On April 4, 2003, as the invasion of Iraq reached its critical phase, the 1st Brigade Combat Team of the 3rdInfantry Division, seized Saddam International Airport–codenamed Objective Lions–on the western outskirts of Baghdad. The operation marked one of the most decisive conventional victories of the war. It didn’t hinge on advanced sensors or over-the-horizon fires. It hinged on tempo–speed, initiative, and sustained shock.
I was there, leading an infantry platoon in Charlie Company, 2-7 Infantry, attached to Task Force 3-69 Armor. We had just come off a high-intensity fight on April 2, 2003 at Objective Peach–a key Euphrates River crossing near Musayyib. At Peach, we executed a coordinated river assault under smoke, with engineers clearing demolitions by boat, artillery laying down a rolling barrage, and armored units establishing a hasty defense that withstood a multi-brigade Iraqi counterattack overnight. It was a textbook application of combined arms, executed at pace.
We didn’t pause. After 50 hours of fighting and little rest, we rearmed and pushed north, winding our way toward the capital.
The objective was clear: seize the airport before the enemy could consolidate. In retrospect, that decision–to exploit momentum rather than reset–was critical. We denied the enemy time, space, and will to resist. And in doing so, we demonstrated a principle that should remain foundational to future warfare: speed kills.
Objective Lions: A Case Study in Tempo
In the morning after we secured Peach, I received a radio call from my company commander, then-Captain Todd Kelly, summoning me and his other platoon leaders to his tracked vehicle.
When I arrived at his track, Kelly pulled out a cardboard box with a map affixed to it. His instructions were simple: the platoon order of march would be Steel, Red, Blue; we’d move along a specific route to the tarmac from the west, get on line, and wait for the order to assault. There was no time for complex instructions or rehearsals – we had to move out to keep the advantage.
As we began our march towards Baghdad on April 3rd, our vehicles navigated through the area we’d secured the day prior where the bodies of dead Iraqi soldiers laid over in their fox holes and destroyed armored vehicles were still smoldering in dug out positions. Eventually, we reached an area beyond the carnage where we skirted a treacherous canal that left no margin for driver error.
In our final advance on Saddam International Airport, we encountered resistance from Republican Guard elements attempting to establish a last defensive perimeter. But they were outpaced. Our mechanized Task Force pushed through, firing from the march, coordinating with fire support to support our movement, and suppress areas with Iraqi dismounts and anti-aircraft guns.
Technology enabled our rapid advance on the airport, but the inevitable “fog of war” necessitated rapid leader adaptation and battlefield decision-making.
There was a moment after our company reached a barrier along the airport perimeter in the darkness when we lost our momentum. And it took initiative on the part of Captain Kelly to regain it. He first attempted to use a tank to try blowing a hole in a wall which lit a fire that illuminated our presence–but the hole did not immediately afford a way through. Without hesitation, Captain Kelly dismounted his vehicle and scouted a path forward. When he remounted his track, Kelly gave orders that put us back on the attack and we arrived on the tarmac in short order.
On the tarmac, our company waited quietly in the darkness for the order to attack while other units secured the eastern side of the airport grounds where there was stiff resistance. When the airport entrance was secured, Task Force 3-69 assaulted with overwhelming firepower and quickly destroyed all resistance on the airfield.
By morning, the airport grounds were securely in American hands–with the 1st Brigade Combat Team being the “First to Baghdad.” There had been coalition casualties but not delays. Enemy positions crumbled under pressure they had no time to absorb. Command and control elements fled or surrendered. The airfield, symbolic and strategic, was operationally severed from Baghdad’s defense within hours–enabling the famed “Thunder Runs” in the following days.
Final Reflections
In the two decades since, the U.S. military has increasingly embraced concepts centered on standoff lethality–long-range precision fires, sensor fusion, AI-enabled targeting. These capabilities are important. But what we demonstrated in 2003, at both Peach and Lions, is that operational shock—generated by speed, adaptability, and tactical initiative–is what collapses enemy coherence.
We didn’t just “paralyze” the Iraqi military with deep strikes. We broke their OODA loop through tempo. At Peach, we seized the bridge before the enemy could blow it. At Lions, we denied them time to prepare for a ground assault. In both cases, maneuver–not attrition–was decisive. The broader lesson is clear: standoff does not negate the need for close combat. At some point, soldiers must cross the breach and hold ground. Leadership and initiative remain essential for sustaining momentum.
I’ve reflected on Objective Lions many times since 2003–through my career, through therapy, and most recently through the process of writing Downriver: Memoir of a Warrior Poet, where I trace the arc from battlefield leadership to postwar recovery. What happened at Saddam International Airport was not just a tactical success. It was a demonstration of what fast, coherent, decentralized American combat power can achieve.
We didn’t take that airport simply because we were more technologically advanced. It was because of company commanders like now-Colonel Todd Kelly who led the way forward when we hit obstacles. We won the battle for the airport because we didn’t stop moving. And because the enemy never saw us coming.
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