Grim reality, up close

Matthew McAllester

November 10, 2004

At 5:10 p.m., as this reporter and a correspondent from the Chicago Tribune sat writing stories on laptop computers, a massive blast hit the building we were working in. Fire erupted outside the room's window, and we were thrown to the ground.

Dust filled the entire building, so thick that it was impossible to see.

Soldiers shouted out for one another by name through the whiteness.

"Anyone hit?" called out Staff Sgt. Carlos Santilliano, who was in the next room.

As the dust cleared a little, a 2-foot-wide hole in the roof became visible, and a rocket emerged from the gloom, embedded in the floor 10 feet from our work area.

Outside two soldiers were injured, one seriously. His groin was covered in blood as he was carried away into a Bradley on a stretcher. Another soldier, a sniper, had slight wounds to an arm.

Soldiers watched quietly, looking at one another, looking away, looking at the wounded.

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