IAN MAHARAJ
U.S. Army Ordnance School
Fort Gregg-Adams, Virginia
Korea is a duty station assignment some Soldiers dread. I, on the other hand, jumped at the opportunity. After three combat tours, going somewhere new was intriguing. My mission was to serve as the noncommissioned officer in charge (NCOIC) of the ammunition holding area for the battalion and brigade headquarters element. My team consisted of 12 Soldiers and NCOs, all highly trained and motivated for the mission ahead. As a seasoned staff sergeant, my team looked up to me for guidance and leadership.
We were part of a brigade element sent to Korea for a rotational operation, conducting real-world-scenario training in preparation for any potential crisis in the region. One of our unspoken tasks before deploying was to understand the country’s history, culture and way of life — what to do and, just as importantly, what not to do. I emphasized this unofficial requirement to my Soldiers, constantly checking their knowledge and encouraging them to dive into Korean culture, just as I was motivated to do.
The training was relentless, and my role meant constantly being in the field with my Soldiers, providing support to units conducting a variety of exercises. Our primary base of operations was the Story Live-Fire Complex. Anyone who’s been there knows it’s both a scenic and surreal place to train, but it’s not without its challenges — especially the narrow roads flanked by rice paddies. Navigating these roads in the M1151 HMMWV was manageable, but my real challenge was building confidence in my junior Soldiers and young NCOs who had to maneuver the larger M1120 Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Truck (HEMTT) Load Handling System (LHS) and M1074A1 Palletized Load System (PLS).
My team was very familiar with their assigned equipment, which was a point of pride for me. Watching them operate these vehicles as if they were toys was gratifying. We took every opportunity to familiarize ourselves with the roads, not just to understand our limits, but also to provide accurate logistical support without delays. And we did.
Summer in Korea can be brutal, with heat and humidity that can sap the strength of even the most seasoned Soldier. One routine day in the field, the weather was unexpectedly mild and welcoming. Although it was a Saturday, our operations continued as usual. After a long day of work, we conducted maintenance on our vehicles and prepared for the next day’s mission — small arms familiarization and qualification — an easy task for a team like mine. My troops were tired, but they were never the type to shy away from a task. They believed that staying busy made the time go faster. Normally, we would have played cards that evening, but we decided to rack out early.
About 2330, our sleep was interrupted by a knock on the door. A Soldier from another unit was looking for me. He was clearly nervous, and his panicked demeanor immediately raised concern. He explained that his two-vehicle element, unfamiliar with the routes and disoriented by the darkness, miscalculated a turn. The lead vehicle veered off the road and got stuck in a rice paddy. I quickly gathered my team and dispatched two of my Soldiers for the recovery. They were eager to help a fellow Soldier in distress.
About 30 minutes later, I got a call from my team — they, too, needed recovery support. Shocked, I jumped to my feet. “Is everyone OK?” I asked. “We’re all good, sergeant,” they replied reassuringly. They had successfully recovered the first vehicle, but with the lack of space on the narrow road, they fell into the same trap as the other Soldiers and got stuck in the rice paddy. Though it might sound comical now, at the time, I was determined not to lose another vehicle or risk more of my team.
I geared up and got my best driver to accompany me on the mission to get our Soldiers back safely. Arriving at the scene, we could see just how narrow the road was, and we almost ended up in the paddy ourselves a few times. The darkness was a real disadvantage, but with caution and focus, we managed to avoid any further mishaps and completed the recovery. I radioed back to company headquarters to send up a situation report and brief them on what happened.
By the time we returned to camp, it was 0400, and my first sergeant and commander were waiting for us. It felt like parents waiting up for their teenager to come home from a party. It was a reassuring reminder that they cared, and I was fortunate to serve under their leadership. After multiple cups of coffee and a thorough after-action review, we identified that fatigue played a significant role in the events that night. Even though my team was familiar with the roads and skilled in their operations, a lack of sleep was a critical factor.
Reflecting on that night, I realized it could have easily been me and my driver that ended up stuck, if not for our experience and familiarity with the terrain. The experience taught me the importance of knowing not just your own limits, but also those of your Soldiers. You must understand the risks and manage them wisely, whether in an operational environment or at home. It’s about having a plan, not jumping to conclusions and understanding all the factors at play.
Today, as a safety officer, I emphasize this lesson to my staff and family. To you, the reader, I urge you to always consider the variables of stress and fatigue — both mental and physical. Know your Soldiers and your equipment, familiarize yourself with your terrain and respect the factors that can impact mission success. Avoid shortcuts and never ignore the reality of the challenges you face. Those five hours taught me a lot that night, and I hope this story does the same for you. Fight tonight!