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The Mudville Gazette is written and produced by Greyhawk, the call sign of a real military guy currently serving somewhere in Iraq. Unless otherwise credited, the opinions expressed are those of the author, and nothing here is to be taken as representing the official position of or endorsement by the United States Department of Defense or any of its subordinate components. Furthermore, I will occasionally use satire or parody herein. The bottom line: it's my house.

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Greetings! You are reading an article from The Mudville Gazette. To reach the front page, with all the latest news and views, click the logo above or "main" below. Thanks for stopping by!
« The Who's Who | Main | Greyhawk From Iraq »

January 24, 2005

Bad Hair Day

Greyhawk

LA Times reporter Alissa Rubin defines the challenge of reporting from Iraq:

With Iraqis poised to elect a new government ? at a time when it is particularly compelling for the world to hear their thoughts ? most Western journalists are forced to operate on a short leash, unable to casually approach many Iraqis or leave Baghdad without the help of the U.S. military.

A year ago, reporters generally were able to interview Iraqis on the capital's streets and travel across the nation. Now, because of the deteriorating security situation, they can hardly go out in Baghdad, much less the rest of the country.

...And most Western reporters have determined that their only option is to turn to the U.S. and British embassies for transportation help.

The embassies, with the power to commandeer military helicopters, armed with gunners and personal security details, allow journalists to leapfrog the ring of danger around Baghdad and visit the rest of the country.

But there's a problem with that. By "leapfrogging the ring of danger" they find themselves without a story.

But with the mobility come some hindrances. Western government officials exert control over the journalists' itineraries, set up interviews, and decide who and what will be seen. The arrangements can make the trips efficient but preclude the type of free-ranging reporting that journalists usually do on their own.

I'm sorry, I meant to say that by accepting the protection of the Western governments they become propaganda tools of Western governments, and must restrain their free-range impulses that normally take them into the teeth of danger. I mean, the ring of danger. But Alissa's day in Hell had just begun.

The day dawned gray and chill, a thin mist turning Baghdad's usually dry air damp. Some of the reporters gathered at the Green Zone checkpoint staffed by Nepalese Gurkhas shivered.

A dozen reporters were scheduled to go, but as is often the case, several were no shows.

One had been trapped in a checkpoint line, waiting to have his equipment scanned by U.S. soldiers before he could enter the Green Zone. There are no express lines for reporters, and when trying to enter the heavily fortified area, they stand in the same queues as Iraqis, whom the soldiers search meticulously.

A second had thought that the meeting time was 8 a.m. rather than 7. That reporter had misheard the British Embassy public affairs officer ? the telephone lines are so poor.

Those on hand waited eagerly for the choppers as the mist turned to rain and the wind whipped the palm trees that edge the field.

Eight o'clock, the designated liftoff time, came and went with no sign of the helicopters. They had mechanical problems, we learned, and were still in Balad, a military base about 45 miles northeast of Baghdad. They would arrive at 9 a.m., we were told.

The situation went from bad to worse:

It wasn't until close to 10:15 a.m. that we finally heard the whir of the propellers.

We ran across the wet tarmac, the wind and the weight of our flak jackets slowing us to a lumbering jog. As the helicopters lifted off, rivulets of rainwater skittered along the loose door frames, soaking those seated nearest.

On the way to Amarah, we stopped to refuel in a wind-swept airfield where the rush of the propellers sent swelling puddles coursing across the tarmac.

In Amarah, it was raining in earnest and those who had not been dampened in the helicopter were now as soaked as those who had been. Some reporters' teeth were chattering uncontrollably; few could grasp a pen in their numb fingers, let alone write. An Iraqi journalist struggled to get a green plastic garbage bag wrapped around his camera as the wind whipped it away from him.

As we stood in the rain, the bad news came quickly: The local British Embassy officials had canceled the event. Because we were so late, the candidates had gone home.

Moreover, the British military officer who worked most closely with local election officials was in town and could not brief us. And, we learned, the marsh trip had been called off too.

Undaunted, our heroes used the tactic of pleading to get their way:

Several reporters pleaded with an officer for some kind of briefing or ride into town to look at election banners and interview local police.

The British troops, all from the 1st Battalion Welsh Guards, usually based near Cardiff, Wales, were unfazed. The window had closed for the election event, they said. They could not brief reporters and they did not have the security forces to take us into town.

The most they could offer us was that most British of comforts: a cup of tea.

A little later, perhaps taking pity on the bedraggled group, they threw in an English lunch: bangers and onions, two kinds of potatoes, green peas and gravy. And more tea.

Finally, the commanding officer briefs our intrepid crew:

In addition, he said, car bombs were viewed as the biggest threat on election day and to counteract them most people would have to walk to polling places. It could take several days for the voting to be completed, he said, because of likely delays caused by the travel limitations, the sheer number of people expected to participate and their unfamiliarity with the process. Bathhurst did not yet know whether the national election commission would allow such an extension.

It was a briefing that we could have gotten only by going to Amarah, but hardly enough for a story.

Actually, every news organization in the world has managed to make headlines out of exactly that information. It's the "Official Admits Iraq is descending into Chaos and the Elections will be a Disaster" Story. Kudos to the LA Times for sparing us that.

Shivering, wet and with little in our notebooks, we flew back to Baghdad. After landing we talked about what we would file from our 10-hour day.

The consensus: Not much.

The shortest day I ever worked here was 12 hours - but I have an excuse. I was sick and in fact had two bags of IV fluids that day. And I'm counting that time at the hospital tent as duty time. And I don't spend duty time on this.

The headline above the piece? "To Get The Story, You Have To Get To The Story". Alissa's bad hair day was the rainy day I wrote about here. Back here in the "Ring of Danger" and in spite of the rain, Coalition forces in Mosul detained 42 suspected insurgents. Not to be outdone, Marines and Soldiers from the 1st Marine Division of the I Marine Expeditionary Force detained 59 in Al-Anbar Province over the weekend.

Posted by Greyhawk at 06:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) |