A cautious peek around the corner

It is a fact that how the locals react to the presence of an American patrol varies from neighborhood to neighborhood. I've written in several previous posts about the warmth of the reception in some of the Sunni neighborhoods in our area where the friendliness and hospitality are truly genuine. However, we also have Shia neighborhoods that remain under the oppressive thumb of Sadrist militias. Driving through these neighborhoods is a singularly eerie experience. Occasionally a child will wave, but in most cases the faces that pass by the armored glass of the humvee are wary; blank and emotionless. We recently had the opportunity to do a foot patrol through one of these neighborhoods. There is an inevitably warmer reception in face-to-face encounters. The glaring silence from a group of men sitting outside a cafe is dispelled briefly when I place my hand on my heart, nod, and say, "Salaam a'alaykum". The gesture is mirrored by every man in the group. "A'laykum Salaam!" It isn't much, but in many cases it is the most anybody will dare to commit to in their interaction with Americans because the militia is watching. Notices are plastered everywhere warning the people against, not just helping us, but even being friendly. The message is clear: We know who you are, we know where you live, God is on our side, and we will not distinguish between man, woman or child. Do not embrace the infidel. The militia also has a bloody track record to support their threats, and they infect the local Iraqi security forces.

It is after dark, and the foot patrol moves from the well lit busy market streets to the back alleys that are cloaked in shadow. Night vision goggles come into play, and awareness of one's surroundings intensifies. We scan rooftops for snipers and RPG's. Every darkened window is a potential sniper nest. Every derelict car is a potential bomb. We're patrolling with the Iraqi Army, and the increased security in numbers is offset by internal questions about the competence, skill, and loyalty of the Iraqi soldiers watching our backs.

There is no ambush. There is no attack. Once again, at the end of the day, we all return to base safely. The intimidation under which the people in these neighborhoods live cannot be sustained. People are becoming fed up with it, and our presence is giving them someplace to turn. Behind the glassy-eyed stares that follow us on every patrol are courageous individuals determined to wrest their community from the oppression of the mafia-like militias. There is a distinct sense that terror is ebbing, and the terrorist are now the one's watching their backs.

As we return from another patrol on another day, we chance upon a disturbing scene. Iraqi soldiers are frantically loading a limp woman into a military vehicle for transport to a local hospital. Her blood-smeared car is smashed against a concrete pylon. She'd been shot in the face only moments earlier by somebody in another car. It is a grim reminder of the challenges yet remaining to the courage and perseverance of the Iraqi people.