Those Never-Seen Round Discs Called Mines
Mark Farenbaugh
“No way! Shit. No way!” I started to perspire in panic.
Looking at the hand-drawn map, I realized that I was right in the middle of a minefield. An old one, but the stories I heard were not just stories.
This was not the time to panic. But, I had no training in how to get out of this. Shit.
Earlier that day.
This morning weather was cool. It was my first day of patrolling a specific set of wadis in the Sinai of Egypt. I was given more than the usual period of time to travel between reporting points. There had been a lot of seldom-seen rainfall and the subsequent flash floods swept away or covered many of the identifiable landmarks that were written on a laminated map. I was to take good notes on this route.
“This is not my first rodeo with the desert,” I said to myself. “I have plenty of water, a compass, a topographical map, and a drawing showing the distances to the check-in points and some identifiable landmarks.”
So I thought.
My first six months of a one-year Middle East assignment was in Cairo. I was on loan to the United Nations Truce Supervision Organization. My mission was simple: patrol remote areas in the Sinai desert to observe-and-report any possible aggression or the need for rescue.
I had previously been assigned to the “sand box” of the Middle East and knew it was full of sights and smells that would surprise the most worldly travelers. HQ Cairo has six different observation posts (OP) in the Sinai and each of them have four or five routes to patrol. Two officers are sent to each OP for a two-week stay.
Each day, one officer goes out on patrol, observing and reporting his position at pre-coordinated locations where there is confirmed good radio contact. The other soldier stays at the OP to receive the reports and make operational decisions or call-in rescue assistance. He also gets the pleasure of cooking dinner at the end of the day. The next day, the two officers switch roles.
In the Sinai there is not much to see, but it is full of surprises. The most challenging of the patrols are in the south of the Sinai where the terrain is a mix of mountains, plateaus, and "wadis.” The worst part is patrolling in the wadis, the usually dry riverbeds that crisscross the southern Sinai desert. Through the years, the water ways have cut vertical cliffs into the sandstone.
However, there is another reason patrolling in the wadis is challenging. Most know the history. After the Arabs attacked Israel in 1967, there was a violent and famous 6-day war, after which the Israelis occupied the Sinai. Subsequently, there were lots and lots of military equipment used to occupy this foreign-held territory between Egypt-proper and Israel. The normal military tactic is to position troops in key places to block any advancing enemy. If the equipment becomes inoperable, it was usually left abandoned where it broke down. If there was an order to pullout, everything was left disabled. As best one could.
Luckily, I had strong map-reading skills. I found the handwritten maps to be of little use, because whoever did them never quite added up the miles correctly. The distances were almost always in error. But that sums up the United Nations, so to speak.
The UN vehicles for patrolling are all four-wheel drive. This day, I had one of the better jeeps. It was a bit old, but it had excellent balance for maneuvering in sand or rock. I loved driving it, except for the creaky noises it made. The only inconvenience was the lack of air conditioning system…..it gets very hot in the Sinai desert.
About two hours into my route, I was getting used to driving in the wadi’s river sand. I was using up a lot of gas, but I had enough. Nothing to worry about. The wadi I was patrolling in, had very steep sides and was mostly dry sand. It was also a bit narrower than others. That bothered me, as radio contact was nil, except at the reporting points on the handwritten map.
“If I break down here,” I thought. “I am going to be in a lot of hurt.”
As if my thoughts were heard, the jeep suddenly slowed down. I had just entered some very fine sand, the type that doesn’t have much of a bottom to it.
“Shit, this is ridiculous, this is a four-wheel drive vehicle,” I continued thinking. Why am I slowing down? I knew better than to let the wheels dig in and got out to check the sand. Sure enough, I was on a patch of the dreaded powdery sand.
“Crap, this is going to be a delay,” I said out loud. I quickly took out two large and heavy metal plates and started removing the sand in front of the rear tires. Unfortunately, the shovel was a very short backpack model of about 30 inches that required I get close to the ground.
The temperature was increasing by the hour, and I was sweating like a marathon runner. After what seemed like an hour, I had the metal plates in place and was ready to attempt to drive out of there. I was already filthy from the sweat-soaked clothes and dirt. Then I noticed. The front wheel hubs had not been locked to the axels! Stupid. I had not checked and been in two-wheel drive all morning!
I started laughing at myself, reached down to lock the front axle hobs and hoped there was no other problem with the front axles. I put the plates back in the vehicle, dusted off what dirt I could, and continued on my mission. It was only a delay of about 45 minutes, but the difference in ambient temperature was noted. It was getting hotter.
I had to keep stopping to see if the mileage I was seeing on the odometer was matching what was written on the drawing. So far none of the identifiable landmarks were present.
“Or maybe I went up the wrong wadi,” I thought.
“No way I am lost,” I said to myself out loud, “No way.”
“Drink water.” It was getting uncomfortably hot.
I drove another five miles, searching to see the opening in the steep wall on the right. The hand-drawn map showed only one, and it was supposed to be only a few miles north of where I last took my bearings off the topographic map. I knew I had to get back to the east. I had been driving north forever, it seemed.
I started to feel lost. “Should I turn back?” I thought to myself. How would I explain it? Finally, I saw the narrow opening of a wadi branching off to the right. A wave of calm and delight rushed over me.
“Victory!” I said to the map, “I am not lost.”
“I knew it!” I eagerly drove about 200 yards into the new wadi. Then, my operational spirit kicked in and I decided to stop and note the miles. I had to get this key geographic point noted correctly. Better check both maps.
“Dammit, no! I’m in a minefield!” No way to tell if the sweat from panic was more than the perspiring from the heat.
We were briefed before deploying from Headquarters that an observer had strayed off the beaten path and drove over a mine. It took hours before the partner observer called in a ‘missing observer’ report. Not until the next day did the observer drive to the site, only to find himself in the same minefield.
“Don’t stray off the path,” the commander said. But there was no path on this wadi. It had been erased by flash floods.
My hand started shaking, as I got out my binoculars and looked around. Maybe the map was wrong. I could feel more panic starting to enter my imagination. I felt my heart pumping faster. Sure as hell! At each corner of the area I was parked in were stacks of mines! The map was right.
When the Israelis pulled out, I remember from the briefing, they de-mined the Sinai as best they could. I couldn’t just keep driving. The water that rushed through this narrow area could have dug up any ‘missed’ active mines and moved them anywhere. I had to get out and look.
But how? Look for what?
I took a deep breath of hot air and climbed slowly out of the old Jeep. My knees were shaking. Fear was setting in. As the Jeep door creaked, I couldn’t help thinking that perhaps just the noise could set off a mine. Crazy. I shook it off.
“What was I going to do?” I thought, “Poke the ground with a knife, like in the movies?” Nuts!
And just like a kid looking for a missing marble on carpet, I decided to get down on my stomach and use the binoculars in an attempt to find any fuses on the surface of the sand. I knew that the fuse on the old mines sticks up couple inches higher that the mine disc.
“But why wouldn’t they have removed all of them?” I asked myself. “Stay on the path,” I remembered.
As I reached down and touched the sand, I jerked back my open hand. “Damn,” I said out loud. The sand was hot as hell. I shook my head and proceeded to roll down my sleeves to reduce contact exposure to it. I was a filthy mess already. No reason to worry about cleanliness at this point.
But I was scared. Shit scared. My mind raced with negative possibilities. If a mine explodes and if I survive with even a slight injury, I will be long dead before anyone came looking for me. I remembered the reports.
“Drink more water,” I said out loud. “I cannot faint and fall on a mine,” my mind was screaming. After lying in the sand and scorching sun for about 10 minutes, I decided to get up and walk forward to what should be the end of the mine field. At about thirty feet, I lost my nerve to continue and got down on my stomach again. Another ten minutes passed. Water was pouring off my body. I saw nothing and gathered my faded courage to get up. I was getting thirsty. It was nerves.
I continued walking slowly, looking at the ground intently. Onlywhen I got to the perimeter of the mine field, could I calm down a little. I instinctively started brushing off the dirt I had accumulated in the last half hour. No use in doing so. My sweat, mixed with the sand, turned my uniform into a mop of mud. I was a filthy mess.
“Damn this….,” I thought. My heart was pounding. I was safe, but without water and a map, I won’t make it back to the observation post. I had to go back to the vehicle. I walked back slowly, staying in the foot prints I had just made. My legs were slightly shaking. When I got to the Jeep, I froze in horror.
There was my footprint on the disc of a partially buried mine! How did I miss that?! I could also see that I had laid down, right next to it! I swallowed air. When I looked closer, I could see that the fuse was removed. Shit.
There was nothing I could do to make this better. After standing there for another five minutes, I accepted my fate. My operational bearings returned. I had to continue forward. Backing out of the mine field might work, but might not. Besides, I didn’t have enough fuel.
I was not thinking of my appearance or future story telling as I slowly got into the Jeep and drove down the center of the wadi.
“Stay on the path.”
“I will never do that again,” I said to myself.
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