As explained in the last Blog post, Philip McTigue shared a story from his time in Sheberghan, Afghanistan centered around his friend Irish. Accompanying Irish and Philip McTigue was a new friend, a retired Marine Corps Master Sgt. As previously mentioned, Philip McTigue was a Marine and a veteran of Desert Storm and was not going to let down his new friend and distinguished Marine the Master Sgt. As the reader will soon discover, Philip McTigue was both having fun in a war zone as well as pushing the boundaries of what any wife back home may be willing to put up with. Fortunately for Philip McTigue, as many times before, he survived this adventure and his reputation for adventure grew among his peers. His recollection and email of the incident follows:
Today was another million-degree day. We start our training here at 5 a.m. everyday which is before most people are awake, but the Afghanis seem to have no problem with it. So now we are training to the tune of Afghani roosters in the semi darkness of the mornings. The good news is we are done by 1 p.m. which gives us plenty of time to find trouble. Today was no exception.
One of my teammates here is a retired Marine Master Sgt and much to my surprise, trouble finds him even before it finds me. He suggested to Irish and I we take the four wheelers out for a ride. The ride was into the desert to the river here and then to the sand dunes. The river is down in a valley and it is beautiful. The ride started slow and safe, but as with all things here, it turned wild and reckless in no time.
The drama started as we were recklessly speeding through a tight, narrow valley that was about 6 feet wide with high dirt walls. The path was very bumpy, and the four wheelers were hard to control. As bad judgment crept its way into our ride, Irish decided it was best to drive faster, this was particularly bad since he had no idea how to drive a quad through rough, uneven sand. In no time at all he bounced right out of control and wedged his quad sideways in between two high walls of hardened clay. I was behind him enough to stop and wait to see what was going to happen once the dust cloud evaporated from around him. The picture I found was right out of Austin Powers. He was going back and forth frantically trying to get the four-wheeler straight, but the path was too narrow so he was just continually smashing into the dirt walls around him and getting nowhere. I was laughing at him so hard my eyes were getting muddy from tears and dust. He never did get off the quad, he just kept hitting walls until the dirt broke away enough to drive away. As I passed the location still crying with laughter I noticed green paint from the Kawasaki quads smeared all over the hard dirt walls.
It was shortly after Irish’s crash we decided we wanted to be on the other side of the river. We were in the middle of nowhere and not a road was to be seen. Instead of going back the way we came, which had a bridge, the Master Sgt and I decided it seemed too much like surrendering or quitting by going back. One way or another we would find a way to cross, or sink the quads trying. Never tell two Marines something cannot be done or it is too dangerous! We found a location that looked like it might be safe to cross, but of course there was a cliff up the valley wall on the other side about 80 feet high. With four-wheel drive, and a lot of horsepower and luck, we managed to get ourselves very wet, but the quads made the river crossing and emerged on the other side cleaner than when we started. Now we faced a sheer cliff wall with a small, narrow path up the face of it. It was obviously for sheep and had no room for a four-wheeler. It was so steep a human would need to be on their hands and knees to ascend it. Additionally, there was a cliff drop straight down on one side and a dirt wall on the other side. Realizing we were in a predicament we did what any two Marines would do, we decided to try and ride up it!
By his own admission the Master Sgt had led a good life and had little else to live for, so he volunteered to make the first run at it. Straight up the cliff he went until all four tires on his quad were screaming in hatred at the sand. Right at about that time he started to slide back down the cliff path. He safely landed where he started, looked at Irish and I, and yelled over the whine of the engine, “I think I need more speed!”. I was assuming he would say something along those lines, so I nodded in agreement, and prayed I would be able to explain this to his kids. On his second attempt he made it all the way to the point where the path stopped and the steepest portion of the cliff started. He jumped on one side of the quad and did a balancing act trying to keep the quad and himself from plummeting over the edge. Irish and I sprinted up the cliff and joined him hanging off the side of the quad. Once he regained control of the quad the Master Sgt got back on the quad on what little goat path there was, looked back at us with a grin and said, “I think I can make it from here”. It was hard to imagine since the path was so steep his front tires were almost directly over the top of his rear tires. With a Santa type twitch in his nose, he gunned the quad and took off uphill. The four wheeler was screaming and sand was flying and as he summitted the peak safely at last, I made the only smart choice I knew…..it was now my turn to try!!
As I did a mix of falling down and climbing down the hill I realized I could never tell my wife what I was about to do. She could live with wars, bombs, IED’s, and gunfights, but to willfully tempt God for no good reason was more than she could take, I was sure of it. As I straddled my quad with the engine roaring the cliff seemed to double in size. I finally realized I could not do this; I was too much of a novice on the quad and I was going to get hurt trying. Just at that point the Marine Master Sgt gave me a motivated Marine war cry that rattled the dirt valley around me and before I knew what was happening my quad was accelerating two times too fast as I shot up the cliff. It all seemed to be in slow motion, but I could see the goat path vanishing around me and my four-wheeler was tipping over the cliff. I let off the gas and started to tuck for the roll down the hill and I knew it was going to hurt! At the last minute Irish and the Master Sgt caught me and my quad as they had stayed on the cliff in case I had the same problem the Master Sgt did. As the three of us struggled to situate the quad and me back on the hill, we all started to laugh at how stupid three grown men could be. I managed to ride the rest of the way up the cliff and that just left Irish and his quad. Irish was gun shy after his previous wall crash and was not willing to risk serious physical injury on the cliff climb. Of course, the Master Sgt claimed he could do it without stopping, and just like that another dumb decision was made by three grown men. In fact he did make it up without stopping much to the delight of the sheep herders and camel riders who had formed to watch the spectacle of American idiots.
The rest of the day was uneventful as we all did jumps and tricks on the quads much beyond our skill level, but we laughed the entire time we did it. As luck would have it we all lived to tell our tale and now I must face the wrath of my wife for sending this story home.
Philip McTigue claims his wife ignored this story and never dignified it with a response. As Philip McTigue went on to explain, it was certainly not the last email she ever received that left her shaking her head in amazement over the adolescent activities of grown men in combat zones.
