On Nov. 6, 2004, NATO forces launched an assault on Falluja, a city north of Baghdad that had become a magnet for Sunni insurgent forces. Thomas Brennan, then a 19-year-old Marine Corps lance corporal, was one of the infantrymen with First Battalion, Eighth Marine Regiment who would participate in the attack. The battalion suffered numerous casualties in the battle, one of the bloodiest for American forces since Vietnam. Now a journalism student, Mr. Brennan recalls the battle with the help of some of the Marines and sailors he fought beside.
Grains of sand floated through motionless air as beams of light crept through sandbagged windows. Young men sat mesmerized by the words echoing from walls scarred by years of war.
Through cigarette smoke and desert confetti, Doug Bahrns, who was then a Marine second Lieutenant, exuded confidence and trepidation as he explained over two hours the details of our mission and what should happen when — not if — we were wounded. He paused often, gazing into the darkness above our heads. He knew he wouldn’t bring us all home.
Now a major assigned to Marine Corps Base Quantico in Virginia, Major Bahrns recalled recently the weight he felt leading Marines “into such a large-scale fight where it was inevitable someone was going to get killed.”
“Nov. 10, 2004, is one of the most significant days of my life, changing not only my life, but other’s lives,” Major Bahrns said. “It put into perspective life, death and the brotherhood within military service. That was the first day, alongside my fellow Marines, that I truly felt I’d cemented my place among them.”
Ten years ago, roughly 13,500 American, British and Iraqi forces attacked Falluja, Iraq, where roughly 4,000 insurgents fought from trenches, tunnels and houses, using improvised explosive devices, rifles, rockets and machine guns. During the 46-day battle, roughly 2,000 insurgents were killed and 1,500 captured. By Dec. 23, 107 members of coalition forces had died and 613 were wounded. Alongside Lieutenant Bahrns, in Alpha Company, First Battalion, Eighth Marine Regiment, 17 died and 102 were wounded. It was the heaviest urban combat since the 1968 Battle of Hue City during the Vietnam War.
Before Lieutenant Bahrns’s first sunset in Falluja, he screamed for a corpsman to save his good friend, First Lt. Daniel T. Malcolm. Lieutenant Malcolm loved to study military tactics as much as he loved playing chess, which to him was yet another way he could train his mind to defeat an opponent. If life were a brilliancy — a deeply strategic chess match — he made his a brevity, which is winning a chess game in 25 moves — his age when he was killed in action.
I regret playing chess with Lieutenant Malcolm only once. After four months of convoys as his driver, I struggle now that I didn’t allow myself to hurt when he died. I was never lucky enough to befriend the man I admired most.
Sgt. Billy Leo is everything I imagine a Bronx native to be – crude and opinionated with a hair trigger, once tearing my “Yankees Suck” T-shirt from my body. I can’t count how many times he pointed out my mistakes, but I cherish the times he gave me his approval.
“Falluja got the better of me once I came home. I really missed it even though it sucked,” said Mr. Leo, a 37-year-old New York City firefighter. “There isn’t one day where I don’t think about that battle.”
“It was a lot of adrenaline,” he added. “Nothing will ever give you that feeling again.”
Mike Ergo, then a corporal, admired Sergeant Leo’s leadership and feared wearing Red Sox attire. November, for Mr. Ergo, is no longer a month he avoids. His daughter Adeline was born on Nov. 4, 2010, and his career providing peer support to other veterans led him to pursue a master’s degree in clinical social work.
Working as a counselor at the Department of Veterans Affairs Vet Center in Concord, Calif., has helped him “come home.” Battling guilt, loss and grief for years, Mr. Ergo credits his career with helping him overcome living with the loss of life, both American and Iraqi.
“I’d do it all again, even if I knew I wouldn’t agree with the political reasons or if I knew all of the fighting wouldn’t bring peace to the region,” said Mr. Ergo, 31. “The level of love and commitment we have for our fellow Marines means that you’ll go through hell with them not wanting to trade places with anyone.”
Fighting alongside us in First Platoon was Staff Sgt. Adam Banotai. In his squad of 17, he watched 11 Marines become casualties. His platoon earned 37 Purple Heart medals and five awards for valor.
“It petrifies me that I made a decision that was based off of my feelings and not good tactical judgment,” said Mr. Banotai. “None of what my guys say makes me stop thinking I could have pushed them harder, saved them from shedding so much blood. Those men are my heroes.”
Since Nov. 26, 2004, Reinaldo Aponte, then a petty officer third class line corpsman, has felt pained when he remembered the Marine he could not save. He was pulled away from Lance Cpl. Bradley Faircloth’s body believing he had done his best. But replaying the situation in his mind since, he still wonders: Could he have done more?
“I didn’t look at any of the Marines. I was so angry, screaming incoherently. I cried, feeling like I’d let my squad down,” said Mr. Aponte, now 31, of Milwaukee. “I was scared they wouldn’t trust me anymore. I didn’t want them to be afraid to call on me as their corpsman. I needed to remain a part of the squad. I was afraid of losing all of them because I lost Brad.”
As the chaplain for our battalion, Lt. Dennis Cox spent hours with us discussing our concerns. He tried to justify killing the enemy. He prayed for each of us. He wiped tears from our eyes. He cleaned the blood from the faces of our fallen. He too, cannot stop reliving our battle.
He is now a commander in the Chaplain Corps at Naval Station Norfolk in Virginia. “When they die, a part of you goes with them,” Commander Cox said. “We smell something, we see something, we hear something and it triggers something we were doing 10 years ago.”
Over the years, Commander Cox has stayed in touch with the families of our fallen. Just like us, he considers them family. For him, it’s a painful reminder of how much they lost.
Kathleen Faircloth knew what to expect. Her son, Bradley, was wounded twice before the second battle of Falluja. Marines standing in their dress uniforms at her front door meant only one thing. For 10 years, she hasn’t showed anger toward our platoon. Instead, she is glad we remember her son. As long as his memory is alive, she said, she will find happiness.
“I lost a son, but I gained children across the country. I know that if I ever needed anything, they would do anything they could to help me,” said Ms. Faircloth, now 50, of Fairhope, Ala. “I hope they find peace in their heart, because seeing them miserable isn’t how I want to see them.”
Whether still in uniform or having moved on to a different chapter of our lives, remembering is something we can’t fail to do. While some have a memorial in Massachusetts, Alabama or at The Citadel, some veterans of Falluja remember each of their fallen brethren through writing, by advocating for the Iraqi families we displaced, or by displaying the noble and true face of our generation.
In the last 10 years, we’ve lost sons, brothers, wives and children, struggling to maintain our own sanity and even after many failed attempts, we continue helping one another from becoming part of the suicide epidemic. Some of us, much like in Falluja, are still bounding house-to-house, searching for something we left behind and a way to evade what we brought home.
Thomas James Brennan is studying investigative journalism at Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism. Before being medically retired in 2012, he was a sergeant in the Marine Corps who served in Iraq and Afghanistan with the First Battalion, Eighth Marines. He is a member of the Military Order of the Purple Heart and the recipient of a 2013 Dart Center honorable mention and the 2014 American Legion Fourth Estate Award. Follow him on Twitter: @thomasjbrennan
An earlier version of a subheading with this post incorrectly said which year NATO forces launched an assault on Falluja, Iraq.