Independence Day

A year ago, America and its allies turned over sovereignty of Iraq to the Iraqi people. The leaders were picked by U.S.-led coalition forces, and it was the beginning of the effort to transform the country into a place with elected leaders and a transparent justice system. I’ll leave it to everyone else to have his or her say about how, or whether, this is working. I personally have no clue. To me, it seems just as likely to work as to come tumbling down. The best I can do is call the odds even, and that’s only because the rules of the universe allow that every time you flip a coin only one side will land face up.

Some Iraqis have leapt on the democratic bandwagon for the chance to have their say, shape their government, get a steady paycheck, get rich off of government contracts or befriend the folks who happen to be in charge right now. Some decidedly have not. A sheik and his son were assassinated today. A week ago, a man strapped explosives to his body and walked into an Iraqi Army mess hall, killing 25 and injuring dozens more. Two days ago, four Marines were killed and 13 more wounded in an attack. The fact that the majority of them were women doesn’t mean much to me. The reality is there will be four funerals, 13 Purple Hearts, and, in Iraq, four dining halls, gyms, headquarter buildings or even bases with new memorial names.

I haven’t written in a while because not that much has happened to me that seems new. I’ve been moving around smaller bases in north central Iraq, up and down a main highway that runs south to Baghdad. The stories have slowed down a little, mostly because I’ve ended up in many government meetings and military planning sessions where the efficacy of this U.S.-trained Iraqi Army is playing out. It’s painful and long, and both sides get frustrated. Imagine a local school board meeting where the school board has no budget except an open checkbook that needs signatures from the leaders of the next town over. Add two languages, military bureaucracy, bombs and guns, faulty electricity and weak air conditioners, and you’d be half way there.

I’m working on a story about how the Iraqis react when things go wrong. A small town here called Bahriz was locked down by insurgents. Now it’s locked down by Iraqi soldiers. The city council and the mayor were no help, so the governor fired them. The city government building now is surrounded by wire. The soldiers found mounds and mounds of weapons and bomb-making material in a palm grove that runs along the town’s western borders. They arrested 28 people the first night, and they think that they broke up at least one cell of terrorists. They’ve begun providing people in the town gas power for their homes at a steady rate and price, rather than the inflated amounts under the former city leadership.

It’s been a week, and the army is still trying to control the town’s borders. We went to one checkpoint where the soldiers were checking cars and paperwork. We went to another where Iraqi police were just waving people through. The U.S. commander here discovered today that the palm grove is no longer being guarded. While the U.S. gives advice on military strategy and improvement projects, they also repeatedly ask the Iraqi commanders to ensure that their soldiers are wearing their uniforms and wearing them properly. The commanders, for the most part, understand the theory that a disciplined army starts with a uniform one. But it’s an impossible sell to the soldiers. This is their land, and they’ve learned long ago that it makes no sense to be outside in the direct sun in the middle of the day, and it certainly makes no sense to do it in an undershirt, a long-sleeved shirt, pants, body armor and a Kevlar helmet. They must think the American soldiers, who walk around with 40 to 50 pounds of gear in 110-plus weather, have lost their minds.

After a marathon meeting today, a U.S. commander and I visited the Iraqi commander who is overseeing the siege of Bahriz. The Iraqi colonel is 36, and his own army won’t promote him to general because they think he’s not ready. Still, for two months, he’s been directing 3,500 soldiers here and the Americans think he’s doing a good job. We stopped by about 4 p.m., when many Iraqis take a rest. He was wearing a matching jogging suit and shower shoes and watching music videos with his officers. We talked for about an hour about Bahriz and the army. The American colonel also talked with the Iraqi commander about meetings and plans for the rest of the week.

Then about 5 p.m. something happened. Iraqi soldiers found a car loaded with explosives less than half a kilometer from the entrance to an American base. They called it into their headquarters, cordoned off the area and waited for the U.S. bomb squad to come detonate it. The Iraqi commander, in his flip flops, talked on the radio to his troops, gave them orders about how to station themselves in and around the bomb. Finding a bomb before it explodes is a victory, but it’s also a risk because the bomb might be bait for a larger attack. Anytime any troops stand in one place in a street for more than 15 or 20 minutes they become a much easier target, and the Iraqi commander was moving between his maps and the radio to try and keep them safe. When he told the American colonel, in English, what he was doing, the colonel just laughed. “I’m going home,” he said.

The Iraqi colonel was sitting alone, hunched over his radio, and I went to take a picture. The U.S. colonel stopped me. He said it would embarrass the Iraqi leader to be shown out of uniform. That’s true, but I can’t help what he was wearing. It made it more endearing, more about Iraq. His soldiers would probably love to see their leader working in pajamas. The Americans would have a heart attack. I didn’t take the picture. We left the headquarters before the drama ended, so I’m not sure yet what happened. Once a bomb is found, it’s almost always safely detonated, so I’m not worried.

At 3 a.m. Wednesday I’m going on a raid with Iraqi and American soldiers. It’s my first patrol in ages and I’m excited to get out and spend more time with soldiers and less with officers who worry about the length of sleeves. The U.S. colonel who didn’t let me take my picture is also the only single American I’ve met here who has a copy of the Koran in his office and has read it. He called in one of his interpreters for me to talk about the differences between Sunni and Shiia Muslims. The colonel told me, “There’s nothing in the Koran that calls for suicide or chopping off someone’s head,” as if I needed convincing. I let him give his lesson. I didn’t want to dissuade him one bit from repeating this over and over. I can only hope he tells his officers and soldiers the same thing. It’s a refrain that’s lacking, at least among most of the military I’ve spent time with here. He’s also got a copy of Thomas Friedman’s newest book, and he named off a couple of others he thought I should read. I like him, in spite of how angry I was at him about the picture.

He also was glad President Bush was speaking to the country about the successes in Iraq. I saw a small one first-hand on Tuesday, I suppose. How you weigh that against everything else that goes on here, and how much money we’re pouring into this country, I still have no idea. We’re flipping millions of coins over here. The only certainty is that none of that money is going to end up back at the local American school board meeting.