My “Embedded Experience” in Gulf War 2
By Joe Caffrey, KSTP Cameraman

	Joe Caffrey on the left, then Blawhawk Piolot Wayne Price, and reporter Dean Staley in the Al Qa Qa Iraqi military base where our video was used with an IAEA investigation of explosives that had gone missing and made big news around the world just before the 2004 elections. Nearly sparking an October surprise.

"Lightning, lightning, lightning!" This was the scream from soldiers warning each other that a scud missile just launched by Saddam Hussein's Republican Army was heading in our direction at Base Camp Thunder in Southern Iraq one early morning in March 2003 during Gulf War 2.

"Boom, boom!" was the next explosive sound echoed by two Patriot missiles launched by the 101st Airborne in retaliation to intercept the scud and knock it out of the sky before it finds its target...our base camp.

KSTP reporter Dean Staley and I were scared, shaking, and silent as we lay in recently dug survival ditches around our tent. "There is a scud missile in the air, it is heading in our direction, keep your heads lower," was the command from Major Rob Hudson of the 101st. With our chemical suits and gas masks on, we held our breath in the ditch, arms wrapped around each other, waiting.

"Hey Joey, we're not in Kansas anymore," said Dean a few days earlier as heavy gusts from a shamal, or sandstorm, whipped winds over sixty miles per hour and tore tents down all around us. Donning goggles and bandanas to protect us from piercing sand, we scrambled to take cover from the storm, trying to shoot a news story in the process.

"You two are less of a priority than a box of MRE's," was the word from a field captain to Staley and me when we were left in a field outside Karbala, after following an infantry patrol from the 3rd ID. "You guys have to go it on your own if you want to get back to your unit. We can't help you. Maybe you can hitch-hike back to An Najaf. Watch out for Haji."

These are just few of many situations we experienced during our eleven weeks embedded with the military in Iraq. KSTP had secured a spot among 500 journalists from around the world to report from the war front. Our objectives: to tell stories of soldiers from our viewing areas, to record the military's every move, and to document the progress of the push to remove Saddam Hussein and his henchmen from Baghdad. It was an opportunity few local stations across the United Sates had, and we jumped at the chance to be there. It was a scoop for local TV.

With the assistance of classmate Paul Spika, we spent one week in Fort Campbell, Kentucky training for the trip. Paul, Dean, and I shot stories of the preparation. Paul helped get all the latest in videophone equipment ready for us, as well as other duties. Paul and I grew up together and played baseball under John Stevens. Paul was a great comfort to me, a friend who was nervously leaving wife Marion Slocum (WHS ‘77), daughters Jane and Carrie Jo, and son Danny behind in Edina.

Once in Iraq we quickly got a lesson in survival in the desert. First, stuff your boots inside each other at night so scorpions don't nest inside. Don't give away positions or mention assets or troop numbers in any of your reports. If you get an MRE (meal-ready-to-eat) with a burger, it's worth anything anyone wants to trade you for it. If you see red tracers, that's the bad guys shooting at you. The green tracers are ours, but watch out for “friendly fire.”

We were the lucky embeds. We were placed with a lift battalion consisting of Blackhawk, Chinook, and Apache helicopters. Others had to cross the country for days in tanks, Humvees, and trucks. Remember David Bloom, the reporter who died inside a tank because he was unable to move his legs and died from blood clots? Instead we could fly North in choppers to each base camp within hours. Although usually packed tight with soldiers and supplies, we, too, could not move in these cramped quarters; we were grateful for these speedy sorties. Our unit was to fly soldiers in – or, in Geraldo Rivera's case, out -- of Iraq. We were there interviewing Geraldo in the desert just moments before the Army kicked him out of the region for broadcasting troop positions. Geraldo seemed happy to be heading to Kuwait for a shower and a soft bed. We had a scoop on our hands, but he had the shower.

Joe Caffrey on the left with Blawhawk Pilot Russ Johnson, 101st Airborne, and Reporter Dean Staley at Camp Thunder outside of An Najaf, Iraq in February, 2003—the scud was launched at their position.

After weeks of live reports from different base camps, we received permission to report unilaterally by ourselves in Baghdad. We left the U.S. Army, accepted two rooms reserved for us by ABC News at the Sheridan Hotel, I took not one but two consecutive showers, and we reported for ten days on the other side of the war: the Iraqi people. It's here we learned of the atrocities of Saddam's regime. Where young women were kidnapped from the campus of Baghdad University, tortured, and killed. Where Saddam kept 95% of the oil money collected from the third largest oil reserve in the world, while kids lived in slum conditions drawing water from polluted holes in the ground, barely able to feed or clothe themselves. And where fathers and brothers were tired of waging war with Iran for the past thirty years. It was here that the Iraqi people told us they were glad Saddam was out of power, that all they wanted was security, and that they hoped the United States would leave their country one day. We were grateful to have the chance to tell both sides of the story in Iraq during our time over there.

"All clear, all clear," was the chant from the survival ditch back at Camp Thunder. One of the two Patriot missiles launched had knocked down the incoming scud. We could report on the success and morale boost that came to the 101st Airborne that day. The shamal season had ended and that meant no more severe sandstorms and no more eating dust. We eventually did hitch-hike on a bus full of peaceful Iraqis who treated us with courtesy and wonder as we wore Kevlar jackets and carried video cameras. We had heard two journalists were killed the same week we went freelancing around the country, and our unit thought Dean and I were dead.

In the end this experience was scary and exhilarating, because all you ever want as a journalist is access. We were able to bring soldier stories home to our viewers and were later thanked by family members for a glimpse of a brother, a daughter, or an uncle. Personally, there's not a lot I take for granted any longer. I squeeze my family a little tighter now. I don't worry if there's a mess in the kitchen. I am grateful to the professional soldier who does their job, although not convinced he should be over there and hopeful she can get home soon. We witnessed great character from the people in our stories, and will always remember the wonderful emails and care packages we received when our own morale was low. It was a moment in history which I will never forget.