Six Months

I left home three a half months ago; I’ve been in theater two and a half months. With the turn of the New Year, many articles in the press took the time to opine about where the war in Iraq is going. The next six months in Iraq, in particular, got a lot of attention. Columnist Thomas Friedman has been poked fun of for writing way too many times that “the next six months” will determine the future of Iraq. One blogger of note, even coined the term as a “Friedman Unit.”

With the rise of the Sunni “Tribal Awakening” last summer and the formation of Concerned Local Citizens (CLCs) – groups of Sunni Iraqis who rejected the austere Salafist view of Islam imparted by members of Al Qaeda in Iraq (AQI) – the tide of violence swung from away from coalition forces to members of AQI themselves. That is, many Iraqi Sunnis came to recognize AQI as more of a threat than Coalition Forces and began fighting AQI cells, in effect taking cities back from AQI control one neighborhood at a time. As more CLC groups were formed, Coalition Forces initiated a program to sponsor CLCs, paying each CLC member $300 a month. Estimates in the press put current CLC levels between 70,000 to 90,000 members throughout Iraq.

Anbar Province, once notorious as a haven of the Sunni/AQI insurgency, transformed with the rise of CLC groups and the increased number of US troops under the surge. Today, what’s left of AQI has fled north to Ninawa Province, concentrating in the vicinity of Mosul. As many press reports and military spokespersons have noted, AQI is on the run but is not beaten; they still have the ability to stage attacks and are holding on tenaciously. As I write this blog entry, Operation PHANTOM PHOENIX is underway in northern Iraq taking the fight to AQI and hitting them hard.

Sunni CLCs are both a benefit and risk to the fledgling Government of Iraq (GOI), which is comprised mostly of Shi’a. CLCs are a benefit because they directly contribute to security in their own cities, hasten a return to normalcy, and are driving AQI out of populated areas. They are a risk because they are, in effect, a large militia who are being paid, for now, by the CF and eventually will need to be incorporated somehow into Iraqi society, either by integration into the Iraqi Army or job/vocational training. The Shi’a, who for years were marginalized under Saddam’s regime, fear a resurgent Sunni populace, especially a well-armed one.

Meanwhile in Baghdad and the predominantly Shi’a south of Iraq, a six-month peace treaty of sorts was arranged with Muqtada al-Sadr (MAS), a populist Shi’a cleric who nominally controls the Jaish al Mahdi (JAM) or Mahdi Army. JAM has an associated political group, Office of the Martyr Sadr (OMS), named for MAS’s father, Grand Ayatollah Mohammed Sadeq Sadr, a Shi’a cleric murdered by Saddam’s security forces in 1999. The first six-month freeze expired at the end of December, 2007. There is talk that MAS, who currently is incommunicado pursuing further religious studies, will announce another six month treaty.

These two broad trends – CLCs and the MAS Ceasefire – are big contributing factors to the improving security situation in Iraq. The other major factor was the troop surge announced by President Bush just over a year ago, which brought five extra Army Brigade Combat Teams (BCTs) to Iraq bringing the total number of BCTs to twenty. (A successful counterinsurgency strategy (COIN) is dependent on more boots on the ground.) The surge is over now and each of the extra five BCTs will not be replaced when their fifteen month tours end.

There has been much speculation about which of these trends is most responsible for the improved security condition in Iraq. They likely affected each other concurrently in ways that are synergistic. But what happens next?

Which brings us to the next Friedman Unit; by July, there will be fifteen BCTs in Iraq. While there is improved security for now, will it last as more BCTs leave Iraq and are not replaced? The GOI still has a long way to go in establishing itself as a viable government. They will need to deal with the CLCs, pass key legislation, and the fledging new Iraqi Army will have more on its plate dealing with what’s left of AQI all with less US BCTs.

I go home in 1.6 Friedman Units.

Logistics

During my first job as a researcher at the Naval Postgraduate School (NPS), my office was down the hall from the Operations Research (OR) Department. At the time, I had no idea what OR was. I soon came to learn it was a branch of mathematics which uses methods such as mathematical modeling, statistics, and algorithms to arrive at optimal or good decisions. At NPS, the OR Department focused on military logistics. In fact, I saw a sign on the door of one of the tenured OR professors: “Amateurs discuss tactics – professionals discuss logistics.” This made me feel amateurish since I was there to research strategy and tactics. It was 1991 and the first US-led coalition had just ejected Saddam’s army from Kuwait, destroying a good portion of it as it retreated north from Kuwait laden with war booty. I remember hearing OR professors discussing the logistical effort that was necessary to move supplies, vehicles, and soldiers from the US to Saudi Arabia in preparation for the brief ground war that ensued in February, 1991. It was akin to moving the entire city of Atlanta from the US to Saudi Arabia, I remember hearing on the television.

When my NIACT class was at the Udairi Range in Kuwait we heard a giant rumbling sound after walking off the small arms weapons range. Having watched too many World War II movies, I asked, “are those tanks?” The weapons range master said that it was a supply convoy headed north into Iraq. As we walked back to our housing/classroom area we got a small view of the main highway several miles away. We saw an endless train of trucks flowing north into Iraq carrying supplies. During our three-day stay at Udairi we heard numerous convoys moving north at all hours of the day and night in spite attacks by insurgents earlier in the year. Watching that first convoy made me appreciate the magnitude of the operation here – and how well the US military does logistics.

That effort is manifest everywhere in Iraq where the coalition operates. The best example is any DFAC in theater. Even modest DFACs have a wide array of food which differs every day. Living in the US, people expect the lights to come on when they flick the switch in their houses and expect to see food at the grocery store. On a major base in Iraq, it’s just the same but the fact it can happen here is a testament to just how good our logistics are.

Tonight at the DFAC, I celebrated this by having an ice cream cone. As I enjoyed it, I couldn't recall any major army in history that marched into the field while maintaining near simultaneous access to soft-serve ice cream. I’m glad the OR professionals are on our side.

Heads

I’ve written before about Saddam Hussein’s ego. One can’t get a full sense of how much he meant to himself until visiting Baghdad. Thankfully, his penchant for building palaces throughout the country makes housing the coalition reconstruction effort easier. Almost every serviceable palace has been put to use by the Coalition for administrative purposes. The Republican Palace in Baghdad, where I work and where the US Embassy is housed, functioned as Saddam’s seat of government. He often chose to meet visiting foreign dignitaries there. I’ve met several Iraqis who work in the Palace who told me that Saddam never posted a schedule, especially after his defeat (which he characterized as a victory) by the US-led coalition in 1991. Exceptionally paranoid, not unlike his idol, Josef Stain, Saddam always varied his schedule rarely sleeping in the same place, er, palace, twice in a row. One of the Iraqis told me that every palace, especially the ones in Baghdad, was fully staffed and prepared daily meals in case Saddam chose to show up.

The central structure of the Republican Palace originally was built by the British in the 1920s. By the 1990s, Saddam effectively tripled the size of the building by adding two large wings on either side, along with an elaborate arching portico along the front. For the finish, he added two giant bronzed statues of his head, adorned with a warrior’s helmet that sat atop the ends of the porticos. These were referred to as the “Saddam Warrior Heads.” Naturally, after the Embassy and military command moved into the palace, the heads had to go (so pervasive and powerful was Saddam, that his visage still makes most Iraqis nervous). They eventually were removed using a large crane. For a time, the heads remained upright in a storage yard not far from the palace. Later, they were moved again but this time placed, unceremoniously, face down.

On New Year’s Eve, my friend Alan and I were walking around the grounds surrounding the palace in search of an Arabic restaurant called the Blue Star Cafe. Quite by accident, we came across the yard where the heads were stored. They were in the company of a Romanian gentleman, who was sitting with several Iraqis in the shade. I asked him, well, sign-languaged is a more appropriate term, if we could take pictures and smiled and said, yes. Coincidentally, it was the one year anniversary of Saddam’s execution by hanging; how the mighty have fallen -- literally and figuratively.

Vices

Most traditional vices, sex and alcohol being chief among them, are prohibited for those of us in the military under General Order 1 in a combat zone. Presumably, such activities would detract from the frosty concentration required to prosecute the war and otherwise taking the fight to the enemy. Not so, for the Department of State folks who can indulge in a public drink now and again although they are restricted from drinking while armed, which seem reasonable.

This leaves caffeine and tobacco as substances to enjoy and, ultimately, to abuse during our tour here. I certainly enjoy a good cup of coffee in the morning but my co-workers elevate coffee consumption to new acme. My metabolism, which still runs high despite being in my early forties, simply could not process the heroic amounts of coffee a typical staff officer consumes. Instead, I treat myself to a delicious double mocha every morning at the Green Beans Café, blessedly located in the Embassy. (Green Beans is a company that caters to deployed US and Coalition troops, setting up near Starbuck-levels of coffee and tea artistry in such remote places as Iraq, Afghanistan and the Horn of Africa. In my opinion, they should be nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. In fact, stop reading this blog and buy an anonymous solider a Green Beans Coffee card. S/he will appreciate it.)

I don’t smoke cigarettes but do enjoy a good cigar now and then – more often now that I’m here. I have two co-workers in particular, an army major named Howey and a captain named Alan, who are regular cigar connoisseurs (in addition to being professional coffee drinkers). I inherited a nearly full box of Dominican Cohiba Churchills from the officer I replaced and have enjoyed a couple of them. Together with our vocally amusing English friend, Neil – who does smoke cigarettes – we often enjoy an after dinner smoke. According to flyers distributed throughout the Embassy, there is a Cigar Aficionado Club which meets at a day and time none of us can go to. Howey and Alan thus formed the nucleus of another group of cigar smokers, informally dubbed, “The Other Cigar Club” (OCG) which meets nearly every night around 2200 hours near the Embassy Pool Cabana. (This is the same cabana that has the fireplace mentioned in the New Year’s post below.) Some of the OCG members gather right after dinner and sit around the fire. What’s great about OCG is that one can meet people who are performing very different types of work in and around the Embassy – Department of State Foreign Service Officers (FSOs), other military, contractors, etc. On the times I’ve gone, I’ve had a grand time. The only drawback is that my uniform and fleece jacket tends to smell like cigars; it’s better than the burning trash smell though…

Hand Across the Sea

The Coalition Force here has some thirty-odd countries participating, the lion’s share from the United Kingdom, Australia and Georgia (yes, the former Soviet Republic). Here in my office we have three Coalition officers, two Britons (an army colonel and major) and one Australian (an army lieutenant colonel). One of the Britons, the major, whom I will call Neil, is especially colorful, in that off-putting, subtle, English manner. He’s actually Scottish and regularly corrects me when I ask him about how things are in England (it’s the United Kingdom – England is only part of it). Although Neil is Scottish, he doesn’t talk with what we in the U.S. would say is classic Scottish accent. In fact, he sounds rather, well, English due to his education there. He is a master of the sardonic response to just about anything said in the bull pen office area where our desks reside. He is especially fond of making fun of the U.S. dollar’s recent woes. Today, during a conversation regarding the state of the Iraqi Stock Exchange (yes, they have one now), I asked him if they still had farthings and shillings in the UK. He replied, “No, that’s old money … but even then it was still worth something like three thousand U.S. dollars.”

Neil's boss, a US army colonel, is particularly demanding and who has a penchant for calling meetings that start at 9:30 PM. Worse, he has Neil's cell phone number on speed dial. Until just recently, Neil's major project was assisting with a high profile public event involving the Iraqi Government. One night at dinner, prior to the turnover and while we dined al fresco, his cell phone rang. He answered it very cheerily, “Hallo, sir. Splendid!” and was silent for a time listening. We all knew it could only be his boss. He ended the conversation, hung up the phone, stared at it and then threw it over his right shoulder. “Well lads, I’m off,” he said and abruptly left. Neil survived the high profile public event and is hard at work on the next one. At least for the moment, things aren’t as stressful for him as they were during the run up to the last event.

Neil has a fascination with the US accent or accents, as we have people from all over the US in our office. He has a habit, while working at his computer, to blurt out words and phrases like, “Oh hot diggidy!” or “You betcha!” in an imitated American accent. To our ears, he sounds like someone with Turret’s Syndrome.

Another favorite topic is the American Revolution. The other day, I printed a color copy of the Grand Union Flag, the first congressionally approved flag of the United States, and innocuously displayed on the wall next to Neil's desk. The flag features the Union Jack (minus the diagonal Cross of Saint Patrick) in the canton and thirteen red and white stripes representing the original states. The flag was first flown by General George Washington on January 1, 1776 while he was encamped outside Boston. Neil worked for a time and then discovered the flag. He took it off the wall and said, “This flag is all wrong!”

“Wrong?” I said, “It’s the Grand Union flag – a symbol of our two country’s shared heritage!”

“This bit,” he said pointing to the Union Flag, “is missing the red diagonal cross. And this part,” he said waving at the red and white stripes,” is all wrong.” Having just read the Wikipedia article on the Union Flag, I told him the St. Patrick’s Cross wasn’t part of the Union Jack in 1776 because the Kingdom of Ireland hadn’t been formally incorporated into the United Kingdom. “You Americans love your flags,” he said. He then had to run off to a meeting with his boss.

I and another co-worker then printed two copies of the Declaration of Independence. We stapled the first copy onto the wooden partition wall. Then we taped an additional copy on top of that. When Neil returned from his meeting, he went back to work at his computer. Not long after, he noticed the offending document on the wall and reached up nonchalantly to tear it off. As it came away from the wall of course the stapled copy remained, a fitting metaphor for victory during the Revolution.

Happy New Year

Happy New Year 2008 or, as most of us over here look at it, the year we get to go home. For those of you reading this blog from the US, my 2008 will be between eleven and eight hours longer than yours. I’m just lucky that way.

New Year’s Eve went by without much fanfare and, since New Year’s Day isn’t a holiday the military observes, I elected not to stay up. My co-worker, Adam, an army captain, elected to smoke cigars with a group of like minded individuals in the stone cabana near the Embassy Pool. This structure features a well-designed stone fireplace that provides an excellent source of warmth during the winter months. Aside from dedicated mortar and rocket attacks (thankfully, less frequent than they used to be) we worry about Iraqi Celebratory Fire, that is, Iraqis taking their legally allowed household AK-47 and firing it up into the sky. What most people around the world fail to recognize about point a rifle or pistol towards the sky and pulling the trigger is that bullets eventually fall to the ground at a good percentage of the speed they left the barrel. Iraqis love to fire their weapons on Thursday nights, a common day for Islamic weddings, or on days when their accomplished national soccer team wins a match. Since very few people here now were around last year, no one was quite sure if the Iraqis would ring in the Gregorian year.

As Adam described it, he was sitting around the fireplace close to midnight, which is nominally protected by a corrugated roof structure, when an air force officer calmly reached into his pack and pulled out his Kevlar helmet. This greatly disturbed one of our cigar smoking Lebanese translators. “Is it supposed to be dangerous out here?”

Midnight came and Baghdad denizens chose to ring in 2008 Gregorian with a twenty minute bang of sustained fire. Over at the intersection of Al Kindi and 17th of July Streets, inside the Int’l Zone, two FBI friends of mine were near their office at the base of the 17th of July bridge. They observed Iraqis in cars racing around the traffic circle firing AKs from the windows.

Somehow I slept through all this.