A Soldier's Death on a Stunning Day in Iraq
He also warns them not to hold it against the Iraqi soldiers they are working so hard to train. "Our Iraqi brothers did everything they could today," he adds. The American soldiers agree that the Iraqi Army soldiers who had evacuated the U.S. soldier with the injured leg that day made it to the forward operating base in record time.
As everyone slowly streams out of the meeting trailer, the soldiers head for the dining hall, where everyone tonight sits on one side of the table, facing the large-screen television, eating mostly in silence, drinking mostly near-beers.
Whitten pats a napkin against his fat lip, which he smacked against the turret of the humvee during the frantic minutes after the explosion.
Later, Del Valle and Whitten head over to a little shop on their small base–nicknamed the Haji shop–where they play chess on a weather-worn white plastic lawn table. The shop's owner knows it has been a tough day for the team and makes them tea and brings warm bread. He also advises them against imprudent chess moves as the two play and talk about those first long seconds after the explosion.
"You know when you get the call that someone is hurt. You don't know who it was, but you know everyone in the group," says Del Valle, who has been in the Army for 22 years. "You hear over the radio, 'I need a medic! I need a medic!' And you think about your own family members, what they would do if you were hurt."
He had other thoughts, too. "A lot of the time there are multiple IEDs in one spot. I was thinking, 'Are we going to run over another one?' "
It's tough on the team, they say, in so many ways. "I'll tell you what," says Del Valle. "The more time we spend together—it's so hard." He looks at Whitten, who has become his chess partner and friend. "I think sometimes," Del Valle continues, as he stretches out his arm toward Whitten, "that I need to keep him away."
The closeness, the two agree, is daunting when you know you could lose someone so quickly. "I assume, the more time we spend here ...," begins Del Valle, and his voice trails off. "As a leader, we have to hide those emotions. Our soldiers cannot see them," he adds.
They talk about the soldier whom they lost that night, Sgt. Jay R. Gauthreaux, 26, of Thibodaux, La.
"He was such a happy person," Whitten says. "It was a running joke—how he would stay up all night, learning these systems."
Gauthreaux was in communications and had a great sense of humor. He was also a diehard fan of the New Orleans Saints.
"You start having flashbacks of your relationship with the guy," says Del Valle. "That was a great American."
They think, too, about what a soldier's death in Iraq means to people back home, whether anyone notices the daily losses.
"Our soldiers here are giving 100 percent for every American guy back in the States," says Del Valle. "It makes you wonder, does anybody really appreciate what that guy gave up today?" adds Whitten.
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