Col (Ret) Nate Slate: Al Dujahl, Iraq

We idled through Al Dujahl’s midnight arteries, numb and hollow, while men in the shadows watched us like witnesses at the thin border between heaven and hell.

Al Dujahl

Just west of our compound at Ballad, Iraq, there was the Shia city of Al Dujahl. Al Dujahl had a storied past. Following one of Saddam’s visits to the city in 1982, someone attempted to assassinate Saddam. In response to this act, Saddam had 148 citizens of Al Dujahl executed. Rumor had it that Saddam bulldozed their orchards (incredibly precious resources in a desert land) and left them with nothing but the scorched earth.

The people of this city were proud and resentful, the Iraqis said. Al Dujahl became a dangerous city to visit. Like so many places in Iraq, it was meant to be hidden from the Americans. So many places, things, and thoughts were proclaimed to be off limits to the Americans. For sure, the city’s long broad streets that led to the grand mosque were not meant for foreigners to tread. Only a wartime mission would make this trespass necessary.

The day in question had been one of the longest of my life. We were missing two Soldiers. We were desperately looking for clues to their whereabouts. We desperately wanted to find any evidence that they were still alive.

In the wee hours of the morning, we were numb from fatigue and the day’s events. Only the hollow feeling of dread remained.

As we idled down the main street of the city, the dark shadows of the marketplace were surreal. The silhouette of the giant mosque at the end of the street stood in stark contrast to the night sky. I was surprised to see so many men reposing along the sides of the street – smoking and visiting in the shadows.

They seemed to feel our desperation. Maybe they had heard of our loss. There was no fight in them. They prepared to flee, waiting anxiously to see what we would do next.

They were not our concern.

AL DUJAHL

Two ways to continue to read this article.

It is after midnight in this ancient Shia City Walled in it sits, a monument to isolation, in the middle of the Sunni Triangle We are not supposed to be here thousands of years of fear and hatred forbid it Lost in time misplaced in space we seem to be in another dimension Emboldened by sacrifice Strengthened by commitment We enter its dark streets Our vehicles idol along its broad corridor as if walking on tip toes with their horsemen sitting rigid in their saddles In the distance the tower of the masque casts a foreboding silhouette against the pristine night sky Its erstwhile servants, lay by the roadside on carpets Smoking and visiting in the cool of the darkness They are very concerned to see us They know of the violence They have heard of our pain Why would we come here from across the world to this private place at the portal of heaven and hell Is it judgment day they seem to entreat the night as they prepare to flee Mr. Haleem says this is far enough We are numb from the suffering We can go further or stop here It is really up to him The rotund old man says a quick goodbye and hurries into the shadows We are left alone without a guide on the dark side of the world