Most came home from war. Some didn’t.

Sergeant 1st Class Ronald Tanner Wood was one of them.

July 16th will mark 19 years from the day Ron Wood was killed in Iraq. I would like to share a little bit of Ron’s story, and the story of the Boys of Bravo Battery, who I was honored to be a part of.

Today is Part One.

Bravo Battery of the Utah Army National Guard out of Logan and Brigham City was, at the time, attached to the 1/148th Field Artillery Battalion with the Idaho National Guard. Bravo Battery of the Utah Army National Guard out of Logan and Brigham City was, at the time, attached to the 1/148th Field Artillery Battalion with the Idaho National Guard. We were part-time soldiers who left our homes and families to deploy to Iraq twenty years ago on July 3, 2004.

Our first stop was Fort Bliss in El Paso, Texas. We spent a few weeks in the Texas desert for additional combat training as we converted our skill set from Field Artillery to Infantry. In September, we transitioned to Fort Polk in Louisiana where we put all we had learned into practice, and discovered just how much we still had to learn.

We finally arrived in the Middle East on November 30, 2004. We staged in Kuwait before “crossing the berm” into Iraq mid-December. Our first area of operation was at FOB MacKenzie, a Forward Operating Base outside the city of Ad Dhuluiya just north of Bagdad in the Samara Region.

Within just a few days of our arrival we experienced the harsh realities of war. Two of our soldiers, Joe Acre and Gage Poulson, were wounded when insurgents attacked their convoy with an RPG, a shoulder-mounted Rocket Propelled Grenade. Fortunately, their wounds were minor and they were able to return to duty in a short time.

A Purple Heart is one medal no soldier wants to receive. Ever.

Our senses heightened, we continued our mission as December rolled by cold and wet. Christmas came with the blessing of talking with family, though cards and packages from home had yet to find us. They wouldn’t catch up to us for a couple more months. Christmas, personally, brought me the gift that opened my eyes and touched my heart. I’ve shared previously the story of the Iraqi shepherd who gave me the gift of realization that not every Iraqi was out to get us.

We prepared to be part of the historical first-ever free elections in Iraq as we transitioned into the New Year. On January 30, 2005, the Iraqi citizens turned out in droves to let their voices, and their votes, be heard. You may recall the “purple fingers” proudly sported by Iraqis as proof they voted.

The next day we packed up our gear, loaded up our Humvees and trucks, and headed north into the Kurdish Region of Iraq. Our unit split in two at that point, half going to Sulaymaniyah northwest of Kirkuk led by Commander Darcy Burt and 1st Sergeant Kevin Martinez. The other half, which I was part of, went to Dibis northeast of Kirkuk led by 1st Lt. Erick Wiedmeier and Sergeant 1st Class Rick Harley.

Our small base in Dibis was the former summer vacation home of the notorious Ali Hassan al-Majid, better known as Chemical Ali for his role in the use of chemical weapons to kill ethnic Kurds. Situated on the banks of the Little Zab River, a tributary of the Tigris, our base seemed a beautiful and quiet oasis from the hectic pace we left.

For the most part, our time in Dibis was relatively peaceful. Much of our time was spent training the Iraqi Army and patrolling the cities, villages and roads. We worked to get to know the local citizens, offering humanitarian aid, including medical clinics and water wells. We worked with the local government including our commander regularly attending city council meetings.

One regular bright spot was provided to us by “Mr. Kabob,” a local contractor who helped with projects on and off base. He earned his affectionate nickname by grilling kabobs for our entire crew every few weeks. Mr. Kabob told me it was his way of giving back to the Americans who gave so much to his country. Mr. Kabob and I developed a unique friendship. He personally touched my life by surprising me with two ceremonial outfits his wife made for my daughters, Rebecca and Leslie, who were 9 and 7 at the time.

There was one stark exception to the peace in Dibis. The oil and gas pipelines crisscrossing the Kurdish region above ground were often a target of insurgents. When an IED was discovered we would cordon off the area to keep civilians and military safe. An EOD (Explosive Ordinance Disposal) Team would then come in to dismantle and dispose of the explosive. Not long after we arrived in Dibis one of the pipelines exploded creating a massive fireball we could see from our base several miles away. On another day, a complex IED had been discovered on an oil pipeline. The Northern Oil Company of Iraq lost a four-man EOD team that day when a secondary IED went off while they dismantled the primary. It was a blunt reminder of the many people paying a high price for the cause they believed in.

While preparing to deploy to Iraq, our battalion chaplain Major John Worster, a Catholic Priest from Idaho, encouraged us to find out our reason for going. “Uncle Sam has ordered you to go,” he said. “But you need to find your own reason.” His purpose became the hope of being a small part of creating a more peaceful world for the children of his parish.

My reason for deploying found purpose in Operation Crayon. Working with donated school supplies from our local Cache Valley community, we reached out to make a difference in the lives of the Iraqi children. Operation Crayon allowed us to generate wonderful smiles on the children and some goodwill with their parents.

When we would pull into a village, often one very impoverished, the children would come running up, shouting, “Mister! Mister! Chocolatte! Chocolatte!” To them, “chocolatte” meant candy of any kind. They loved the desks we provided, the crayons, paper, and pencils, and the candy of course. Soccer balls, “football” to them, were the requisite favorite.

The young girl standing next to me in the picture above is Junea. Of all the children we met, Junea is the one I’ve deliberately remembered, hanging on to the hope our time in her country made a better life for her and her family. Despite all that has happened in the last twenty years, I have not lost that hope.

An Islam Iman meditates before offering a chanting prayer at the FOB Dibis Transfer Ceremony.We wrapped up our mission in Dibis on May 30, 2005. On that day we turned over the Dibis base to the Iraqi Army in a dignified Transfer of Authority ceremony. Local and military dignitaries spoke, a Muslim Imam prayed, and Iraqi school children sang. I watched in honor as an Iraqi soldier smartly and with dignity saluted the rising of his country’s flag.

Our communication with the Iraqi people was greatly aided by local Iraqi interpreters. Emad, Ayad, and Jamie were three who worked with us, often at personal risk to themselves and their families. Emad Sh Sharif and I became close friends. We came from different worlds and cultures, yet found a brotherhood of love and respect. We are still brothers today, and still keep in touch.

We transitioned from Dibis and Sulaymaniyah to the city of Kirkuk. At this point, we were back together as a full unit. Our mission remained much the same as before, patrolling cities, villages, and securing roads and highways. We also picked up the “Hey You” mission, meaning whenever the higher-up brass needed something done, we were there to do it!

We didn’t always like the “Hey You” missions, but we did them. That’s what soldiers do. That’s what Ron Wood and the men of 3rd Platoon were doing on the ill-fated day of July 16, 2005.

Tune in next week for Part 2 of the Boys of Bravo Battery.

❤️❤️❤️

Have a great Monday! Thanks for letting me share.

I Love You, friend!

Les Patterson

p.s. Take 13 minutes today to understand why history shared from another person’s perspective matters. 

Author’s Note: Whenever one attempts to share a piece of history, that history will always be shared through the eyes of the author. Stated facts are given as best as I can recall or support through my personal journals, notes, and pictures. All pictures were taken by me except where noted.

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