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"We
did what we set out to do," Sgt.
Lanter said. The United States protected
its interests and "liberated an
oppressed people from a tyrant."
American
and coalition forces have helped install
a basic freedom that Iraqis didn't know
beforehand and they are now able "to
live freely without the fear of tyranny,"
Sgt. Lanter said.
Sgt. Lanter
is the son-in-law of Andy and Linda
Waltman, the parents of Michelle Lanter.
He was visiting Sweet Home last week
and after returning to Camp Pendleton
from Iraq and Kuwait in August.
"I'm
proud of him," Mrs. Waltman said,
and she proudly announced that another
son-in-law was joining the Army.
Sgt. Lanter
was born and reared in Milwaukee. He
graduated from high school in 1991.
He attended Clackamas Community College
then Oregon State University, graduating
in 1995 with a bachelor of science degree
in business administration, specializing
in international business.
He worked
for his father's construction company
for about two years, "but it wasn't
my forté," Sgt. Lanter said.
"I had a looming desire to join
the Marine Corps."
With his
wife's approval, he gave up his house
and civilian life in 1997 to join.
Now, he
serves as a helicopter crew chief in
a Sea Knight helicopter squadron, HMM
364.
His unit's
role is assault support, moving supplies
and troops from ship to shore under
all weather conditions, and to take
the fight to the enemy coastline.
"The
speculation started in September 2002,"
Sgt. Lanter said. "Our actual orders
came down in January. We punched out
on 9 Feb."
He was
stationed at Ali Al Salem Air Base northwest
of Kuwait City.
"It
was kind of hard," Sgt. Lanter
said. "The reality of what was
going on was definitely there."
Kuwait
"was a lot of sand," Sgt.
Lanter siad. "There was very little
contrast at all outside of the base,
flat and barren."
Temperatures
were mild, but he didn't expect it to
be as cold as it was at night.
"Because
of the terrorist threat that existed,
we were pretty much confined to base,"
Sgt. Lanter said. Any time anyone left
the base, it was in armed convoys.
"For
us, it started on the 19th (March),"
Sgt. Lanter said. "It was probably
the weirdest 24 hours of my life."
They had
little TV, and within days, phones and
email had been shut down. That's when
the soldiers knew the war was going
to start.
"We
heard we sent some Tomahawks into Baghdad,"
Sgt. Lanter said. "The first missile
inbound, sirens went off, so it was
a mad dash to get into our suits and
get into bunkers."
That went
on all of the first morning, Sgt. Lanter
said. The Iraqis sent a second retaliatory
missile strike while he was airborne
testing a helicopter, including measuring
blades and balancing them to make the
craft fly smoothly.
"Our
radar warning detection devices in the
cockpit were picking up the frequencies
Patriots were operating on," Sgt.
Lanter said. A third strike was launched
after his aircraft had landed.
"That
afternoon, they came in the hanger and
said man the planes," Sgt. Lanter
said. "You had hundreds of kids
running every which way to load the
planes."
His squadron's
initial mission was to haul some British
Royal Marine commandos across the border
aboard 30 helicopters. People were trying
to get into the air, and there was another
raid. The squadron reached its staging
point, Camp Gibralter, after 30 to 45
minutes. There crews configured the
aircraft for the mission and pilots
started carrying out last-minute briefings.
Soon, they
had a "go time" of 02:00.
"I
heard the craziest remark after that,"
Sgt. Lanter said. "It was why don't
you guys try to get some sleep."
As it turns
out, they did, Sgt. Lanter said. He
and the other enlisted Marines went
outside and sat with the eight British
Marines.
"They're
funny, period," Sgt. Lanter said.
"Everyone conversed with them.
It's not that often you get to talk
to someone your carrying. They're some
tough boys."
Adrenaline
was running high and Sgt. Lanter said
he was nervous right up until his squadron
took off.
"As
soon as you break deck, the training
comes back," Sgt. Lanter said.
He stayed busy listening to the pilots
and the radio to back them up if they
miss something.
After rehearsing
for a week prior to the "go date,"
Sgt. Lanter was flying in the lead in
the second flight of four helicopters.
The mission was aborted because visibility
that night was exceptionally bad.
That's
when the third helicopter in the third
flight crashed killing everyone aboard.
Sgt. Lanter's aircraft was at the scene
of the crash within a minute. Everyone
else was told to turn back, and Sgt.
Lanter's commanding officer assumed
the role of on-scene commander, landing
and staying on the scene of crash.
Sgt. Lanter
and the co-pilot ran out of the helicopter
to assess the area. The helicopter shut
down and the Royal Marines formed a
perimeter around the craft. Initially,
they were alone there on the only asphalt
road in the area just south of the Iraq
border on invasion night.
After clearing
from the scene of the crash, "we
went into standby," Sgt. Lanter
said. Always, two "planes"
and their crews were ready to launch
for casualty evacuation.
On March
23, Sgt. Lanter was on standby when
they got a call for casualty evacuation
near Nazireah. By the time his helicopter
got there, the evacuation was pretty
much taken care of, so they stayed on
station at a nearby airstrip the remainder
of the evening into the night.
The following
morning, Sgt. Lanter and his crew were
busy with the fight for Nazireah.
"We
had a lot of work that night,"
Sgt. Lanter said. "We were locked
on by enemy radar."
To avoid
being shot down, the helicopter dropped
chaff and flares, Sgt. Lanter said.
"Next thing, you're diving for
deck at 150 mph" in a low-light
situation, mostly relying on instruments.
Sgt. Lanter's
crew's duties included working on the
aircraft, troubleshooting guidance and
essentially taking care of everything
in the back of the helicopter, including
manning the .50-caliber machine guns
mounted in the doors. His crew was responsible
for loading and unloading the helicopter.
That first
48-hour standby turned into five days,
when his helicopter crew couldn't fly
anymore. During that time, they awakened
to the sandstorm that put much of the
war on hold.
"We
basically made up shelter in our aircraft,"
Sgt. Lanter said. Following the sandstorm,
they rescued wounded soldiers. No one
was flying, but they had received a
request to pick up the wounded. Later,
they learned the mission had been turned
down by others.
"Depending
on who you talked to, we were cowboys
or idiots," Sgt. Lanter said. They
found seven wounded Iraqi soldiers and
a family of four who had been wounded
in a crossfire. This included a 2-year-old
boy whose leg had been blown off.
"It
hit a nerve," Sgt. Lanter said.
"The peace you make with it is
we were transporting them to medical
facilities that were by far better than
anything they have.… When the ramp
comes down, the reality of the war is
coming in the back of that plane."
One of
the Iraqi soldiers had a bullet in his
head and was still alive and "very
coherent," Sgt. Lanter said. Helping
the Iraqi soldiers gave an initial pause,
but "your taught before it happened,
once that prisoner's wounded, their
war's over. For us, they're a human
being."
Upon landing,
"we came under small arms fire
from a treeline," Sgt. Lanter said.
"A squad of Marines ran across
the open field to this treeline.…
It was probably one of the most amazing
moments I experienced during the war."
Sgt. Lanter
and his crew loaded the wounded and
pulled out.
Information
was limited for the soldiers as they
flew their missions.
"For
me, I knew what was going in the immediate
area," Sgt. Lanter said. "We
knew we were covering a lot of ground."
He and
his companions heard little "until
Saddam International, then we heard
all about that," Sgt. Lanter said.
On April
14, he was on a mission into Baghdad
with the Seventh Marines.
"I
turned 30 in Central Baghdad that day,"
Sgt. Lanter said. A week before, the
bridges into the city had been contested.
That week, the city had been declared
taken.
Marines
occupied the Ministry of the Interior
building where Sgt. Lanter was stationed.
There was still sporadic gunfire, which
sounded like locals fighting off looters.
d.
Even though
they were not at the outside perimeter,
he had to wear flak vests, carry a weapon
and wear a kevlar helmet.
He was
able to buy Pepsi from the local kids.
"At
first they were cheap, then capitalism
set in," Sgt. Lanter said. The
Iraqis were "excited, very much
so.… From everything I saw, it
was excitement and appreciation."
After leaving
Baghdad, Sgt. Lanter was in Tikrit,
Saddam's hometown for two days. He made
a couple of more trips into Baghdad.
On the last one, the helicopter broke
down in front of the presidential palace.
That contrast
provided some insight into what was
accomplished in Iraq.
"You
can only speculate, some of the stories
you hear, when you see a billion-dollar
palace sitting up on this huge mound
with nothing but shanties around it
as far as the eye can see," Sgt.
Lanter said. In oil-rich, fertile country,
girls in dresses with no shoes draw
water from the Euphrates river or bacteria-laden
canals. "It made you feel guilty
… for feeling sorry for yourself
when you can't afford something you
want to buy."
The country
is poor, Sgt. Lanter said, except for
Tikrit.
Sgt. Lanter
was able to come home three weeks earlier
than the rest of his squadron because
his son, Cole, had been born while he
was in Iraq. Cole joined a 3-year-old
sister, Isabella.
Coming
home "was weird," Sgt. Lanter
said. He had arrived with 160 Marines
from four or five units. They arrived
a hangar area where they were greeted
with cheers and clapping. As they rode
a bus to the hanger, California Highway
Patrol officers were parked along the
road way saluting. Families in their
cars were waving.
"You
saw it all the way in," Sgt. Lanter
said, then when he was reunited with
his wife and family, "it seemed
like one big dream that never happened."
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