RIGHTING A WRONG: Iraq War Veteran Finally Receives Nation's Second Highest Honor for Valor
Secretary Hegseth to present Eric Geressy with the Distinguished Service Cross on March 18 at the Pentagon
In early September 2007, Combat Outpost Blackfoot was the site of a fierce battle that would prove pivotal in the Iraq War.
It was here that First Sergeant Eric Geressy led his company against a formidable al-Qaeda force intent on annihilating them—an act meant to derail the surge strategy that General David Petraeus would testify about six days later in Washington, D.C.
Now, after nearly 18 years, Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth will host a ceremony this month at the Pentagon to award Geressy the Distinguished Service Cross, the nation's second-highest military decoration, which he was initially denied due to bureaucratic oversight and egregious judgment by a review board.
Geressy’s leadership during that chaotic battle was nothing short of extraordinary.
Chapter 12 of my book "American Warfighter: Brotherhood, Survival, and Uncommon Valor in Iraq, 2003-2011" details how Geressy and the soldiers of Eagle Company, 2nd Squadron, 2nd Stryker Cavalry Regiment—the “Second Dragoons”—transformed what could have been a catastrophic, war-defining strategic loss into a testament to the unique strength of our military’s non-commissioned officer corps.
While al-Qaeda sought to influence American withdrawal by delivering a devastating blow, it was Geressy’s tactical ingenuity and leadership under fire that disrupted their plan, denying them the headlines they needed to counter Petraeus’s testimony that the surge was, indeed, working.
After the battle, Geressy’s company commander recommended him for the Silver Star, but the late General Ray Odierno, then-commander of our forces in Iraq, upgraded the award to the Distinguished Service Cross. However, the general’s decision was somehow overlooked, and Geressy was presented with the Silver Star in 2008.
In the years that followed, Geressy’s former commanders and soldiers began advocating for him to receive the Distinguished Service Cross, and in 2010, an official recommendation to upgrade the award was personally endorsed by Petraeus and Odierno and sent to the Secretary of the Army.
However, the board reviewing the request unexpectedly disagreed with the generals, and the upgrade was denied. One board member wrote that Geressy “did not fire a weapon or engage personally with an enemy soldier” while leading the defense of Combat Outpost Blackfoot.
But, as most soldiers know, the fact that Geressy resisted his instincts to fire a weapon during that battle is further evidence that he was providing exactly what his soldiers needed—leadership.
You can read all about that day and Geressy’s experience in the excerpt from “American Warfighter” below.
(J. Pepper Bryars is a veteran and writer from Alabama. Readers can contact him at jpepper.substack@gmail.com.)
American Warfighter: Brotherhood, Survival, and Uncommon Valor in Iraq, 2003-2011
CHAPTER TWELVE
“They called the neighborhood ‘Al-Qaeda’s Castle.’”
Eric Geressy, Silver Star
Baghdad, September 4, 2007
As additional U.S. troops flowed into Iraq and their new strategy successfully pushed the insurgents farther away from their safe havens, the terror networks became increasingly brazen and brutal. They knew their grip was weakening, and that they were in danger of being broken, scattered, and defeated by the coalition’s new counterinsurgency campaign and the Anbar Awakening movement. In a nation where suicide bombings were becoming part of the daily routine, a coordinated attack in northern Iraq in mid-August 2007 would remind everyone that civilians still weren’t safe, and the war was far from over.
“Five fuel tankers were driven by suicide bombers into two crowded villages belonging to Kurdish members of the Yazidi religious sect before they were detonated,” read an article in the August 16th edition of the Telegraph. “A vast number of clay-built homes … were leveled by the blast on Tuesday night which was followed by an enormous fireball.” At least 250 were killed in the cowardly attack and more than 350 more were wounded. Nearly all were civilians—women, children, babies, and the elderly.
The insurgents’ desperation showed in their attempts to foment sectarian violence and undercut the surge’s progress. But despite al-Qaeda in Iraq’s best efforts and worst atrocities, our warfighters had seized the initiative. In late August, the radical Shiite cleric Muqtada al-Sadr suspended his Mahdi Army after it clashed with government forces, a welcome sign that both Sunni and Shia militias were finally standing down.
By early September 2007, the number of American troops in Iraq reached its high water mark at approximately 168,000. Many believed it was still far too few, but it was certainly more than the 127,000 who had slogged their way through a disastrous 2006. But as proponents of the new strategy said, our counterinsurgency campaign wasn’t just a surge of troops; it was a surge of ideas. Our men and women in uniform had always done things right, but now they were finally doing the right things.
Every defense policy maker in Washington, and certainly our enemies in Iraq, eagerly awaited the testimony that Petraeus would deliver to Congress beginning on September 10 in a joint hearing of the armed services and foreign affairs committees of the House of Representatives, followed by a similar gathering the next day in the Senate. It was make-or-break testimony, and the president and Congress would take action based on whatever the general said, and even how he said it. The context surrounding the hearing was crucial. Supporters of the strategy pointed to evidence of success, like the trends highlighted in the op-ed written weeks earlier by the two Brookings Institution scholars. Opponents pointed to the headlines still showing U.S. troops being killed and innocent Iraqis being slaughtered.
Even though our politicians remained unsure, evidence in Iraq indicated that al-Qaeda’s leaders knew they were losing. They didn’t need an analytical assessment from political leaders to feel the impact of the daily losses. They were on the run, everywhere, and our warfighters were denying them any safe haven. They were losing on the real battlefield, so the insurgent leaders turned to the only battlefield in which they continued to enjoy some success: the media.
Al-Qaeda figured that if it delivered a spectacular blow against coalition forces only days before Petraeus delivered his testimony, any positive trends he could highlight as justification to continue the surge would be lost amid the news surrounding a catastrophic loss of American life. If they could wipe out a platoon, for instance, or maybe even an entire company of soldiers or Marines, then nobody would listen to the metrics and statistics showing that the surge was having an impact. Our already wobbly politicians would say the testimony given by Petraeus was questionable and calls for a complete withdrawal would gain serious traction before the general even left Capitol Hill.
So al-Qaeda found a target—a small base on the outskirts of Baghdad called Combat Outpost Blackfoot. A new company of soldiers would be assuming command there in early September, just days before the Petraeus testimony was scheduled. It’d be a bunch of new guys, green and untested. Al-Qaeda thought if they massed a company-sized element of fighters, about two hundred or so, and attacked the Americans before they had a chance to establish their defenses, then they could deliver the much-needed attack that would derail Petraeus’s testimony and send the American public clamoring for a withdrawal. It was a sound plan by our enemy, yet the insurgent leaders didn’t know that the new company of American soldiers had a combat-tested first sergeant named Eric Geressy.
This was Geressy’s third deployment to Iraq. He told me that his second tour, from 2005–2006, was a “nightmare” and that he felt “done, both physically and mentally” after it was finished. The memories of the carnage surrounding Baghdad’s hospital complex, and pulling small children from the burning vehicle, were only a few of the many things he tried to forget. He and his wife divorced within a month of his return home, and the career soldier, then thirty-six years old, wasn’t even sure he wanted to be in the Army anymore. The only thing Geressy did know was that he needed to go someplace different, and do something different. He called the office that handled assignments and learned that there was a first sergeant opening in a Stryker unit in Germany. He hadn’t spent any time in Germany since most of his time had been with airborne and light infantry units, but it was the change of pace he needed. So, within thirty days of coming home from combat, Eric Geressy found himself headed to Europe. He didn’t expect to see Iraq anytime soon, and was thankful.
Eric Geressy: I arrived in Vilseck, Germany, and reported in to Command Sergeant Major Victor Martinez, the regimental sergeant major for 2nd Stryker Cavalry. We talked for a while. He was a great command sergeant major who really cared for the troopers of the regiment. He then had me assigned to the Headquarters Company for 2nd Squadron, 2nd Stryker Cavalry Regiment—the Dragoons. Then, after about a week in Germany with my new unit, we received orders to deploy to Iraq as part of the surge.
It seemed like things had gone a hundred miles an hour. I was in our unit motor pool while the squadron command sergeant major, Frank Wood, had all the troopers reciting the Dragoon Creed at the top of their lungs, getting them motivated for the deployment. That’s when it all hit me at once … everything that had happened in the previous fifteen months—the hard deployment, the divorce, the move. I just wasn’t sure if I could do the job anymore. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to go back to Iraq.
Immediately after the formation I went in and told the headquarters company commander that I didn’t think I was ready for all of that again. We then went to see the squadron commander, Lieutenant Colonel Myron Reineke, and also Command Sergeant Major Wood. I explained the situation, and how I felt at that point. Lieutenant Colonel Reineke told me to take it easy for a few days and think about what I wanted to do, then come back to see him and the command sergeant major and we’d talk.
I went home that night and sent a few emails. One email was to Colonel Mike Steele, who was my former commander in Iraq during my 2005–2006 deployment with the 3rd Brigade of the 101st Airborne Division. Another email was to my old battalion executive officer, Major Steven Delvaux. I explained what was going on, and they both contacted me immediately, and provided very similar advice.
It was simple, they said: if it was time for me to retire and hang it up, that was okay because I had already done my part. But if I felt I could still contribute to a unit going into combat, then that’s what I should do. Colonel Steele then reminded me that if he could, he would have wanted his son to serve with me. Those were strong words coming from him … and they made my decision very easy.
I would be going back to combat.
I learned a lot after two combat deployments. I knew the fight, and I felt I could make more of a difference if I was placed back in a rifle company. I talked to some folks about it but they told me that I’d never make sergeant major without spending time in a headquarters company. But, for me, it wasn’t about making rank. It was about going where I felt I should go and where I could do the most good. They counseled me against it, but I had made up my mind. You see, a rifle company’s job is simple: close in on and destroy the enemy. That’s it. When most units go out, they’re looking to go from point A to point B without any issues or incidents. Infantry rifle companies are the only guys going out there looking for trouble. They’re looking to make contact with the enemy, not avoid it. They’re looking for a fight. Everybody in the Army has an important role, but that’s what separates the infantry from everybody else.
The next day, I went to see Lieutenant Colonel Reineke and Command Sergeant Major Wood, and I told the commander, “Sir, I’m ready to deploy again, but I don’t think being a headquarters company first sergeant is a good fit for me. I want to be back in a rifle company.” I got what I asked for, and was re-assigned to be the first sergeant of Eagle Company, 2nd Squadron, 2nd Stryker Cavalry Regiment—the “Second Dragoons.”
Were you even allowed to return to combat so soon? I thought there were rules against that.
The Army had implemented a requirement for soldiers to spend at least twelve months back home before going on another combat deployment. It was called “dwell time.” I didn’t actually have to go with the Dragoons to Iraq since I had only been back from combat for about two months when my new unit received the deployment orders. So I had to sign a waiver stating that I wanted to go back voluntarily. Even though I wanted to, I remember signing the waiver request and then briefly thinking, “What the hell am I doing?”
What that a hard decision?
It sounds difficult, but after seeing those young and inexperienced guys getting ready to head into Iraq, deciding to be with them was a pretty easy decision. Somebody needed to take care of them, right? After two years of combat in Iraq, I felt I knew the nature of the fight and that I could pass that experience on to these troops. If I was able to help one soldier get back home safely to his family, then it would all be worth it to me no matter what. After I signed my waiver, several soldiers who were also inside of their dwell time from previous combat deployments walked into my office and said, “First sergeant, we’re going to sign our dwell time waivers, too, because you did it. We want to go with you.” At that point, I felt 100 percent sure that I did the right thing. I thought, “They’re going. I’m going. Yeah. Let’s do this.”
My first two deployments were still fresh on my mind and I had a clear vision for how we needed to train the soldiers for what we were going to face in Iraq. I pushed them hard while we were training in Germany. Real hard. I had them doing long runs in the morning and ruck marches with all of our gear in the afternoons—full pack, full kit. We trained on our weapons, our small arms, and our machine guns. The standard for every Eagle Company soldier was to qualify “expert” on their assigned weapon. We ran battle drills. All day long you’d see my company out there. People knew we were preparing.
About two weeks before we deployed from Germany, we got orders for our location. Our squadron was going to the outskirts of Baghdad, to Forward Operating Base Falcon. I was there in 2005 with the 101st Airborne, and I knew it was going to be tough … I never forgot all the memorial services I attended when I was there. I kept that to myself and just answered, “It was tough,” when asked. I knew the company would be ready.
When we finally got to Kuwait we had a few weeks for some final training at Camp Buehring. We turned up the training tempo. I took advantage of the weeks we were in Kuwait to get them ready for fighting in the extreme temperatures we would face once we got into Iraq. It was still summer, and the change in weather couldn’t have been more different from Germany to Kuwait, where it was maybe 110–120 degrees Fahrenheit in the day and ninety degrees at night. Most of the other companies were staying inside because it was so damn hot. Not Eagle Company. Not us. I was very no-nonsense, and I wasn’t messing around. By the time we got to our outpost in Baghdad, everybody had about enough of me. I knew that, but I wasn’t competing in a popularity contest. I wasn’t going to lose a soldier because they weren’t prepared for the enemy, the heat, or the rigors of combat.
By the time we were finished in Kuwait the soldiers of Eagle Company, 2nd Squadron, 2nd Stryker Cavalry Regiment, were ready for what they would face in the next few weeks. The soldiers all knew that they had the best guys training them, the best guys leading them, and when it got tough, they could count on those on their left and those on their right. Our squadron commander and command sergeant major knew they could count on Eagle Company, too, so we were given the mission to occupy a combat outpost in East Rashid, Baghdad. This would be the most dangerous location the unit would be in during that time, and it was the squadron’s main effort while in Baghdad.
Was Baghdad the same as you remembered?
No. It had undergone a tremendous change. The surge had been going on throughout the summer and the enemy was boxed into little al-Qaeda strongholds. They were dug in and holding on. They were way more organized as well. In ‘05–‘06, al-Qaeda was fighting in squad-sized units, six to nine men at the most. They’d initiate contact and then quickly run away. Every contact with the enemy was very violent, but normally did not last very long. In ‘07–‘08, though, al-Qaeda was maneuvering in platoon-sized elements and even company-plus sized elements on occasion, which is about two hundred guys. Their attacks weren’t over in five minutes, like before. During that time period in our sector, the al-Qaeda in Iraq fighters would maneuver on your position, then stay and fight. Sometimes they would go on for an hour or two. It was crazy. I couldn’t believe it. They wouldn’t break contact. They would maneuver. They would mass. They would isolate us. I was shocked at the conditions at that time. I was surprised how organized and how determined al-Qaeda was to take the fight to us. It was a totally different situation than I experienced in my previous combat deployments.
We conducted what’s called a “leader’s recon” to our new post; this included all the company’s platoon leaders and platoon sergeants, along with members of the unit we would be replacing. We got to see the neighborhood we’d patrol and the base that we would call home—Combat Outpost Blackfoot. The unit we were replacing had taken a lot of casualties. They had a lot of guys wounded. They had several guys killed. It was a tough fight for them, and by the time we would occupy and relieve the unit at the outpost, they were only manning the position with one platoon, which was about thirty-five soldiers. They didn’t patrol in the daytime, and from what I could tell, they focused mainly on securing the outpost.
The outpost itself was not built up into the fighting position that I would have expected, and I took note of that. Also during the leader’s recon, while on the roof of the outpost, I remember seeing a big piece of steel, maybe two hundred meters from the entry control point north of the outpost. I asked their commander, “What’s that?” He said, “That is part of one of our Strykers. It got blown up with an IED.” I could not believe that they got hit with an IED only two hundred meters from the outpost, right out in the open, and nobody saw the IED being put in place. I thought to myself, “That isn’t going to happen to us.”
After the recon was complete, we went back to Falcon and briefed our squadron commander and the rest of the company. Lieutenant Colonel Reineke, he asked me, “So, what do you think?” I said, “Well, sir, I don’t think we are going to have a problem finding the enemy.” He asked, “What do you mean by that?” I said, “Well, apparently they are right at the front gate to the outpost. There’s half a Stryker blown up out there, and the unit we were replacing just left it blown up in the street.”
I started thinking about everything that needed to be done at that outpost. I just had this feeling that I needed to get out there immediately, establish the priorities, and get to work building a defense. I also asked our squadron commander for extra medical support. He allowed us to take a physician assistant, a PA, named Captain Benjamin Blanks, and a couple of extra medics. That proved to be a wise decision. That medical team went on to save many lives, both American soldiers and Iraqi civilians.
The three rifle platoons moved to the outpost first, while I stayed behind at Forward Operating Base Falcon to ensure our Stryker vehicles were ready to patrol in Baghdad. They still had a few things that needed to be done. With most of the company at the outpost, there were only a handful of junior enlisted soldiers to do the work on the Strykers. I was there to make sure they got it done, but they ended up not needing me; those young troops knew exactly what they had to do, and then they made it happen. Besides me, a sergeant, a corporal, and a bunch of privates through specialists began working on those vehicles. The squadron gave us priority for anything we needed, and in only two days we got three platoons’ worth of vehicles ready.
Our new outpost, Blackfoot, was in a neighborhood called East Rashid in southwest Baghdad. During that time period, al-Qaeda had gotten beaten all over the place until they finally went into this neighborhood. They called it “al-Qaeda’s Castle,” their last stronghold in Baghdad.
The area was a mix of Sunni and Shia Muslims. The Sunnis were predominantly supporting al-Qaeda in Iraq, while the Shia were supporting a group called the JAM, the Jaysh al-Mahdi, which is the Mahdi Militia that fought for Muqtada al-Sadr. There was a lot of sectarian violence happening at that time, Sunni-on-Shia attacks. Iraq’s prime minister, Nouri al-Maliki, had already started a pro-Shia campaign to go after the Sunni Iraqis. So the Shia in this neighborhood, East Rashid, were trying to wipe out the Sunnis, and the government forces were helping them. That gave al-Qaeda an opening. They came in and said to the Sunni residents, “Hey, we’ll protect you guys and help you fight the Shia government and the U.S. Forces.”
So the people allowed al-Qaeda to move in and take control of the whole neighborhood, but then they just ended up destroying what was left of the place. They were killing locals in what we called EJKs—extra-judicial killings. If the locals did something al-Qaeda didn’t like, they were executed on the spot. If anyone broke the rules, they would get beaten, often beaten to death. Al-Qaeda was abusing a lot of their women, too. So eventually, al-Qaeda wore out their welcome. I think that it just all came to a head between the locals and al-Qaeda, who were mainly foreign fighters or from other parts of Iraq. That change started happening about the time we moved into the area. So we had a small window of opportunity to take the fight to the enemy, and then show the people that we were there to help.
Two days after the leader’s recon, on September 3, we moved from Forward Operating Base Falcon to our new home at Combat Outpost Blackfoot. Most of my guys had never driven through Baghdad before, so we moved under the cover of night. We had three platoons’ worth of vehicles—twelve Strykers. It wasn’t that far of a drive but we went through some really bad areas. I kept thinking … if we got into contact with the enemy during that night, it would be interesting since that was the same group of junior troops who got the vehicles ready. I had confidence in them, though, so away we went. The movement went smoothly, minus a slight break in contact, but eventually we made it to Combat Outpost Blackfoot without any incidents—no contact with enemy forces, no IEDs.
Combat Outpost Blackfoot was an interesting place. It was housed in the complex of an old Chaldean Catholic Church seminary—the Pontifical Babel College of Baghdad. It had been around for centuries. We had gotten permission from the bishop of Baghdad to secure the place.
The residents of East Rashid were suspicious and afraid. When we first arrived, only a few Iraqi civilians would meet with us. They were Sunnis, but probably more former Baathist than al-Qaeda sympathizers. They were on the fence because they were fed up with al-Qaeda and they were reaching out to us, feeling us out to see if they had a chance of working with us to make things better. The other civilians wouldn’t come anywhere near us during the first few weeks. On top of that, we couldn’t go outside of the outpost without getting into a firefight. It was so bad that first couple of months that we were getting into three and four firefights a day. Some of the fights were quick, but most would go on for hours at a time.
The outpost complex had three different buildings that were not linked together. The first was the school. It was a large building with a chapel inside and a rooftop area. That was our main building. The other was a large church on the northwest corner surrounded by a wall. The third area was in the northeast corner with another church. It looked just like a Catholic church inside. We were told the priest had been murdered there on the Easter Sunday before our arrival … it was still decorated for Easter. They just left it that way as the people fled during the sectarian violence that plagued the sector before our arrival.
Christian churches were a favorite target of al-Qaeda. “Chaldeans have been moving ancient artifacts and century-old manuscripts around the country in order to protect and preserve the items,” according to one Chaldean priest from Iraq. “Priceless relics of first-century Christianity, books in Aramaic, journals, diaries, paintings, sculptures, and other pieces were lost when churches were firebombed and ransacked by Islamic terrorists.” The priest added that, fortunately, the U.S. Army sealed and secured the library at the Pontifical Babel College of Baghdad, which contained many ancient writings, before they took the abandoned structures as a base of operations.
Overall, the neighborhood was a strange place. On one side were all the Shia Muslims. On the other side were all the Sunni Muslims, and then there we were, in the middle, occupying an old Catholic seminary school. They were fighting each other, and then they were both fighting us. It was a very bad situation.
I thought that all of the priests had left, but after being there for three months, and through several firefights, we learned differently. One day I took a patrol across the road and over to the northwest corner, near that other church that was part of the complex, and found an old lady and a man living there. He looked like an Iraqi Santa Claus, with a long white beard and everything. I was totally surprised. I asked him, “How long have you been here?” He said, “Oh, about ten years.” I asked, “You’ve been living here this whole time, through the fighting, too?” He said “yes.” It was amazing. He had been getting food from the Shia and Sunni residents of the neighborhood. They all knew him and liked him, and even though all that sectarian fighting had gotten really ugly, they were still taking care of that old priest.
Anyway, getting back to our time in early September … as soon as our company made the initial trip from Falcon to Blackfoot, the company’s leadership—the commander, executive officer, and the fire support officer—had to go to a meeting someplace in Baghdad. That left me as the only company-level senior leader on the outpost. I had a handful of guys from the headquarters section, and the three rifle platoons, which were each led by a lieutenant and a platoon sergeant. That was it, about eighty to ninety soldiers, and about three-quarters of the enlisted men, and all of the officers, had yet to serve in combat.
Immediately after arriving at the outpost, I had a meeting with the lieutenants and the platoon sergeants and established the priorities of work in order to build the defensive positions of the outpost. Some of them were fighting over who was going to sleep where, and what platoons were sleeping in what rooms. I explained to them that what rooms they would sleep in was not the priority. I said, “The priority right now is to turn the outpost into something that we can defend, that we can fight from, and that we can survive in.”
One of Geressy’s platoon leaders, Lieutenant James Weber, would later write that the first sergeant, through experience and intuition, “knew the enemy would soon be testing us. He made the demanding but necessary directive for the company to continuously improve our force protection measures for forty-eight hours. In my opinion, the standard to which (1st Sergeant) Geressy required the defensive position to be improved would not have been reached had he not been present. And it was this standard that proved crucial in the defense of the COP, especially in the initial moments of the attack.”
I didn’t know the enemy situation, but I had been in the Army for a while by then and had been in combat several times. I had a feeling that we were going to be attacked, and soon. I came up with a plan right away and put everyone to work. We quickly built bunkers on the roof for our machine gun teams. We took a lot of what was called “pope glass,” which is the type of bulletproof glass that was used for armored Humvees. There was a lot of that stuff lying around on Falcon, so we took it for better use than having it sit all over the FOB. We also took a bunch of extra plywood, and sand bags. I coordinated with our headquarters company to sign for several extra M2 .50-caliber machine guns and two MK-19 automatic grenade launchers for the fighting positions on our roof. These extra weapons systems meant that all sectors of fire would be covered by heavy weapons for primary positions, alternate positions, and supplementary positions.
The soldiers were busy nonstop. It was more than one hundred degrees and they were out there filling sandbags, carrying them to the roof, building bunkers out of plywood and two-by-fours, cutting frames to hold the pope glass. We also erected a 60mm mortar position to be fired from the roof along with a storage area for its ammunition. We did a lot of the work at night so nobody could see what we were doing. Then we put up a bunch of camouflaged netting that screened the entire post. With those nets up, the enemy couldn’t see our fighting positions. They couldn’t see us moving around on the roof, either. Looking back, that camo netting probably saved more lives than anything else because it caused the enemy to shoot too high. The enemy fired at that net so much that during the attack some of the netting caught fire.
I remember thinking back to having the honor of meeting Medal of Honor recipient Lieutenant General Robert F. Foley. He served in Vietnam in the 25th Infantry Division, and he came to speak to our unit while I was stationed in Hawaii shortly after 9/11. He shared his experience as a company commander and about how to build a defense. He said, “Deception, deception, deception.” It stuck in my head for years. So one of my ideas was to build much of the defense during the night to confuse the enemy. If they did attack us during the day, our positions would be different from what they saw previously. That’s exactly what happened, too. They didn’t see our new positions that we’d set up during the night.
The enemy did not realize the amount of improvements to the outpost’s fighting positions that were made by the soldiers of Eagle Company. Looking back it was amazing what they accomplished in the forty-eight hours prior to the enemy attack. The insurgents thought we wouldn’t be ready; they could not have been more wrong. Besides the position improvements, the deception that we capitalized on was essential. It worked for Lieutenant General Foley in Vietnam, and it worked for Eagle Company in Baghdad.
The soldiers worked feverishly on that first day and through the night, even wearing their night vision goggles so they could set up the camouflage netting. By our second day at Blackfoot, the defense was nearly 100 percent complete. They worked day and night with no complaints, although I don’t think they were too happy about it. By the time the defensive positions were complete, the entire company was probably ready to catapult me from the rooftop and into that neighborhood. The soldiers’ hard work had paid off and the last machine gun was in position by the morning of September 4. A few hours later, around 3 p.m., the battle started.
Blackfoot was attacked on your second day there?
Yes, it was. Our company had started to move to the outpost around September 1, and we had all three rifle platoons in place but were missing a large part of the headquarters and the mobile gun system platoon. You see, the enemy had figured out when new units were rotating into Iraq, and these units were the most vulnerable while they were learning about their new sectors. The unit we replaced introduced us to some of the local Iraqis, so word quickly spread that the new guys were moving in. We later learned through interviews that al-Qaeda had been planning to conduct a major assault on the American soldiers in that sector, and since we were new to the outpost they would capitalize on the situation. We also would learn that there were about 150–200 fighters in their assault.
Al-Qaeda’s plan started on the previous night, though, with a little deception of their own. The night before, when Eagle Company soldiers were setting up the defenses, we got a call from the squadron’s TOC, or tactical operations center, on Falcon. They said they had received intelligence about a vehicle-born improvised explosive device, a VBIED, which is basically a car full of bombs. These VBIEDs were extremely dangerous and would often create mass casualty situations. It was supposed to be in our sector, about 3–4 kilometers from Blackfoot, so the TOC wanted me to send Eagle Company soldiers to investigate.
My first question was, “Where are you getting this report from?” The squadron TOC said they received it from a tip line that the unit we replaced had established. That tip line was simply a telephone number with a voicemail box. The unit had advertised the number around Baghdad asking people to call with information about the insurgency, warnings about attacks, or where we could find wanted terrorists. But it’s just an anonymous tip line. You don’t know who you’re getting the information from. It could be from anyone and for any purpose, good or bad.
So I asked the TOC, “You don’t know where this report is coming from, and you want me to send a platoon, that’s only been here two days, out into the night looking for a car bomb that might be there, or might not?” I thought for a moment about how we didn’t yet know much about the enemy in the area, and then said, “Sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I didn’t want to come off as insubordinate, but I just couldn’t agree with the idea based off of our current company situation and the lack of knowledge about where the report came from. The battle captain at the TOC accepted that as an answer … for the time being. They kept coming back for the next few hours asking me to send the platoon. Eventually, when daybreak came, I got a direct order from the squadron TOC to send a platoon to investigate the reported car bomb. There was no way I could push back at that point.
I knew we had to do the mission, but my first priority was always the safety of my soldiers. So I assembled all of the platoon leaders and platoon sergeants, along with our physician’s assistant, to brief the plan. The unit we replaced rarely went out during the day, so doing this in late afternoon would help because we would catch the enemy by surprise. The platoon I selected for the patrol was Eagle Company’s 3rd Platoon, which was led by 1st Lieutenant Christopher Turner and Sergeant 1st Class Jeremy Hare.
The plan was for 3rd Platoon to move dismounted, which means on foot, from the outpost through the alleyways and streets to the suspected VBIED location. We kept their vehicles at the outpost with their crews ready to go, with engines running, in case they needed to be reinforced or for casualty evacuation. I also gave the same instruction to 1st Platoon, which was led by 1st Lieutenant Fernando Pelayo and Sergeant 1st Class Raymond Bittinger. Their task was to be loaded up with the entire platoon in case we needed to reinforce 3rd Platoon by maneuvering on the enemy or assist with casualty evacuation. I also requested Apache attack helicopters to provide over-watch during 3rd Platoon’s movement through the neighborhood.
At 3:30 p.m. our Apache helicopters checked in, and then 3rd Platoon left Blackfoot dismounted. For better concealment, 1st Lieutenant Turner and his platoon crept through the alleyways rather than walking into the area on the normal road. If the enemies were there, they wouldn’t expect to see our guys coming dismounted along that route. Meanwhile, back at the outpost, 1st Platoon was set as a Quick Reaction Force, a QRF, ready to ride out and provide backup should it be needed, and 2nd Platoon, led by 1st Lieutenant James Weber and Staff Sergeant Brian Glynn, was on the roof of the outpost providing security.
Now here’s something interesting that we didn’t know at that time: months later, we learned through intelligence gathering that al-Qaeda’s initial plan was to use that tip line to lure one of our platoons to that suspected car bomb site during the previous night, then ambush and kill them all. We didn’t take the bait, at least not during the night. After al-Qaeda’s plan failed, the enemy leadership gathered in a mosque to decide what their next step should be because they still wanted to attack the newly arrived unit at Blackfoot. Coincidentally, the VBIED location was in the vicinity of that mosque where the meeting was being held. We were eventually told the enemy leadership went into a panic because they thought 3rd Platoon knew their location and was about to attack. So the enemy called all of their fighters together and had them mass for an immediate attack on 3rd Platoon at the location of the VBIED, and then to attack COP Blackfoot after that.
It was incredibly hot, close to 120 degrees, and 3rd Platoon called and said that a couple of its soldiers were having a hard time with the heat and had gotten dehydrated. That can happen so fast over there. Also, as they were making their way to the area, they ducked into a building and found a whole bunch of bomb-making materials and a bunch of AK-47s with suppressors. The AK-47s also had a stamp on the rifle which identified that it came from the Iranian Revolutionary Guard al-Quds Force—the worst guys over there. More bad news.
Anyway, the platoon reached the suspected VBIED—sort of a bus—and a local Iraqi man told them that it had been parked there for months. When 1st Lieutenant Turner called me on the radio and told me that, I was convinced the whole “tip line” thing was a trap. I told the lieutenant that I was sending his platoon’s Strykers to his location immediately, and for him to load the dismounted soldiers from his platoon back on the vehicles and return back to Blackfoot. But as soon as the Strykers departed the outpost, 3rd Platoon began taking small arms fire from enemy positions around the neighborhood. There were insurgents firing from rooftops and from windows. It was sporadic at first, but little by little the gunfire became more intense.
The Strykers got to the dismounted platoon within minutes. As the vehicles linked up with the platoon, they engaged and killed three al-Qaeda fighters who were firing at them from the rooftops. We were still very new to the area and didn’t know what the enemy situation was, so instead of having 3rd Platoon maneuver on the enemy and engage, I decided to bring them back to Blackfoot.
As soon as the platoon pulled back into Blackfoot, I said to 1st Lieutenant Turner, “Sir, as soon as you can, get your guys around the map table in the command post and let’s do a quick after-action report.” I wanted to do this fast so we could get a better picture of the enemy actions. I then went to check on the soldiers who had trouble with the heat while on the mission. Captain Blanks and his medics had already put IVs into their arms and were cooling them down and getting them rehydrated. After seeing that they were all right, I went back to the command post to talk with 3rd Platoon’s leadership.
I was the last one into the command post, and just when the platoon leader started to explain what happened, we heard the unmistakable sound of two or three rocket-propelled grenades zip right over the top of our outpost and detonate on the other side of the wall. Then we heard several other explosions, and then machine gunfire all around our building.
We had rehearsed our battle drills in case the outpost was attacked. All the soldiers knew their job—what they would do and where they would go in case this happened. Very briefly, I told 1st Lieutenant Turner and Sergeant First Class Hare to take their soldiers and reinforce 2nd Platoon, which was on the roof. At this point I had two platoons moving on to the roof manning the fighting positions. I then directed 1st Lieutenant Pelayo, with his soldiers from 1st Platoon, who were already loaded in their vehicles, to stay ready to go as the quick reaction force, a QRF. This gave me a quick option if I needed to decide whether to send them outside to maneuver on the enemy or keep them at the outpost ready to go for casualty evacuation.
Everything happened very quickly, in what seemed like two seconds. Everybody started executing and moving. At the time I was just wearing my uniform with only my pistol. My body armor, helmet and rifle were back in my room. I started running back there in what seemed like slow motion. I finally got to my room, threw on my kit—armor, helmet—grabbed my M4 and started running up the stairs.
Blackfoot was getting slammed. Initially, it was a shock to my company that this was happening so soon after our arrival. The award recommendation for that day says that I “calmly” did this and “calmly” did that. But I don’t remember being calm about anything. I hit that first step in the stairwell and heard the guys on the roof screaming, “Medic! Medic!” When guys scream that word, you never know what you’re going to find on the other end. The sound of that call for help, the panic in their voices … it’s hard to describe, but I’ll never forget those calls.
There were explosions impacting all around the outpost, and you could hear and see the impact of bullets from what I thought were several machine guns firing into our position. As I ran up the stairs I heard the enemy let loose with several more RPGs and mortar rounds. We had put sandbags in the windows of the stairwell, and as I climbed the stairs to the roof I heard bullets hitting the sandbags. I could hear bullets hitting the wall, as well. It felt like the whole city was firing at us.
When I reached the roof my first action was to identify the wounded and get them out of there. The previous day, I had the soldiers pre-position litters, extra first-aid kits, and ammunition in each doorway of the stairwell on the rooftop. All this was in place before the enemy initiated the attack.
The amount of incoming fire was massive, and I was actually surprised that we weren’t all being shot off the roof. I saw Specialist Ryan Holly lying there, screaming and bleeding out very badly. He was in bad shape and was going into shock. The bullet missed his vest, entered his chest, severed his sciatic nerve, and then came out on the other side and stuck into the side of an M203 High Explosive Dual Purpose Grenade that he was carrying on his belt. Luckily, it didn’t explode.
As we all moved to help Holly, one of our soldiers, Specialist Mike Foster of New Jersey, did a heroic thing. He was about twenty-one years old, and that was his first time in combat. He was a machine gunner inside one of the bunkers on the roof. As a gunner, Foster had a specific sector of fire that he was responsible for, but he saw all of us trying to evacuate Holley and how we were taking heavy fire. Now, nobody told Foster to do what he did next. He could have just stayed in his bunker, where it was much safer than being out in the open on the roof, but he saw we needed some help, so Foster took his machine gun off its tripod, came out of the bunker, positioned himself on the other wall and started engaging the enemy. This provided extremely valuable covering fire. Foster was awarded an Army Commendation Medal with Valor for his actions, and that’s just one example of what the soldiers of Eagle Company did that day.
The next couple of minutes were a blur. I yelled for one of the soldiers to get the litter from where it was pre-positioned, we took Holly’s grenade belt off, loaded him onto the litter, and then I yelled for someone to help me carry it. Specialist Tamim Fares, one of our company snipers who had run up immediately when Holly was wounded, grabbed the other end of the litter and we started carrying him down the stairwell as delicately as we could.
We were under constant fire from what seemed like every direction, but none of my soldiers cared about that. They just wanted to help get Holly to safety. About halfway down, Holly started screaming really bad again. It’s hard to communicate in a situation like that, between the noise of all the explosions and gunfire and the screaming. Things are moving so fast, one hundred miles an hour, but then a moment comes along as if it were in slow motion. There in that stairwell, everything slowed down. I looked down at Holly and said, “Hey, man, don’t worry. You’re going to be all right. You’re going to be all right.” He calmed down a little. Our physician’s assistant, Captain Benjamin Blanks, and his medics then met us halfway down the stairs. They took over from there and started carrying Holly away to the aid station.
Now that we had taken care of Holly, the next thing I needed to do was identify the enemy positions. I turned around and ran back to the roof. After a quick look around, I determined that we were being attacked from three different directions. We needed to gain fire superiority quickly, and I knew that we needed to attack their heavy weapons first, starting with their machine guns. I then went from position to position on the roof, directing the fires of our own machine gunners.
Earlier in the day I had coordinated for Apache attack helicopters to provide over-watch for the platoon that investigated the VBIED. They were still around, so I began coordinating with the pilots for a close-combat attack fire mission. My first target was a machine gun position firing from a four-storied building that was directly to the north of our outpost. Initially, we tried to show the pilots where we wanted them to shoot by firing tracer rounds from our machine guns into the target. But there was already so much fire going back and forth that the pilots couldn’t identify the enemy using that method. So I told one of the M203 gunners from 2nd Platoon to fire two or three smoke grenades at the enemy location. He did, and it worked. The Apache pilots confirmed the smoke from the M203 that marked the enemy position, and I then cleared them hot to engage the enemy position using a hellfire missile.
The Apache fired the hellfire missile at the target. I watched it sail, and it was going, going, going … and then right before impact it broke left and blew up a random house. I remember thinking, “Oh, Shit! I hope there were no civilians in that house.” Thankfully the pilot came back on the radio and said, “Eagle Seven,” (which was my radio call-sign), “That wasn’t your fault. It was a missile malfunction.” I then cleared the Apache for a second attempt on the enemy gun position. I think they did two strikes on that building, and those missile strikes silenced the enemy machine gun. I went through the same process clearing fires for the Apaches on several other enemy machine gun positions.
I cannot say enough about those helicopter pilots. They saved many lives, not only on that day, but also throughout our deployment. They were always ready and willing, never fearing to fly low or go on multiple gun runs in support of our soldiers on the ground. They were phenomenal, and I hope they know how much we appreciated their efforts.
In between the missile strikes, I was running up and down the stairs to the building’s small command post to radio situation reports to Lieutenant Colonel Reineke, and at some time during the fight the colonel wanted to send the squadron’s quick reaction force to reinforce Blackfoot. I paused to think about that. You see, during my second deployment in 2005–2006, the insurgents were notorious for ambushing the QRF, killing many American soldiers in the process. The enemy knew we’d always send help, so they would incorporate that into their plans. After they caused casualties during an initial attack, they would then just wait for a while and then attack the incoming platoon with roadside bombs and small arms fire.
I wasn’t sure if we were going to hold the outpost, but I still didn’t want to risk the lives of the soldiers on that QRF platoon. To me, the risk of sending them into the battle was just too great until we absolutely needed them, and I didn’t know yet. Besides, this was Eagle Company’s fight—we started it and we would finish it. So I recommended to keep the QRF ready, but not to send it in just yet. The colonel said he’d keep them loaded and ready to go, and that all I needed to do was say the word and they’d be released.
I got off of the radio and ran down to check on Holly. There were bullets ricocheting everywhere inside the building while Captain Blanks and the medics were working on him. You know it is bad when the medics in the aid station are working on the wounded wearing full kit—body armor and helmets. It was a bad scene. I asked the doc, “Hey, how is Holly?” Captain Blanks looked up and said, “He needs to get out of here … and soon.”
I then ran back up the stairwell to the roof to get a better assessment of the situation. By that time the fighting had been going on for over three hours, and while there was still a good bit of fighting, things seemed to have calmed a little. I felt that we had enough control of the situation, so I decided to have 1st Lieutenant Pelayo and his platoon evacuate Holly to the 28th CSH [combat support hospital]. They’d have to get through the neighborhood and then cross about fifteen kilometers of Baghdad. I told them to drop Holly off, leave one guy with him, and then haul ass back to the outpost. They immediately loaded Holly into a Stryker, and then I ran back to the roof. As soon as they pulled out of Blackfoot’s gate it seemed like the whole city started shooting at us again. We were firing everything we had to suppress the enemy so Pelayo’s platoon could get on the road: .50-cals, Mark 19s, M240s, and our snipers were engaging targets, as well.
The battle continued for what seemed like several more hours. There would be a lull in gunfire for a little while and then, without warning, everything would erupt again. We had most of the ammunition on the first floor, so between radioing situation reports back to our squadron’s tactical operations center, asking for updates on Holly, directing gunfire, and checking weapons, I also made several trips running ammunition to the machine guns on the roof.
There was another lull in gunfire as we transitioned from daylight to nighttime operations. We started putting on our night vision goggles and checking our lasers, making sure everything was ready to fight in the night. It had been balls-to-the-wall fighting for several hours, and during that lull a few guys decided to take a knee on the roof and rest for a moment. One of them was Staff Sergeant Darrell Card, who is one of the best noncommissioned officers in the Army and a true hero. He looked and me and said, “Man, did that just happen?” I said, “Yeah, it did … and I don’t think it’s over yet.” Probably ten seconds after that, the gunfire erupted again.
We learned later that al-Qaeda was massing again and readying itself for another assault. They had planned an initial attack and then a supporting attack. They were even bringing in reinforcements and conducting ammunition resupply runs during the battle. That’s how organized they were. Their supporting attack ended, though, after we had the Apache pilots conduct several more runs using their 30mm chain gun. That killed between twenty, twenty-five fighters. 1st Platoon then made it back to Blackfoot after evacing Holly, and the Apaches remained on-station. I don’t remember how many different sets of Apaches supported us that day—they would go refuel and rearm, and then come back—but they saved many American lives.
There was sporadic gunfire back and forth throughout the night, and I had our soldiers firing parachute flares into the night sky over the neighborhood in order to remind the enemy, “Hey! We’re still here! We’re still ready to go!” But by midnight all had gone quiet, which was a good thing because we had shot damn near all of our machine gun ammunition and our MK-19 ammunition. We actually had to cut into the emergency ammunition pallet. A few hours later into the night we were resupplied, and that marked the end of the battle.
A few days later we heard that the surviving al-Qaeda fighters held a brief show-of-force in our sector by marching through a neighborhood street with their weapons. They were trying to look strong and demonstrate that they were still there, that they were still strong. But we had decimated them in the battle for Blackfoot. They were nowhere near the fighting force that they were the day before that attack, and even though there would still be many battles in the months ahead, that fight was the beginning of the end for al-Qaeda in our sector. The Iraqi civilians in the neighborhood knew al-Qaeda was finished as well. That was a decisive point for the people.
Whatever happened to Ryan Holly?
Holly survived. He was bleeding to death at our outpost, but Captain Blanks and our medics saved his life. Holly eventually got shipped back to the States, and he had a hard time recovering. Remember, the bullet cut through him, hitting his nerve before getting stuck in a grenade. A few days after the battle we had the explosive ordnance disposal team, the EOD, take the bullet out of that grenade. We then had it mounted on a plaque and sent it home to his family.
I’ll never forget that day. Al-Qaeda’s attack on Combat Outpost Blackfoot was massive and their objective was to inflict significant causalities to derail the positive assessment of the surge, but we didn’t lose a single soldier during the battle. Looking back, all of the preparation and training that we did in Germany and Kuwait, and the performance of the soldiers during the fight, saved all of our lives.
We trained hard, and I pushed them all very hard. In the end, they all wanted to do good … and they did. Every one of those soldiers is a hero. They went above and beyond what they were required to do. The soldiers took care of each other during an incredibly difficult time, and the lieutenants and non-commissioned officers really led their men. I am very proud of them, and our country should be very proud of them, too.
After that battle on the 4th of September, the fighting was door-to-door, house-to-house, and block-to-block until we slowly retook the entire neighborhood from the enemy. The civilians eventually came back. They opened up stores and started resuming somewhat normal lives. We even started inviting the Iraqis to barbecues on our outpost, and they would invite us for tea and dinner during our patrols. In the short time we were there, it went from one extreme to the other.
Our regiment would pay a heavy price in wounded and killed during that deployment. During the fighting to come, the regiment eventually had eighteen killed in action and seventy-five more wounded. Eagle Company had close to twenty-five wounded, and one killed in action. His name was Specialist Avealalo Milo, and he was about twenty-three years old. There were a lot of sacrifices over there. Too many … a lot more than people realize. These soldiers really are our nation’s best and brightest; the United States can be proud of how their sons and daughters conducted themselves during some very difficult days. These soldiers demonstrated valor, honor, and selflessness on a daily basis. It was an honor for me to serve and fight alongside those heroes. I think about them and the sacrifices they made every day.
Months later, during some local interviews conducted by 1st Lieutenant Patrick Rice, the Eagle Company fire support officer, an Iraqi who was part of the attack told us we had fought off an enemy force of up to two hundred al-Qaeda fighters, and he knew firsthand that the al-Qaeda commander had wanted to influence the media by staging a dynamic attack shortly before General Petraeus testified to Congress about the results of the surge. They knew what was at stake—the U.S. Army was either going to stay or retreat based on what the American people thought of what Petraeus said. A massive attack, wiping out an entire platoon or company on the eve of his testimony, would have been a great win for al-Qaeda. They wanted those headlines.
We learned that they had done all kinds of reconnaissance on Blackfoot prior to our arrival, and they thought that a new unit like ours wouldn’t be ready so soon. They thought they would catch us unprepared, and kill many of our soldiers. They wanted to wipe us out. That was their plan, but their attack on Blackfoot, and their plan to derail the surge, failed.
The entire squadron was recognized with the Valorous Unit Award for their actions in September and October of 2007, and Geressy was eventually promoted to sergeant major. Many officers in the unit would later write about Geressy in a packet seeking official recognition for their first sergeant. 1st Lieutenant Turner, one of the new officers in the company, wrote fondly of Geressy, reflecting that, “As a young platoon leader under fire for the first time, Sergeant Major Geressy’s leadership, poise, and heroism set the example for me to lead my platoon through the grueling firefight.” Captain Blanks, the physician’s assistant, wrote that during his more than seventeen-year career in the military, “I have never served with a more courageous and capable leader than Sergeant Major Geressy.”
For his leadership during the battle for Blackfoot, Eric Geressy’s company commander recommended him for the Silver Star. Lieutenant General Ray Odierno, then-commander of Multi-National Corps-Iraq, was so impressed by the action that he upgraded the award to the Distinguished Service Cross (DSC), second only to the Medal of Honor. Surprisingly, the general’s upgrade somehow went unnoticed during the process and the Silver Star was presented to Geressy in a ceremony at Fort Bliss, Texas, in September of 2008. Geressy’s grandfather, a veteran of World War II, was at the ceremony and in a touching moment pinned the medal on his grandson’s uniform.
In the years since, Geressy’s former commanders and soldiers began advocating that he should receive the DSC after all, and in 2010 an official recommendation to upgrade the award was sent to the Secretary of the Army. On the form recommending the upgrade, General Petraeus personally wrote, “Truly heroic and deserving of DSC,” and General Odierno, who would eventually become the Army’s chief of staff—its top-ranking officer—also wrote that Geressy’s “actions warrant the DSC. I truly believe he is much deserved of this award.”
The board reviewing the request ultimately disagreed with the generals, and the upgrade to the DSC was denied. During an appeal process, it was noted that one of the board’s members said that Geressy’s actions were “business as usual for a sergeant in combat” and that there was not “a lot of loss of life and not a lot of saving of life” during the battle. Another board member who voted against the upgrade said Geressy “did not fire a weapon or engage personally with an enemy soldier” while leading the defense of COP Blackfoot.
Veterans of the battle—those whose lives were saved by the actions of their first sergeant—were left stunned by the board’s rationale. The inexplicable decision could still be reversed, however. In early 2016, the Pentagon began reviewing more than 1,100 awards for valor that were issued since September 11, 2001, with an eye to upgrade those who deserve higher recognition. The sweeping review comes after many years of protests from Congress and veterans groups who claimed the process left many warfighters and their families without the recognition they rightly deserve. “It’s a systemic problem,” said U.S. Rep. Duncan Hunter, a California Republican and Marine veteran. “I’m glad they’re finally getting around to fixing it. This is military bureaucracy at its worst.”
Meanwhile, Geressy remains loved and admired by the men who fought alongside him at COP Blackfoot. “With absolutely no doubt,” 1st Lieutenant James Weber wrote, “Geressy’s crucial preparations, flawless leadership, and extraordinary heroism saved the lives of an untold number of American soldiers that day.”
