Back to Baghdad

Two veterans of the war in Iraq--from very different professions--return to find continued danger but a fragile sort of progress

By Bobby Ghosh and Nate Rawlings Monday, Oct. 25, 2010
    • Kadir van Lohuizen for TIME / NOOR

    On guard: An Iraqi army patrol in Amariyah, a neighborhood once controlled by militants.

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    The American combat mission may be over, but there are still 50,000 U.S. troops in Iraq. Most are confined to their bases, where the main threat is boredom.
    RAWLINGS     : I returned to my element with a visit to my old friend Staff Sergeant James Scott, team leader of the War Pigeons of the 162nd Explosives Ordnance Disposal Company, which is biding its time at Saddam's old Ministry of Defense complex, known to the Americans as Old MoD. As combat tours go, this one's been underwhelming. The War Pigeons have been here since the end of November and for the most part have little to do. Ironically, though, the majority of the action they've seen here came around the time of President Obama's Aug. 31 declaration that combat operations had ended.

    First there was the Suicide Pants Bomber. On Aug. 17, he walked into an Iraqi Security Force recruiting drive and blew himself up: the explosive material was under his pants, taped with ball bearings to maximize the carnage. Nearly 60 died. On Sept. 5, five men stormed Old MoD. Two were killed just outside the gates, and a third set off a car bomb. The two who got inside took Iraqi prisoners in a building, beginning a three-hour standoff. In the end, they detonated their explosive vests on the third floor. Seven Iraqi soldiers died.

    Both these incidents took place just 100 yards (90 m) from where Scott's team sleeps. Each time, they hustled to their trucks with weapons and gear. Then they waited. And waited. Under the Status of Forces Agreement that accompanied the American troop withdrawal, the Iraqis must request the assistance of U.S. soldiers before they can roll into the fray. The Iraqi army did request the help of Scott's men in both bombings, but hours after the initial fighting.

    GHOSH : We saw U.S. military vehicles just four times in 10 days. On one occasion, three Bradleys were stuck in traffic. In previous years, they'd have blared sirens, fired warning shots, perhaps even pushed aside some Iraqi cars. Now they just sat there with the rest of us. The Iraqi police checkpoint holding up the traffic gave the Americans no special treatment.

    Seven months after the general election, Iraq's politicians have not yet been able to form a new government. The old one is corrupt and inept. The Shi'ite-Sunni civil war has moved from the streets to parliament.
    GHOSH     : Our translator, Ali al-Shaheen, jokes that if every nation on earth sent its worst politician to the Iraqi parliament, "it would immediately become half as corrupt and twice as efficient." You might say, Well, lots of countries have bad governments; if terrible politicians are Iraq's biggest problem now, that's not so dire. But bad leadership could easily push Iraq back to the hell I saw in 2006-07. That would make a shameful waste of tens of thousands of lives and billions of dollars—and the efforts of people like Nate.

    RAWLINGS : Yet while politicians flounder, the Iraqi army appears to be thriving. A captain I helped train in 2008 told us that young officers are highly motivated and proud that they have as much urban combat experience as any military in the world.

    For all the improvements, Baghdad remains a dangerous place. Car bombs still go off every week, and crime—especially kidnapping for ransom—has soared.
    GHOSH     : At a kebab restaurant in the busy Karrada area, Ali and I began to notice that people at nearby tables were staring at us with open hostility. Then the restaurant quickly emptied, even though it was the lunchtime peak—not a good sign. Ali, facing the door, saw a couple of men repeatedly peering in. It was time to leave.

    Once back in our station wagon, we knew from experience what to expect next. Sure enough, two cars began tailing us. One of them drew alongside, and we recognized the driver as one of our wrathful fellow diners. He drove past, then suddenly cut in front. Our driver, Sami, and I started looking in the side-view mirrors for the second car to box us in—the classic snatch maneuver.

    When Ali and I had been targeted for kidnapping before, we could rely on our chase car—a vehicle with two armed guards, following at a discreet distance—to come to the rescue. But the Iraqi government has made it illegal for citizens to travel with their guns.

    It was the checkpoints that saved us. It's hard to go more than a quarter-mile (400 m) without being slowed and often stopped by police or soldiers. Kidnappers need longer stretches of unguarded road to pull off a snatch. Also because of the checkpoints, traffic just crawls, which prevents a quick getaway. As we slowed for the next checkpoint, I noticed the driver of the car ahead was repeatedly checking us out in his mirror. So I fished out the only weapon we had: my camera. I held it up, making sure he saw me take a picture of his car—number plate and all.

    He got the message. He swiftly changed lanes and accelerated away. The car behind continued to tail us for a while, but the men in it must have figured they didn't stand a chance against four grown men, armed or not. They slowed and melted into the traffic behind us.

    RAWLINGS : I said to myself, "Of all the ways I thought I might die in Baghdad, who knew it would be weaponless in the slowest car chase in history?" It didn't come to that, but the close shave reminded me of a lesson I'd learned as a soldier: you take Iraq for granted at your peril.

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