U.S. Marine Corps
Sgt. Chad W. Small and
Cpl. Dmitry Petrenko
On the Road to Recovery: Noncommissioned Officers Lead Supply Convoys in Iraq By U.S. Marine Corps Staff Sgt. Jim Goodwin
1st Force Service Support Group
CAMP FALLUJAH, Iraq, Dec. 20, 2004 — Marine Sgt. Chad W. Small just missed his three-year-old daughter's birthday. He's missed a few special days, not to mention the holidays, with his wife, Erin, and daughter, Faith, back in southern California.
"Every time I would come home from work, I would take my daughter swimming," said Small, reflecting on his last days at Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, Calif. "I understand she's doing pretty good in the pool now."
It's been a while since Small took his daughter swimming. In fact, the last time he saw his family was when he kissed them goodbye and headed to Iraq, where he's been for nearly four months along with the rest of his unit, Combat Service Support Company 115.
The 22-year-old Phoenix, Ariz., native leads daily military supply convoys to Marine and Iraqi military posts near Fallujah. He is one of four convoy commanders for the company, a role traditionally filled by a more senior Marine, such as a staff noncommissioned officer, or a junior officer.
Today, Small is riding in a Humvee mounted with a machine gun, leading a convoy of vehicles carrying supplies, such as food and water, to Marines who have spent the past month ridding Fallujah of insurgents.
"The more insurgents they kill, the more weapons they find, decreases the threat against my Marines and every Marine driving a truck out here," said Small.
It's a cloudy, cold day. Small sips coffee from a tin mug in the passenger side of his Humvee. The sun is still rising as his Humvee pulls into a gravel lot across from the base chow hall, followed by the rest of the convoy's vehicles, 7-ton and flatbed trucks.
As a convoy commander, his mission is to ensure the supplies are delivered to their destinations on time.
As a non-commissioned officer, he is responsible for both the success of the mission and the safe return of the Marines under him.
Due to the frequent requests for supplies to Marine and Iraqi forces operating in Fallujah, the unit relies on its small-unit leaders — noncommissioned officers like Small — to take charge of the shorter, more local convoys.
"We could not function at the operational tempo we are at without them. There's just no way," said 1st Lt. Alexandria S. Plucinski, a platoon and convoy commander for the unit.
The responsibility of convoy commanders is great, according to Plucinski.
"You have to know what gear to bring, your convoy route, where to offload, and what your battle space is," said the 27-year-old Chicago native.
Prior to departing the base, Small allows his Marines to stop and eat breakfast.
"It's the most important meal of the day," he said, standing outside his Humvee in the cold. He watches the vehicles and supplies while his Marines go inside the heated chowhall to eat.
Once on the road, they stop only to drop off their loads - pallets of Meals, Ready to Eat, thousands of bottles of water, 10,000 gallons of additional water, and fuel.
CSSC-115, a subordinate unit of Combat Service Support Battalion 1, provides supplies, such as food and ammunition, even toothpaste to cigarettes, and everything in between, to Marine units operating in and around Fallujah. Small, along with the rest of the Marines in his platoon, worked 16-19 hour days during the first several weeks of combat, making three to four daily runs to Marine bases around the city.
Even though combat operations are slowly dying down in the combat-ridden "City of Mosques," Small knows contact with the enemy is always a possibility.
Perhaps the most infamous of these threats are IEDs, or improvised explosive devices, roadside bombs set up by terrorists to destroy and disrupt convoys.
"It's always in the back of my mind," said Small, tucking a pinch of cherry-flavored tobacco under his bottom lip. "Everyone knows the risks, but without us, the forward units wouldn't have supplies.
Since arriving in Iraq in August, CSSC-115 has suffered one IED attack. Two Marines were injured and one truck damaged during the logistical convoy.
"I was thanking God that those Marines came out of there alive," said Small, who converted to Catholicism just six months ago. "I feel it's a strong religion. Catholics confess their sins, which makes you strong with God, which makes you think about your actions more thoroughly."
In the left breast pocket of his digital pattern camouflage uniform, Small keeps a small religious medallion embossed with the face of the Pope. "It's for good luck. I always do prayers before convoys," said Small. He also has a set of wooden rosary beads which he had blessed by a Roman Catholic Cardinal during a port stop last year on ship to Rome.
"Faith in Gods helps, especially when you've had a bad day," he said.
As his Marines begin to "mount up" in their vehicles, Small walks around to each vehicle in line to make sure everyone is ready to go. Placing his Kevlar helmet on his head, he gives the thumbs up to the truck driver behind him, jumps into his Humvee, and gives the word for the convoy to depart.
Armed with an array of heavy-caliber machine guns and rifles, the Marines take no chances on Iraq's open roads. A convoy commander must know when to fend off potential threats - whether to employ their weapons to take out the enemy, and when to use flares to deter civilians driving too fast and close to the convoy.
Such decisions lie in the hands of the convoy commander.
"They have to know when to shoot," said Plucinski. "We're not there to make the decisions for them."
After providing fuel and water to a nearby Iraqi military training camp, Small's convoy makes a short trek to Camp Baharia, the headquarters base for one of the Marine infantry units that has sustained a number of casualties during heaving fighting in Fallujah.
Small watches closely as his assistant convoy commander, Cpl. Dmitry Petrenko, directs one of the convoy's truck drivers where to place a 20-foot metal container filled with bottled water.
Petrenko is a 20-year-old reserve Marine from Queens, N.Y. A truck driver and vehicle commander during last year's push to Baghdad, Petrenko volunteered to return to Iraq.
"I think I would have had more regrets if I stayed home," said Petrenko, who migrated with his parents from Ukraine to the United States 10 years ago.
As Petrenko guides the truck into the muddy, open field next to dozens of other supply containers, Small nods in approval, only assisting when called upon. "I expect them to be able to do my job," said Small of his subordinates.
He emphasizes the importance of accountability to the Marines under his charge: "Leaving someone behind out here is a mistake you can't afford."
Graduating from Moon Valley High School in Glendale, Ariz., Small enlisted in the Marine Corps four years ago. He says he's wanted to be a Marine since the ninth grade, when he first saw the Marine recruiter in dress blues at his school. He wanted to be a "real warrior," like the recruiter. His participation in his school's Naval Junior Recruit Officer Training Corps program also helped spur his interest in military life, he said.
U.S. Marine Corps Sgt. Chad W. Small is a 22-year-old Marine currently deployed in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. The Phoenix, Ariz., native leads daily military supply convoys to Marine and Iraqi military posts near Fallujah. Small is one of four convoy commanders for Combat Service Support Company 115, a role traditionally filled by a more senior Marine. U.S. Marine Corps photo by Staff Sgt. Jim Goodwin 
U.S. Marine Corps Cpl. Dmitry Petrenko, an assistant convoy commander and military truck driver, gives an early morning brief to Marines of Combat Service Support Company 115 prior to heading out on a supply convoy to various Marine and Iraq military posts near Fallujah, Iraq, Dec. 17, 2004. Petrenko is a 20-year-old reserve Marine from Queens, N.Y. A truck driver and vehicle commander during last year's push to Baghdad, Petrenko volunteered to return to Iraq with the Camp Pendleton, Calif.-based CSSC-115. U.S. Marine Corps photo by Staff Sgt. Jim Goodwin As a newly promoted lance corporal several years ago, Small was placed in charge of about 20 Marines within the 26th Marine Expeditionary Unit, based out of Camp Lejeune, N.C. He's been placed in leadership positions ever since, he said.
"When I'm not running my own show, I feel kind of ridiculous," he said.
He prides himself on his "can do" attitude, and expects nothing less of his Marines.
"One thing I can't stand is when someone tells me, 'It can't be done,'" said Small. "I'll find a way to get it done."
After dropping off the water, Small, Petrenko and several other Marine truck drivers within the convoy spend nearly two hours waiting for another truck to finish replenishing various water points around the camp.
It takes only a few minutes before the Marines are joking around with one another, quoting lines from favorite comedies, talking about historical events and who has yet to purchase a copy of "Halo 2," a popular video game the Marines play together in their off-time.
Half a world apart from loved ones, many of the Marines who work for Small are also his friends - relationships built over the past few months from spending hours on, and off, the road together.
At Camp Fallujah, Marines work, eat, and live together. It's not uncommon for three to four Marines to share a single trailer, similar to roommates in a college dorm room.
"The only personal time you have is when you're taking a shower, or lying in bed at night thinking about home," said Small.
On the road, monotony can set in, leading to complacency. A common credo for Marines in Iraq is "Complacency Kills," a message posted on various wooden signs throughout the base.
Small drills this into his Marines, not just by telling them, but by conditioning them to stay alert and keep aware of their surroundings at all times.
Two truck drivers on this particular convoy, Lance Cpl. Cory S. Henderson, a 19-year-old native of San Bernardino, Calif., and Lance Cpl. Ruston E. Franklin, a 22-year-old Tennessean from Nashville, listen to music CDs in a portable DVD player mounted to his truck's dashboard between supply drop-off points.
"Music's my motivation," said Henderson, a tall Marine who wants to break into the heavy metal music industry when he gets out of the Marine Corps. "But you have to stay alert out here."
"The roads can get kind of scary," chimes in Franklin, in a deep voice as he drives with the rest of the convoy past an Iraqi town, stray dogs wandering around the roadsides. "It's just like the signs say, 'complacency kills.' You just have to keep your eyes open."
Still immersed in conversation about movies and video games, the remaining supply truck rejoins the rest of the convoy at the staging area at Camp Baharia.
One more stop separates Small's convoy from a "mission complete" status. They must return to the Iraqi military post and link up with a truck left there to finish refueling the base's large fuel tanks.
Helmets on their heads, the Marines clamber inside their vehicles, some retaking their positions behind the belt-fed machine guns atop the vehicles. Like a set of railroad cars tailing behind a steam engine train, the convoy cuts through a dirt road leading off the base, and out onto the highway to their destination.
Upon their arrival, Iraqi national guardsmen carrying AK-47s halt the line of vehicles at the post's front gate. Small signs a clipboard, and the convoy continues its journey.
When time permits, the Marines interact with the Iraqis, at least as much as the language barrier will allow.
On a different convoy, the Marines spent several minutes talking with Iraqi soldiers at another training compound not far from Fallujah.
Petrenko gave a copy of Maxim Magazine to one of the soldiers, who held it up to show the other Iraqis.
"They're pissed off because of what's been done to their country," said Small, matter-of-factly. "But they want us here. They appreciate what we're doing."
Last month, CSSC-115 was tasked with transporting insurgent detainees from Fallujah to other holding areas in addition to transporting supplies to Marine units.
While Small is optimistic about the progress made in Fallujah, he hears about the pockets of resistance Marines are still fighting in the war-torn city.
"Overall, the threat has decreased, but they can still get more weapons, and more (fighters)," he said. "If they still have pockets of resistance, they can still set up IEDs."
By late afternoon, the convoy has returned to Camp Fallujah. After stopping to refuel the vehicles for tomorrow's convoy, the Marines pull into the company's large, gravel lot to park their vehicles.
The machine guns are dismounted, cleaned, and returned to the unit's armory, the Marines are debriefed and dismissed. Small heads to the little, wooden shack, which serves as the company's operations center, where convoys are planned and monitored.
Carrying his M16 rifle, helmet, armored vest and his coffee mug, and not quite as talkative as he was earlier in the day, Small looks out into the open lot, which was hit by a rocket when the unit first arrived to Iraq.
Standing there, he may have been thinking about the next day's convoy, or perhaps the cruise he and his wife will take as a vacation when he comes home. Or perhaps he was simply thinking about another mission completed, another day he and his Marines can cross off their calendars as time served in Iraq.
"Well, I have to start getting ready for the class on Sunday," he said, responding to a question.
On Sundays, Small teaches a motor vehicle operator's class on one of the unit's large convoy trucks - something he does to help keep his unit trained for the road.
"I just try to stay as busy as possible out here," he said, shrugging. "Stay focused on the job and the mission. That's it. Busy makes the time go by."
. In any event, it only takes a small percentage of the Iraqi population to wreak havoc on the country.
