'People make movies about stories like this'

This story is based on true events that happened to me. I have protected the actual name of my travelling companion as he is not aware of this story. As I have retold this tale, many have remarked that it could be the subject of a movie. Maybe, maybe not. You be the judge.

As the rockets and bombings continued into March 2020, alarms and sirens going off nearly nightly, my upcoming leave back home became more and more appealing. A few weeks away from the chaos would give me the mental and physical break I needed so I could return to Baghdad refreshed and ready to finish the mission.

Just how intense was the mission up to that point? Enough that an evacuation order was given months earlier in the tour. Then, I was standing on the U.S. Baghdad Embassy landing zone well into the night waiting for military transport helicopters to take about 180 of us at a time out of the Baghdad chaos. In that operation, I was exhausted, lugging more than a hundred pounds of gear while fighting excruciating back spasms and a lack of sleep. As we finally lifted off into the darkness, my relief was quickly replaced by terror. I felt the blood drain from my body. Self-defence flares launched from our ride, indicating an immediate threat. We were about to be hit by a missile, which would certainly cause most, if not all, of our lives to be extinguished. The soldier opposite me saw my face and I saw his. In that moment, we said goodbye without exchanging a word. Seconds later, we were still there, looking at each other. Despite the real flares, the incoming missile remained a figment of my imagination, something drawn up to explain my predicament. I smiled and laughed, as did the soldier across from me. That is how we handled the moment. That is how I have handled dozens of those moments throughout my military career. All I could do was laugh. Showing fear was not a viable option.

After that evacuation, I was one of the first people flown back into Baghdad. Flying with me was my team mate, a Croatian veteran of the brutal war that destroyed Yugoslavia. I watched videos of him in action and he and I had grown to know and respect each other during our time on this operation. He was also assigned as close protection detail for a Croatian President. I could not have asked for a better battle buddy.

While being back in Baghdad was exhilarating, the feeling started to fade a short while later as the reality of the new situation set in. Things were not much improved. The blood-draining feeling I had in the helicopter became a near-daily occurrence for me. The continuing rocket and mortar attacks, as well as the ever-present threat of an enemy hidden inside our base, was taking its toll on me. At one point I even stopped running to the sandbag-covered concrete bunkers when the alarms went off. What difference did it make it I died in my bed or on the way to the bunker? Home was going to give me a welcomed break.

***

The journey home started a few days before my actual flight out of Iraq. With potential changes to schedules, it was prudent to bank time. The first stop in the journey was that same U.S. Baghdad Embassy. It was the target of numerous attacks and in order to increase its protection, hundreds of combat-ready American troops arrived overnight in our little neck of the woods. The embassy was just across the road but outside our protective walls, so a convoy was mounted to get us there safely.

Waiting around is normally quite boring, but a couple of helicopters conducting what appeared to be emergency landing exercises entertained us, that is until one of them apparently made a dangerous mistake. It hit the concrete in a way that sent it careening sideways. Luckily for everyone inside, the skids did not catch on anything, which saved a disastrous crash and potential casualties. Little did I know how much my journey would resemble that event.

About an hour later, our helicopters arrived to take us to Taji and an overnight stop before a Hercules transport would carry my travel partner Andy and I onward to Erbil. My journey out of Iraq and home would begin at Erbil International Airport. Flying directly out of Baghdad was ruled out since the risk to our safety was too high.

Taji was a sprawling military airbase outside Baghdad and home to thousands of international troops involved in various Iraqi military missions and operations. The environment there appeared much different than that of the International Zone. It reminded me a bit of my previous tour in Afghanistan when I worked in a military base in Kandahar City. Our base was small and surrounded by the city. In stark contrast, Kandahar airfield, or KAF, was the huge encampment outside the city where most troops were located. I wasn’t fond of KAF back then, and Taji gave me that same feeling. For me, it felt too disconnected from the reality of Baghdad. That perception was soon broken.

***

We heard the news on March 12, the day after we arrived in Erbil. 30 rockets had been fired at the Taji military base, killing three military members and injuring 14 others, some quite seriously. Andy knew one of those killed. We also heard of rockets hitting the offices of others we knew. Luckily, those offices were empty at the time. The whole event was yet another near miss for me, but I didn’t dwell on it or even give it too much thought. I tucked the incident away, not processing it, and focussed on the journey home. In Erbil, we walked around feeling like we were on a different planet. The city was calm, peaceful and shops welcomed us in. We had time to walk around and explore a bit, choosing to dine at a local Kurdish restaurant. The food was fantastic and the price could not be beat. I felt relaxed both inside and out. Unfortunately, that feeling proved short-lived.

An early morning meeting the next day delivered the new. Due to the escalation of attacks in Iraq, we were under threat and an evacuation of our base was being planned. Andy and I were dumbfounded. For me, it was yet another evacuation. Unbeknownst to us at the time, evacuation plans were also being made in Baghdad. The overall mission was changing again, as it had in January.

We had at least 10 hours before more clear direction would be given, or so we thought. After packing our things and having lunch, we headed to the lounge and began watching Green Book. The doors were thrown open about an hour later, interrupting the movie, as someone told us the evacuation order had changed. We were moving in an hour. Across the road lay Erbil International Airport and our flights home. Planting a seed, we asked the Base Commander what was going to happen with us since we were just hours from getting on a plane home. He told us to hang tight while he checked for any options. Before he could get back to us, an email and phone call to Andy's phone delivered unwelcome news. Our flights home were cancelled and we were being sent back into Baghdad. Shocked would be a good description of how we felt in that moment. While I am not one to question decisions made by my superiors, I questioned this one as I was unclear why we needed to go back to Baghdad. While answers were worked out, Andy and I got new orders: take our items and show up at a different base. We had no idea our own forces were housed there as we began to follow our latest orders. As we made our way, we saw three military helicopters depart, leaving us confused and unclear as to what lay ahead.

Once the big door to the base opened, our escort officer greeted and showed us around, telling us to pick a spot to camp out and sleep. Others, loading their vehicles, looked at us with untrusting stares, unsure of the strangers that arrived during an evacuation. As it turned out, not everyone on that base was going to evacuate. Some, including Andy and myself, were staying put, ready to hunker down if we came under attack. Close enough to Erbil International Airport that we could see and hear activity, we pleaded with our escort to see if there was anyway we could still be allowed to fly home. It didn’t make sense to us to fly back to Baghdad when we could quickly and safely be on our journey home and out of harm’s way. As the base emptied, Andy and I waited.

***

Hours later, some answers arrived. COVID, the pandemic we had been watching for a few days, was having an immense impact on Canadian military operations around the globe. Operations were being adjusted, shortened or cancelled outright. We were fighting time. Decisions being made halfway around the world were affecting Andy and I. However, our chain of command had some leeway and agreed, given our unique circumstance, that we could try to continue our journey home. Elated, I was quickly on the phone making arrangements with our government travel agent. With many flights cancelled and airlines making crucial decisions minute-by-minute, I was surprised to see our original flights were still available. With that, we had a plan in place. There is a very old and useful saying in the military: ‘No plan survives first contact with the enemy.’ Our first contact came late that night, after we boarded our commercial flight destined for Amman, Jordan. That was when our plan fell apart.

I don’t enjoy flying, so the turbulent flight had me on edge. Flashes of lightening across the night sky only fed my anxiety. It took all my effort to rid my mind of the thoughts of Air France Flight 447, which crashed into the Atlantic Ocean in 2009, partly as a result of in-flight turbulence. Thankfully we did not crash, but we did not land as expected either. The severe thunderstorms forced us to put down at some regional airport inside Jordan and wait out the extreme weather. By the time we finally arrived in Amman, our connecting flights were long gone. In normal circumstances, we would have been rebooked and sent on our way, but these were not normal circumstances. COVID flight cancellations threatened Andy and I with being stuck somewhere unfamiliar. In that uncertain atmosphere, we entered the back offices of Royal Jordanian Airlines, trying to figure out a way home. Entering unfamiliar, confined, out-of-the way spaces is never a good option at the best of times, but these weren’t good times.

Andy and I appeared relaxed as we worked with the office staff. In reality, I kept a close eye on the three other people in the office and the only door in or out. I did my best to keep my back near or against something solid, but it wasn’t always possible. Royal Jordanian officers scrolled through screens and tied up phone lines, unaware of our nervous demeanour. At the same time, our travel agents were working their magic. Satisfying news arrived some time later. A Lufthansa flight might possibly get me to Germany, where I could wait for a flight to Vancouver, but I needed a seat confirmation first. Andy was confirmed on an American carrier bound for Chicago before a connecting flight would take him home to Toronto. Neither of us were fond of being split up but given the circumstances, there was nothing we could do.

12 hours is a long time to spend in a strange airport under trying circumstances, so we found some wall plugs in a less busy section of the terminal and plugged in to recharge our heavily-used phones. Time passed and I still did not have a confirmed seat, so I approached the gate agent a few times for updates. Given the chaotic situation, it was not surprising that I was kept in suspense until two hours before my departure time, when I was handed hard tickets to Germany. Andy was on his way to his gate and I made my way to mine, sending Andy a message once I found a seat. We planned to keep in communication just incase anything went awry. I was glad we did.

***

Around midnight, Andy and I exchanged messages. He had been pulled aside during boarding and was taken to secondary screening. They were going through all his bags and documents. We exchanged pleasantries and wishes and planned to meet up when back in Canada. I missed his text update as I was walking through the aircraft door into the fuselage. In that moment, I overheard a conversation to my left that I certainly was not meant to hear. Some Lufthansa employees in a routine verbal exchange said the airline was ceasing all service to this area. I was on the last flight out of Jordan and indeed, the Middle East. Relief, accompanied by fear of what lay ahead, settled in. I looked at my phone one last time and saw the message from Andy. It said he was being prevented from boarding. I answered “No way!!!” as our aircraft pulled away from the gate. Then I lost service. I was worried.

When we landed in Germany five hours later, the first thing I did was send Andy a note. As it turned out, he was finally allowed to board at the last minute. No reason was given but at least he was safely in the U.S. and awaiting his flight to Toronto. It was not as rosy for me in Germany. My planned flight to Vancouver was cancelled. As I worked on options with Lufthansa ticket agents, my travel agent was doing what she could as well. She also gave me some advice: just keep travelling westwards and try to get back into Canada. Some time later, confirmation came in an email from my travel agent. I was flying on an Air Canada flight bound for Toronto before connecting onward to Vancouver. I was one flight away from being back on home soil. The news was great and brought me a sense of relief. I decided to have a German beer and a German sausage at the German airport before leaving Europe.

***

I arrived back home in Victoria at 8:35 a.m. on Saturday, March 14, six days after I started the journey. My wife and daughter met me at the airport, where we exchanged a long hug. I was tired but smiling.

During the next 11 days, people worked on plans to get us back to Iraq. I knew our Commander wanted everyone back so we could finish the mission and I felt the same way. Information flowed, changes happened, and COVID got worse. Finally on March 25, we got a message. Our mission was over. We were not able to go back to Iraq. I was disappointed as I knew I was going be living with a “what if?”, something I vowed years ago not to do. I learned through experience that being in a situation like that left me feeling torn inside and I could never let it go. Andy helped me get over it when he sent me a message. He wanted to know if, after everything that transpired up to that day, did I feel regret having left Iraq now knowing we were never going back or happy that I was home. I pondered for about half an hour before sending him my reply.

“Happy. We got out of a sticky situation and got home to our families. Also, those crazy six days it took to get from Iraq home make for a great story.”