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Letter No. 11: Baghdad streets on election day like a
'Twilight Zone' episode
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By
David J. Jenkins, USU class of '98
January 31, 2005 | Hello
everyone, Greetings from Baghdad . . .
It was a dark and eerie night. . . . We staged
this morning, the day of the first Iraqi elections,
at 0545. We readied our gear, double checked our
equipment, and rolled out into the streets of
Baghdad at 0600.
The streets that are normally jammed, bumper-to-bumper,
are on this day vacant and the air still. Aside
from us, the only other sign of life was the Iraqi
Army positioned near the 3rd ID bridge, directly
across the river from yesterday's attack on the
International Zone. We continued to move through
the streets; blank windows stared back at us,
and ownerless slips of paper blew haphazardly
along;
We were on patrol yesterday during the attack
on the IZ. We were within a quarter-mile when
the deafening explosions occurred. The sounds
were loud enough to stop time, but we knew that
it was beyond range of our location, and we waited
for silence.
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An Iraqi boy gives the thumbs-up
on the eve of national elections. / Photo
by David J. Jenkins |
Our
mission today was to patrol our sector near downtown
Baghdad and help maintain peace during the elections.
It has been suggested that we are under scrutiny by
the world as the Iraqi elections take place, as many
claim that we are "controlling" the elections.
Our mission today is to ensure that nobody else tries
to control the elections and to allow democracy to take
root and grow.
Having patrolled much of the northern area in our sector,
the OIC (officer in charge) decided that we would proceed
to the Sheraton Hotel so he could get an aerial view
of the city. We had not been at the hotel group for
more than 20 minutes when the first explosion occurred.
Then another and another. Many of the soldiers began
running for cover. Some of us stood there, next to our
vehicles, waiting for impacts. But, nothing came.
Our squad leader changed radio frequency to the Battalion
net and we could hear the reports of mortar attacks
taking place about a mile away. The OIC radioed down
from the hotel roof stating that he could see the impacts
as they occurred; another explosion and again, another.
An hour later, the OIC returned from his perch up above
and once again, we were on the move. All over the city,
the streets were deserted. No cars, no people. It looked
like the aftermath of some major incident which might
take place in a movie; my mind wandered back to an old
episode of the Twilight Zone. Too strange to
fathom.
We made our way closer to Sadr City. Once an area of
turmoil, it is now a neighborhood under reconstruction
thanks to the treaty agreed upon by Muqutada Al-Sadr,
a local cleric and leader of the people in that area
of Baghdad. We rallied up with Alpha company and were
appraised of some of the events of the day.
Throughout the day, several polling sites were attacked
by suicide bombers. The first killing five locals who
had come to place their vote for a better tomorrow.
There were reported nine sites that were attacked in
this manner, killing a total of 44 people innocent people.
With the streets empty, and the polling sites being
attacked, we were under the impression that political
reform and individual freedom was doomed to failure.
However, as the day progressed, so did the hope for
success.
Later reports indicated that after the first suicide
bomber attacked the polling site, the locals who were
there that survived, continued to place their votes
and then spat on the body of the assailant.
As we continued our rounds about the city, we began
to have difficulty driving down the streets with all
the people out celebrating. I noticed that the 5 o'clock
hour was at hand, and the streets of Baghdad were erupting
in celebration. People waved and smiled, and we were
like the grand marshalls of the parade as our gunners
set aside their weapons for bags of candy, throwing
handfuls to the children that lined the streets.
We stopped at one of the Iraqi National Guard bunkers
(formerly Camp Melody), and watched the ING soldiers
as we pulled in dancing to Arabic music, singing songs
and preparing for missions of their own.
We all gathered together, and one of the ING soldiers
produced a soccer ball and several of us began to kick
the ball back and forth. Soccer has no language barriers.
We began to see the possibilities; the people of Iraq
were making their stand and saying to the world, "We
are ready."
We made one final stop on our patrol. Two days ago,
a soldier was unexpectedly shot and killed while setting
road barriers. The details have not been released and
we are uncertain how this might have happened, exactly
. We returned to this location tonight, and as we rolled
up, shots rang out, breaking the still of night. Each
of us drivers maneuvered the vehicles into defensive
positions and the convoy commander proceeded toward
the area of contact.
We were snapped back into reality when we heard that
soldiers were down. Our medic and our, combat lifesaver
certified soldier, immediately grabbed their medical
bags and ran to administer aid.
Symbolic of Iraq's past, we came to find that Iraqi
Army soldiers had inadvertently shot and killed two
and injured two others, all of which were members of
the Iraqi Police Force. As much help as we are willing
to provide, we can only do so much. The Iraqi people
will always be fighting their long history of civil
unrest.
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January 29, 2005 -- We just rolled
back through the wire on the eve of the Iraqi elections.
Our latest mission, we were assigned as the personal
security team for our battalion commander and he felt
compelled to move about Baghdad to recon and surveill
the various polling sites in our sector, prior to vote
day. We rolled up on at least 11 different locations
looking for VBIEDs or any other potential threat which
could adversely effect the elections on the 30th.
We had a number of vehicles in convoy which included
the Battalion Commander, his security team, two company
commanders and our command sergeant major. At each stop,
the vehicles would roll up to a stop and the BC would
spring out of his vehicle. As he would step free from
his vehicle, a procession of doors would open in unison
and the dismounts and truck commanders for each vehicle
in tow, would follow suit.
The BC with entourage would disappear into the polling
station and the company commanders would stay back to
assume authority. Our command sergeant major would begin
a systematic tour of the area, shaking hands with the
adults and handing out lolli-pops to the children.
We rolled up on site 4 and the leadership began their
routine of preventive checks and services, and I noticed
a man tagging (graffiti) a wall that ran the length
of the street that we were lined up on. He would violently
shake the spray can, mark the wall, then continue down
the wall. From the angle I was watching from I couldn't
tell what he was marking, only that he was
consistently moving down the wall closer to my location.
I looked at the wall closer to where I was sitting and
I noticed that there was already a string of Arabic
characters adorning the surface. As the man moved along,
approaching me, I could see him rattle, spray, and his
arm moving in circular motions--again and again, circle,
circle, arc; circle, circle, arc-- right over the characters
that were already present.
It appeared that somebody had sprayed some sort of propaganda
on the wall in this man's neighborhood and he wasn't
going to stand for it. As he continued to spray the
wall, I looked around to see dozens of children playing
in the street; in their yards. Each one absorbing the
words that were present. I do not speak, nor read, Arabic.
But, I can only imagine the words that would incite
such a reaction from this man; words of futility, rebellion,
anger and pain. The very things that this election is
meant to overcome--circle, circle, arc; circle, circle,
arc.
Slowly the Arabic characters were disappearing, being
re-invented into something new. A circle for hope, a
circle for peace, and an arc to inspire a brighter future.
Each day as these children play in the street or in
their yards, they can look over...not to a string of
characters representing hatred and pain . . . but a
circle, a circle and an arc that looks back at them
with the promise of a future and smiles.
Best wishes,
David J. Jenkins
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