He Covered For His Fellow Troops
By SEAN HIGGINS | Posted Friday, May 16, 2008 4:30 PM PT
The attacks at the safe house north of Baghdad had become routine.
Every few days a band of terrorists would strike at the coalition forces posted there, only to scatter when the allies returned fire.
After a while, the attacks ceased to alarm the soldiers since the enemy was so few in number and so easily driven off.
The Air Force's Covel gave fighter pilots the right targets, leading to the killing of 100 terrorists and to his Silver Star for bravery in battle.
Then one day the gang brought its friends — a whole lot of friends.
On June 18, 2004, an enemy group numbering 200 to 250 attacked the safe house (the exact location is still classified) intent on killing the two dozen allied forces inside.
The terror mission might have worked — but for the actions of Air Force Staff Sgt. Earl Covel.
Realizing his team was vastly outnumbered, he climbed to a nearby exposed roof and directed air support's bombing runs.
For 36 hours, Covel laid flat on the roof, bullets whizzing over him, while he radioed in the enemy locations, directing bombing runs that at times were just 80 yards away.
No coalition soldiers were lost in the battle; 100 or more terrorists died. Covel's actions earned him the Silver Star for gallantry in battle.
"What he did out there was beyond heroic," Air Force Brig. Gen. Benjamin Bartlett said at Covel's medal ceremony last year at McChord Air Force Base, Wash. "Heroes are those people who are put into a position where their true inner character comes out when it is needed the most."
For Covel, 31, who since the battle has been promoted to technical sergeant, his moves were aimed at supporting his team. "I had to protect the rest of the individuals I was working with," he told IBD. "I was going to do that at all cost."
Covel, a native of Portland, Ore., joined the Air Force in March 1996 and served four years. He returned to civilian life for a while, but found he missed the camaraderie of the force. He re-enlisted in 2001.
"It's almost like a fraternity," he said. "We all look out for each other. We fight, but like brothers. I just missed that aspect. It's hard to find in the civilian world."
Covel became a joint terminal attack controller, or J-TAC. He provided eyes on the ground for pilots on bombing runs, ensuring the ordnance hit the right target.
"I make certain the bombs don't hit the good guys, but do land on the bad guys," he said.
It was a job Covel sought in the Air Force, where nonpilots often don't see combat. For Covel, being a J-TAC would put him at the center of the action.
"It meant jumping out of planes and blowing stuff up. What kid doesn't like to do that?" he said. "I said sign me up."
Being a J-TAC requires sophisticated technical knowledge. Also crucial is staying cool in hot situations. Any miscalculation can be deadly.
"You have to make the right decision or the people on the ground pay the price," Covel said.
The training is simple but rigorous. Recruits must perform tasks repeatedly in high-stress scenarios.
Covel received no bullying, no intimidation — just an expectation that he would find the targets with pinpoint accuracy each time no matter how complicated the test.
It was rough. Covel recalls being pushed to his breaking point.
When he realized how much he had accomplished, he pushed himself to go further. He shed his perceived limitations.
"When that situation arises in the real world at a time of war like we are at right now, it's not that bad because you have been in a similar situation in training," he said. "There's a saying in the military: The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in war."
It served him well that day in June 2004.
With the Iraq War in its second year, Covel was assigned to a coalition force stationed in a northern city. The group included 10 U.S. Special Forces soldiers and a dozen Kurdish Peshmerga troops.
Their mission: Guard against terrorists trying to retake the location. The nearest supporting coalition troops were 45 minutes away.
The action started with the sound of small arms fire hitting the group's safe house.
As soon as he stepped outside, he became a target. As bullets whizzed past him, he dashed across the courtyard in a zig-zag pattern to avoid being shot.
Once on the other side, he climbed to the rooftop and was exposed. All that protected him were a tiny wall around him and a machine-gun nest on the far side.
An American soldier already was manning the machine gun and drawing enemy fire from all directions. Covel got on his belly and crawled to the nest, dragging his communications equipment behind him.
"By this time I just made the decision myself that the situation was a lot worse than what the team leader thinks that it is," Covel said. "So I set up my communications equipment and called in air support."
Soon he was calling in air strikes. Covel positioned himself so he was the team member closest to where most of the enemy fire originated. So when the bombs came, he was in one shaky spot if he made a bad call.
One other American, a sniper who climbed onto the roof to lay some covering fire, had his ear shot off by a terrorist. The soldier at the machine-gun nest helped him away, leaving Covel alone on the roof.
The fight lasted for a day and half. The terrorists thought they had caught the coalition forces off-guard and laid siege.
Covel, without a chance to rest or be relieved, had to maintain his position on the roof the entire time, from the baking midday sun to chilly evening air.
The air strikes Covel directed kept the enemy continually at bay. Gradually the terrorist attacks grew less frequent — and the enemy retreated when it realized it didn't have the coalition forces on the ropes after all.
When told after the battle that he was up for a Silver Star, Covel thought people were joking.
"I didn't feel that I did anything out of the ordinary," he said. "It was a crappy situation . . . but you do anything you can to protect the guys you are fighting with."
By SEAN HIGGINS | Posted Friday, May 16, 2008 4:30 PM PT
The attacks at the safe house north of Baghdad had become routine.
Every few days a band of terrorists would strike at the coalition forces posted there, only to scatter when the allies returned fire.
After a while, the attacks ceased to alarm the soldiers since the enemy was so few in number and so easily driven off.
The Air Force's Covel gave fighter pilots the right targets, leading to the killing of 100 terrorists and to his Silver Star for bravery in battle.
Then one day the gang brought its friends — a whole lot of friends.
On June 18, 2004, an enemy group numbering 200 to 250 attacked the safe house (the exact location is still classified) intent on killing the two dozen allied forces inside.
The terror mission might have worked — but for the actions of Air Force Staff Sgt. Earl Covel.
Realizing his team was vastly outnumbered, he climbed to a nearby exposed roof and directed air support's bombing runs.
For 36 hours, Covel laid flat on the roof, bullets whizzing over him, while he radioed in the enemy locations, directing bombing runs that at times were just 80 yards away.
No coalition soldiers were lost in the battle; 100 or more terrorists died. Covel's actions earned him the Silver Star for gallantry in battle.
"What he did out there was beyond heroic," Air Force Brig. Gen. Benjamin Bartlett said at Covel's medal ceremony last year at McChord Air Force Base, Wash. "Heroes are those people who are put into a position where their true inner character comes out when it is needed the most."
For Covel, 31, who since the battle has been promoted to technical sergeant, his moves were aimed at supporting his team. "I had to protect the rest of the individuals I was working with," he told IBD. "I was going to do that at all cost."
Covel, a native of Portland, Ore., joined the Air Force in March 1996 and served four years. He returned to civilian life for a while, but found he missed the camaraderie of the force. He re-enlisted in 2001.
"It's almost like a fraternity," he said. "We all look out for each other. We fight, but like brothers. I just missed that aspect. It's hard to find in the civilian world."
Covel became a joint terminal attack controller, or J-TAC. He provided eyes on the ground for pilots on bombing runs, ensuring the ordnance hit the right target.
"I make certain the bombs don't hit the good guys, but do land on the bad guys," he said.
It was a job Covel sought in the Air Force, where nonpilots often don't see combat. For Covel, being a J-TAC would put him at the center of the action.
"It meant jumping out of planes and blowing stuff up. What kid doesn't like to do that?" he said. "I said sign me up."
Being a J-TAC requires sophisticated technical knowledge. Also crucial is staying cool in hot situations. Any miscalculation can be deadly.
"You have to make the right decision or the people on the ground pay the price," Covel said.
The training is simple but rigorous. Recruits must perform tasks repeatedly in high-stress scenarios.
Covel received no bullying, no intimidation — just an expectation that he would find the targets with pinpoint accuracy each time no matter how complicated the test.
It was rough. Covel recalls being pushed to his breaking point.
When he realized how much he had accomplished, he pushed himself to go further. He shed his perceived limitations.
"When that situation arises in the real world at a time of war like we are at right now, it's not that bad because you have been in a similar situation in training," he said. "There's a saying in the military: The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in war."
It served him well that day in June 2004.
With the Iraq War in its second year, Covel was assigned to a coalition force stationed in a northern city. The group included 10 U.S. Special Forces soldiers and a dozen Kurdish Peshmerga troops.
Their mission: Guard against terrorists trying to retake the location. The nearest supporting coalition troops were 45 minutes away.
The action started with the sound of small arms fire hitting the group's safe house.
As soon as he stepped outside, he became a target. As bullets whizzed past him, he dashed across the courtyard in a zig-zag pattern to avoid being shot.
Once on the other side, he climbed to the rooftop and was exposed. All that protected him were a tiny wall around him and a machine-gun nest on the far side.
An American soldier already was manning the machine gun and drawing enemy fire from all directions. Covel got on his belly and crawled to the nest, dragging his communications equipment behind him.
"By this time I just made the decision myself that the situation was a lot worse than what the team leader thinks that it is," Covel said. "So I set up my communications equipment and called in air support."
Soon he was calling in air strikes. Covel positioned himself so he was the team member closest to where most of the enemy fire originated. So when the bombs came, he was in one shaky spot if he made a bad call.
One other American, a sniper who climbed onto the roof to lay some covering fire, had his ear shot off by a terrorist. The soldier at the machine-gun nest helped him away, leaving Covel alone on the roof.
The fight lasted for a day and half. The terrorists thought they had caught the coalition forces off-guard and laid siege.
Covel, without a chance to rest or be relieved, had to maintain his position on the roof the entire time, from the baking midday sun to chilly evening air.
The air strikes Covel directed kept the enemy continually at bay. Gradually the terrorist attacks grew less frequent — and the enemy retreated when it realized it didn't have the coalition forces on the ropes after all.
When told after the battle that he was up for a Silver Star, Covel thought people were joking.
"I didn't feel that I did anything out of the ordinary," he said. "It was a crappy situation . . . but you do anything you can to protect the guys you are fighting with."
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