Dispatches from Iraq

This is the fourth installment of Dispatches from Iraq. The first one got several hundred page views. The most recent edition had 5,500 over the course of two weeks. That's just from people clicking on the specific URL link and not accessing it through the site's home page.

The fact we've had so many people check in, read DFI, and feel compelled to pass the links along to others affirms why Matt and I started this series: Few are speaking for the soldiers themselves. Turn on your television or radio, click online, or pick up a newspaper, and you'll see and hear a lot of political posturing and a bunch of talk about where the war should go from here on a bigger level. But you don't get much about the soldier's perspective, or the effect it has on their wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters back home. (Some of the soldiers don't make it home. Last month we ran a letter from a woman whose son-in-law died a brave death. We published it upon her request. You can read that here).

Matt and I absolutely do not want to get involved in debating the politics of the war. Period. I've mentioned this before and mention it again because we recently got a couple interesting emails. One accused us of basically being tools of the government. The other accused us of being unpatriotic and more or less out to destroy America. When you're being accused of being biased in completely opposite directions, you're probably doing something right.

Matt and I actually come from really different perspectives in life. And when we disagree on an issue, things can get really heated, because we can both be rather stubborn. But as soon as we're done, we're still best of friends.

Our culture has fragmented to the point that it seems people just want to listen other people who agree with them and ignore everyone else. I almost want to issue this as a challenge -- try hearing out someone with a different opinion than you sometime soon, without demonizing them. Maybe I'm being naïve in asking this, but give it a shot sometime. You might be surprised with what you find.

If you think Dispatches from Iraq is a worthwhile read, Matt and I ask that you forward the link to a friend or two you think might also find it worth their time. Thank you.

On to today's Dispatch:

I am training Iraqi soldiers at the compound again.

When my unit arrived in Northern Iraq, the Iraqi troops were referred to by their original name, the Iraqi Civil Defense Corps, or ICDC. Shortly after we arrived, they were re-established as the Iraqi National Guard, or ING. Since the elections, they have transitioned from ING to Iraqi Army, or IA. The IA, combined with the IP and the FPS, make up the ISF. And I'm not even going to tell you what those mean. I love acronyms.

Training the IA is the single most productive thing I’ve done in Iraq. The difference that we have made with these soldiers over our short time with them is truly incredible, and it gives me hope that my friends won’t have to do another tour in this country.

When I was first assigned to this position, I had no idea how rewarding it would be, or how stressful. I have escaped the dangers of roadside explosives in my little compound, but eighteen untrained Iraqi soldiers with live ammo can be almost as unpredictable.

There is also the heat. Most people aren’t aware of this, but Iraq is actually seven feet from the sun. OK, that might not be a precise measurement, but it feels that way some days.

Most of my frustration and difficulty, however, comes from the strong cultural differences and incredible language barrier. You have to have a sense of humor to make things work.

The instructors from my company have been tasked with putting an Iraqi Army Battalion through their second stage of training, one platoon at a time. This is the same company that I had trained in my first trip to the compound, so I was lucky enough to have a pre-established relationship with some of the same soldiers as my first time out.

Like Blue.

Blue is our archetype elderly soldier. Blue gained his nickname due to his resemblance to a character in the movie “Old School.” He has leathery brown skin, grey hair with a classic comb-over, and a lazy eye with a cloudy retina. He is almost always in a good mood, proudly displaying his only remaining tooth in an open smile.

Blue is 5-foot-4 and can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. I want you to picture this wiry codger on the obstacle course, shimmying along a thirty-foot rope, body dangling from his bony hands and ankles, the bulk of his comb-over hanging down revealing a shiny bald head, his face in a big one-toothed grin. It was awesome.

Blue is near 50 years old. As a person of Kurdish descent, he was treated as a second-class citizen for the majority of his life under Saddam Hussein's rule and previous regimes. In his younger years, he ran a gas station in Kurdistan. He had to siphon the fuel in to containers to bring to his station. He explained to me through the interpreter that this was the reason for his aged physical features and missing teeth. There are many characters like Blue out here, each with a story just as unique.

The instructors have taken to giving nicknames to our standout soldiers in order to overcome the difficulties we have pronouncing their names. Some of our nicknames for this training cycle include: “Nomar,” who is a dead ringer for Chicago Cubs shortstop Nomar Garciaparra, “Five-head,” who has a forehead you could post a billboard on, “Ninja,” who has taken exceptionally well to the training, and “Baby Howard,” who looks pre-pubescent, and whose real name I can’t pronounce.

I’m finding other problems with the language barrier. For instance, the requirements to become an interpreter don't seem as high as I’d like to believe. Before dealing with our “terp,” I was under the impression that the word, “interpreter,” meant, “one who fluently speaks at least two languages and can translate for others.” I was sorely mistaken. It took us a few days to really notice, but became very clear when even the Iraqis were asking if he was translating correctly.

Heat? Cultural differences? Language barriers? No problem. One more Iraqi soldier trained is one more step toward the United States leaving Iraq permanently. That’s all the motivation I need to keep going until it’s my turn to head stateside.

Dispatches from Iraq 7/24

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