Read Online The Bremer Detail by John M. Del Vecchio Frank Gallagher - Free Book Online

drills, and to unwind and get to know one another. Bird and I decided to throw a party. We really knew nothing about the guys on the team, and I did not want anything stupid to happen this early in the game, so we had it at the Al Rasheed pool not at the palace. We grabbed six guys, grabbed our weapons, put on our body armor, and headed to downtown Baghdad to buy some adult beverages. In downtown Baghdad there were a few stores that sold liquor, and somehow Bird knew where they were and what types of beverages were available at each. It was always the same routine. Drive up, jump out, establish a security perimeter around the vehicles, dash in, quickly order what we wanted, and dash back to the vehicles. Total time on station was usually less than five minutes. Then we’d race back to the Green Zone. Of course, we always made sure that if anyone outside our team wanted something we would also get it for them. Eventually we became the go-to guys for many Green Zone workers who had no access to vehicles or a way to get outside. We were a full-service, happy, and friendly bunch.
    We returned and talked the guys at the chow hall into giving us some ice, which was always in extremely short supply. Then we headed over to the Al Rasheed. As luck would have it quite a few people accepted our invitation. All told there were probably twenty-five of our guys, an additional twenty from other groups, and a handful of women. As the party reached its zenith everyone eventually wound up in the pool. The shirts came off, then the shorts. The ladies present got a lot of attention.
    Type A personalities in a war zone are driven by many things. One is survival. I knew these guys would fight to the death if they needed to. They were tough, in top shape, and had great skill sets honed over the course of impressive careers. The other overwhelming drive they had was driven by testosterone. They were men, and men like women. Some guys were married, some divorced, most had kids, but all wanted female companionship. They were very intelligent and had the “A” game that emboldened them to say and do most anything in the pursuit of a woman. Interestingly, many times they were not the hunters but the prey. The war zone equally drew type A ladies.
    Nudity in our world is not a big deal. Special operations guys have few or no hang-ups about their bodies. Guys get naked at the drop of a hat. Sometimes in somewhat awkward situations—because they think it might be funny, or they just feel like it, or someone dares them—next thing you know there’s a naked dude sitting right next to you. We just laugh because it’s a pretty normal thing for us. For others, it can be a real turnoff. Fortunately, the women who joined us for our get-togethers had no issues with it. The next thing I knew they were down to bras and thongs.
    The party shaped up nicely, but I was very apprehensive about it getting out of hand. As the sun went down I suggested we retreat to Blackwater Boulevard. We loaded up the remaining beer and liquor and as many of the guys we could find, and back to the palace grounds we went.
    Because Bird and I had moved in before there was even a thought of Blackwater taking over the PSD duties, our trailer was directly behind the palace and about five hundred yards from the Boulevard. I cruised over to my trailer, put on some dry clothes, and headed back to the guys. When I arrived, the party had grown from just us to more than seventy-five people. The music was blasting and the laughter was even louder. Everyone was getting along fine. Bonding with the team and relaxing had been a good idea. Everyone got to know each other a little better, and I was hopeful that this was harbinger of good things to come.
    In most groups there is a 10 percent factor that does not belong or cannot get along with the other 90 percent. This will always remain a mystery to me. The day after the party the bullshit started. We had a guy assigned to the team who had