Things are not always what they seem

We had just finished a meeting with some hospital administrators. As I climbed into the vehicle, my driver and gunner informed me that there had just been an explosion somewhere to the East and several gunshots. With no more information than that, our patrol left the hospital and headed off to a scheduled meeting with a representative from the Ministry of Trade. As we approached our destination, we were frantically waved down by a security guard at a girls' middle school. We could hear the gunfire nearby as we rolled to a stop. The guard ran over to my vehicle and excitedly tried to explain what was going on. I had to force him to stop, as I had to retrieve my interpreter who had already leapt from the truck and started running towards the shots. "The school is on fire, and they're shooting at us!" Okay. Got it. The platoon sergeant, myself, and another soldier quickly moved through the gates of the school, and started working our way around the building to where the shots were coming from. Around a corner we could see a good sized grass fire scorching the ground between the school and the perimeter wall. The shots were coming from the other side of the wall. Suddenly, an explosion rattled the school windows and sent debris raining down on us. As we took defensive positions, it became apparent that nobody was actually shooting at us, but that the grass fire was cooking-off some munitions that had been dropped or placed outside the walls of the school. We then realized that the scorched earth we were crouched in was littered with small, discarded propane tanks. We immediately instructed the school faculty to move all of the children to the opposite side of the school, and away from the windows facing the fire. We continued to scout the perimeter of the school, and then moved inside to make sure everybody was okay.

What followed was pandemonium. As soon as we moved into the school, all of the girls who had been herded to the central hallways panicked. The screaming and chaos drowned out any internal communications. Two girls fainted. We quickly beat a retreat while the staff attempted to restore order. Several of the instructors approached us very apologetically, saying that we were frightening the students (duh), and to please be patient. In retrospect, it is perfectly understandable that the kids would panic. After all, you've got fire, smoke, gunshots, explosions, a frantic lone security guard who is convinced the school is under attack, and then a bunch of heavily armed American soldiers start stomping through the building.

Parents started showing up at the school and demanding to know what we were doing to their kids. An ambulance rolled up to tend to the children who had fainted. A brief, but surreal, meeting with the school administrators ensued wherein we explained that nobody was firing at the school. One of the staff found it difficult to believe that we actually did not have equipment in our trucks to put out fires. Several persons voiced opinions as to where the closest fire station was. Finally, somebody produced a cell phone and actually called the fire department.

The pieces of the puzzle started to come together. Several days earlier, an American platoon was patrolling the neighborhood conducting some routine operations. Some local militia bad guys beat a hasty retreat, and dumped their stocks of grenades and ammunition in the heavy brush next to the school. We don't know what started the fire, but as it spread to the munitions, bullets and grenades started cooking off making it appear that a full-blown shoot out was taking place.

Remount, and Charlie Mike (Continue Mission).