Free The Bremer Detail by John M. Del Vecchio Frank Gallagher

windows. He still wanted to argue about it. Oh well, I said, it is my call and if you do not agree do you want a window seat or an aisle seat? The weapons stayed in the cars with the windows up from that point forward.
    I was still short two guys. Shrek, a former FAST Company (Fleet Anti-Terrorism Security) Marine, showed up and filled one of the holes. It was apparent that he had some experience, and he went to work almost immediately. We still had guys with gastrointestinal issues or upper respiratory infections from the never-ending dust. And the heat was a killer. And now another 10 percenter revealed himself. A former cop asked to speak to me. He told me that he had not signed up for this type of work, that he was used to eight-hour days, three meals per day, coffee breaks, and eight hours of sleep. I very sarcastically told him to organize a union and see what he could get arranged. I was faced now with sending another guy home, but in a stroke of clarity I decided to send him to the villa and replace him with a villa guy. The villa guy was ecstatic to be on the detail, and the weak sister could relax as he would no longer have to go into the Red Zone. The villa quickly became a place where I could hide the sick, lame, and lazy.
    Baghdad was a city that was one of the most extreme examples that I have ever seen of “haves” and “have-nots.” Saddam’s palaces were a garish testament to excess. Huge chandeliers, gold-plated fixtures in the bathrooms, fifty-foot cathedral ceilings, pictures of Hussein in every room. He spared no expense in making sure he had the best of everything. The citizens of Baghdad, on the other hand, lived in cement houses that had no sewage systems and no organized garbage pickup. Raw sewage ran from the houses into the streets; garbage was tossed in vacant lots. The smell, intensified by the heat, was oppressive. Electricity was a hit-or-miss proposition for the people. Forget about air-conditioning. Saddam had kept his foot firmly on the throats of his people while he enjoyed all the luxuries that he or anyone else could ever imagine. No wonder they hated him.

October 2003—THE LITTLE BIRDS ARRIVE
    About this time I got a call from Blackwater that my helicopters would be arriving in a few days. Once again I was faced with a logistical nightmare. I now needed housing for ten more people, and a place to park and be able to work on the “Little Birds.” I went to Ken H and asked him to get the process rolling. There was a helo landing zone (LZ Washington) in the Green Zone that would be perfect, but there was neither housing nor a hangar there. Ken went to Colonel Sabol and somehow between the two of them, they miraculously got trailers installed at the LZ, and construction on a hangar began.
    Six pilots, four mechanics, and the three MD-530 helicopters arrived. I met with the lead pilot. We talked about potential problems that might arise, and he assured me that due to his connections with the army air guys he could handle the issues. All the pilots in the first group were former TF-160 guys—The Night Stalkers. Most had considerable time working with Delta and the SEALs in support of spec-ops missions. Several were veteran pilots of the famous Somalia incident immortalized in the film Black Hawk Down . Most had retired from active duty after twenty years.
    It took a couple of days for the Little Birds to be assembled, op checked, and declared operational. The decision was made to use only two at any time, thus making sure we would always have a spare ready to go if one of them got hit or had a mechanical issue. Each bird had two pilots and room in the back for two shooters who might provide firepower and cover in the event the motorcade was hit.
    And then, as I anticipated and feared, some issues began to develop. Apparently a couple of the pilots never got the memo they were there to support the PSD team that was providing the security to the most-threatened man in the world. Several