From the Front

An online journal entry by an American soldier made shortly after arrival in country, early this past March:

We had lunch today with the chief of police. I don’t often get a chance to eat Middle Eastern food, and this was wonderful-----spicy, delicious, and simple. But at the end of the meal, people started taking pictures, and I brought out my little Polaroid camera. It was like a feeding frenzy. I was later informed that it’s considered very prestigious to have one’s picture with an American soldier. As one Iraqi policeman told me today, “We want you safe because you make us safe.” They take the pictures home and show them to their family and friends. I kept looking for irony and not finding it. This is just not what I was expecting. The newspapers don’t report this stuff, but these people were the ones most oppressed by Hussein. There are rumors of mass graves, and in fact one of the buildings where we work was once a palace owned by Chemical Ali. When the Marines came in, they found a room full of burnt records, and those papers are still around, being handed out as souvenirs.

Later, a discussion of another day from the same entry:

The worst part of the day was the summing up at the end. Today we convoyed out to a factory where we expected to find a demonstration of about two thousand angry factory workers, some armed with Kalishnikovs. There was no demonstration, and no more than a couple of dozen busy workers. We convoyed back, had lunch, and took pictures. See that? Even tossing in some polite chit chat, exactly how long should it take one to relate the day’s adventures? Or lack of them?

And don't miss this bit about day-to-day life in general, that includes this observation (that any soldier would agree with instantly)

You are not really in The Field if you have any--and I do mean any----of the following:

Hot showers.

Indoor plumbing.

Good planning.

Adequate gear.

Competent leadership.

However, You are in The Field if you have:

No showers.

No planning or planning of the ambitiously stupid variety.

Gear that’s either new or clean----it’s too much to hope for both.

Leaders who can find their asses without using flashlights. And who do kiss higher-ranking ass, but kick it.

Sometimes you can have some of the above, and still have…..

Latrines.

Or compare this entry dated April 3rd:

Okay, guys, I've already got Buffy Season Six on order, so that means I have to dispose of my Buffy VCDs. Make that season Six and what I've got of Season Seven---the SS 7 ones are DVD.

To this one from the 5th:

So this morning two guys from the unit next to us got shot while patrolling through town. They were Medevac’d out immediately, but we’re loc ked down for a while. Immediately afterward came the sound of several explosions. We came very close to jumping in our Humvees and speeding off to take part in the patrol. Here’s what scares me: the guys who were fired upon saw RPGs and weren’t able to take them out. That means there are still people in this town with RPGs.

<...>

We’re just waiting for news to hear how these two guys are. I know them both. There are people in this town who want us out of here because we get in the way of their power over the townspeople. One guy got shot in the shoulder, one guy got shot---twice---in the back. So much for those heavy vests. The guy with the shoulder wound was passing out from blood loss. His buddies got covered with his blood.

Tampons are the new trick to have in your medic’s bag. They’re the size of a bullet hole, they’re sanitary, and they’ve got a string. Maybe there’s a missed marketing opportunity there: “TAMPAX! Your friend in war and in peace! For men and women, and….” I just don’t want to take that any further, thanks.

The Medevac helicopter just zoomed overhead.

You want to do something, but the adrenalin is running. On a more sensible note, it’s not regular Iraqis doing this. Saddam left a power vacuum behind him. Every mullah who likes his power over his congregation----and imagines having it over many more people-----has a private militia. So it’s not just one power-----it’s hundreds. I’ve yet to hear of a moderate mullah----well, except for Ayatollah Khomeini’s grandson, who I’m surprised no one has killed yet. The Iranians seem to have silenced their moderates for a while at least by barring them from standing for election.

Then this from Apr 7:

At about four AM the other day, the coalition force rode out the gate and took back the town. At nine thirty we rolled out, arrived at our usual destination, and by ten thirty, we were under fire. We were in a compound of five or six major buildings, large enough to be hotels, not quite large enough to be palaces, that had once been owned by Chemical Ali.

We started out on the roofs, looking for snipers. But RPGs and mortar fire forced us down and as we retreated, the shooters started hitting the building more often because they were walking their weapons closer. Eventually, our safe area was reduced to just one hallway in a central building.

I have never been so scared in my life. Scared doesn’t cover it: terrified doesn’t, either. I'd never known it was possible to be terrified and be totally calm. I’d look around, seeing the trails of weapons, seeing the F-16s overhead---they never dropped bombs, they just flew around------and then look down and see the chameleons running in the grass. And then you’d hear the thump of another mortar round, but you don’t really hear those---you feel them, somehow. They’re loud enough to make you flinch, and these were all close----I saw one land in front of me at about three thirty AM, no more than fifty meters away.

My captain didn’t know I heard him say what he just said. “Honestly, last night, I think every one of us thought that was it, that we weren’t going to make it back. It was that bad.”

We faced a force of four to five hundred rebels, with mortars, RPGs and various handheld weapons. There were four US soldiers---myself and the other people in my team----about twenty coalition soldiers, and thirty or so scared British and Aussie expats, including the British governor. The coalition soldiers had a couple tank/hybrid vehicles, but they didn’t have much ammo for them. By midnight, everyone was running out. We kept impressing this on Higher, and they just couldn’t get that through their heads. What the fuck good are they? We are running out of ammo. We will be over-run if light hits this place in the morning and finds us still here.

She's an Intel troop, not infantry, and not just a hero but a fine writer too. Troops like this will tell the tale of what's happening in Iraq; providing first hand immediate coverage like no other event in history.

Now go spend some time with Ginmar