SADAMS BIG FISH

The old man and the sand

On active duty in Iraq, an enlisted man pursues the fish of a lifetime

By Sgt. 1st Class Douglas Anderson
Special to ESPNOutdoors.com

Updated: July 5, 2008, 1:50 AM ET

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Courtesy of Douglas Anderson

Editor's note: Part of the fun of publishing ESPNOutdoors.com is receiving photos of trophy fish from readers. Rarely, though, do we see images like those recently forwarded to us by a former ESPNOutdoors.com editor, Julius Morgan, who's on active duty in Iraq. They showed an exotic, person-length fish pulled from an unidentified desert pond. We asked the soldier who caught the beast — Sgt. 1st Class Douglas Anderson — to describe what happened. He graciously obliged, and though he claims not to be a writer, we present the resulting story, "The Old Man and the Sand," as evidence to the contrary. It seems suitable for a holiday week dedicated to celebrating freedom. The simple act of fishing, after all, sets many a person free — even, as you'll see, Sgt. 1st Class Anderson. 

When I was younger, I loved to hunt and fish: OK, hunting and fishing was an obsession. Every chance I got I was out in the woods in some form or fashion. I fished for catfish and bass, and hunted every open season there was.

After I got married to my beautiful wife, Joyce, more than eight years ago, the fishing slowed down. I guess when you're happy, your priorities change. I still hunt all the time, but I also love spending time with her and my three daughters, Haley, Miranda and Maegan, at our home in London, Ark.

Courtesy of Douglas Anderson

Sgt. 1st Class Douglas Anderson said fishing is a welcomed break from the routine while serving in Iraq.

Well, whenever I can get away, that is. These deployments to Iraq have cut into the family time. But a funny thing happened in the desert last month: I managed to find fishing again, as well as a fish I never would have believed.

When training at Camp Shelby in south Mississippi, we heard there was some pretty good fishing around the area we would be heading to in Iraq. Saddam had built several lakes outside Baghdad, and guys had sent pictures of carp from them.

We figured a little fishing would be a good way to relax. And while there isn't a lot of time off, anything to get away is welcome.

I went to a store and bought a small telescopic rod for the trip, trying it out a few times at Camp Shelby where I caught a few small bass.

Standing on the bank of a lake, just forgetting where you are (and where you are about to be) ... it's a truly great feeling. I figured this small rod would be plenty; after all, we were heading to the desert, so the fish couldn't be that big.

I arrived in Baghdad on April 1, 2008, with the rest of the HHC, 1st Battalion, 153rd Infantry Regiment, 39th Infantry Brigade Combat Team of the Arkansas Army National Guard.

The building where I would be working was on an island in one of the lakes Saddam had built; the back of the structure even had a boat dock and a bridge leading to a smaller island.

The unit we were replacing said the boys from Kentucky had caught a few fish, but they hadn't, really, instead feeding bread and potato chips to smaller fish — mainly carp and Asian stinging catfish — around the dock.

Personally, I thought it was just a fun way to waste bread, but after a few days there, I tossed in a piece — and a big fish came up for it.

The big one

It took me by surprise. I wasn't real sure exactly what I had seen, so I ran back inside to get some witnesses. I told them a big fish was swimming around the back dock and they needed to come see it. When we made it back outside, we threw in more cereal and bread.

It was then he came back up. We still couldn't believe it. One of my guys standing on the dock, (I am going to leave out his name to protect the innocent, but his initials are Sgt. Steven Ricks), screamed like a little girl and ran off the dock.

This fish was really that big — we guessed it to be 4 1/2 to 5 feet long. The scales were huge, and the tailfin appeared to be more than a foot wide. He was mostly pale, kind of like he had been around so long that he had faded.

Courtesy of Douglas Anderson

The mangar is large alright, estimated at about 105 pounds.

He became my white whale.

One look at this monster and Iknew the pole I bought back in the States wouldn't hold up. Luckily, the unit we replaced had left behind a 9-foot-or-so telescopic pole for us, along with some 30-pound test that had spent too much time in the sun.

So I starting casting for giant desert fish. The first three times I hooked him was on turkey sausage from the dining facility. But of course he broke the line within the first few seconds.

Later I was able to manage some 50-pound test someone else had. Again, I hooked him three times on the 50-pound test. And again he broke the line — all three times — by running the line down the edge of some concrete and around a bridge to snap it.

The fish and I became a punchline around the tactical operations center (TOC), and the guys in my section were starting to refer to us as "old man and the sea."

Staff Sgt. Richard Friday was getting the most laughs. "That fish owns you," he told me. "You willnever get it in." Friday was going to hold a sign in a picture with the fish stating he was wrong if I ever did get in.

It was in this way that my relaxing pastime was quickly becoming an obsession.

Enlisted life

Life in Iraq is hard to explain: It is almost like being in a prison. You have freedom of movementinside the walls, but you aren't allowed outside.

You're on duty 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Everybody falls into a routine: Get up, go to work, eat, go to sleep. This makes for a long tour.

The 140-degree heat, the dirt, and the fact people are shooting at you all make it that much longer. The only thing worth looking forward to is getting back home.

In what little time you do have off, you try to forget what's going on around you. Some soldiers watch movies, read books, play video games, or, like Staff Sgt. J.R. Mashek, build models.

One favorite pastime around the TOC is to go to the island out back and try to hit golf balls to the far bank. If not for a lot of balls being donated, we would have run out a long time ago.

Courtesy of Douglas Anderson

Anderson needed to consult the states for equipment to land the near 6-foot-long fish.

These pastimes aren't like back in the states, where you can plan a whole day off. You might get four hours, max, but probably only a few minutes. All the fishing I did was 30 minutes before work or during a 10-minute break out back, and it was time I cherished.

People here get stressed because there is no alone time; everywhere you go and everything you do, someone is there. Being able to get away from it all, even for a few moments, can keep you from going crazy.

Reinforcements

One of my soldiers, Staff Sgt. Mathew Dedman, was also trying to catch the big fish. It kind of became a contest between us to see who could catch him first. The fish broke Dedman's line three times and then broke the pole.

Now we were poleless — and the fish was no closer to being caught.

After the line broke the first couple of times, I contacted Joyce about getting some better fishing gear. My wife contacted Kenny and Wendy Panther, who attend Fair Park Baptist Church in Russellville, Ark., with us and own Arkansas Trading and Loan, a sporting goods store that specializes in hunting and bow equipment.

Wendy asked her regulars what kind of rod, reel and line we'd need for a fish this size. She delivered a Shakespeare Tiger spinning rod and some 30-pound Trilene, along with hooks, sinkers and carp bait. Without people like her back in the states, our relaxation time wouldn't be relaxing, and I believe that fish really would have driven me crazy.

GALLERY Click for photos

The gear arrived on the afternoon of May 30, and I got it all ready so I could try to catch him the next morning. All the fish in this area seem to like bread, so I switched over to using a bagel as bait.

It didn't take long before I had him hooked, and sure enough, he ran for the concrete supports under the bridge. He made it between the two supports and dragged off about 30 yards of line before I finally stopped him.

Slowly, leaning over the water, I tried to reel him in while keeping him from dragging the line down the concrete. It worked pretty well — up to the point where I got him up next to the supports.

Then he shook a little and cut the line. While the episode upset me, I got ready to try it again the next morning.

On June 1, I went out and fished the other side of the island, so I'd have a better chance of keeping him away from the dock and bridge.

After about 15 minutes he came up and sucked down half a bagel.

The fight was on.

He made a run for the dock, doubling the pole over in a horseshoe, but both it and the line held, and I was able to turn him. He changed tactics, running 50 yards to the middle of the lake. The drag screamed as he unspooled the 30-pound Trilene. Whenever I got him in, he'd make another run.

A thought crossed my mind: "How in the world am I going to get him on the bank?"

The rocks leading to the water are steep and flat — and I was out back alone.

Ten minutes into the fight, I saw the sergeant major walking down the sidewalk across the lake. He just looked at me like I was nuts ... and kept on going.

But five minutes later, I noticed Spc. Brandon Kerr coming across the foot bridge to the building.

"Hurry!" I yelled to him. "I've got the big one hooked! I need some help!"

Fish on

He ran the rest of the way, but came through the building to the back, just to make sure I wasn't pulling his leg. Then he ran back inside to grab some flight gloves so we could pull the fish out of the water, and when he came back, most of the people in the building came out with him.

Courtesy of Douglas Anderson

The fish is a Tigris salmon, a type of carp indigenous to Syria, Iraq, and Iran.

By this time, I was pretty much worn out.

The fish had made run after run, and my arms were feeling awfully weak. When I finally got him close to the bank, I handed the pole off to a guy while Spc. Kerr and I slid down the edge of the bank to try grabbing him.

We had to hold on to people's boots and a pipe to keep from falling in. And as soon as my hand touched the fish it made another run, splashing water and mud all over us — just about knocking us in.

As I scrambled back up the bank to get the pole, I was worried about the line breaking. The soldier I had handed it off to had the thing pointed straight toward the fish, and it was ripping off line.

So I grabbed the pole and pulled it back. The big fella stopped, with the pole again bowed over like a horseshoe.

I started reeling.

When I got him on the edge of the bank again, he just rolled over on his back. I'm not sure which of us was more tired.

Courtesy of Douglas Anderson

The fish length rivals the height of a man.

Spc. Kerr and I were able to grab the fish and pull him out on the bank. We didn't take a lot of time for measurements and pictures; I was worried about getting him back in the water because of the heat.

He measured 5 feet, 10 1/2 inches long, with a girth of 39 inches. We didn't have any scales over here to weigh him, but I put the measurement in a formula I found online and it came up with a little over 105 pounds.

Turns out I had to come to the desert to catch the biggest fish I've ever caught.

I looked him up and found out he's a mangar, or a Tigris salmon. We've seen him several more times since returning him to the water, and while he seems a little more skittish, he appears to be making it.

I only wish Staff Sgt. Friday had been around for his snapshot that day.

News of the fish spread pretty fast — as any news here does — especially since Capt. William Jones sent photos around the base.

Within just a couple of days, the photo had made its way to northern Iraq. I guess I won't complain too much, even though fishermen like to do that almost as much as they like to tell stories.