Private Military Contractor International April 2014 | Page 23

IN THE FIELD
IRAQ: CONVOY DUTY

AMBUSH
IN IRAQ
S

Author Simon Chambers writes about his
experiences on convoy duty in Iraq

uccess relies on three things:
practice, practice, and practice.’
With experience, you learn the
importance of such sayings when it comes
to maintaining focus in the field. Indeed,
there is also another old adage that I swear
by… one that was never truer than during
my time on convoy protection duty in Iraq:
“If something can go wrong, it invariably
will.” Allow me to explain...

Ambush
We had just departed Camp Anaconda with
17 flat-bed trucks loaded with contaminated
diesel and fuel oil packed into 45-gallon drums.
It was a cold, black night, and in an attempt to
keep warm we all wore our fleeces and tried
to keep low in the gun turrets, away from the

slipstream. As we turned left onto the main
supply route (MSR) back towards Baghdad, I
noticed that an outside light on one of the few
houses on this stretch of road had started to
flash. At first I thought it was just a faulty light,
until I realised it had a pattern to it. At the same
time, there was movement at the side of the
road. I couldn’t make it out too clearly, as there
was no moon, but it was definitely one or two
people darting to cover a few-hundred yards
behind us.
The convoy was still ‘slow-rolling’ when I
came up on my personal radio: “Ian, we have
movement to our rear. I think we’re being set
up for something.”
“Roger that!” Ian came back on the net,
“I’ve got movement to my left.”
Ian had just given the order to speed up

when there was a mighty flash and bang,
and a civilian truck two in front of us blew up.
Blazing oil spewed across the road and fuel
drums bounced down around us.
“What the hell was that?” someone came
up on the radio. He asked the question, but
he wasn’t looking for an answer; we all knew.
One of the vehicles had just been hit by an
improvised explosive device (IED), and its
cargo had ignited. The surviving truck in front
of us screeched to a halt, threatening to lose
its load of drums in its haste to stop. Our
Iraqi driver also stopped and shouted back
to us, asking what we wanted him to do. In
the meantime I was swinging my gun turret
rearwards from left to right, letting anyone
in the darkness know I meant to open fire if
they showed themselves. I say darkness, but

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