Toys Made in China...for the Iraqi market

It is the kind of thing that can happen anywhere, and when it does happen the consequences can be tragic. When it happens in a volatile neighborhood in Baghdad, however, tragic consequences may actually be the objective of the enemy. My heart skipped a beat when a young boy of about eight or nine years pushed his way through the other boys clamoring for my attention. He pointed to the 9mm Beretta strapped to my thigh, then patted a bulge at his waist beneath his shirt. As he started to move away, he casually pulled up his short to reveal a pistol grip protruding from his belt. I grabbed him, and yanked the weapon away. It was a toy. I started scolding him loudly, then realized that my interpreter was off with some other soldiers talking to a group of shopkeepers.

The gaggle of kids, maybe a dozen in all, followed me to retrieve my interpreter. The disarmed gunman rushed to the protection of a group of older male relatives, and refused leave their side when I beckoned him over as I continued my lecture. The adults appeared amused when I pulled my pistol and held it next to the toy. "Do you see this?" I asked through my interpreter. "They look almost the same, don't they? Are you trying to get killed?! Do you think a soldier can tell the difference from a distance?!" Some of the older kids seemed to get it. The adults just continued grinning stupidly. I pulled out a couple of dollars and gave them to the kid. I told him that this time I'm buying the toy from him. Next time we'll simply take them. When we got back to base, a soldier from the same patrol tossed me another plastic gun confiscated on the same mission. "Here's another for your collection."

Later that day I learned that it wasn't so long ago that some kids were playing with toy guns and pointed them at an American patrol from behind a brick wall. That time the results were tragic. A Bradley fighting vehicle spun its main gun around and neutralized the "threat". These are not accidents. These are the results of a sinister strategy on the part of some insurgents who have been known to flood neighborhoods with toy guns with the intent of producing exactly this kind of result.

Fortunately, this time nobody got hurt. Another good day in Baghdad.

Rhinitis

Op tempo remains high, so we've been keeping pretty busy. Centaur75 has a new team member, so our manpower strength has spiked a whopping 50% in the past week. Now that we have a full crew, we're far more self-sufficient and flexible when it comes to being able to take advantage of opportunities to go outside the wire, which is what we've essentially been doing non-stop for a while now.

Sometimes our interactions with the local nationals can border of the surreal. A recent mission took us to a local hospital in a dominantly Sunni neighborhood. We had a helluva time finding it, as the GPS coordinates that filtered through the byzantine military bureaucracy had us wandering aimlessly through residential neighborhoods, and backtracking at makeshift roadblocks composed of concrete, rusted engine blocks and palm logs. The frustration at not being able to find the place was eased by the reception we received from neighborhood children who flocked to the curbs and actually cheered us as we drove by; some snapping smartly to attention, stomping their right foot, and whipping out that ridiculous palm-outward military salute that the Iraqis borrowed from the British ages ago.

We finally found the hospital, and positioned our vehicles in a defensive perimeter. Our audience with the hospital director, and our tour of the facilities found us in the somewhat awkward position of clanking through and amongst the hospital beds in full battle-rattle, all the while noisily smacking weapons into walls, bed frames and chairs. The patients all stared at us wide-eyed as if we'd descended from another planet. Navigating the narrow stairwell through three stories under all the weight of armor, weapons and magazines was exhausting in itself.

As we were wrapping up the mission, and collapsing our security perimeter, we were approached by two middle aged women in an agitated state. Their animated gestures and tone drew several other soldiers to where my interpreter and I were standing. Now, it is not at all unusual for locals to approach American patrols with information on bad guys, or complaints about infrastructure, etc. It is common and expected. So... what did these two woman believe was so important that only the might of the U.S. Army was up to the challenge? What was so pressing that they had to wave us down so that we could stand there in the triple-digit heat, encased in armor, with sweat pouring down our brows?

The allergy medicine they got from the pharmacy wasn't working.

I am not making this up. I was ready to draw my 9mm Beretta semi-automatic and tell them that it was the only thing we carried that was guaranteed to clear sinus passages. I didn't, of course. We were polite, told them we just couldn't help them with that, gave them some ice water, and sent them on their way.

This is just an example of what can constitute a priority on one Baghdad street. A five minute drive from this location is a neighborhood that may be witnessing a spike in sectarian violence. A clash between rival militias, in which U.S. forces were not involved, left bodies burning in the streets and families fleeing their homes.

Shift gears and drive on.

Speaking truth to power

Today a relatively small group of us had an opportunity to meet with a visiting congressional delegation from back home: Senators Olympia Snowe (R-ME), Ben Nelson (D-NE), Max Baucas (D-MT) and our own homeboy Ken Salazar (D-CO). The meeting was held in a conference room near division HQ here on Camp Liberty, and was billed as an opportunity for the Senators to hear the points of view and concerns of the soldiers. there were four tables in the room, and seven soldiers from each state had the opportunity to have lunch and chat with their elected representative. Well... not exactly. Nebraska and Montana had empty seats. Colorado had too many people, so a Major was booted from the guest list, and our own Liz (who flew down from the IZ specifically for this event) was relegated to sitting with the Montana folks, which I think she found more than a little irritating.

Sen. Salazar was about as courteous and amiable as can be, and appeared to be genuinely interested in our perspectives and concerns. At the end, he was the last one to leave the room only after telling the escorting entourage to cool their heels so that he could hear more of what we had to say. Even then, however, time was short and far too much was left unsaid.

I found it a little disconcerting, after all the introductions were made, that the first thing he did was to remind us how unpopular the war was back home, and started quoting polls and percentages. An image flashed through my mind of trying to conduct a war like an American Idol talent contest. "If you support the Surge, call 1-800-(etc.) and press #4. If you support immediate withdrawal, press #5. I'm sorry, Gen. Patraeus, but you will not be joining us on stage next week!" ...what a way to run a war! We were then treated to a brief campaign spiel about all his votes in favor of benefits for military members and veterans. Yippee. Then we had our turn.

A Major from Division HQ spoke eloquently about the strategic importance of the region, the dangers or Iran, and the necessity to do "whatever it takes" to achieve a positive outcome. Senator Salazar leaned into the table. "What if it takes 5 years?" The Major looked him in the eye and repeated, "Whatever it takes."

I elaborated on the question of Iran, and that I felt that discussing the withdrawal of US forces as an end unto itself risks a long-term catastrophe in the region. I told him that, based on my experience, the American public underestimates the "corrosive" nature of Iranian influence. A Lt. Colonel across the table commented that he thought my use of the term "corrosive" was absolutely correct. We all agreed on the strategic need to secure the borders of Iraq; primarily the Iranian, but the Syrian as well.

The meeting wrapped up, and the Senators were swept off to waiting Black Hawks. Later in the evening was a USO sponsored appearance by the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. As I didn't think they would be quite as receptive to my geopolitical criticisms, I decided not to attend. I got a haircut instead.

CNN

CNN made an appearance in our AO this week. The fact is that their presence forced the gradual postponement of our mission. We ended up spending most of the day geared up, ready to go, waiting for the word, until the afternoon when we were finally informed that due to the logistical resources required by the presence of the journalists, our mission was postponed for two days. Nice. All dressed up and nowhere to go.

By the time we got out there, however, the piece had aired. These guys even got front page billing on CNN's website. One of the interpreters managed to capture a poor quality version of the segment, so we got to see these guys watch themselves on CNN for the first time.

My own opinion is that the video and the online article are pretty superficial puff pieces. The headline of the online article is "Soldiers wish politicians would embed with them". The reason given by a soldier interviewed in the article is so that politicians would have a better appreciations for the trials and stresses of life in the combat zone. This strikes me as largely irrelevant to the formulation of a policy, as well as somewhat disingenuous since there are a good many politicians with military and combat experience on both sides of the political divide. I would like to see politicians embed with troops for entirely different reasons. I would like them to sit and observe Neighborhood and District Advisory Councils (NAC's and DAC's) that are the new grassroots arena of civic activism in Baghdad. The squabbling and belly-aching are energetic, but nobody is shooting each other, and projects like infrastructure repair, job fairs, relief distribution, small business seminars, and medical clinics are being addressed. I would like to have the politicians go on patrols down wide boulevards that have been gutted and abandoned for months, and see the businesses that are starting to reopen. (The first time we drove through this area I thought to myself, "Man. This place looks like a war zone!" Yeah, I know. I'm an idiot.) I'd like to take them through the neighborhood we visited that was a vast, tranquil mixed population of Sunni and Shia, each with their own mosque within a block of each other, and neither guarded. The community had banded together to petition the Americans to help create a wall to keep the sectarian violence that infected neighboring communities from spilling over into their area.

To demonstrate the fragility of the progress we are witnessing, I would also take them to see the areas dominated by the Shia militias, to talk to the people first hand and see the fear in their eyes as they talk in whispers about how their Sunni friends and neighbors were driven off or executed. And to Sunni areas where al Qaeda influence is ebbing, but Sunni squatters forced from Shia neighborhoods cannot get food rations from the government, and are now facing the prospect of refugees returning to claim their homes leaving them on the streets without a roof over their heads; just the type of vulnerable population that provides al Qaeda types with plenty of raw recruits.

These are the images and stories that should provide the context that informs and elevates debate over policy. It seems to me that with all its resources, CNN squandered an opportunity in my neighborhood to inform that debate by telling a much more compelling story unfolding just blocks away.

September 11

The dust kicked up again yesterday. All morning and into the early afternoon the weather was clear. It was still hot, but the sky was a clear blue. By mid afternoon the light breeze crossed some arbitrary threshold to become wind, and the powdered sugar-like sand took flight. By 4 PM the sun could be distinguished only by being a lighter shade of brown. A short walk to the latrine caked your teeth with grit and sandblasted your eyes. The filters on the air conditioners are an insufficient barrier to such fine particles, so dust inflamed my sinuses and settled into my lungs. I developed a cough that I simply couldn't wash away with the omnipresent bottled water.

The temperature is starting to be tolerable in the mornings. It still climbs above 100 during the day, but the cooler mornings are spawning clusters of soldiers who are weaning themselves from the air conditioned comfort of the gyms and exercising outdoors. Nonetheless, it is unfortunate that the A/C in our truck couldn't wait a couple of more months before giving up the ghost. It never really worked too great; only sufficient to just take the edge off the heat in the vehicle. However, without it the interior of the truck becomes quite intolerable. Hopefully, we won't have to run too many more missions before we get the darn thing repaired.

Last night I was fortunate enough to be able to listen to Gen. Petraeus and Ambassador Crocker testify before congress thanks to streaming audio from C-SPAN's website. I find it very reassuring that such a highly respected military authority will finally have an opportunity to personally look our political leadership in the eye and absorb the polished posturing demagoguery that congress is so adept at producing. After all, I cannot think of a better way for the General to get a clearer picture of the conditions in Iraq than by getting lectured to in a hearing room on Capitol Hill. That said, from what transferred from headphones to head before I drifted off to sleep, the General's description of conditions in Iraq essentially conforms to my own personal observations.

This morning my interpreter reminded me that today is September 11. Six years ago on this day I was driving to work at Hewlett-Packard listening to the local morning A.M. radio talk show. The radio personalities were clearly flustered, and were actually telling people to leave their radio, and find a television because they were at a loss to describe what they were obviously watching in the studio. When I go to work, most of my colleagues were not aware that anything of any significance had occurred. Over the course of the morning, however, work slowly ground to a halt, and some televisions were brought in, some with makeshift aluminum foil antennae. A product demonstration room featuring a large 50" plasma TV filled with people as we all watched events unfold in the comfort of a mock-up high-end living room.

As a direct consequence of that day, I find myself in Baghdad this morning listening to a woman struggle to control her voice as tears streamed down her cheeks. She is Sunni, and her husband is sitting somewhere with a Shia bullet in him. She is afraid to take him to the hospital because the hospitals are monitored by the Shia militias. She is afraid to give us her name or any useful information. All we can do is give her the phone number of an international aid agency. Next to her stands one of her sons, about 12 years old. His face is expressionless. This is a scene that is all too familiar. While there is no question that conditions are improving, sectarian violence has created a massive internal refugee problem. In a culture that places high value on revenge and honor, this will be one of the most daunting problems that the Iraqi government will have to tackle if and when it gets its act together.

I've been all over the map on this posting, but I wanted to end on a humorous note. I took this photo while we were on a recent mission. The normal radio chatter was suddenly interrupted by an emphatic voice from the lead vehicle in the convoy. "Whoa! Those chicks are HOT!" There is no question that as they passed by the windows on the left side of the convoy, all of al Qaeda could have approached from our right, hammered bombs to the side of our trucks, and nobody would have noticed.

Same planet, different worlds

I was recently e-mailed this photo from home of local indigenous wildlife grazing in their natural habitat.

It immediately reminded me of a photo I recently took of a similar scene on the streets of a relatively well-off Baghdad neighborhood. Again, local indigenous wildlife grazing in their natural habitat.
I know, I know... The similarities are eerie.

Man, I can't wait to get home!

They're my rules, and I'll break them if I want to

In this little corner of cyberspace, I've tried to operate within self-imposed guidelines. Some of these guidelines are obvious. For reasons concerning operational security, I do not mention any specifics relating our job. I have not used any body's last names. I am intentionally vague or misleading when it comes to time. There are other operational references that I intentionally obscure, and frequently omit entirely. Admittedly, this can be quite frustrating. Often when I re-read posts, I'm left feeling dissatisfied and hollow because I am restrained from really digging into the substance and contexts of events.

I also have made an effort (for the most part) to steer clear of politics. Those who know me know my disposition already. I've resisted the temptation to turn this into a political forum or a sounding board for my own political point of view.

That being said, some may see this particular post as a diversion from the aforementioned policies. Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't. I'm of the opinion that this is essentially a stylistic deviation that does not necessarily violate my self-imposed restriction on political arguments. In any event, it is my intent that this be a one-time-only circumstance, and one in which I am actively soliciting reasoned, thoughtfully constructed opinion from all who care to participate.

Now, the meat of the issue: Brian de Palma has a new film that is being showcased at the Venice Film Festival in Italy. The name of the film is "Redacted" and was inspired by actual events. I will not provide a synopsis here, but encourage you to search the Internet and read anything and everything you can find on it. Pay particular attention to Mr. de Palma's motivation for making the film, and the effect he intends it to have. Is there any substantial difference between what Mr. de Palma is doing with this film and what countless terrorist cells are attempting to accomplish with the lies and distortion on their websites? It seems to me that both are trying to get me killed. What are the substantial differences between Brian de Palma and Adam Gadahn?

Again, this is a good faith solicitation for your comments and opinions. My next post will be a return to the same old boring war stuff.