If this were a book or movie, it might be titled “Our Two-Day War.” We were an Army Reserve unit on deployment to Kuwait, serving as the forward logistics headquarters for the 79th Theater Sustainment Command out of Fort Knox, Kentucky. Many other units had assumed that post before us, going back decades since the conclusion of the Gulf War. It had become a routine assignment that many now considered to be more of a rotation than an actual combat zone deployment.
The 12-day war in the summer of 2025 changed that perspective. Units dispersed from bases in Kuwait and other countries in the CENTCOM area of operations to makeshift locations, whether out of the theater to surrounding countries or simply out in the desert in an “off the grid” effort that would move them out of the range of Iran’s ballistic missiles and drones. It worked, in that there were no U.S. casualties during that mission even though U.S. bases were engaged and damaged by enemy actions.
After the new year, the operational tempo and enemy threat indicators began to change; we were now preparing for another kinetic action that might happen in the future. Units would need to disperse again, to be better protected from ballistic missiles. Some, however, would be held back as a skeleton crew, mostly composed of primary planners who could respond to immediate needs or changes in the operation, whereas the dispersed personnel would likely be without communication and connectivity for extended periods of time.
Over the coming weeks, we moved personnel out of Kuwait; then the order came down for those who remained at Camp Arifjan to move to Port Shuaiba. Shortly after getting set up and operational there last winter, on February 28th, Epic Fury began. The first day brought frequent “incoming” alarms that sent us to the bunkers. Fortunately, the detected missiles heading in our direction went over the port to destinations west of us, and none were landing at the port. Overnight missile frequency intensified throughout CENTCOM, and not just in Kuwait. In the command post we could see and hear the operation’s effects unfolding. Whenever something was detected as coming towards us, we went to the bunkers and waited for the “all clear.” Those who worked days went back to bed; the rest of us working nights went back to the command post.
That continued several times through the night of February 28th. The last alarm went off around 6 a.m. but wasn’t cleared until closer to 9 a.m. Soon afterward, the day crew started filing in, and we went into a “battle turnover” brief that recounted everything we had experienced the night before. Once that was done, I started gathering my gear to leave and get some sleep. I was wearing my IOTV (Improved Outer Tactical Vest) and backpack but turned to reach for my ACH (Advanced Combat Helmet).
At that moment, a loud explosion threw me into a metal cabinet. Later we learned that it was an Iranian Shahed 136 drone, a weapon that flies low and slow but carries a warhead with the equivalent of 100 to 150 pounds of dynamite. After the blast, I soon woke up hearing someone yell “Get out! Get out!” as the middle of the building was on fire and smoke was filling the room. I picked myself up off the floor as the ceiling was falling off the supporting wall. My head was pounding, my ears ringing, and I had tunnel vision. The room was chaotic as all the cubicles, desks, and tables were now in piles of rubble across the floor. As I tried to walk over the top of it and find a path out, I immediately came across Capt. Cody Khork lying unconscious in front of me. He had been seated in the cubicle between me and our supervisor, Lt. Col. Jason Feldt, but he was now motionless with a visibly broken leg. Lt. Col. Feldt was bleeding from the top of his head, but he and I picked Capt. Khork up and carried him outside of the building. We could not find a pulse; he was already deceased.
After about 30 minutes, the port’s fire and rescue personnel started to arrive. Our wounded numbered more than 20, so we loaded our teammates in passenger vans to evacuate them to local hospitals. Seeing and hearing no one else, we withdrew as smoke and fire had completely engulfed the facility.
Soon we had a solution that included driving ourselves deeper into Kuwait City, to undisclosed locations, where we would remain for another 10 days. Iranian surveillance drones hunted us night and day while Epic Fury continued to unfold across the region. We were soon able to get evacuated to Germany and then eventually to Fort Hood, Texas, where our deployment had begun last fall.
We were evaluated at Fort Hood, and those who needed further treatment were sent to Soldier Rehabilitation Units (SRU) around the country. I went to Fort Bragg, North Carolina, in April and was released to come home in mid-June. Some of my teammates are still recovering, and some of the more severely wounded are still at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center.
We lost six American soldiers that day, with dozens more wounded. We were delayed in receiving adequate medical treatment and there are many open questions regarding soldier safety and the lack of defensive capabilities. It is my hope that a full congressional investigation will be conducted to learn from the mistakes, and to correct and avoid them in the future.
Gene Key is a strategic defense logistics and project management leader with over 20 years of experience in U.S. Army sustainment operations, global supply chain management, and high-stakes munitions programs. He and his wife, Sharon, live in Germantown.
