It was the usual hubbub outside the Afghan police station. A U.S. Marine officer chatted with the district governor and local police chief while several villagers milled around nearby.

Earlier, 1st Lt. J.P. Bayer had assured the governor that his Marines would work with local officials to improve their village, and together he and his 11-member squad walked through the village and its market, which was unusually still.

“We want to work together with him to bring security to this area,” the lieutenant said, as the interpreter translated English to Pashto.

The policeman reminded Bayer that he’s the “only one” and that he lacks proper equipment to deal with criminals and heavily armed Taliban insurgents who threaten the area.

Just then, a bomb buried somewhere in the marketplace exploded, sending dust and shrapnel flying. An Afghan man screamed in pain as the entourage darted into the police station.

For Bayer and his team from 11th Marines’ Civil Affairs Group, the attack — simulated inside the high-tech Infantry Immersion Trainer at Camp Pendleton, Calif. — would test their combat training, instincts and leadership. Perhaps more important, it would reveal what they did right and what they didn’t.

His squad joins more than 2,500 Marines who have trained in the IIT during the past six months. The 32,000-square-foot facility is a mock Afghan village built inside a large warehouse once used for packing tomatoes. It opened in late 2007 as a prototype specifically geared to train Marine squads, including infantrymen and combat support groups such as Bayer’s.

Those who built and run the IIT want to help troops prepare for the range of combat missions that can unfold in the so-called “three-block war.” It’s meant to provide an authentic experience, complete with all the chaos, smoke, noise and blood of real combat.

But it’s more than just another urban training range. Unlike traditional Military Operations in Urban Terrain facilities that long have served as the mock village where leathernecks train for mounted and dismounted operations, the IIT features more “Hollywood effects,” including pyrotechnics, realistic buildings and battlefield smells. It also features avatars, interactive life-sized holograms projected on walls and doors designed to prompt reactions from the Marines.

Hyper reality

Officials call this “hyper reality.” The Muslim prayer echoing from the mosque. The chatter of women arguing with a vendor in Pashto. The stink wafting from meat hanging at the butcher shop.

While some of the Corps’ newest training ranges incorporate role-players and more realistic-looking buildings and terrain to support platoon or company-sized units, some Marines say the IIT’s intimate setting helps them feel as if they are in a combat environment.

“It makes it much more immersive,” said Sgt. Samuel Walton, a rifleman and combat veteran who is the IIT’s noncommissioned officer in charge. “Everything is closed off to you. In there, it gets hairy real quick. We get guys who actually go ‘in the black’ in there. They get the wide eyes.”

It’s not uncommon for Marines, even infantrymen, to freeze or get frazzled the first time they step into the trainer and come under enemy fire. Those chaotic moments can be driven by poor communication, trainers say, and other times by hesitation as the Marines try to sort out what’s happening. A second run-through usually ends up with better results.

“It definitely changes your mindset,” said Walton, adding, “This isn’t a shoot house. This is a decision-making house.”

For Bayer and his squad, the improvised explosive device blast briefly disrupted the flow. A wounded man’s cries echoed as several squad members yelled out. “Doc, there’s a man down,” yelled one Marine. “It’s serious.”

The man tried to crawl away, leaving behind his lower leg that had been severed by the blast. The governor dashed from the police station and to the man’s side and cries out in Pashto. It’s his nephew. His armed security jumps out to help. A Marine yells out, “Doc, do I have security?” With several Marines stepping out around the marketplace, the squad corpsman, a Navy hospitalman, rushes over to the man — the role player is a real-life amputee — and quickly tightens a tourniquet around his right thigh. His action prompts others to help him carry the man into the police station.

Walton, observing the training, shook his head. “I’d never send my corpsman out into the open,” he said. “Everybody froze.”

Walton sees the same thing in most units that train here, but such actions are unnerving.

Mirroring iraq

During one of his four combat tours to Iraq, he lost corpsmen and others in similar situations. In debriefing the squad, he pressed that point, reminding them they could have pulled the man into a safer spot and had a Marine tie the tourniquet.

“There is one corpsman. There’s between 10 and 12 Marines,” Walton told the squad. “You never send a corpsman into the middle of the street, even if you have security. You can’t afford to have your doc go down.”

Maj. Ethan Harding, the civil affairs detachment commander, led a detailed debrief in which Marines opened up about what they saw and what didn’t go well during their initial patrol through the village. Marines pulling rear security had spotted a suspicious IED, but they didn’t know that word failed to reach other Marines, including the lieutenant. Others complained about poor communication.

“Just because you don’t have a radio doesn’t mean you can’t talk to each other,” Harding said.

Apart from assessing the locals’ needs, Harding stressed the importance of training their eyes and honing their instincts to pick out potential indicators that trouble may be brewing. A mosque prayer when it’s not time for the call to prayer. Women talking casually with men who aren’t their relatives. Spotters standing out of place in the cornfield.

“These little things can tell us other things,” he told them.