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Parallels
I’ve moved to Camp Taji, another FOB that’s closer to Baghdad. 5-20 was based out of here for a while before they moved to Baqubah, and now we’re back. We drove down in Strykers in the early morning and when I stepped out of the back the sun was still fairly low in the East. A little groggy from the ride, and trying restore the blood flow to my ass (interior seating is not as comfortable as one might want), I looked and walked around the area we live in. And that was when I was hit with some serious déjà vu – I could have been in some small old town in California’s central valley.
It was early enough in the morning that the heat hadn’t kicked up to what I think of as normal Iraq levels. It was dusty, but not sandy (like most of Iraq I’ve been in – Kuwait is sandy, but my Iraq experience has been limited to river valleys) and there was just enough scrub vegetation around and on the horizon to differentiate Taji from Warhorse. This part of Taji is much more wide open, where Warhorse was smaller and had a lot more internal barriers and other obstacles that obscured sightlines. I can see for more than a kilometer in many directions, and off to one side there is huge junkyard/trash dump filled with hundreds of vehicle carcasses and engine parts.
Warhorse was built on an abandoned airfield, but a fairly small one. Taji also has an airfield at its center, but it’s a much larger, more active one. Most of the buildings on Warhorse, left over from the original Iraqi construction were larger hanger-type buildings, and the rest of the construction was obviously newer and American. Taji is littered with smaller, single-story residential-looking buildings left by the Iraqis – buildings that are of fairly crappy construction and that were obviously neglected a bit. They’re still structurally sound, but they look a hell of a lot like some of the old motels on the less traveled parts of Route 66 in Arizona or off of Highway 5 in the central valley. There is this “abandoned by time, but still holding on” feel about the buildings – like someone lives here, but no one loves it.
It’s funny – the timing isn’t that far off. Last summer I was traveling all over the US in the middle of summer, driving through various parts of the US that look very similar to parts of Iraq. This is the beginning of the end of my time in Iraq. (To be fair, this is still Iraq – the enemy has the PX pretty well dialed in with their mortars – hits in the PX complex have killed half a dozen people in the past couple weeks, and the main gate was hit by two car bombs while I was at the phone center a few hundred meters away, but I’m safer than I was in Baqubah). I’m definitely still working down here, but I’m not going outside the wire, I have a good deal better accommodations and a lot more free time. This realization of how familiar this place looks is the final psychological confirmation.
If anything, this place reminds me a bit of my dad. The single best comparison I can make is the little general aviation airport somewhere in California where he made his first solo flight – it was hot, dusty and flat – and the fact of continually moving aircraft helps. That or the summer he and I, rather unsuccessfully, tried to get our remote controlled plane to fly.
On living with the enemy
I was sitting in a house in Old Baqubah. I’ve been in this house a hell of a lot. In fact, I realized several weeks ago, much to my chagrin, that I’ve been in this house more than I’ve been in the new houses or apartments that any of my friends have gotten since graduating college. This house is and was held by the Baqubah Guardians, essentially a neighborhood watch group that we’ve been working with to keep stability and security in Old Baqubah. We meet with them on a regular basis to discuss how the neighborhood is doing, what we need them to do, what they need from us, etc. I don’t even remember the details of this meeting – It could have been about people in the neighborhood had been detained, the curfew in OB, questions about suspicious AK gunfire during the night – anything.
I was speaking to the BG leaders through my old interpreter, JJ, for a while. As happens a lot, there were long periods where one side would talk, and the other, not having a bloody clue what the other is saying, has to pretend to be interested until the other party stops and the terp gets his turn. (A good terp can handle these really long, complex exchanges, which really allows much more complex, natural conversation – with a bad or inexperienced terp, you have to talk in short burst, about a clause at a time, and check that he knows the words you’re using.) During one of these particularly long exchanges, I began spacing, and thinking about how Old Baqubah had been much more dangerous immediately before I arrived. US forces didn’t operate in OB the way we do now, as recent as June. It really is a remarkable turn around, and I only hope it can last.
I began thinking about how, less than two months prior, sitting down in this house, with the level of security that we had would have been out of the question. I had a decent sized element, all armed of course, with me, but we were surrounded, and outnumbered by Iraqis with AK-47s. These were Iraqis who, when the Battalion entered Baqubah in March, might have been shooting at Americans. Short term or long term, it would make no sense for them to shoot us right then – every one of them would have been killed, half the neighborhood would have been destroyed by missiles and artillery and the inroads into power that the Baqubah Guardians had made would be lost.
Regardless, I began to think of, in the ways of a paranoid fantasy, what would happen if this meeting, this day, was an ambush. I began picturing, quickly what might happen if one or more of these Iraqis were to open fire on me and my men. Who was keeping a close eye on all of the Iraqis? How easily could I lift my weapon, considering my posture and body armor? Could I sweep it around to the guy over my right shoulder? How was the background – was I going to hit any of my own men? Might they hit me? To the best of my knowledge, I showed no outward signs of my train of thought – I kept looking at the BG leader who was speaking, though I understood perhaps one word in twenty – and these thoughts lasted perhaps ten seconds. A couple of seconds after I mentally dismissed this line of thought as paranoid, and a little funny, I noticed, out in my peripheral vision, the man over my right shoulder raise, very quickly, his arms up. There was a pause, and then a small motion and loud, complex “click.”
It took me, perhaps, two tenths of a second to realize that he was lighting a cigarette.
Language Barriers, or why I miss JJ
Obviously, there is a language barrier out here. Local Iraqis usually have some English, but nowhere near enough to converse with us. It’s mostly phonetic stuff and really common phrases. My guys, some more than others, have about the same grasp of Arabic. Hence the terps. We had a great interpreter, named JJ, up until a couple days ago. He doesn’t want to work with any other platoon, and wants to go back to college (finish up his fourth year), so to make sure he doesn’t get stuff here after we leave, he quit early. This was fine with us because JJ was a great terp – he almost never complained, was always up to work, had a very good grasp of both English and Arabic and was truly enthusiastic about the mission and working with people – also a mean dominos player. JJ, a pseudonym we used when talking with him in front of other Iraqis, put himself in a very dangerous situation on a regular basis – the standard danger that every one of us faces out here, plus the danger of being recognized on the street (though he is from a different area of Iraq than Baqubah) and having his family targeted and the possibility that someone might recognize him after he quits working as a terp and goes back to a normal life.
However it necessitated us using a new terp that we had not worked with before. This new terp, like many, is from the north or Iraq, or as he calls it Kurdistan, and so Arabic is not his native language. Neither is English, and it shows. Now, obviously, his Arabic skills far outshine mine, or those of any of my men. However, it made it very difficult to communicate difficult or complex concepts the people we were trying to talk to. Our new terp’s, shall we say communicative difficulties, doubled the length of any conversation and led to a great deal of frustration on both sides of every conversation. Having been so lucky with JJ in my previous months, I hadn’t really realized how difficult it could be to conduct otherwise simple business with Iraqis. I’m definitely thankful for JJ now, and I guess I’ve come to appreciate more the difficult job terps have out here.
Wes Clark at Yearly Kos
Wes Clark gave a pretty good speech at Yearly Kos this year (I wonder if Adam saw it in person, you lucky bastard). He brings up a lot of good points, a lot of widely varying points. It was definitely more of a rallying cry than a call for the implementation of specific policy. My shitty internet prevents me from linking to it right now, but try googling “Wes Clark: Iraq- Military and Diplomatic Solutions.” I agree with a lot of what he says, especially his analysis of Bush, and especially his call for Bush to defend his policy without falling back to the senior generals.
Clark lists a number of things (a lot of them straight from the Administration’s own ridiculous rhetoric) that he feels we can’t manage in Iraq – and he’s right. But then he lists the things he things we can manage –
"But what we can hope for still is a state that holds together, that doesn't break apart. And we can hope for a state that tries to work law and order issues with its own, within its own territory and doesn't become a breeding ground for future terrorist activities or for exporting violence in the region. And we can hope for a state that in some way will allow the wonderful, industrious, smart and capable people of Iraq to make their own way forward. And we can hope for a state in which thousands of Iraqis aren't dying every month.
Those are pretty modest, those are pretty modest objectives, and as we move toward those objectives, if we do it the right way, I think we can protect the larger U.S. interests in the region and we can withdraw our troops, but we can't do it without a change in the United States strategy of engagement in the region. "
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and here is where begin my problems. While none of the propositions in the first paragraph are particularly spectacular things to hope for, they are by no means modest. Iraq is a very long way from being “a state that tries to work law and order issues with its own, within its own territory.” Having worked with the Iraqi Army and Police (and having spoken to Audrey, I imagine she’ll largely agree), law and order are not high on the ISF priority list – though you can get SVU if you have a satellite dish. On a small unit level, the Iraqi Police are largely cowardly (not unreasonably so in many cases), on a larger scale they are corrupt and incompetent. In Diyala they’re either afraid of, or working for a local militia. Depending on the station, or who you ask, they’re infiltrated by Jeesh al Mahdi. Individuals in the Iraqi Security Forces (IP and IA) may be dedicated to law and order, but on an institutional level they’re dedicated to graft and survival.
Iraq is already “breeding ground for future terrorist activities or for exporting violence in the region,” and it’s sure as hell not going to get any better soon. The best thing we can do in this respect is to get US forces out Iraq as soon as possible (not necessarily my position on the overall war). The fewer US forces that JAM/ISI/AQIZ/1920s have to practice against, to hone their skills against, they more will their training decline. The fewer people (civilian and otherwise) US forces kill in Iraq, the less likely it is that their loved ones will want to attack us (export violence). The “fight them in Iraq instead of Kansas” argument is not valid (read and read – both are good arguments and very funny), and us not being there has the added benefit of not killing Americans. It is tragic that thousands of Iraqis are dying every month – I’ve met a number of Iraqis that I like and respect - but thousands will still die with or without us. Thousands of people are being killed in underdeveloped nations around the world every month.
But the one argument that grabbed me first was “And we can hope for a state that in some way will allow the wonderful, industrious, smart and capable people of Iraq to make their own way forward.” We don’t need to hope for this one. It’s already happening – two million Iraqis have already left this country, with another two million internally displaced. The smart, industrious, capable people of Iraq have left to places where they can be smart, industrious and capable without their work and lives being destroyed. They’re making their own way forward – out of Iraq. There, of course, is the other set of smart, industrious, capable Iraqis that have remained in Iraq – leading new movements, creating new technologies – but the US is actively working to kill or capture them because they’re insurgents.
I agree with a great deal of what General Clark said, but to call any of those objectives modest is to be pathologically optimistic (reminds me of the Administration) or to casually minimize the chaotic political and military situation in the nation.
Quick update
Another commo blackout. Not sure what happened, though I’ve heard a couple possibilities – either way, I’m fine. Back in for a couple days, finally, though I still have a lot to work on. I almost look forward to being in sector now, if only because I have a good idea of what to do out there. Back on the FOB we’re moving back and forth from one weird BS tasking to another – whether it’s packing and repacking our shipping containers (which will have to be un- and re-packed at least 3 more times in 2 or more locations) or getting together more lists and numbers and names to shovel into the gaping maw that is the Army’s redeployment paperwork engine (I’ve been reading some steampunk).
However, it’s trying to do both – go on mission and do BS – that’s tough. And of course, it all means that going home is always tantalizingly on the horizon. Of course I’m lucky I get to go home so soon, my guys have been here 15 months, Audrey will be here near a year before she goes, etc. In the end, it reminds me of the end of high school - that summer after graduation, waiting to go to college. This line of thought - that I’m almost done with one thing, waiting for the next thing to begin – sucks. Of course, to make the analogy work, I’d have to be taking high school finals two weeks before I moved off to college, and having no summer – except for the heat.
This is a airing of grievances, not an objective review
I’m going to make a departure from my usual posts to do with the Army, Iraq and politics to address something that has been bothering me for a couple days now.
I’m pissed at J. K. Rowling. I understand that Deathly Hallows is a departure for her, in that she had to write away from the familiar structure that Hogwart’s semester system allowed her. I understand that it, no matter the author, will be difficult to end a seven-book saga spanning years and several thousand pages in a way that will satisfy adults while remaining palatable to younger readers. All of that said, I kept waiting for the book to begin in earnest.
Perhaps the hallmark of the Potter series is the mysteries that the protagonists must solve to overcome the central challenge of each book. Hallows central mystery is the identity of the horcruxes and how to destroy them, with the Deathly Hallows as a side challenge that, I think was meant to help strengthen the horcrux line. Throughout all the previous books, Harry, Ron and Hermoine work, sneak, research and fight to gain the occulted answers that will allow them to defeat whichever enemy they happen to be fighting that book. In Hallows the answer to every problem Harry faces is handed to him. Gryffindor’s sword, the goblin, how to defeat Voldemort, the mystery of Dumbledore’s family: all are handed to Harry with minimal effort on his part. The most you can say Harry does to discover the secrets he needs to find is to hang around in the woods for a couple months. I understand that the pacing of the book cannot rely solely on Harry’s actions, and I realize that great tension can be added forcing the protagonists to deal with rapidly changing events. However, I think Rowling could have given Harry a more proactive role in his own final book.
This leads to my main problem with the novel – after he leaves Godric’s Hollow, Harry doesn’t really make a single decision. Even Harry’s decision to give his life isn’t a decision – it’s a blind acceptance of Dumbledore’s orders. It is almost as if Ms. Rowling’s hand is pushing and prodding Harry through the book so she can go outside and play. The plotting of Hallows is rushed and seems to move from one major event to the next with only occasional brief lapses for introspection, whether by the characters or the author. Sadly, it feels like Rowling has been taking notes from the most recent Harry Potter movies, eschewing character development and internal examination in favor of jumping from one epic action sequence to the next. And even when Rowling goes for epic, as with the penultimate battle in Hogwarts, the scenes seem flat, lacking in description and atmosphere. A great deal seems to be happening, but the reader is left to assume most of the battle, running from one end to the other with blinders on. Harry doesn’t even ever battle Voldemort, he simply has to let Voldemort try to kill him twice.
The previous books have very rarely been plot based – character development having been the most important aspect. Not so with Hallows. I understand that length (acceptable in a children’s book) and the amount of things the characters needed to accomplish must have constrained Rowling in the pacing of Hallows. Regardless, once Harry breaks into Gringotts, the unrestrained plotting brings to mind the worst of the James Bond movies – plot as an excuse to move from one action scene to another shot in exciting locales. And when it’s all over, less than ten pages of final introspection and grief for the multitude of characters killed. The final chapter, Nineteen Years Later, while fun and a bit cute, does not reveal anything unexpected (aside from the fact that no one named their kid after Fred - WTF). Instead of showing the readers the hours and days after the final battle, truly interesting healing, grieving, loving and working to fix major problems at Hogwarts and in the wizarding world, Rowling chose to show a prosaic scene that takes place long after the conflict, involving characters we barely know and have little invested in. All that final scene shows us is that life has indeed gone back to normal, without any of the interesting, messy work that it took to get there. As I said before, it seems as if Rowling had a plot outline, and not necessarily a bad one, but instead of fleshing it out with deep, interesting character development, she rushed through it – for whatever reason.
In the end, Rowling wrote this as if it were the final Harry Potter film, not the final book – much to the detriment of both, and to the detriment of her fans.
I know why
A woman came into our strongpoint house several days ago with her toddler son. She was looking for information about her husband. He’d been kidnapped last winter and she had heard almost nothing about him in months – just rumor and possible sightings from people imprisoned with him. The first thing that struck me was her age – she was in her 30s and her husband was in his 60s. The next thing was her demeanor. She was so calm. Perhaps the intervening time since his kidnapping had tempered her emotions, or perhaps it was denial about the likely possibility that her husband was dead, but her ability to talk calmly, normally, about her situation was indeed strange.
I’m doing well here. My platoon is getting along well - in the sense that they are doing the right thing and working well, and that there really isn’t any infighting. I’ve done a couple stupid things, pissed a couple people off (mostly outside the platoon), but for most part, my screw ups have been minor, new guy stuff. That said, the air of “let’s get the fuck out of here” has definitely affected me. Part of it is that I really want to get back to the states and, for the first time in one and a half years, actually have a semi-permanent home. Of course, there is also the part where I want to get the fuck out of this country (with the heat, the shitty phones and internet, the dust, the shitty facilities, and of course, people wanting to kill you).
So, Kuwait will likely be better than here (better communications, and I’m hoping for better accommodations), and it will mean I’m closer to being back at Lewis, and closer to being able to see you all. It will also mean I lose my guys for a month or so, which sucks, but at least I’ll have company. A buddy of mine will be on the same detail with me. Not so bad, and I get a little extra money to be able to afford furniture, block leave travel, et al.
Also, don’t send me any more packages. I won’t be able to get any mail that hasn’t already been sent until I get my new address in Kuwait, so don’t waste your money. Thank you all again for all the awesome stuff you’ve sent. It has meant a great deal.
And yet I’m still in a shitty mood. Huh.
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