Mirror Image: A different Iraqi Tale

The two white wall air conditioners strain in the heat, pushing out tepid air that settles around us in dust motes. The SWAT Colonel smiles broadly as he enters the room, turning into the cinderblock office before ordering his lackeys about. They are a mixed crew, all in civilian clothes – t-shirts, jeans, flip flops or 'combat' loafers, all festooned with leather Sam Brown belts with two or three Glock pistols stuffed into holsters or even pants pockets. I grin across the narrow room at the other Chief with me, a narrow table between us. The walls have a four foot stripe of bright pink paint just below the ceiling, Mediterranean resort posters dot the walls and amidst the babble of Arabic, Dubai TV plays a dubbed National Geographic special on Great White sharks. One of the officers, his flip flops slapping, brings in a tray of bread, sour cream, apricot jam, hard boiled eggs and a bag of fruit, plums that are mostly pit that make me think of 'Ur' fruit orchards in the irrigated wetlands outside of Sumerian cities... We protest, both for form and because we're on a schedule. The Colonel swears we will leave on time. We say “American time or Iraqi time?” and the Colonel laughs.

The Colonel represents the best of our partner forces, and we have a great relationship with him. He has a mind-boggling network of sources (think of 'snitches' from any cop show like 'The Wire') and is on good terms with the local judge, so he gets arrest warrants smoothly. It is a system of personal relationships to be sure, but that is the way Arabs work (we do the same thing, we just don't like to admit it).

The fascinating thing about this particular Colonel is his passionate belief in the rule-of-law. In a country that only recently had gone virtually insane with blood feuds, revenge killings, sectarian slaughter, random nihilism, ruthless criminal syndicates and all out civil war, here is a police officer positively fastidious about proper arrest warrants and rules of evidence. True, Iraqi law allows a bit more hearsay evidence than we do, but still it is remarkable.

He also has the best trained memory I have ever seen. Not total recall, but well trained – a function, I'd guess, of the necessity to juggle hundreds of names and relationships within and between families, neighborhoods and tribes that make up the spider-web of connections in the cities and towns where Iraqi's live. It's like an exponentional version of Mayberry. And in the Colonel's case this huge canvas of people and relationships is intertwined with his ever growing list of enemies, AQI terrorist cells, criminal gangs, corrupt policemen, Sunni militias and personal grudges. At times, to simply travel to Baghdad and back requires a sophistication in risk assessment, deception techniques and personal security planning that puts a covert operative to shame. I am amazed at the casual, unthinking yet constant re-assessment of personal security that your average Iraqi shurta or jundi conducts just going home on leave. And since they get 10-days of leave a month, they get lots of practice!

In contrast to my last “Iraqi Story” this one is positive. The police Colonel is not the only right thinker, there are many others in the Iraqi Security Forces, good men and women who try to makes things better. Just a few days ago a police officer chased down and killed a terrorist who'd participated in setting up a suicide vest attack against an Iraqi checkpoint. Tragically, the policeman was then shot and martyred by a second terrorist. He willingly ran to the fight. He, and others like him, hold the flame against the darkness. They are why someday Iraq will be normal. It won't be soon, but it will happen.

Photos: the sun rising as i go to sleep after my vampire work hours; the view of the Euphrates out the window of a Blackhawk helicopter

More later.

Timo

Fair Winds and Following Seas from a Brown Sand Box Sailor!