A marine at war.

• Author: Douglas, Jason
• Position: Journal Entry - Persian Gulf War narrative - Column

Now that U.S. Marines have been dispatched to Somalia, I've been thinking about the Corps' last great mission - the one in which I had a part. Some call the Persian Gulf war "the most efficiently executed war in history," but my impression is that there was a great difference between the war presented by the media to the American people and the war experienced by me and my fellow Marines. Perhaps my recollections will help lend some perspective to the news from Somalia.

December 5, 1990

Our Reserve unit was transported to Camp Pendleton, California, in preparation for service in Saudi Arabia. For many of us, the twenty-seven-hour flight to Al Jubail was the most difficult trip we had ever embarked on. We were confused and scared. We had no idea what would be awaiting us when we got off the plane. Even the flight attendants were upset; some of them cried as we disembarked.

From our desert landing field we were carried to a temporary camp. As a rule, Marines are given three days to acclimate themselves to their surroundings, but here we were told that because of impending U.S. air strikes and possible Iraqi retaliation, we would be split from our company the next day and sent where we would be most needed. Seven of us were dispatched to join the 7th Engineer Support Battalion, just fourteen miles south of the Kuwaiti border, well within range of Iraqi artillery and light missiles.

January 14, 1991

When we reached the 7th Engineers' compound at the port of Musshab, what impressed me most was the overwhelming desolation of the place. I felt we were weak and expendable pawns in a huge game of chess. This feeling stayed with me throughout the war.

January 17, 1991

At 0200 hours, U.S. and other U.N. forces launched an air attack on Iraqi detachments in Kuwait, as well as on strategic targets in Iraq. Two other Marines and I were on guard duty. At 0230, a green-and-red flare - a warning of a chemical attack - lit up the night sky. We put on our gas masks and waited. Many felt ill, and some vomited in their masks. Though it turned out that there had been no attack that night, we were all sure we had fallen victim to nerve-gas - and, in a sense, I suppose we had. It was the kind of fear we would experience every day.

January 27, 1991

For me, this was probably the worst day of my life. While peering through the blowing sand and dust through which our convoy was proceeding from Musshab to Kabrith, I saw a Saudi-five-ton truck collide with an American...