The memory of that day…

A bitter-sweet nostalgia came over me when I realized It’s been a year since we said our farewells and laid Casey to rest in Arlington; Hearing his voice in this interview, took me back to a time before Casey was injured. We had rooms next to each other; and drank many beers together; Casey was a wild man, and no matter if we were in Vegas or Iraq he made life more enjoyable.

In late August 2004 Casey and I’ battalion deployed to Iraq for our 2nd tour. Casey was my vehicle commander, I was his gunner; we were a pretty good team, we butted heads from time to time, but we both loved being in CAAT, flying around in humvees shooting shit up with machine guns and missiles… On this deployment Casey and I’ platoon is tasked with being a quick reaction force for other units in the area that need support, we are smack dab controlling the Iraq/Syrian border entry point; but primarily we were the 911 for anyone who needed help in the area.

Sept 15, while out on a ‘routine’ patrol, the vehicle behind me is struck with a rocket. I remember hearing a POP then a Boom simultaneously and had no clue what had just happened. I was in the turret on the .50cal and when I looked behind me I saw a cloud of smoke and the humvee crash into a parked car. A moment later I hear Corpsman UP! Doc Christian Perez is sitting next to my feet in the back seat and I scream down and repeat the call for Doc who had sprung into action before I could even mutter the words.

A small plume of smoke drifted in the calm morning air and all seemed silent.

As I looked back at the vehicle and assessed my surroundings. We were in a crowded market, surrounded by vehicles and people. I had several dozen vehicles stopped in front of me, I dialed in my .50 to windshield/face height just hoping a MFer would. I hear a couple warning shots behind me get fired off to back people up off us.. The rocket was a remotely fired IED. Never caught the guys that laid it.

The driver Mickey Uhles suffered substantial trauma to his legs, and groin areas severing both femoral arteries. Doc did a hell of a job on tourniquets, and Casey and the other Marines then loaded Mickey into a humvee. Casey, takes off on his own, to get Mickey to the bird before he bleeds out; doing 70mph+ through 1.5km of hostile market. Casey risked his life above and beyond and got Mickey to the bird while he was still conscious; we all had high hopes.

I remember when Doc got back in the vehicle, his hands were covered in blood, I looked down at him and he looked up at me. I asked who got hurt, is he gonna be ok? He just looked at me with a blank look and pale sweaty skin, Shook his head and mumbled, I don’t know. ‘Fuck’, is all I thought

I think the hardest part of my job, was having to hold security in these situations; because it meant I couldn’t be up there helping; I had to sit back and watch and wonder and secure the perimeter.

Mickey’s injuries were too overwhelming and he succumbed to his wounds on the chopper before he made it to surgery.

Casey is awarded the Bronze Star for his actions.

5 days later, Sept 20, less than 3 weeks into this 8 month deployment at this point, a call comes across the radio.
One of our Recon Marines has been shot in the face by a sniper, he is still alive.

Casey bursts into action; we all do. Marines, Gear and guns are flying to the humvees. Casey, being one of the most experienced CAAT guys realizes many of the guys we hadn’t had much time to train with didn’t really know where to go in the vehicles; guys didn’t know who was driving and who was riding where. So as I jumped into my machine gun and loaded up, Casey stood at the doorway of the hooches directing every Marine that came out, telling them which position they needed to be in; When we’re almost ready to roll out the gate, I scream at Casey; “I don’t have a vehicle commander, get in my truck!” He doesn’t hear me and I repeat 4-5 times. He finally screams back, “I’m taking the Hi-back, someone else has got it” and we rolled out the gate to go find our guys, never realizing it would be the last thing Casey remembers until he wakes up in a hospital. This all occurred in about 60 seconds or less from the time the call came to the time were rolling out the gate.

I was pissed Owens wasn’t in my truck; Casey was my right seat man; The reality of it was I was scared and his experience, confidence, and leadership gave me comfort. My first tour in Iraq didn’t scare me, we didn’t lose anyone, we weren’t getting attacked. This time was different and I felt like my hands were tied behind my back to boot.

I remember weaving our way through dusty market alleys, working our way North through the dense city streets enroute to transport a wounded comrade to a medivac site. There was a chopper in the air enroute.

As we approached, a different platoon had beat us to the scene in Tracks and had already secured the site; no longer needing our services, the call was made to return to base. We jumped up onto a dirt two track about 1000-500m from the Syrian border and head towards it. I’m manning the grenade launcher on the 2nd or 3rd vehicle in the patrol, were out of the city now, it is South of us a few hundred meters and were cruising along, a dusty hot breeze in my face at about 20-25mph

The next thing I realize, BOOM, I felt like I got hit by a train(analogy based imagination not experience). I couldn’t see anything but an orangish yellow cloud, I couldn’t hear anything but my ears ringing. As I started to regain my composure; debris, chunks of tire, metal, etc… began to rain down on me, the yellow cloud slowly began to dissipate. When I could finally see my hand in front of my face, I realized we’d been blown up, but I still couldn’t see or hear anything.

As the other marines in my vehicle began to appear through the haze we all shook each other and rogered up to our ‘being ok’. I was convinced the front of my humvee was blown off. After a few minutes the dust cloud faded away enough, as did the fogginess in my brain, and the scene before me became more evident.

My vehicle was fine, I was fine. The vehicle in front of me hit a double stacked anti-tank mine. At least 80lbs of explosive buried in the road.

Marines begin to appear through the remaining dust cloud, they had already moved in and began to aid the injured before I realized what had happened, there was at least 5 other Marines in the truck that had been thrown out, When the air finally cleared I could see the vehicle in front of me thrown off the left side of the road, there was debris everywhere.

There was one very large black object laying in the middle of the road.

I remember watching half a dozen marines running around the vehicle and then watching one kneel down next to the large hunk of debris in the middle of the road. Then 2 and 3 more marines kneel down and surround it. It was Casey. He was pitch black from my POV, I thought he was a tire.

One leg was gone, one mangled, something like 200 shrapnel wounds throughout his body, his throat was sliced. He was right on top of the blast.

Meanwhile the original medivac chopper is landing in a field 500yds behind me, picking up Sgt Herrington to expedite him back to surgery for his gunshot wound to the head. He doesn’t make it.

We hold our position and work on Casey while we wait for a second medivac bird. Let me tell you it’s absolute hell to sit in the turret, watching everyone else apply first aid while you’re stuck behind a machine gun with no one to shoot.

Casey ultimately loses both legs, yet makes a remarkable recovery; however, he was never able to live a comfortable life. His passion for skiing and being a general wild man got him through 10yrs post injury, but Constant pain, dozens of surgeries(he was running out of leg to amputate it had been amputated so many times), and alcoholism took its toll.

Casey finally had enough and took matters into his own hands. A part of me can’t blame him, I can’t rule out that I wouldn’t do the same if I was in his shoes.

The Marines in this interview have all lived a valiant life and our nation is indebted to them for their sacrifices. I’m humbly honored and proud to have walked among them and to call them brothers.

Semper Fi

Lance Corporal Jerome Smith
USMC, Retired