Quotes of the Day
Under the Saddam Hussein regime, "Ahmed" was an insider, a commando who served in the feared Fedayeen Saddam militia. Now he's a guerrilla battling the American occupiers who rule his homeland. He spends his days plotting new ways to kill U.S. soldiers and his nights carrying out those deadly raids. His base is Fallujah, the town 30 miles west of Baghdad that has become the epicenter of the insurgency. Ahmed, 40, who won't allow his real name to be published for fear of leading the Americans to him, looks more like a simple farmer than a killer: deeply etched lines radiate from the corners of his eyes, and his face is anchored by a stubbly salt-and-pepper beard. But his intentions are lethal. "If you come like a friend, we will say, 'Welcome,' and help you," he says. "But if you come like the Americans did to control us, then we will kill you."
American Staff Sergeant Richard Bear is in Iraq to stop men like Ahmed. It was a desire to do something significant with his life and gain notice that put him on the path that would eventually lead him to Fallujah. "Right after the first Gulf War," he recalls, "I was driving back from my job at Wal-Mart when I saw a busful of reservists returning home. People were clapping and cheering and honking their horns. These guys were heroes. I thought to myself, That's what I want — recognition, a sense of accomplishment." And so he enlisted. Trained as a paratrooper, Bear served in Afghanistan last year and arrived in Iraq two months ago with Charlie Company of the 1-505 Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 82nd Airborne Division. "Nobody has delusions of grandeur that we're going to be the ones to catch Saddam Hussein," says Bear, 33, sitting in his makeshift sleeping quarters at the battalion's base — a former Baath Party resort named Dreamland, just outside Fallujah. "We're just here to do our little bit in our little patch of Iraq."
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The two men — an Iraqi insurgent and an American soldier — have more in common than one might expect. Both are fathers who care deeply about their children and their country. Both see their jobs as their duty. Both pray each time they head out on a new mission. "They have their way of fighting, and we have our way of fighting," says Ahmed, who fingers amber-colored prayer beads as he talks. "Everyone wants to defend his country and his honor." Says Bear: "I want my wife and family to be proud of me because what I am doing is protecting them."
Ahmed began organizing with other insurgents soon after the fall of Baghdad. They gathered weapons from pre-existing caches, many of which still litter the country unguarded. They formed small cells that mostly act independently but sometimes coordinate operations, communicating through messengers. Lately, Ahmed says, these units have begun to work with foreign fighters who have infiltrated Iraq to confront the Americans. He says his group welcomes "anybody who embraces the language of the Koran." Hiding is easy, Ahmed contends: "I am in my country. Every door to every house is open to me."
On a recent night, Ahmed met seven other men at a safe house in Fallujah a few blocks from two sites the cell had decided to target: the mayor's office and an adjacent building once belonging to the Baath Party but now used by provisional Iraqi officials and, on this night, U.S. soldiers. As Ahmed tells the story, sometime after midnight he retired to a bedroom in the safe house and prayed for a few minutes "until my heart rested." Then he rejoined the others and stole out into the night. The posse split up, says Ahmed. Five moved on foot, and three rode small motorcycles. At about 1 a.m., they attacked from two directions, opening up with Kalashnikovs and firing two rocket-propelled grenades at the buildings. Ahmed says that the U.S. soldiers returned fire and that the next day they left the compound. "Every time they retreat it is a victory," he says.
American soldiers in the mayor's compound that night mostly confirm that version of events but quibble on the timing of the assaults. Captain Jay Persons, a spokesman for the 1-505, who was in the mayor's office during the fighting, says four soldiers were injured, two when a rocket-propelled grenade exploded beside them on the roof of the building they were guarding and two from small-arms fire. He also confirms that the U.S. left the compound the following day. "We're a real attraction whenever we're a fixed target," says Persons. "So we're handing over security [at the compound] to the Iraqi police."
The soldiers of the 1-505 are on the alert for people like Ahmed at all times. Bear and his colleagues patrol the streets and highways around Fallujah and try to provide security for convoys whenever soldiers travel to another base. In September, Bear was in the last humvee of one such convoy crossing a bridge over the Euphrates when a roadside bomb blew up in front of him. The convoy stopped and within seconds was taking light arms fire from three directions. "We did what we are supposed to: we all faced out, said, 'This is my wedge of the arc,' and started shooting," says Specialist Brian Saladin, 27, who was in the vehicle in front of Bear's. "You go on automatic pilot," says Bear. "I didn't have time to think about my wife, my kids, my cat, my dog. It's not until afterward when you say, 'Wow, we were getting shot at and blown up.'"
Bear tries to keep thoughts of mortality at bay, not an easy thing to do when comrades are dying daily: 16 U.S. soldiers in Fallujah perished last week when a Chinook helicopter carrying them was shot down by what American military officials believe was a surface-to-air missile; six more soldiers died last Friday when their Black Hawk helicopter was brought down, apparently by a rocket-propelled grenade; an additional 10 soldiers died in other attacks over the course of the week. "It's not all-consuming," says Bear of his fears. "I don't sit on my bed for 12 hours and pray." But like his enemy Ahmed, Bear asks God for help before every operation as he stands with his buddies to listen to the commander's orders and spit chewing tobacco into the dust. "You say a little prayer and ask that your family is taken care of if something happens," says Bear. "You say, 'Lord, you took care of me before. Take care of me now.'"
Despite the risks, Bear doesn't second-guess his mission. "Why do I think that I'm here? The answer is, to help the Iraqi people," says Bear. "I don't believe that we're part of any rogue U.S. government plot to take all the oil. We don't want to turn this into a little America. We just want to help people." Bear says he wants to "make sure Iraqi kids have some of the opportunities my kids have." The walls of his quarters are decorated with drawings from his two children back home in Fort Bragg, N.C.
Ahmed sees things differently. The Americans' purpose, he believes, is to subjugate Iraq. The father of five says he fights for his country first and his children second. "If I haven't a country, how can I have children?" he asks. Ahmed says he remains loyal to Saddam Hussein, who he believes will one day lead Iraq again. "We do not hate the American people. We hate their government," he says. "So we ask, 'Why send your sons to us so that we can kill them?' During the struggle I may live or I may die. But even if I do die, there are plenty of others who will follow me, and they will keep fighting until the last American has left Iraq." The months ahead will decide whose vision will prevail.
- Simon Robinson/Fallujah