Lieutenant Chotikul, who is stationed in Baghdad's "Green Zone," sent this Sept. 19 e-mail to friends and fellow alums of Camp Anytown, a diversity awareness youth training program of Community Tampa Bay.
Despite having been on seven previous deployments in Asia, my first Iraq tour has me feeling mighty homesick. (I can just picture you reading this on your cool, shaded porches with cold, sweaty beers in your hands … ) Maybe it's the desert heat — I've only been here three months, but the cloudless sky seems to blur it all into a single day. Maybe I'm going stir-crazy in my new home — the International "Green" Zone, aka the "bubble" of Baghdad. But there are worse places to be in Iraq.
Life in a "combat zone" — if you can call it that — is more monotonous than strenuous. In what Time magazine dubs "the most lethal city in the world," the IZ is unquestionably the safest, most secure place to live and work. The plentiful creature comforts have prompted many of us to label our digs "Club Med"; Saddam and Halliburton have spared no expense on morale-boosting luxuries. The more prominent amenities include, most notably, the several gaudy palaces we work in, as well as a giant swimming pool (once frequented by Uday and Qusay) and a dining facility that dwarfs many strip-mall food courts.
I've been told that several years ago you could mingle with Iraqis over shwarmas and coffee at corner-shops and cafes in downtown Baghdad. No more. The first thing I noticed upon arrival was the pervasive defense-in-depth — measures that are practically medieval, in thought if not concept. Ten feet tall, two-ton concrete "T" walls surround our positions in castle-like security; entry control points, individual search areas and attack dogs check for identification, bombs, weapons, documentation … and more bombs.
I accompanied a Marine security guard to a watchtower that juts over the blast walls. My view overlooking the Tigris River was marred by bullet-holes and ricochet damage in the reinforced glass — stark reminders that you'd be foolish to peek over the edge.
But monstrous events there are, so within the walls we stay. Nevertheless, there are positive developments, most of which you will rarely hear or read about in the media. General Casey and much of the senior leadership are pragmatic, upbeat commanders committed to leaving this place better than they found it. Regular citizens are risking life-and-limb on a daily basis to get this government on its feet. It would be a crime at this point to abandon them. On Sept. 11, I drove past a group of Iraqis working (in vain, it seemed) to clean up dirt and debris from the streets. The shock and sadness we felt five years ago are emotions they deal with every day. Yet they stubbornly trudge on, brushing sidewalks of dirt, glass and bullet shells, only to do the same thing the next day. You may take "freedom from fear and want" for granted (I have), but for the Iraqis it's all that matters. They damn sure deserve it.
For every mundane project, there's a whopper that gives you a front-row seat to history unfolding. I've had the incredible fortune to be involved in one of the few places where there's no question you're "fighting the good fight": the trial and prosecution of Saddam Hussein for crimes against humanity. I remember doing a college project on his war crimes. I never imagined that I'd one day see him firsthand, being charged in a courtroom for those atrocities.
The man is definitely larger-than-life. He's weary in appearance, but not in carriage. Moving with the slow grace of a panther ready to pounce, he doesn't bat an eye when witnesses recount how their families were tortured and killed. The Iraqi justice system operates slightly different from our own, giving defendants the chance to speak after the prosecution and defense. Saddam has used the opportunity to deliver a couple of chilling monologues that seem straight out of a James Bond flick (Sound bite: "When I am right I cannot be scared, and I don't think there is a power on Earth that can shake even one hair of my mustache.") With his salt-and-pepper beard and dapper suits, he certainly cuts a villainous figure; and the spectacle is complete with the animated back-and-forth yelling-and-cursing from both lawyer teams. In a circus like that, it's easy to lose sight of the real horror and sadness of it all. But listening to the witnesses' testimony erases that, giving the tragedy a human face. The latest phase of the trial revolves around Saddam's '88 "Anfal" genocidal campaign against the Kurds. He used artillery, death camps and chemical weapons to slaughter hundreds of thousands of Kurdish Iraqis who rebelled during the Iran-Iraq war. Now, 18 years later, the chickens have come to roost, as farmers, laborers and other commoners tell their story, many clutching new death certificates (under Saddam's regime, the Anfalized victims were referred to as "missing") and ID cards of their loved ones, dug up from mass graves. Maybe there's some justice in this world after all.
This article appears in Nov 1-7, 2006.