IRAQ: The people of Tikrit and the soldiers deployed there tell Lara Marlowe of their experience of each other
It was an inauspicious way to start a year's deployment in Saddam Hussein's home town. On March 13th, 2004, the day the First Battalion, 18th Regiment of the First Infantry Division assumed main combat duties for Tikrit from an the outgoing unit, two of their men were killed and three were wounded, one losing a leg.
The lead vehicle in the three-Humvee convoy hit an IED (improvised explosive device) made of two 57 mm artillery shells. The explosion killed Captain John "Hans" Kruth (31) and Rifleman Specialist Jason Ford (21). Kruth was a graduate of West Point, with a five year-old son named John. He was buried in his home town in Wisconsin. Ford was on his first assignment after basic training, and was buried at Arlington National Cemetery.
Within seconds of the 5 a.m. explosion, Iraqi insurgents opened fire on the disabled Humvee. "The other two vehicles weren't able to manoeuvre on the enemy," says Capt Tim Crowe, the operations officer for the battalion.
"Fortunately, there was another patrol in the area and they counter-attacked. The enemy disappeared into two or three buildings, but they didn't catch them.
"From the Iraqi police we got information on the suspects," Capt Crowe continues. "One was captured and one is still at large. The one we caught is in his 20s. He's known to have been co-ordinating attacks. He's not a Ba'athist. He's not a Muslim fundamentalist. He's just anti-coalition forces."
The terminology used for the insurgents has evolved. After referring to Fedayeen Saddam, terrorists, resistants, former regime elements (FREs) and former regime loyalists (FRLs), the US military has settled on the catch-all "anti-coalition forces" or ACFs.
The unit which "1-18" replaced had nine of their 700 men killed and more than 60 wounded during the year they spent in Tikrit. "It's a pretty rough town," Capt Crowe says. "They captured or killed hundreds of ACFs. They were glad to go home."
For Capt Crowe, a plump, baby-faced man of 30 with a degree in international studies from the University of Michigan, Capt Kruth's death was a turning point. "We'd been in the same battalion for three years. We served seven months together in Kosovo," he explains.
"I was at the aid station when they were brought in. The physician's assistant told me that Hans and specialist Ford died. I didn't know what to think. I've been 10 years in the army. I was in Somalia. I knew casualties were possible, but I didn't know how I'd react. It didn't really set in until the memorial service a few days later."
The US last month carried out the biggest troop rotation in military history, sending 140,000 men home, and replacing them with 110,000 others. At the peak change-over, there were some 250,000 US servicemen in Iraq.
Because of the Iraq war, US soldiers no longer have the option of transferring out early. For the next year, some 2,500 servicemen from the First Infantry Division will live on "FOB Danger" (foreign operating base), in a 10-kilometre square compound on the hills above the Tigris River in Tikrit.
Conveniently for the US military, Saddam Hussein left similar compounds, truffled with luxurious palaces and villas, all over Iraq.
"Saddam was very paranoid about security," says Lieut Wayne Adkins. "He built the walls and watch towers. From a security point of view, it was very easy to come in and protect ourselves right way." The only threat within the walls of Saddam's former fortress is "fairly regular" mortar and rocket fire.
Salaheddin, the medieval warrior who defeated the crusaders, was from Tikrit. Seeing US soldiers lumber out of Saddam's former castles in full body armour, helmets, visors, elbow and knee pads, you can't help thinking of medieval crusaders.
Unless performing tasks where they need greater mobility, like maintaining vehicles, First Infantry Division soldiers are not allowed to go outside without 20 kilos of protective gear. This explains why US casualties are relatively low, Capt Crowe says.
"Body armour plates will stop a bullet from an assault rifle," he explains. "The rest of the armour stops pistol rounds and fragments. All of us have protective goggles and wear nomex fire retardant gloves. We carry 'camel backs' which enable us to drink through a hose."
"1-18" conducts nightly patrols in Tikrit, and has made 10 night-time house raids in the three weeks since it arrived. "Only twice in three weeks have we walked away without weapons or detainees," boasts Capt Mark Wanish.
It was almost noon, and Wanish was just waking up after returning at 4.30 a.m. from an unsuccessful raid. "We didn't get the target we were looking for," he said. "We raided a house at 2.30 a.m. There was a man who looked very similar to the one we were looking for, but it wasn't him. There were four males of military age. We separated the women and children and left them with an officer. There was a little confusion about the time line, but the stuff all checked out."
They were looking for a former member of Saddam's intelligence service, "a guy who is suspected of killing a lot of Americans, one of the guys involved in making IEDs, in doing direct fire engagements," Capt Wanish says. The soldiers broke two doors down. "So I stayed and explained that we were sorry, and we'd like to repair the damage. The owner said it would cost between US $75 and $100. He said, 'I understand you guys have to do things like this. I would rather you raid my house at 2 or 3 a.m. than let him run free.' We had $80 on us, so we said, 'Here's 80 bucks. If this doesn't fix it, let us know'."
Though Iraqis complain bitterly about house raids by US forces, Capt Wanish says: "They put up really well with the inconvenience of it." The First Division's commander, Maj Gen John Batiste, "constantly preaches, 'treat all Iraqis with dignity and respect'," says Capt Wanish. "He constantly says, 'You got to be culturally savvy'."
When US soldiers raid a house, they put black nylon bags over the men's heads, and 'flexi-cuff' their hands behind their backs. The men are either forced to kneel on the ground or sit with their backs to the wall. "One reason we separate them from the women is that we're saving face for the men. If the women don't see it, it's as if it didn't happen," Capt Wanish maintains. "So we don't create terrorists, and we don't scare the kids."
The First Division's "psy-ops" unit has printed comic books to entertain Iraqi children during house raids, and Capt Wanish distributes tootsie-pops and gummy bears, courtesy of his mother. "They come in shiny silver wrappers, and the kids are amazed by them," he says. "Everyone seems to feel a little more at ease."
Regardless of the delicacies of "1-18's" house-raiding techniques, they've made blunders on check-point duty. On two successive nights at the end of March, they killed civilians. "The first guy nearly ran down a soldier," Capt Crowe explains.
"So the soldier engaged and killed him. He didn't have any weapons, but we researched him and we discovered he had links with the ACF.
"The next night, a vehicle was speeding towards a checkpoint. We fired warning shots. The soldiers felt threatened and engaged the car. Later we learned the driver didn't realise what was happening. We killed a three year-old boy. The other seven people in the car were wounded. We provided aid to get them to the hospital. All of our soldiers are trained in the rules of engagement. If you feel threatened you are allowed to use force . . . People understand that. The driver apologised for speeding."
A couple of miles away, at the Tikrit Teaching Hospital, 28- year-old Monzer Mozahem was recovering from the US bullet that pierced his stomach. A soft-spoken assistant electrician, Mr Mozahem gave a different version of the attack on his car.
"They told me another car was going fast and they shot at it and hit me," he said. "I was going very slowly. I didn't see another car." Mr Mozahem wasgrateful that the First Division offered to repair his Brazilian-made Volkswagen. They offered no other compensation. "I plead with the Americans," the wounded man said. "When a car comes with a family, they should check before they open fire. When a civilian comes in a car and he sees a roadblock and military men in front of him, he gets confused."
Mr Mozahem insists he has no quarrel with the Americans. "The soldiers who shot me came and apologised and washed my face with water," he says. The doctor forewarned me that Mr Mozahem had not been told of the death of his three year-old son Abed, but he seemed to know. "I heard my children crying," he continues, his voice faltering. His eyes well up and he turns his face towards the window. "My little boy..." The words die in a sob.
Another man, Ghassan Abdul Hamid, led me to the bedside of his son Youssef, age 10. "He was playing outside the gate when he was shot on January 19th," Mr Hamid said. "There had been a collision between an American tank and a car and the tank started coming towards us, firing a machine gun." Youssef was hit in the small and large intestine, colon and liver. Mr Hamid, who is unemployed, had to sell his car to pay for three operations. US forces have so far refused to help him, though he has another appointment scheduled for this week.
Sgt Patrick Boyd, an Irish-American New York police officer and army reservist, is now stationed in Tikrit, where he's helping to train the Iraqi police force. "They have a long way to go," Sgt Boyd admits. "A lot of them are former soldiers who are joining because they need money. But they're taking a huge risk." Violence in Iraq "is different from the Bronx" where Sgt Boyd normally patrols. "In the Bronx, it's about money or drugs. Here it's about anti-coalition feeling. The weapons are different: in the Bronx it's 9 mm handguns. Here, anything can explode at any time, and it's machine guns. But here, it's easier to defend yourself. You don't have to worry about the repercussions - lawsuits and constitutional rights."
US forces have blasted Saddam's equestrian statues off the triumphal arch entry to what is now "FOB Danger". But inside his former palaces, the Americans too are surrounded by enemies and perhaps a little out of touch. At the "DIFAC" (dining facility), the NBA match between Sacramento and Dallas is shown on giant television screens at lunch time.
There are tacos, hamburgers, chips, and a selection of American cuisine on offer in the enormous air-conditioned tent festooned with flags. Asian cooks wearing white chefs' hats and plastic gloves serve soldiers. They're employed by Kellogg, Brown and Root, one of several companies with close ties to the Bush administration who've won major contracts in Iraq. "There are two things you don't mess with: a soldier's food and his mail," says Capt Crowe.
Some of the men complained that their food had "a European flair" because it was imported from Britain via the Gulf. Henceforward, supplies will be shipped all the way from the USA.
US strategy is to gradually hand over responsibility to Iraqi forces and withdraw into the bases which Saddam Hussein bequeathed them. It is a long term commitment. "We've been in Britain and Germany for 60 years," noted Lieut Crispin Bryant, from Texas. "We've been in Korea for 40 years. We'll leave here one day too, but not soon."