, Vietnam, the 1st Infantry Division, best known as "The Big Red One."

Talking to the troops as he walked, he said, "I know I've dragged you through a wringer. I pray for your health. I appreciate that you stayed the course, and I appreciate the fact that you stayed the course."

With those words, Combs encapsulated weeks of intense activity to get this unit ready to join regular Army units and Marines already engaged in the fierce combat of the first major war of the 21st century.

For weeks, the crews of the "Big Awesome Truck Co." trained to load armored vehicles onto their 50-ton Heavy Equipment Transportation System vehicles. Their assigned mission is to deliver M1A1 Abrams tanks to the battle front, or to retrieve them when they are "down" from mechanical failure or battle damage.

But the weeks of training brought change, a new commander and a new mission.

To the troops gathered, watching, waiting, listening, Brig. Gen. Combs brought critical appraisal, and praise.

"You are a solid base of soldiers," said the general, once himself a sergeant. "You have experienced noncommissioned officers, and you have been assembled from across this great state."

The general's speech gained in intensity, and so did the momentum of his striding gait.

"You are great HET (vehicle) teams," he said. "We want you to focus on the drills, so that when you are put in tough situations, what to do will come to you by rote. We need you to build your skills, your skills behind the wheel and your night vision capabilities."

With that, the general introduced the Guard troops" new commander, Capt. Matthew R. Hook, an experienced transport company commander who left a lucrative law practice to leader the soldiers of "BAT-C."

Capt. Hook stepped forward to look at his new company, the truckers and combat support troops looking to him to take them "to the next level" on their odyssey to "The Sandbox."

"My standards are the Army's standards," the lanky captain said. "The Army standards are the standards of the infantry platoon leader. We always look for a higher standard."

With the assumption of command, the general gave the National Guard soldiers fresh news. A month or so before, most of the "BAT-C" tank retrievers had been working at their civilian jobs, as bus drivers, grocery truck operators, mechanics, personal trainers, cooks and even a couple of attorneys.

"You have been on an extraordinary journey," Brig. Gen. Combs said. "You have come so far, and now your mission is expanding, and it is changed to providing the humanitarian relief leg of the liberation of Iraq."

The general told them their mission would keep them in the United States for a couple more weeks. During that time, there would be a little time for family. There would be a little time to have a cold beer. There would be a little more time to load and check equipment, and then a little more time to prepare for the move to "The Box."

Before the Saturday morning the local National Guard troops arrived at "Soldier's Bowl," the wringer they came through got wrung out on the harsh miles of "Main Supply Route Hermes," a stretch of bad road in Monterey County's rolling hills of the Hunter Liggett Army Installation.

The troops faced simulated gas attacks, guerrilla attacks and assassins disguised as civilians. Each of the scenarios bore an eerie resemblance to the real-world attacks that were unfolding for Army and Marine troops rolling out on the road to Baghdad.

"You are going to be a part of the profound victory that will be achieved by the greatest force the world has ever seen," Brig. Gen. Combs told the soldiers of the 1498th.

But for a couple of the unit's leaders, the victory was won a day earlier, coming up to the closing hours of the company's grueling five day-and-five night "out in the boonies" full dress field training exercise.

During days and nights of little sleep and infiltrator attacks, the platoon sergeants worked on working together, and the young officers of the company worked on learning their repertoire of leadership skills.

"It's coming together," said Lt. Brian Holste of Long Beach. "This test was intended to knock us down, and see who would get up."

Most everybody did get up.

"We just want to get on to the next stage and be done with all the rumors," said Spc. Aaron Hargrove of California City.

Sometimes victory is a parade, with John Phillip Sousa playing. Sometimes victory is a shredded patch of material handed over to soldiers who have come through a ring of fire set deep in the woods.

For five days and five nights, the troops of 1498th Transport had been watched in the woods. One of the chief watchers was Maj. Pat Frey, an "observer-controller" from the 91st Division, who wore a woolen skull cap and a mask of camouflage face paint that made him look like the last guy left after the "last of the Mohicans."

An Airborne Ranger and a Green Beret, Frey lived in the "Tactical Operations Center" tent in the middle of the woods, appearing to run on a fuel mix of Marlboros and black coffee. He had little to say.

Two of the people he watched through the week were Lt. Paul Peterlin and Sgt. 1st Class Martin Arreguy, the unit leaders of 2nd Platoon. Whenever they were not out running troops or checking vehicles or leading convoys, the pair appeared to be spending an inordinate amount of time checking plans, maps and charts inside the tent.

A taciturn man, the Green Beret major mostly watched them and formed his opinions with a grunt or a taciturn observation about the unit's preponderance of "knuckleheads."

Finally, the Green Beret major, also known as "The Shadow," decided to do something about a couple of his "knuckleheads."

After five days and nights of few words, Maj. Frey barked, "Second Platoon, get in formation!"

The soldiers of 2nd Platoon ran from their stations in the fox holes and tents, scurried toward the headquarters tent and hastily formed a few ranks.

After days of dampness and some rain, the sun shown down through the woods of "Sherwood Forest" where 2nd Platoon gathered. A formation called by a major is rarely a nice thing. But they had been through "the wringer" and they were ready for whatever insult or cold appraisal might followed.

"Second Platoon leader, front and center! Second Platoon sergeant, front and center!" the Green Beret major ordered.

Peterlin and Arreguy rushed forward and locked their heels.

The Green Beret major, emerged from the shadows of the tent, surveyed them appraisingly from behind his coal black face paint. Then, he did something odd.

The major tore his "Ranger" tab insignia from his sleeve and placed it in the hands of the young lieutenant. The major tore another elite unit insignia from his other shoulder sleeve and placed it in the hands of Sgt. 1st Class Arreguy, a former Marine who studies Friedrich Nietzche and Joseph Campbell when he isn't running operations in the woods.

"I salute you," the major said. "I've met impressive soldiers. This is an impressive unit. You have my respect."

That was how the event was related to a reporter some hours after it occurred.

The next day, Peterlin and Arreguy were in front of their troops again, hearing Brig. Gen. Combs tell them about the mission that lies ahead for them.

"You are on an extraordinary journey," Combs said.

The soldiers of 1498th gave their own company's battle cry in unison. "Move out of the way!"

The general, in turn, gave the motto of the 49th Combat Support Command. He uttered one word, "Support ..."

"Victory!" the troops chorused back.

Then they marched toward a weekend that would involve a steak fry with friends and family, some of that beer and the anticipation of the work that lies ahead.

But for Arreguy and Peterlin, the meaning of the last weeks" training boiled down to that moment in the woods, with that small scrap of material placed in their hands by the lean and often silent observer, "The Shadow."

The young lieutenant grinned, "That moment was the highlight of my life. I cried."

And the hardened former Marine, Arreguy, also grinned. "It was the greatest moment of my life. I wept. I will never forget it."

They will carry that moment in the weeks and months ahead as they take their troops to "The Box.'

© 2009 Antelope Valley Press, Palmdale, California (661) 273-2700