Read Online The Bremer Detail by John M. Del Vecchio Frank Gallagher - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John M. Del Vecchio Frank Gallagher
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apparently not done well during the selection process but was sent over anyway because he could speak Arabic. I was told he was to be used strictly as an interpreter, and I assigned him to Scotty H, who was in charge of the advance team. Scotty was a retired, no-nonsense SEAL I truly respected. He is one of the best men I have worked with anywhere in the world. He ran a tight ship and did an excellent job despite the short run-up to going operational.
We had certain rules that everyone had to follow. We all had to wear collared shirts whenever we were out on a mission. No thigh holsters, no ball caps, no full beards. I wanted us to present a professional appearance in keeping with Ambassador Bremer’s status as the presidential envoy. There were a lot of other PSD teams running around looking like an advertisement for Soldier of Fortune magazine. That was not going to be us. There was even a guy who walked around the palace wearing a three-quarter-length leather duster with a sword strapped to his back. He was not with us or part of us.
The interpreter—my first problem child of many to follow—approached me one afternoon after he had an argument with Ski (a former SEAL now running the operational side for me) and stated that he had “more combat experience than anyone else” on the team and wanted to be a shooter assigned to the detail. I laughed and told him it would never happen. He said he was going to call Blackwater and complain. I told him to be my guest, and offered him my phone. I then told him if he could not get with the program he would soon have one of two choices—an aisle or window seat back to the United States. He stormed off muttering.
The very next mission we ran this guy showed up in a black T-shirt and with a ball cap on his head. As luck would have it the ambassador spotted him immediately and gruffly asked me if he was one of mine. FUCK ME! I got Scotty on the radio and told him to have the guy disappear, and that we’d deal with it when we got back to the palace. We got back and I told Ken H (my chief Ops/support guy) to start the process to get rid of him.
Firing a man in the war zone presented some unique obstacles. One: There were no commercial flights, so getting someone out of the country took about three days to arrange while we coordinated with the Air Force to find a seat available for the screwup. And believe me, the Air Force was busy as hell transporting people who were far more important to the war effort, as well as wounded people and soldiers. Dealing with a Blackwater headache was not high priority. Two: These guys had access to weapons, and we were never sure how one would react to being fired.
Ken looked at me and we both laughed as we really had no idea on how to make this happen. But Ken was an extremely smart guy. He never took no for an answer, and always killed everybody with kindness. And he always got what we needed when we needed it. To this day, I will never know how he accomplished all that he did. He was a trusted ally and an invaluable member of the team.
Ken went to work on the issue, and said he had secured a seat on an Air Force C-130 for the guy to Amman in three days. I called Blackwater and told them they needed to get this guy a plane ticket to his home of record from Amman and they said they would. The program manager back in Moyock was not happy with me over his firing. This would be the beginning of many attempts by this guy sitting back stateside to question my decisions, or to interfere with running the detail, even though he had no idea what was the in-country ground truth.
Now I had to figure out what to do with this renegade for three days. I did not want a disgruntled employee wandering around with weapons, and I certainly did not want him embarrassing me again. The decision was made to let him continue working until the departure date. I held my breath and my tongue each day. I was embarrassed and disgusted at the same time.
On the day he left
We had certain rules that everyone had to follow. We all had to wear collared shirts whenever we were out on a mission. No thigh holsters, no ball caps, no full beards. I wanted us to present a professional appearance in keeping with Ambassador Bremer’s status as the presidential envoy. There were a lot of other PSD teams running around looking like an advertisement for Soldier of Fortune magazine. That was not going to be us. There was even a guy who walked around the palace wearing a three-quarter-length leather duster with a sword strapped to his back. He was not with us or part of us.
The interpreter—my first problem child of many to follow—approached me one afternoon after he had an argument with Ski (a former SEAL now running the operational side for me) and stated that he had “more combat experience than anyone else” on the team and wanted to be a shooter assigned to the detail. I laughed and told him it would never happen. He said he was going to call Blackwater and complain. I told him to be my guest, and offered him my phone. I then told him if he could not get with the program he would soon have one of two choices—an aisle or window seat back to the United States. He stormed off muttering.
The very next mission we ran this guy showed up in a black T-shirt and with a ball cap on his head. As luck would have it the ambassador spotted him immediately and gruffly asked me if he was one of mine. FUCK ME! I got Scotty on the radio and told him to have the guy disappear, and that we’d deal with it when we got back to the palace. We got back and I told Ken H (my chief Ops/support guy) to start the process to get rid of him.
Firing a man in the war zone presented some unique obstacles. One: There were no commercial flights, so getting someone out of the country took about three days to arrange while we coordinated with the Air Force to find a seat available for the screwup. And believe me, the Air Force was busy as hell transporting people who were far more important to the war effort, as well as wounded people and soldiers. Dealing with a Blackwater headache was not high priority. Two: These guys had access to weapons, and we were never sure how one would react to being fired.
Ken looked at me and we both laughed as we really had no idea on how to make this happen. But Ken was an extremely smart guy. He never took no for an answer, and always killed everybody with kindness. And he always got what we needed when we needed it. To this day, I will never know how he accomplished all that he did. He was a trusted ally and an invaluable member of the team.
Ken went to work on the issue, and said he had secured a seat on an Air Force C-130 for the guy to Amman in three days. I called Blackwater and told them they needed to get this guy a plane ticket to his home of record from Amman and they said they would. The program manager back in Moyock was not happy with me over his firing. This would be the beginning of many attempts by this guy sitting back stateside to question my decisions, or to interfere with running the detail, even though he had no idea what was the in-country ground truth.
Now I had to figure out what to do with this renegade for three days. I did not want a disgruntled employee wandering around with weapons, and I certainly did not want him embarrassing me again. The decision was made to let him continue working until the departure date. I held my breath and my tongue each day. I was embarrassed and disgusted at the same time.
On the day he left
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