A couple of people have wanted to know more about Iraq and my experience there. Everyone is curious about war, particularly men. I think every man wonders how he would react in combat. It's a manhood thing. I was curious myself. Since I worked for Halliburton, though, I was an unarmed non-combatant, so my experiences cannot be compared to what our soldiers do over there. I did not have to go out on missions, I did not have to kill anyone, and I could have left anytime I wanted to.
Camp Anaconda in Balad, official orientation. Message: be afraid. Stay away from the perimeter. There are Improvised Explosive Devices inside the camp as well as outside. Our Iraqi employees plant them. Watch the Iraqis carefully at all times. There are poisonous snakes and spiders too. Stay away from the north side of the camp, that's where they mortar us lately. We live in tents, be considerate of your neighbors. We have bathing water today. We have no tools for you to do your job. The locals come up to the guard towers, and they all carry AK-47's, but don't let it worry you.
When soldiers hear a large noise, their training kicks in and they seek immediate cover. They assess the situation professionally and react accordingly. They are armed, of course.
When untrained, unarmed civilians hear a large noise, we say "what the hell was that?" and start walking towards the noise. We, of course, are unarmed. Every guy wonders how they would react to combat. It's a guy thing. And unless you are trained, you react stupidly the first couple of times.
You don't notice the stress when it's all around you. It's just something you breathe. Despite the cool weather and good food while I was there, I lost nearly 20 pounds. Combat zones and the threat of death bring out the paranoia, and you get skinny and get tight with your friends.
Saddest thing I saw: we got truck bombed twice in rapid succession one day. It blew up our perimeter wall and killed two Thai sentries. It also killed half of an Iraqi family that lived just outside of our wall. I saw them unload an 8 to 10 year old Iraqi boy from the ambulance, but it was too late for him. He was dead.
Funniest thing I saw: a small polish convoy of 4-5 suv's rolled into our camp. They had run over an explosive device on the way in, wrecking the lead vehicle, blowing out all of the glass, but miraculously hurting no one. The vehicle could still make it to camp. 4 polish soldiers got out of that twisted wreck, very shaken, each with a big wet spot on their trousers. We all laughed at them, and they all laughed at themselves, too. We found them some vodka.
The Moral Dimension
We employed local Iraqis to work in our camps doing cleaning and maintenance. I learned enough Arabic to give them simple instructions. Almost every one of our locals had a Saddam horror story-Saddam killed my father, my brother or my sister, Saddam killed my mother. One day, one of my Iraqi employees lifted up his shirt and showed me his torture scars from one of Saddam's prisons. Brutal stuff. He had been electrocuted in prison as well. Now worked with me as an electrician.
While I was there, I learned that there were very likely no WMD's and no Al Qaeda connection. But I could not escape the fact that my country had done the right thing in attempting to free these brutalized people, even if we had been sold on it for dishonest reasons. These people had been given the ultimate beat down, and it showed in their faces every day. There were 29 mass graves near my camp alone. And I recall how Bill Clinton dragged the republicans kicking and screaming into Kosovo. I had been in favor of that. But I furiously resented being lied to by the President.
The Iraqis, naturally, knew about Abu Ghraib before any of us did. I realized that after I had left Iraq and found out about Abu Ghraib myself. I recalled some subtle remarks my Iraqi employees had made while I was there. It was hard for us to trust the Iraqi employees, because you always wonder which ones come in and act like your friends in the day and then try to kill you at night. It is a fragile situation, to say the least. Then, after Abu Ghraib, their mistrust towards us must have compounded exponentially-and we had no idea. So things were fucked, really. And one side was still in the dark.
One of my American friends at camp described the Iraqis this way: "They are mostly as gentle as kittens. They are backwards country people, and most don't have a mean bone in them." I think it's a good description, though some may find it patronizing. But it is extremely hard to assess someone else across the Western/Arabic cultural divide while in a war zone. They have different values and even a different body language. And you wonder: Are the same people who come in and act like your friends in the day the same ones who try to kill you at night? And they wonder: Are the Americans going to torture us and take our oil?
Despite the lies we have been told about Iraq, there is a moral dimension to the war that is larger than our politics. Some of these Iraqis were my friends, although I'll never hear from them again or learn what became of them. They are largely good people, like us, and I think it would be immoral to abandon them to an unknowable fate. We must succeed in turning this colossal blunder around. It is really true that most of them want us there now, but it is also true that they want us to leave Iraq as soon as possible.
One of my favorite Iraqis was an educated, seemingly sophisticated young fellow who spoke excellent English. His name was Achmed. He had been educated at Baghdad University and described himself as an actor. One day we were discussing Christmas and religion in general. He asked me: "I have heard you Christians have this Santa Claus person who gives gifts to Christians every year. He comes in by the fire. I have wanted to ask you, is he real?"
Well, I hate to burst your bubble, Achmed, but .......