[lit-ideas] Re: How to Win in Iraq
- From: Eric Yost <mr.eric.yost@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Thu, 29 Sep 2005 13:14:14 -0400
Excerpt from Slate
http://slate.msn.com/id/2126905/entry/2127032/fr/rss/
Return to Fallujah
FALLUJAH, Iraq—When the Marines attacked through the city last
November, inside 17 houses they found cell blocks, chains screwed
into ceilings, blood-splattered walls, the flags and propaganda
pamphlets of al-Qaida, and mutilated corpses. There was a torture
house somewhere on just about every major street—one torture chamber
for every 20,000 residents. The Jolan district in the northeast,
where the 2nd Iraqi Battalion was working, had the highest incidence
of intimidation and killings.
South of the Jolan, Lt. Col. Joseph L'Etoile and his 2nd Battalion
of the 7th Marine Regiment were steadily making inroads against the
insurgent infrastructure. Why? Because the leaders of some of the
major tribes were turning against the terrorists. While Capt. Juwad
of the 2nd Iraqi Battalion was rousting the residents of Jolan Park
after an assassination, L'Etoile had agreed to an evening meeting
with two prominent sheiks who had a deal to propose.
<snip>
Any resident cooperating with the government of Iraq or with the
Americans was risking death. Yet two prominent sheiks had asked for
a private meeting. L'Etoile arrived at their compound. No lights
were turned on in the section. Through their night-vision goggles,
the Marines saw Iraqis at different posts, tracking their movements.
Once they were inside the compound, a few lights came on. Colorful
rugs were spread on a close-cropped lawn between two attractive
villas. On the porch of one villa sat a small BMW roadster wrapped
in a dust cover. Two sheiks greeted L'Etiole. Both asked that their
names not be revealed. One was reed-thin, a constant smoker in his
late 60s. The other, with more ample girth, was in his 50s and got
right down to business. "One of the Farhan brothers is out of jail,"
he said. "I saw him in the market last week."
"A suicide bomber tried to kill my older brother [a respected tribal
elder]," Sheik Ample continued. "They killed my son with a bomb last
Tuesday. Do you know why? Because my older brother urged that we
vote for the constitution and not be left out of this new government."
"There are two groups of insurgents," the sheik said, "and they are
feuding. Omar Hamady of the Albugutna tribe left a bomb on the road
near the farm of Khasem Muhna of the Ju Ara tribe. He wanted you
Marines to arrest Muhna. Then Hamady would have no rival on this
side of the river."
L'Etioile's translator, Darawan Faris, drew a sketch to confirm
where the two insurgents lived. Faris, a fan of the Tampa Bay
Buccaneers, had applied for American citizenship after serving for
years with the Marines in Iraq. He knew most of the sheiks and city
elders. The names of these insurgents were new to him. They were
outsiders, from south of the Euphrates.
"They will try to kill us again," the other sheik said. "A bomber
will drive up at night and blow us up here when we are sleeping."
L'Etioile looked around. A car bomb would smash the small compound,
which seemed so tranquil and secluded, to bits. "We have patrols,"
he assured the sheiks.
"No," they said. "You cannot be here all the time. Our sons and
nephews live here. We want you to stay away. Give us a piece of
paper so we can be armed."
L'Etioile considered the request. Unlike in the rest of Iraq, no one
in Fallujah is permitted keep a weapon in his house. L'Etoile asked
how many permits were needed. When the sheiks gave a number, he agreed.
The sheik asked for one more thing—a pass for his older brother. It
was dangerous to wait in the long lines entering the city.
"He will have a card equivalent to mine," L'Etioile said. "All my
Marines will be informed. He will not wait wherever he goes."
The gesture of respect and understanding pleased the two sheiks, and
the meeting ended with a meal of chicken and saffron-flavored rice.
Driving without lights back to his base, L'Etioile explained his
reasoning.
"The irahibeen [terrorists] killed the sheik's son and tried to kill
his brother," he said. "It makes sense to let them protect
themselves. They didn't ask for an excessive number of weapon
permits. That means the enemy isn't numerous—and the sheiks know who
they are."
"That bit about not waiting in line,'" Sgt. Maj. Michael Barrett
said, "reminded me of Sonny in The Godfather waiting at the toll
booth and getting shot."
Later, Faris, the translator, picked up on the analogy to the Mafia.
Like many of the translators with American infantry battalions on
the front lines, Faris was wary, if not totally cynical, about grand
concepts for dealing with the insurgency.
"Let me tell you something," he said to a journalist. "Here in
Fallujah we're up against some hard guys. There's a lot of talk
about the vote and that stuff, but those guys aren't going to
change. They're feared. They like that power. We could offer them a
good job on construction, paying even better money, and they'd never
take it. Never. They're killers. They're gunmen. That's what they
are, and that's how they see themselves."
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