Colonel (Ret) Nathan Slate: Hearts and Minds – Getting to Know the Iraqi People

When my brigade deployed to OIF I, we received cultural awareness training.  We were taught about their dress, their customs, and their religion.  There were many taboos.  Most prominently, we were taught not to discuss religion.  We had training on the different sects.  In particular, we were warned about the Wahhabis.  The training presented the Iraqi people as linear, myopic, religious zealots who could not be trusted and would likely be dangerous.  I remember wondering how much interface we would have with the locals, given that we had a combat mission.

My thoughts about the relevance of the training changed quickly once upon the ground.  The Iraqis left their military equipment and went home – choosing not to fight.  Suddenly, we were wondering what our deployment to Iraq would entail.  Would we simply load back up and go home?  Or would we have other missions?

Our first mission in Iraq was the handling of captured enemy ammunition.  There were stockpiles of enemy ammunition all across the landscape – in cities, towns, along the roads, and in farmers’ fields.  They seemed to be everywhere – more explosives than you could imagine.  Given Iraq’s limited number of delivery systems, you were left to wonder what Saddam thought he would do with all those missiles, bombs and explosives.  For sure, terrorists had access to these valuable resources for asymmetric warfare.  Saddam may not have had weapons of mass destruction, but he did have the ability to arm terrorists around the world.  I’m not saying that Saddam was leading such an effort.  There were too many big egos involved for that.  However, he did not seem to mind supporting the chaos either.  The Iraqi people said that many different groups frequented the almost innumerable caches of explosives to arm themselves.

So, it became our first mission to get these explosives up off the ground, take them to a remote site in the desert and blow them up.  This demilitarization site was in the desert between Taji and Fallujah.  There was a giant rock quarry there that was already filled with explosives. It seemed like a good place to start.  We would load the explosives on our supply trucks and carry them out into the desert and systematically destroy them.  We had an EOD team that led our Soldiers in building large blasts.  The mushroom clouds could be seen from far across the desert.    Our Soldiers referred to the quarry as the “Hog Pits.”  I’m not sure why.

As time passed, we were sending convoy after convoy of trucks loaded with explosives out into the hinterland between Taji and Fallujah.  The road that made its way out there was called “Route Red Leg” – a reference to artillery.  We were very concerned about how vulnerable our Soldiers were to improvised explosive devices (IEDs) along this route.  A well-placed IED could set an entire truck of explosives ablaze.

I was determined to figure out a way to better protect our people.  I decided I would befriend each village and tribe along this route.  We very much needed the support of the local people.  I had no idea how complicated this would be, or where it would lead us over time, but I knew I had to do something to change the odds for our convoys.

There was a school along this road, right outside the city limits of Taji.  Whenever we went by, the children by the schoolhouse would run out and cheer for us.  I wondered if that meant we had support from their parents in that town.  Anyway, I decided we would start with this village.

By then, we had contracted a linguist and cultural adviser.  His name was Mr. Haleem.  Mr. Haleem was a very interesting person on many counts.  According to him, he had been part of the loyal opposition to Saddam Hussein since Hussein’s early rise to power.  Mr. Haleem had fled the country at one point for fear of his life and settled in the Czech Republic.  He married and had a child there.  He would eventually leave his wife and European family and return to Iraq.  His Czech wife would not join him.

Mr. Haleem seemed ecstatic about the American occupation.  He could not wait until Saddam was captured.  Meanwhile, he would do everything he could to support our effort.  Over time, Mr. Haleem’s role proved to be pivotal.  When I was getting to know Mr. Haleem, as he described the local environment, he asked me to please not judge them.  He said the Iraqi people, Sunni and Shia, were good people.  He tried to explain the insidious character of Saddam’s inner circle and what his persecution of the Iraqi people had done to their character and culture.  Over time, I would see in spades what Mr. Haleem was talking about.  For the moment, I would go into the villages and do what I must to have more control over our environment.

Mr. Haleem was very excited about going into the villages and working with the Iraqi people.  He thought this was the right thing to do.  He said we would not regret it.  I hoped that I could trust this large (for an Iraqi) man with a crooked smile who spoke English out the side of his mouth with a deep accent like a pirate swashbuckler.

It was a clear sunny day, like they all seemed in Iraq, when we arrived at what we would later call School Number One.  Our security force secured the area, and Mr. Haleem began to work with the local men who came to see what was going on.  The principal of the school came out and Mr. Haleem introduced us.  They wanted to know about our business.  We told them that we wanted to learn more about the local people and learn if there were ways that we might collaborate for the good of the people.  The principal seemed excited about this and led us inside the building to his office.  By then, our security team had cordoned off the school, and a small team of guards followed us inside.

As the school master described his challenges in funding the school, I heard a group of men approaching outside.  Having to pass through our guards, I wasn’t concerned about our safety, but I did wonder who was arriving.  Maybe it was the Sheik, or the Imam, I thought.  A short, thin man with a close-cropped gray beard entered.  He had intense eyes and high cheekbones.  He looked determined and a little afraid.  He seemed to know Mr. Haleem.  Mr. Haleem seemed happy with the reacquaintance and began the introductions.  This was Sheik Abd, the leader of the village, he said.

Sheik Abd was happy to learn about our intent to collaborate and assist.  He very much wanted to take part.  He began to list all the areas where they needed support.  According to the Sheik, this was not a village that enjoyed Saddam’s regime’s favor (I would learn much more about this across time).  The length of the list made me think that he had been waiting for this moment.  He was prepared to talk specifics and even requested a timeline.

The Sheik led us around the schoolhouse as Mr. Haleem interpreted.  The Sheik showed us the disrepair and the needs.  And then, rather excited, he said they were building a new school for the village to our west.  He wanted to take us there to see their progress and discuss next steps.  About this time, a young man appeared.  Wearing a bright white dishdasha, he looked clean-cut and important.  He respectfully visited with the Sheik and then turned and introduced himself in English.  He explained that his name was Salman al Dulaimi, and that he was the son of a local farmer and builder.  Salman immediately began to interpret for the Sheik.  Salman explained that the school they wanted us to visit was just out of sight.  He pointed to the area as my CSM prepared the security and the convoy to move.

When we arrived at the simple four-room building, it was obvious they had been working on this project for some time.  Their challenge, according to the Sheik, was that they had run out of materials.  The Sheik said emphatically, if we could help get materials, they would finish the project.  They did not expect us to do their work.

As we moved about the project, I continued to visit with Salman.  He was a very impressive young man.  At one point, he said to me, “I studied English at the University of Baghdad, but I have never spoken with an English-speaking person before.  How am I doing?”  I thought he was kidding me.  His English was flawless.

I expressed my interest in meeting the leaders of the nearby villages along the road.  I wondered if they could help me meet these people.  Salman said they could assist.  At that time, I had no idea how isolated the villages were from each other.  Saddam Hussein’s Iraq was very dangerous.  Everyone seemed to fear each other.  The villages rarely interacted.

We left that day after having agreed upon a plan.  We would work to assist them with their projects, and they would assist us with coordination in the area as requested.  As we drove back to Balad after the visit, I felt good about the progress and our first steps.  This was very encouraging, I thought.  I had no idea of the depth and complexity of the relationships that would follow.  I would meet a myriad of fascinating characters as we worked together for the good.  There are so many stories to share.