The spoils of war
Pfc. Earl Coffey found a fortune in a palace in Iraq. His decision to steal it derailed his life
By Billy Cox - Special to the Times
Posted : July 07, 2008
SARASOTA, Fla. — After nearly three weeks of desert combat and enough death to jangle his brain for a lifetime, Pfc. Earl Coffey arrived in Baghdad in April 2003 thinking he had discovered an oasis.
It was Palace Row, one of the most exclusive tracts of real estate in Iraq, and not even major bomb damage could dim the luster of a tyrant’s decadence. Coffey was among the first U.S. troops to secure Saddam Hussein’s inner sanctum, the postwar “Green Zone” now hosting diplomats and government authorities. Its allure was intoxicating.
Coffey recalled his awe at seeing gold-rimmed toilet seats, 30-foot wide chandeliers, and Swarovski crystal collections. Over the next few days, he sampled one revelation after another: the Dom Perignon champagne, the Monte Cristo Cuban cigars, even the lion’s roar of captive pet carnivores.
He watched as a Bradley Fighting Vehicle rammed and collapsed the wall of a windowless bunker just outside Saddam’s palace. The building concealed bundles of U.S. currency stacked floor-to-ceiling and wrapped in binding that read “Bank of America.”
To a man who had grown up in the bleak shadows of Kentucky’s coal mines, staring down all that money “was like hitting the lottery,” Coffey said.
His career was about to drown in a flood of American dollars.
The family business
Today, adrift and troubled in Sarasota, the 34-year-old is worlds away from what he once was — a trained sniper who took his first shot with a .22-caliber rifle his father gave him when he was 7 or 8 years old in rural Harlan County. At first, he practiced on tin can lids nailed to a fence post 80 yards away. When that got too easy, he began targeting the nails. And other things.
“I could shoot the fire off cigarettes from 40 to 50 yards,” he said. “I could shoot the head off a match.”
Coffey had other interests, like football. He played linebacker and tailback at tiny Everts High School. But looking back, he said his course was set the first time he picked up a gun. His father was a Vietnam veteran; his grandfather survived World War II.
“I wanted to go to the Army,” he said. “It was an honorable profession.”
So he volunteered at age 17. Duty sent the small-town boy around the world: Kuwait, Germany, Scotland, Curacao, Somalia, Saudi Arabia, the Azores.
Still a teenager, Coffey found himself in Mogadishu providing cover fire during the bloody “Black Hawk Down” street battles in 1993. “None of us thought we were coming out alive,” he said.
Using a .50-caliber sniper rifle, he and a spotter stalked targets from as far away as three-quarters of a mile. By then, Coffey had become a deadly expert, with enough experience to have his own theory on how quickly his targets would die.
“It’s all according to how full of rage or how full of energy they are,” he said.
A normal man dies instantly. In Mogadishu; he shot a man standing on a balcony 960 meters away.
“I hit him right above the eye,” Coffey said. “But he walked a good 15 feet before he finally went down.”
At age 19, this son of a coal miner and truck driver had come a long way from home and a childhood spent, for a while, without indoor plumbing.
“We had an outhouse,” Coffey said. “I remember packing water from natural springs way down at the end of the road. Our bath was a galvanized metal tub.”
The Army was an escape from poverty for Coffey and the only way he knew to become successful.
But a few years and another war zone away, Coffey’s dream would end.
‘A job to do’
Coffey left the military in 1999 to get married and moved to Sarasota to be with his new wife, Tammy. Then came the Sept. 11 attacks. He rejoined the Army two years after he left.
“I knew with my background and my training, I had a job to do,” he said. “I wanted to go wherever the war on terror was.”
In March 2003, Coffey was assigned to a Bradley Fighting Vehicle idling in Kuwait when his 3rd Infantry Division’s 2nd Brigade got the green light for the invasion.
The unit began drawing pre-dawn fire as soon as it crossed the border. The rookie troops were spooked, Coffey said, “but it was nothing compared to what I’d seen in Somalia.”
At least, not at first.
As they tightened the noose around the Saddam regime, Coffey brought the full range of his sharpshooting skills to bear. One especially frenetic exchange haunts him today.
Grinding through an urban corridor, Coffey’s unit was ambushed in a free-fire zone. He hit a moving target looming along a nearby rooftop and realized what he had done only after he went to confirm the kill.
“It was an unarmed kid who looked to be about 8 years old,” he said. “Things like that stick with you.”
In those chaotic first weeks on the front end, every civilian vehicle that failed to properly brake was a potential bomb.
“I saw an Abrams fire a super sabot round right through a pickup truck, and the woman who got out begged us to kill her while she watched her husband and her children burn to death,” Coffey said. “In perfect English, she’s saying: ‘Why? Why are you doing this? We’re Christians!’”
Which brings Coffey to the point, the thing that put him where he is today:
“You’re walking through bodies that’ve been lying around for eight days in the heat, so swollen if you kick ’em it busts. And there’s so much blood around you can taste it like there’s a penny in your mouth.
“And all of a sudden, you come across $850 million? Do you think you’re not gonna try to get some of that home to your family? How is anything wrong with that? I need somebody to explain that to me.”
Hiding the treasure
Coffey was with Army colleague John Getz as he prowled Uday Hussein’s marble palace. The manse, “about the size of the White House,” had been bombed and ransacked by looters by time he and fellow members of Task Force 3/15 swept through. But clearly, much had been overlooked.
Coffey and Getz discovered four locked safes in a ruined office. They cracked them open with hammers and tanker bars. The first three were filled with paperwork in Arabic.
Upon breaking into the fourth safe, Coffey realized the world had just shifted. He was staring down more money than he had ever seen in his life — $586,000.
Nobody else was there. They were both thinking the same thing.
According to statements made during the subsequent Army investigation, Coffey and Getz said the fourth safe contained $160,000 in $100 bills, British pounds and Jordanian dinars. That is considerably less than what Coffey now says they pinched. He declines to specify the actual size of his share. What he does say is that they decided to split it up and keep their mouths shut.
Coffey stuffed the currency into Meals, Ready-to-Eat packages and glued them shut.
He might have gotten away with it had he sat tight.
But almost immediately, Coffey started enjoying the perks that only money can buy in a war zone.
(continued....)
Pfc. Earl Coffey found a fortune in a palace in Iraq. His decision to steal it derailed his life
By Billy Cox - Special to the Times
Posted : July 07, 2008
SARASOTA, Fla. — After nearly three weeks of desert combat and enough death to jangle his brain for a lifetime, Pfc. Earl Coffey arrived in Baghdad in April 2003 thinking he had discovered an oasis.
It was Palace Row, one of the most exclusive tracts of real estate in Iraq, and not even major bomb damage could dim the luster of a tyrant’s decadence. Coffey was among the first U.S. troops to secure Saddam Hussein’s inner sanctum, the postwar “Green Zone” now hosting diplomats and government authorities. Its allure was intoxicating.
Coffey recalled his awe at seeing gold-rimmed toilet seats, 30-foot wide chandeliers, and Swarovski crystal collections. Over the next few days, he sampled one revelation after another: the Dom Perignon champagne, the Monte Cristo Cuban cigars, even the lion’s roar of captive pet carnivores.
He watched as a Bradley Fighting Vehicle rammed and collapsed the wall of a windowless bunker just outside Saddam’s palace. The building concealed bundles of U.S. currency stacked floor-to-ceiling and wrapped in binding that read “Bank of America.”
To a man who had grown up in the bleak shadows of Kentucky’s coal mines, staring down all that money “was like hitting the lottery,” Coffey said.
His career was about to drown in a flood of American dollars.
The family business
Today, adrift and troubled in Sarasota, the 34-year-old is worlds away from what he once was — a trained sniper who took his first shot with a .22-caliber rifle his father gave him when he was 7 or 8 years old in rural Harlan County. At first, he practiced on tin can lids nailed to a fence post 80 yards away. When that got too easy, he began targeting the nails. And other things.
“I could shoot the fire off cigarettes from 40 to 50 yards,” he said. “I could shoot the head off a match.”
Coffey had other interests, like football. He played linebacker and tailback at tiny Everts High School. But looking back, he said his course was set the first time he picked up a gun. His father was a Vietnam veteran; his grandfather survived World War II.
“I wanted to go to the Army,” he said. “It was an honorable profession.”
So he volunteered at age 17. Duty sent the small-town boy around the world: Kuwait, Germany, Scotland, Curacao, Somalia, Saudi Arabia, the Azores.
Still a teenager, Coffey found himself in Mogadishu providing cover fire during the bloody “Black Hawk Down” street battles in 1993. “None of us thought we were coming out alive,” he said.
Using a .50-caliber sniper rifle, he and a spotter stalked targets from as far away as three-quarters of a mile. By then, Coffey had become a deadly expert, with enough experience to have his own theory on how quickly his targets would die.
“It’s all according to how full of rage or how full of energy they are,” he said.
A normal man dies instantly. In Mogadishu; he shot a man standing on a balcony 960 meters away.
“I hit him right above the eye,” Coffey said. “But he walked a good 15 feet before he finally went down.”
At age 19, this son of a coal miner and truck driver had come a long way from home and a childhood spent, for a while, without indoor plumbing.
“We had an outhouse,” Coffey said. “I remember packing water from natural springs way down at the end of the road. Our bath was a galvanized metal tub.”
The Army was an escape from poverty for Coffey and the only way he knew to become successful.
But a few years and another war zone away, Coffey’s dream would end.
‘A job to do’
Coffey left the military in 1999 to get married and moved to Sarasota to be with his new wife, Tammy. Then came the Sept. 11 attacks. He rejoined the Army two years after he left.
“I knew with my background and my training, I had a job to do,” he said. “I wanted to go wherever the war on terror was.”
In March 2003, Coffey was assigned to a Bradley Fighting Vehicle idling in Kuwait when his 3rd Infantry Division’s 2nd Brigade got the green light for the invasion.
The unit began drawing pre-dawn fire as soon as it crossed the border. The rookie troops were spooked, Coffey said, “but it was nothing compared to what I’d seen in Somalia.”
At least, not at first.
As they tightened the noose around the Saddam regime, Coffey brought the full range of his sharpshooting skills to bear. One especially frenetic exchange haunts him today.
Grinding through an urban corridor, Coffey’s unit was ambushed in a free-fire zone. He hit a moving target looming along a nearby rooftop and realized what he had done only after he went to confirm the kill.
“It was an unarmed kid who looked to be about 8 years old,” he said. “Things like that stick with you.”
In those chaotic first weeks on the front end, every civilian vehicle that failed to properly brake was a potential bomb.
“I saw an Abrams fire a super sabot round right through a pickup truck, and the woman who got out begged us to kill her while she watched her husband and her children burn to death,” Coffey said. “In perfect English, she’s saying: ‘Why? Why are you doing this? We’re Christians!’”
Which brings Coffey to the point, the thing that put him where he is today:
“You’re walking through bodies that’ve been lying around for eight days in the heat, so swollen if you kick ’em it busts. And there’s so much blood around you can taste it like there’s a penny in your mouth.
“And all of a sudden, you come across $850 million? Do you think you’re not gonna try to get some of that home to your family? How is anything wrong with that? I need somebody to explain that to me.”
Hiding the treasure
Coffey was with Army colleague John Getz as he prowled Uday Hussein’s marble palace. The manse, “about the size of the White House,” had been bombed and ransacked by looters by time he and fellow members of Task Force 3/15 swept through. But clearly, much had been overlooked.
Coffey and Getz discovered four locked safes in a ruined office. They cracked them open with hammers and tanker bars. The first three were filled with paperwork in Arabic.
Upon breaking into the fourth safe, Coffey realized the world had just shifted. He was staring down more money than he had ever seen in his life — $586,000.
Nobody else was there. They were both thinking the same thing.
According to statements made during the subsequent Army investigation, Coffey and Getz said the fourth safe contained $160,000 in $100 bills, British pounds and Jordanian dinars. That is considerably less than what Coffey now says they pinched. He declines to specify the actual size of his share. What he does say is that they decided to split it up and keep their mouths shut.
Coffey stuffed the currency into Meals, Ready-to-Eat packages and glued them shut.
He might have gotten away with it had he sat tight.
But almost immediately, Coffey started enjoying the perks that only money can buy in a war zone.
(continued....)
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