It’s amazing how critically important personal relationships are in Iraq. With good relationships you can manipulate an Iraqi to give you his only daughter; with poor relationships you would be hard-pressed to get an Iraqi to let you wash his dirty underwear. The system is a bit difficult to maneuver, but if you master it, the world is yours.
I am still on the fence as to whether I like the Iraqi system of relationships better than I like ours. On the one hand the Western system of friendship is much more efficient, timely, and facilitates our society’s ability to have a great economy and get things done. On the other hand the Iraqi system, while arguably less efficient and more time consuming, is more user friendly. Iraqis are better at developing relationships that actually mean something. In Iraqi society you run into either “brothers” or people you have never met before; there are no “contacts.” I respect the recondite friendships Iraqis develop. There is not that much to love about Iraqi culture, but every so often these people surprise me.
Release the Hounds
We finally cut the leash on the Iraqis. Lieutenant Abdulredha, a competent Iraqi officer, presented his convoy order brief flawlessly. We rehearsed the brief at 0600 so he would have confidence in front of his men. At the end of the brief Major Pyle was stunned. “Gentlemen,” he said, “that was the best brief I have ever seen from the Iraqis. I am excited to see what you can do.” I was even more impressed; I thought the brief rivaled some of the best briefs I had ever seen—Marine or Iraqi.
At the conclusion of Abdulredha’s order to his men, I walked in front of the group of Iraqi warriors and addressed them in the best Arabic I could muster. “My brothers, this is your opportunity to lead the Iraqi army. We all know it is difficult to work with our MiTT, because many of the Marines want you to do everything their way. This time is different. You now have the chance to do it your way if you can prove to Major Pyle that you have the ability. I have confidence in all of you. I know you can operate independently.” I paused, looking from face to face, before going on. “Gentlemen, I want to see my wife and family soon. I want the Iraqi army leading this country. I do not want the Americans leading your country. The next time I visit I do not want to be in a uniform but in my civilian clothes visiting you and your families in Najaf. I have great confidence in Lieutenant Adulredha and he has great confidence in you. Let’s make this happen!” There was a roar of excitement in the room. I had given T. E. Lawrence a run for his money.
Lieutenant Abdulredha continued to motivate the jundi. Major Pyle leaned over and asked for an interpretation of what I told the Iraqis. I responded, “Sir, I just told them that this is their chance to operate independently and that they needed to prove themselves.” Abdulredha released the jundi to go set up the convoy. As the jundi exited they showered me with hugs, kisses, and high-fives. Khalis hollered, “Mulazim Jamal, il Jeysh Iraqi ihebbek!” (Lieutenant Jamal, the Iraqi army loves you!)
The Iraqis were excited to be leading their convoy. While in the convoy staging area between the MiTT camp and the swahuts, jundi approached me and asked, “Why are the Marine Humvees in the rear of the convoy?” I responded with delight, “Because the Iraqis are leading now!” (see photo 16).
Things were off to an excellent start. The orders brief was good, the jundi were motivated, and the convoy was squared away. All we needed next was solid execution of the actual mission. And Lieutenant Abdulredha gave us just that flawless execution. His actions were so proficient that the MiTT was getting bored sitting in the back of the convoy watching the jundi run the show. But they were about to be tested.
“Holy shit! Did you guys feel that?” Martin yelled. The 2/3 convoy half a mile in front of us was engulfed in smoke. They had been struck by a thunderous IED. I whispered to myself, “Oh God, why did this have to happen on the Iraqis’ first time out the gate?” As the adviser convoy commander I immediately ordered the two MiTT vehicles to the front of the convoy so we could maintain better communications with the 2/3 convoy in case they needed our help. I said, “Koa, this is Shadow, what is your status? Over.” The 2/3 convoy commander replied, “We are good to go. No casualties. The IED missed its target. Stand by for further word, over.” I radioed, “Roger, Koa, Shadow standing by. Out.”
While stationary, the Iraqis spotted a motorcycle buzzing along the palm groves near the river. Instinctively, Lieutenant Abdulredha ordered his lead Iraqi Humvees to chase the motorcycle. They were in hunter-killer mode. After an intense chase, the two Iraqi Humvees returned empty-handed. Abdulredha sprinted to my Humvee, out of breath. “Jamal, I’m sorry we had to run off like that without telling you. We tried to capture those guys, but they were too far away. What are we going to do next?” I responded, “Abdulredha, no problem. By the way, that was great leadership!” I paused to let him catch his breath then continued. “You don’t need approval from me to do anything if you feel it is the right thing to do. The Iraqis are leading this convoy, not us—remember?” Abdulredha put out his arm with a balled fist and I met it midair with my fist. He said, “Ziiieeen!” (Great!)
After speaking with Abdulredha the boss started approaching my Humvee. I muttered to myself, “Oh God, here he comes to save the day.” He asked, “Lieutenant Gray, what’s going on? Why the hell are the Iraqis running off like that? Did you tell them they could do that?” I cut him short. “Sir, Abdulredha and I are in control of the situation. You can stay back here with the rest of the convoy and provide security.” The boss responded, “Uh, okay, just keep me informed of everything that goes on.” I replied, “Roger, Sir, will do.”
Abdulredha and I hopped out of our Humvees and walked up to the staff sergeant I assumed was in charge of the operation. “Staff sergeant, how’s it going?” I asked. “I’m Lieutenant Gray and this is Lieutenant Abdulredha. What’s going on? You guys need our help?” He responded, “Sir, we actually could use your help. We called EOD and they aren’t going to be here for at least three hours. The lieutenant and some of the Marines moved toward the small village to our east [Abu Hyatt] to search for the triggerman and any evidence. The problem is we cannot get comms with them. Can you go out there and see how they are doing?” I replied, “Roger, no problem. We’ll be in contact via radio. If something goes wrong we will pop a green cluster.” I looked over to Abdulredha, who understood English pretty well, and asked, “Fitihemita?” (Did you understand him?) He laughed and responded in English, “Of course, Jamal. I am wannabe American, you know!”
“Doc,” I ordered, “make a path toward the village to our east and don’t hit any IEDs.” Doc immediately punched the Humvee across the desert toward the edge of a small hill that overlooked Abu Hyatt. The Iraqis followed. We approached the top of a ridge to get a better view of the small village. Abdulredha and I jumped out of our vehicles and met at the hood of his Humvee. He pointed. “Jamal, I see the Marines. Look about five hundred meters toward the river.” I followed his directions. “Roger, I see them.” Before I could even ask Abdulredha what he wanted to do next, he was in his Humvee burning a path through the desert to the Marine location.