Jennifer Wellington
female Apache AH-64D Helicopter pilot
Jennifer Wellington does a preflight check on her Apache AH-64D
Embed Report: The Final Hours - Newsweek The War in Iraq - MSNBC.com
March 19 - On the last night of peace, the Apache pilots and mechanics of Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 101st Aviation Brigade threw a party. It was St. Patrick's Day, or near enough, and Chief Warrant Officer Sherman Hartley had just learned he was going to be a father.
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There was another excuse for the revelry, too. The poster announcing the party was taped over the detailed maps of Charlie Company's first targets inside Iraq. At the top of the placard someone had scrawled a more sobering message in incongruously cheery multicolored crayon: WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE, it proclaimed. The pilots sat around their tent playing poker or drinking games, on their cots, sucking down nonalcoholic Budweisers as an MP3 player blared rock music through portable speakers.
Around 9:30 an officer came in and gave them the warning: the Navy was going to launch missiles at 4 a.m. local time (8 p.m. EST)—as soon as President George W. Bush's 48-hour deadline to Saddam Hussein had expired. The troops were told to place their gas masks and chemical-protection suits next to their cots so they could get into them quickly in case of a Scud-missile attack.
In the end, the first strike took place some 90 minutes later. In the first sign that the U.S.-led offensive had begun, antiaircraft fire began lighting up the skies over the deserted streets of early morning Baghdad. But for the soldiers in this battalion, the initial news that H-Hour was at 4 a.m. was met with groans of disappointment by most of the card players. They had formed a pool on when the air war would begin, and the losers would have to kick in to buy beer when they returned to the States. There was some hopeful talk that a malfunction would delay the launch, and thus change the winner of the pool, but they swiftly returned to their card game.
"As you can see, we're all pretty nervous about this," joked Chief Warrant Officer Jennifer Wellington, 31, one of the company's instructor pilots, as she tossed cards on the dusty cot. But perhaps it was just bravado. "I just wish we could fast-forward to when we launch," said Chief Warrant Officer Steve Hunter.
This battalion is no stranger to conflict. Its Apache gunships fired the first shots of the last gulf war 12 years ago, and the pilots would have preferred to fire the first in this one. Instead, they have to settle for waking up early to go outside in the moonlit desert to try to spot the armada of aircraft that will be forming up high over their heads, or the cruise missiles streaking over at a few hundred feet. When the Air Force, Navy and Marines have finished their high-level bombardments, then it will be Charlie Company's turn. They may be making merry, but they're not under any illusions about the risks