Captain Williams and his interpreter question a resident living near their headquarters / Photo: David Botti
The vast and desolate countryside of Iraq's southern Diyala
province, midway between Baghdad and the Iranian border, can be an
eerie place when the idling engines of U.S. Army vehicles are shut off,
when the radios are silent, and the soldiers pause in conversation.
All one hears is the hot wind blowing across a terrain so dry that the
dust clouds can make you feel like you're about to suffocate. If the
wind is still, there is no sound at all. The flat terrain of crumbling
dirt and occasional spots of sickly vegetation stretches to what seems
an infinite distance. The only signs of life are clusters of mud-brick
dwellings, the occasional modern home, and packs of farm animals led by
a shepherd to some far off grazing spot. It is here that a vehicle may need to use its windshield wipers to
clear dust off the front windows, where a soldier once joked he'd
inhaled so much dirt he wasn't hungry anymore, and where salt lines
quickly form on your arms and neck from sweating in 115 degree heat.
It is also here that just after midnight on July 25, American and
Iraqi soldiers launched what commanders said was the largest air
assault in Iraq over the past 11 months. Units from the Second Brigade
Combat Team, First Armored Division, lifted off in Blackhawk and
Chinook helicopters only to land fifteen minutes later ready for the
push into their first objectives under a nearly full moon.
The goal was to occupy a portion of southern Diyala described as a
"seam" where insurgent forces have been able to operate with no
presence of Iraqi or coalition forces. The operation was part of a
larger offensive throughout the province tasked with the goal of
clearing the region of Al Qaeda and other anti-coalition groups.
Iraqi government officials say 50,000 Iraqi troops are now engaged in the operation through the province.
"We're a holding force, not a strike force," said Lieutenant Colonel
Rich Morales, commander of the U.S. Army battalion that landed along
the "seam" on the morning of the 25th. His task was to secure the area
with American and Iraqi forces long enough to allow more Iraq Army
soldiers to move in and establish permanent operations.
A U.S. soldier stands guard while Iraqi soldiers search a house in southern Diyala / Photo: David Botti
This area has seen little sustained U.S. presence over the course of
the war. Soldiers and residents often referenced two past American
operations that were quick, violent, and sometimes resulted in arrests
of family and acquaintances. The residents were, as Morales expected,
nervous and weary of another U.S. presence. At the same time, the
small populations of scattered villages and towns meant to American
commanders that nearly everyone must have at least some knowledge of
whatever insurgent activity was occurring.
"At best their level of involvement is being complicit," Morales
said on the eve of the operation. Two days later, as his soldiers
began sweeping the countryside for weapons caches and anti-coalition
forces, and as the number of Army vehicles disabled by roadside bombs
increased at an alarming rate, Morales took a cue from author Joseph
Conrad when he characterized his area of operations in another way: the
heart of darkness.
For soldiers of Alpha Company 1-35, lead by Captain Jamal Williams,
the greatest adversity on the morning of the 25th was not a well
organized defense by insurgent forces, but the desert sun that rose
after a full morning of searching farm houses and digging in. The
incoming supply convoy was delayed and soldiers were running out of
water. Body bags full of water bottles had been dropped by
helicopters, but were so far from the soldiers' fighting positions that
many returned from fetching the bottles on the verge of collapsing.
The company medics began administering IV's, and one end of the small
mud hut set up as the command post became crowded with soldiers laying
down with needles in their arms.
Captain Williams let his men take it easy on this first day, and
a helicopter re-supply was scheduled for nighttime. Soon the soldiers
were rested, hydrated, and a majority had settled into a small stone
building and its surrounding courtyard roughly thirty feet from the mud
hut headquarters.
Alpha Company's closest neighbors were not the Iraqi civilians
they'd come to question and eventually administer to, but nearly twenty
malnourished cows drinking from a nearby rusted water tank, whose
excrement littered the ground where the soldiers walked. Beyond these
animals, lived the residents of two small compounds of more mud huts
and bare yards where laundry hung, and long disabled farm equipment sat
rusting. There were children of all ages, women dressed in black
abayas, and one old man. But, to quote Army terminology, there were no
military-age males to be seen.
Each Army unit participating in this operation found the same lack
of men in each of their own areas. This was one of the first tips to
commanders that things in this seemingly quiet and isolated stretch of
desert were not all they may seem.
Two days after arriving, Williams took a small patrol of American
and Iraqi soldiers to the home of the old man. The soldier's had been
there on the previous day, but Williams was taking his interaction with
the locals at a slow pace. Initially, he'd told the residents why the
U.S. Army was in the area, and inquired as to where all the young men
were. The old man said they would be back, that they'd gone to get
water and machine parts.
For this second visit, the introductions having already been made,
Williams again planned to try and gather intel on the makeup of these
small villages. The patrol walked the 50 yards from the company
headquarters to the old man's house, and entered the courtyard as
soldiers fanned out to once again secure the area. Williams'
interpreter called for the old man who appeared in the yard wearing a
light brown robe, and greeted the soldiers with a half-smile and a
throaty "salaam alaikum."
A resident in Alpha Company's area of operations listens to questions from Captain Williams / Photo: David Botti
Williams once again asked the man if there was anything the family
needed. Water, said the man—the well water was not good. And,
electricity was only a rare occurrence. Other than that the family was
fine.
Then the issue of anti-coalition forces in the area was raised. Captain Williams received no straight answer.
"I'm an old man trying to give you hospitality," said the man.
"But I will be honest, if they come and see I am talking with Americans
they'll have no mercy."
"It's your home, I understand that," said Williams. "I don't want you to do anything that would endanger your family."
The report between the soldier and the resident was amicable and
respectful. Children peered from doorways, or stood between the
soldiers looking up and following the conversation. Williams had taken
his helmet off, a sign of respect most soldiers show when speaking with
someone in their home. The man answered Williams' questions without
hesitation, gesturing with one hand as he talked.
The captain again asked about the absence of young men in the village, as he had on the previous visit.
"Do you know how many sheep these men have to take care of?" the old
man said. "The only people who left, left to get parts for their
machines."
The man's answer was the same as on the previous day, and indeed,
similar to many answers other nearby villagers would give the soldiers
in the coming days: the absence of these young men was simply work
related, and had nothing to do with anti-coalition activities.
Walking back to his headquarters at the end of the patrol, Williams
discussed whether or not the old man was telling the truth. He knew
the man knew something, but it would take time and a foundation of
trust before truly useful information was gained.
"There's a very little bit of black, a very little bit of white, and a whole lot of gray," he said.
A U.S. soldier on patrol in southern Diyala / Photo: David Botti
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