The Bremer Detail by John M. Del Vecchio Frank Gallagher
Authors: John M. Del Vecchio Frank Gallagher
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hoped and prayed would not bite me in the ass. I needed ammo; they needed air support.
I met with the pilots and explained what I had done. They were to call me as they took off, give me the grid coordinates of where they were headed, and call me when they returned. And I told them to make sure they counted the ammo before they took off. I also told them that there could be zero records, or any other reports, about what we were doing as the repercussions could sink Blackwater. Everyone agreed. Or so I thought. Apparently honor means nothing to a glory hound. One of the pilots had to thump his chest and write a report that got sent back to me from Blackwater with a WTF question mark.
Brian McCormick was one of my go-to guys from the ambassador’s office. He had been instrumental in getting the Secret Service involved in the threat assessment for the ambassador and was by extension THE key reason Blackwater was given the contract. Brian had worked for Vice President Cheney, and after watching and working with the Secret Service at the White House and in Washington, D.C., he knew good security. He recognized that the ambassador was in jeopardy and he had started the assessment process by pointing out to his contacts in D.C. that there was the potential for a huge problem if the ambassador’s security was not drastically improved—and improved quickly. Hence the arrival of the Secret Service assessment team in August. He was also honest to a fault. I could always trust him for a no-bullshit answer. And he was extremely bright. He had honestly felt that CID would get the ambassador killed. He had watched them for a few months and seen how they were doing things and compared this to his experience with the Secret Service.
Brian Mac now had begun to notice the new faces, and he asked me to explain why there were new people trying to learn a job that had been done well up to this point. I explained the rotation system that Blackwater was using. He was less than pleased and said the ambassador would not be happy. He reminded me that everyone else had signed up for a year and they were not rotating out. I nodded. I knew he was correct. I could not argue his point and said the decision was not mine. The next day he confirmed the ambassador’s dismay at the development.
I called Blackwater to give them a heads-up about the prevailing thinking regarding the rotations. As usual, I was not taken seriously. They said that was how they were going to do it, end of story. Oh well.
About this time, the ambassador was summoned back to Washington for a meeting. We took him to the airport around midnight and waited until 0300 for the C-17 to arrive. It was loaded with military guys who had been wounded in action. The war was still raging in parts of Iraq. I had arranged with the ambassador’s staff to try and get three of my guys on the plane to Andrews’s air base if there was room. As luck would have it I was able to get all three on the plane. We got back to the palace around 0500, and everybody went to sleep for the first time in weeks without setting an alarm clock. I slept like a dead man. I woke up to my phone ringing. It was Ken telling that we had guys inbound and they would be here in a couple of hours. We mobilized a team to pick them up, and they arrived in time for evening chow.
That evening I organized a welcome aboard bash for the new guys, and an unwind-and-relax party for the guys who had been here. There was beer and Jack Daniel’s for the men. About twenty-five of my guys were there, plus many of the British PSD guys, and some South Africans who were working on another detail; and generally anyone else who wanted to attend was welcome to swing by. At one point there had to have been close to a hundred people laughing and soaking in the chance to blow off some steam while the boss was away. The break was needed not just by us, but by everyone who was there.
The threats against the ambassador had escalated to direct
I met with the pilots and explained what I had done. They were to call me as they took off, give me the grid coordinates of where they were headed, and call me when they returned. And I told them to make sure they counted the ammo before they took off. I also told them that there could be zero records, or any other reports, about what we were doing as the repercussions could sink Blackwater. Everyone agreed. Or so I thought. Apparently honor means nothing to a glory hound. One of the pilots had to thump his chest and write a report that got sent back to me from Blackwater with a WTF question mark.
Brian McCormick was one of my go-to guys from the ambassador’s office. He had been instrumental in getting the Secret Service involved in the threat assessment for the ambassador and was by extension THE key reason Blackwater was given the contract. Brian had worked for Vice President Cheney, and after watching and working with the Secret Service at the White House and in Washington, D.C., he knew good security. He recognized that the ambassador was in jeopardy and he had started the assessment process by pointing out to his contacts in D.C. that there was the potential for a huge problem if the ambassador’s security was not drastically improved—and improved quickly. Hence the arrival of the Secret Service assessment team in August. He was also honest to a fault. I could always trust him for a no-bullshit answer. And he was extremely bright. He had honestly felt that CID would get the ambassador killed. He had watched them for a few months and seen how they were doing things and compared this to his experience with the Secret Service.
Brian Mac now had begun to notice the new faces, and he asked me to explain why there were new people trying to learn a job that had been done well up to this point. I explained the rotation system that Blackwater was using. He was less than pleased and said the ambassador would not be happy. He reminded me that everyone else had signed up for a year and they were not rotating out. I nodded. I knew he was correct. I could not argue his point and said the decision was not mine. The next day he confirmed the ambassador’s dismay at the development.
I called Blackwater to give them a heads-up about the prevailing thinking regarding the rotations. As usual, I was not taken seriously. They said that was how they were going to do it, end of story. Oh well.
About this time, the ambassador was summoned back to Washington for a meeting. We took him to the airport around midnight and waited until 0300 for the C-17 to arrive. It was loaded with military guys who had been wounded in action. The war was still raging in parts of Iraq. I had arranged with the ambassador’s staff to try and get three of my guys on the plane to Andrews’s air base if there was room. As luck would have it I was able to get all three on the plane. We got back to the palace around 0500, and everybody went to sleep for the first time in weeks without setting an alarm clock. I slept like a dead man. I woke up to my phone ringing. It was Ken telling that we had guys inbound and they would be here in a couple of hours. We mobilized a team to pick them up, and they arrived in time for evening chow.
That evening I organized a welcome aboard bash for the new guys, and an unwind-and-relax party for the guys who had been here. There was beer and Jack Daniel’s for the men. About twenty-five of my guys were there, plus many of the British PSD guys, and some South Africans who were working on another detail; and generally anyone else who wanted to attend was welcome to swing by. At one point there had to have been close to a hundred people laughing and soaking in the chance to blow off some steam while the boss was away. The break was needed not just by us, but by everyone who was there.
The threats against the ambassador had escalated to direct
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