Comics and Combat: Becoming Superman

March 2004, an Arabic man stands in an alley in Fallujah, Iraq. In his arms he was cradling an RPG. He and about thirty of his friends, who were also hiding, were waiting for their prey, a convoy of civilian contractors that routinely rode through their city. The convoy turned on to the main road and the Iraqis waited. At the right moment they let go with everything. The out gunned contractors did their best, but couldn’t last long against the RPG’s and small arms fire raining down on them from all sides. They were killed and four of their bodies were burned and dragged by a mob to a bridge where they were hung for the world to see.

I was ten miles away on a patrol base. I had just arrived in country a few weeks earlier. As a Lance Corporal with two and a half years in the Marines I was transferred to the 1st Marine Division just in time to go to Iraq to fight the insurgents and get what I wanted when I enlisted, combat! I had to be patient. As the days turned into weeks the dream began to fade and I focused on the dull tasks of a Lance Corporal; cleaning the office, answering the phone, and standing gear watch.

While standing phone watch in my office, my friend Huesdens walked in talking about the event that just happened and I still knew nothing about. He was a tall lanky guy with a birth mark on the back of his neck that looked like a bad sunburn. We had been friends since we were stationed in Okinawa at the 3rd Marine Division. I over heard him talking to no-one in particular, “…the hajji’s just attacked a civilian convoy.”

“Huh, where? Today?” I was confused that stuff happened a lot in the Sunni Triangle. I didn’t know what made this news so important.

As we were talking my boss, Sergeant Rainey, a black man with a shaved head who physically had more in common with a semi-truck than other people walked in the office. He had news for me too, “Cook, I was at the COC, they need a team to go to 2/1.That’s gonna be your team. Tomorrow you’re going to hop on a convoy to their camp, and then report to Lt. Deda.” His voice sounded like the low rumble of a diesel engine which fit his appearance perfectly. I didn’t realize it at the time, but these two pieces of news would put on a path with destiny.