the other press Combat Fratricide: What it is. What it isn’t. Sven Bellamy Features editor Fratricide is defined as the act of killing one’s brother or sister. In a combat situation fratricide is the act of killing one’s allies. Recently in Afghanistan twelve Canadian soldiers became the first Canadian casual- ties since the Korean conflict of the 1950s. Unfortunately they died because an allied soldier misunderstood what was going on. Having perceived a threat, not able to clear- ly confirm the target, acted on an impulse to drop a laser-guided warhead, which just hap- pened to be on allies participating in a live- fire night training exercise. A tragic incident, which has strengthened beliefs of those opposed to the war as well as those who support it. Supporters focus on the dangers of war, the inevitability of casu- alties, and how in every war mistakes are made. Those in opposition to the military action point at the incompetence of military command and the soldiers; calling for troops to be withdrawn, sometimes sinking as low as to make jokes about the soldier who made the mistake. Emotions run amuck. All of these stories can be extracted from mainstream media sources, both here in Canada, and around the world. However, ‘there is a perspective that has not been pre- sented. It is the perspective of the soldier in the middle of combat. The one who knows something has gone horribly wrong, and that a terrible mistake has been made. It is the soldier who pulled the trigger, killing allies, or it is a survivor who witnessed the incident. These soldiers carry scars away from the battlefield. Scars caused by horrific mis- takes, unimaginable by any civilian not involved in armed conflict; scars that can last a lifetime. The following two stories are from soldiers who were directly involved in friendly fire inci- dents. The first comes out of the Vietnam conflict, and the second from the Gulf War. They are both stories that help reveal the grim reality that is War. Claymore Alley Jeff Drake was involved in a friendly fire incident during his first combat experience in Vietnam. The story here is a paraphrased ver- sion of his work. The original work can be read on-line at: http://grunt.space.swre.edu/clay- more.htm Jeff Drake spent two full tours of duty in Vietnam. 17 months stationed at a communi- cations station that relayed information between the northern and southern portions of South Vietnam. His first combat experi- ence found him on recon patrol moving slow- ly along a reddish muddy track of the Vietnamese central highlands. Thick green foliage and bright sunlight filtering through the jungle canopy created surreal images, tricking the eyes into seeing phantoms and mirages, the sounds of the jungle emphasiz- ing the dreamscape. The soldiers lived with a persistent reality that at anytime the enemy might be lying in wait, lining up rifle sights, begging to end life. Enemy soldiers were not the only threat. Antipersonnel explosives placed strategically along trodden trails trig- gered by tripwires could end life suddenly. The knowledge that death was always near and unpredictable caused adrenalin surges, heightening senses and tightening muscles. Being stealthy and alert might be the only real way to survive the jungles of Vietnam. Jeff recalls the Sergeant signalling a stop and the security platoon settling down for a break. As Jeff lights up a cigarette a truck mechanic by the name of Dave Fry asks to switch places with him so he can be closer to the Sergeant. Dave had wanted a taste of jungle patrol and the company Captain had been convinced that this patrol would be safe. Jeff hesitates fully aware the mechanic shouldn’t be out in the jungle at all, but acqui- esced as the Sergeant nodded he should make the switch. As the platoon sergeant signalled a move- out, Jeff drags back the last few hits of his cigarette. The platoon is searching for sens- ing devices hidden in the jungle. The devices had been placed to monitor troop move- ments. The security platoon’s mission was to locate the devices, change the batteries and retrieve any recorded data. These types of missions often ended in futility, as the devices inevitably became lost in the thick >> FEATURES Claymore mine jungle foliage. This knowledge that a mission was going to be futile often lead to frustration while on patrol. Why should they be risking their lives on some equipment that would end up being lost or broken, or both? The sound of the birds and monkeys had disappeared, leaving only a sense of fore- boding danger. Jeff's skin began to crawl. The platoon moved stealthily forward until Joe, the Sergeant signalled a stop. The pla- toon dropped low. In a sudden rush of movement the Sergeant disappeared into the brush ahead, followed by Dave, the tag-along mechanic. Jeff barely had time to crouch behind some jungle foliage when an explosion threw him to the ground, leaving him stunned, ears ringing and brain rattling inside his skull. Mind racing, the thought of an ambush is the only thing he could think of. If it was an ambush, nothing else was hap- pening. No small-arms fire. No tracers zip- ping overhead. No more explosions. But over the silence someone was screaming for their mother. It didn’t take long for the members of the platoon to realize that one of their own had been hit. The realization that a single explosion, with no further attack meant only one thing; one of the two soldiers who ran ahead had tripped a mine. As seconds ticked by and no other signs of attack followed, Jeff and another squad member began to inch forward. Jeff's squad-mate Lou took the lead. “Christ they're screaming like a little kid,”