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Frontlines is a collection of real life essays from Wayland Baptist Uni- versity students, devoted to military life and service. Some have seen combat in Iraq and Afghanistan. Some support those missions. Some are Army, some are Air Force, and some are National Guard. Others serve the Navy, Marines and Coast Guard. Some are career soldiers. Some are not. All serve the citizens of the United States of America, and these essays are a historical marker and testimony to that fact. Frontlines and Wayland honors the sacrifice and service of these men and women. “The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.” ~ Douglas MacArthur Red Alert 5 by David Toops stirred at 3 a.m. to the familiar dull boom and tremor of an insurgent rocket attack. After four Imonths on Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan, I was un- comfortably accustomed to the disturbance of these early morning impacts. I drifted back to sleep while awaiting the inevitable Amber Alert signaling a routine rocket attack had just oc- curred. The Amber Alert never came. Instead, I was startled wide awake when the “Ba-BOOM!” of a second, much larger explosion was followed by the unmistakable sound of machine gun fire.A Red Alert was sounded – Bagram was under attack! I jumped out of bed and readied myself for whatever could be outside my door. Thus began a day unlike any other I have experienced or will experience again – a day affecting me for months and maybe years to come. While I don’t specifically remember throwing on my uniform, I distinctly remember equipping my 35-pound body armor and donning my Kevlar helmet. I made sure my 23 M9 pistol was loaded and put it in my holster. I grabbed my M16 rifle, inserted a full magazine and pulled back the charging handle, placing a round in the chamber. All I needed to do to shoot an enemy was disengage the safety and pull the trigger. When Chris, my logistician, knocked on my door moments later, I was ready for action. “Holy crap Dave, we are being attacked!” he said as I stepped out of my trailer. I took a brief moment to survey the area and replied: “Let's go. Chris instinctively knew what I meant, and we began the process of rousing our peo- ple and directing them to the safety of our bunkers. Pre-deployment training asserted itself as we scouted the perimeter while methodically moving to each of our 15 trailers to account for all 28 personnel. We could hear the “chunga-chunga-chunga” of .50-caliber rounds echoing from HUMVEEs across the base, making it very difficult to determine directionality or intensity. Assuming the worst, we pressed on, arriving at two second-story trailers over- looking a large, recently emptied supply lot. As Chris woke our personnel, I scanned the lot. If an enemy combatant ran across the lot I would shoot to kill. I am still shocked to admit it, but this was war and in war you must defend those in your charge. Luckily, the lot remained vacant, and I was never forced to meet this demand. After 10 minutes, we arrived at the last trailer. I will never forget when the young female Airman opened the door and gasped loudly as she saw me and realized what was happening. Tears welled in her eyes, and I mustered as soothing yet authoritative a voice I could. 24 “Kristina,” I said, “remember yourself and remember your training. Stay calm, follow what I say and everything is going to be just fine.” I was so proud of her when she im- mediately relaxed her shoulders and composed herself with a look of determination on her face. She became my second in command throughout the rest of the day. With everyone accounted for, all we could do was wait. The fighting gradually subsided and just after 1 p.m. the “All Clear” was announced. In the end, 30 insurgents had attacked the base simultaneously at three different points making the initial attack seem much larger than it actually was. In the days and weeks that followed, more attacks were predicted, but none came. Eventually, my time in Afghanistan was up, and I headed home to my family. One year later, the events of that night still occupy an ever-shrinking space in my head. Even now, a distant boom and vibration, though only the sound of a truck going over a speed bump at the front gate, still brings me back to the events of that night and the Red Alert. About the Author: David Toops is a native of Verona, N.J. He enlisted in the U.S. Air Force as a Chinese Cryptologic Linguist in 1991. He has spent 20 years in active duty, 13 of which in the 324th Intelligence Squadron on Hickam Air Force Base in Hawaii. He has served tours in Denver, Colo., and Fort George 25 G. Meade, Md. In 2010, he went on a seven-month deployment in support of Operation Enduring Freedom as Opera- tions Superintendent for document and media exploita- tion at Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan. He is currently back in Hawaii serving the final year of my career before retirement while finishing my bachelor’s degree in Occupational Educa- tion from Wayland Baptist Uni- versity. He is married to the former Diane Malucky for eight years, and they are blessed with the allotted two and a half children: a five-year old daughter, Caroline; a two-month- old son, Parker; and our two-year-old yellow lab, Butter. 26.

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