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The Sheik’s Opinion on Iraq’s Future

When Robert E. Lee surrendered the Army of Northern Virginia at Appomattox, the erstwhile rebels went home.  Officers kept their private side arms and horses and nobody was persecuted for what happened during the war.  These generous terms were part of the reason that the bloodiest war in American history did not result in permanent hatred or discord.  April 1865 was the month that saved America.  Such a result is rare in the history of the world. We should take the lesson. 

We went up to Al Qaim for a “reconciliations event” with local leaders and Sheiks.  Some people in the late insurgency were/are evil terrorists, but others were/are “legitimate” fighters who fought on the wrong side.  There are two options for  them.   You can hunt down and eliminate the enemy by killing them or imprisoning them, or you can eliminate the enemy by reconciling them with society.  There is a time and place for each strategy.  Reconciliation gives hope to all sides and by seeking and accepting reconciliation the former insurgent recognizes the legitimacy of the societal structures he raised his hand against and now wants to reenter as a productive member.   

In W. Al Anbar, the tribes (within the law) decide who can be brought back and who stays in the desert, whether of not the things the person has done are beyond the pale or if they can be forgiven.  The tribal leaders vouch for their prodigal members and get the agreements of leaders from other tribes.  Since tribes are very much like extended families, the reconciliation is also among the members who may have had what amounts to a blood feud based on the transgressions of particular tribal members.   Essentially the Hatfields and McCoys need to accept that further revenge is inappropriate. 

We Americans can watch it happen, but it is not our process.  It clearly is based on traditions that go back thousands of years.  But we can see from our own history (I mentioned above) the usefulness of ending bloodletting by avoiding more of the same. 

The 1865 analogy is good, but it was not mine w/o prompting  The leading Sheik of Al Qaim told me that he had studied American history as a young man.  He was especially interested in our civil war and how it ended.  Beyond that, he spoke passionately for a united Iraq and asked me to be sure that Americans understood the history of the place. He was upset that some in America were calling for a partition of his country, which he said was unnecessary and ultimately unworkable.  I asked about a more federal state, reminding him what he already knew, that the U.S. was a federal country with strong local autonomy.   I was surprised that he had little faith in the efficacy of local institutions in Iraq, even though he and his Anbari colleagues had clearly shown that they could lead the way toward a more peaceful Iraq through their local initiatives and had succeeded BEFORE and the central authorities.  

The Sheik told me that Iraq was not like the U.S. and that it needed a stronger hand and more centralization because the people of Iraq had little experience with anything else.  I disagree with his conclusions (although I certainly did not presume to dispute with him the history of his own country).  My perspective might be the triumph of hope over experience, but his is the dominance of past experience over hope for the future.  Of course, I have to take his opinion very seriously.  Not only does he have the knowledge of the country that I could never attain, he also has power to influence the future of Iraq, and so his opinion is more than an academic construction.

We also talked about Iranian influence and the long history of Persia trying to dominate Mesopotamia, but I will not go into specific detail.  Suffice to say, he was against it and blamed nefarious Iranian influence for many of Iraq’s current tribulations. 

As a practical matter all this changes little in what either of us will be doing in the near term.  We are both seeking to strengthen local institutions, improve the local economy and set Al Anbar on the road to a better future.  The bigger issues will certainly be decided above my pay grade and probably even above his.  Still, I will think hard about what this thoughtful man told me about his  country and when I meet him again I hope to have better questions to ask.

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Complacency Kills

That is what it says on the wall near my can.  It is good advice, because it is amazing how quickly things become routine or “normal.”  It struck me today when I was traveling to a reconciliation event (more on that later).   I have included pictures of my rides.  The helicopter is what got me to the base, then we convoyed in.  I rode in that big truck I am standing next to in the picture.  It is called an Mrap.  It gives one the bumpiest rides possible, but supposedly it can withstand most any roadside bomb attack.  The bottom is shaped like the bottom of a boat, so that the force of the explosion is directed outward.

Anyway, at first I was very aware of being around and in these odd machines, but now I do not pay much attention.   I know that there is potential danger, but so far I have neither directly seen nor heard any indications of enemy activity, hence the danger of complacency. 

Al Qaeda threatened to make Ramadan this year very difficult and bloody.   They were unable to carry out this threat, probably because the Marines are rolling them up so effectively and the local population has turned against them.  Now we hear about a post-Ramadan offensive.  Nobody really believes this will happen, hence the danger of complacency. 

Complacency is an interesting concept.  Is it complacent accurately to assess that the threat level is decreased?   Is it complacent to make assessments about the RELATIVE risk of various courses of action?  Not everything can be a top priority. The Marines talk about the tyranny of the single incident.  In this politically charged, CNN image saturated world, one incident can make the policy.  Our convoys, body armor and redundant procedures are designed to avoid that single incident. That very bumpy and expensive Mrap I rode in is another result.

Body armor is very heavy because it includes lots of add-ons, each in anticipation of a particular incident.  (BTW – in the picture I do not have on my usual stuff) We have the front and the back plates, makes sense.  Then we have two side plates and a special groin protection.  There is a throat protector and some people have kind of wings that protect the upper arms.  I even carry a special little hooked knife to cut myself out of tangled straps.  You keep on accreting new responses to specific threats.  Any one of these things might save your life.  I am reminded about what Mark Twain said about stoves, cats and lessons learned. 

And there is a cost.  All this stuff is heavy, bulky and threatening looking to Iraqi civilians.   Beyond that, although Marines are generally excellent marksmen, the armor makes it more difficult for them to hit what they are shooting at since it restricts their movements and vision.  And when we meet a group of friendly Iraqis in their civilian clothes, us wearing our dreadnought armor, what does that say about us and them?

I think it depends on your assessment of risk.  Every one of life’s activities is risky.  Each year nearly 50,000 Americans are killed in automobile accidents.  These are always gruesome and often hit the young and healthy the hardest.   Yet we all continue to drive and we have become very complacent about it.  Forestry in Alaska has an annual death rate of 175 per 10000 workers.  You have a greater chance of death or injury working in the forests of Alaska than serving in Iraq, but when the tree falls on somebody in the woods; it does not make a sound loud enough to for the national media to hear.  I am not saying we should give up the armor or the convoys or the vigilance.   But we should also not be held prisoner to the single occurrence.

I believe the greatest threat to my life is not AQI bombs or insurgent bullets, but simple accidents.  Flying around in helicopters is just a risky business.  I do not think that the armor makes me safer.  On the contrary, it seems to me that if we hit the ground hard, wearing 50lbs of metal would exacerbate the shock and impede a quick escape.   God forbid we land in the river.  I used to be a good swimmer, but I do not think I could handle the drag.  Maybe I am getting complacent, but that is what I think. 

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Flying the Osprey

I  was in Ramadi, Camp Blue Diamond.  The CIA called Ramadi the most violent city in the world back in January this year.  Today it is like the rest of Anbar, fairly peaceful. 

BTW – Up top is a picture of the Osprey I describe below. 

Camp Blue Diamond is located on one of Saddam’s old summer camps.  This is the place where the recent war began.  We tried to bomb Saddam in a meeting with some of his leading supporters.  He was not there, but we destroyed a building.  The rest of the complex was left pretty much undamaged.  (Bombs are fairly accurate these days.)  It is green and pleasant.  In fact, everyplace I go is nicer than Al Asad.  It is beginning to dawn on me that my base is perhaps more highly ranked among the dusty sh*t holes of Iraq than I had been led to believe.  But it is my home and I look forward to getting back. 

This is the street in Blue Diamond. Notice green.

We share Blue Diamond with our valiant Iraqis allies, or more correctly they share it with us since it is, after all, their country.  We pass them on the road and say saalam.  They all look sort of alike, with their uniforms and mustaches.  Of course we present a much greater variety with our short hair and uniforms.  The Iraqi soldiers appear neat and organized.  It is a good thing, since they will soon be doing most of the security work.  Coalition strength in Anbar will drop by around half, as our troops come home and Iraqi forces take their places.  We are in the process of giving Blue Diamond back to the Iraqis and it is a little sad. It is easy to get a table at the chow hall, since each day fewer people turn up to chow down.  They may close it down entirely just after Thanksgiving.  I understand that they physically dismantle the whole chow hall and move it away.  There is always need for a good chow hall.  On the plus side, the Iraqis will take care of their own business and we will need to do less.  It was interesting today watching some U.S. soldiers trying to teach Iraqis to throw what we call a football.  A few steps away were some Iraqis trying to teach Americans how to kick what they call a football.   It is hard for both sides to learn these new tricks.

We briefed a couple of generals about the PRTs in Anbar, what we need and what we are doing.  They always try to be helpful.  More interesting to me was Eliot Cohen, who came with them as a special advisor to State.  Cohen wrote a book I read a few years ago called “Supreme Command”.   Fortunately, I did not have a chance to talk to him very long.  I find it disappointing to talk to well-know authors, most of whom seem to know LESS than they have written in their books.  I suppose that when writing the books they have ready access to materials and notes.  When they write, it is a sort of open book test, but when you surprise them with questions it is more like a pop-quiz.  Beyond that, many authors are by nature (unsurprisingly) bookish.  The arts of writing ideas and expressing them orally are related but certainly not completely synonymous.

I flew in on the Osprey.  It is the new Marine fixed wing plane that can do a vertical takeoff.  It is a goofy looking thing when it is on the ground, perhaps a better name would be albatross.  Anyway, it is not very comfortable.  You actually have less room to sit than in one of the bigger Chinooks.  It is faster, however, and flies at a higher altitude, so it is less likely to be hit by small arms fire from the ground, which is a plus.   The propellers turn up on takeoff and landing.  A sign on one of he buildings says that the wind from the downdraft can reach 175 mph.  This is important when opening the door to watch the Osprey land or take off.  Evidently the wind took the door off the hinges on at least one occasion.   A sergeant complained the downdraft knocked the satellite dish off his hooch, turning into a taco shaped piece of tin and rendering it unable to receive the porno stations to which he had become accustomed.

Traveling today was a nightmare.  The Osprey came FROM Al Asad to Blue Diamond already full of Marines in full kit.  It then made the backward circle.  They took some of the Marines someplace else and loaded up some cargo and some new Marines.  We all crushed together in the front.  The next stop they took off the cargo and everybody got off except me.  Then a new group came on board, it was not as cramped, but not good.  The flight took more than two hours and combined two of the three biggest phobias people have.   We packed in like sardines (claustrophobia) and at the same time you could see out the rear how high (and tilted) you were (fear of heights).  All they needed do was throw in a couple of snakes and we would have had the fear factor trifecta.  The height doesn’t bother me, although I enjoy the roller coaster motion less as I get older.  I really do not care for the cramped situation.  I admit that I did feel a tinge of claustrophobia when I could not move more than a few inches.

When the general asked about our biggest challenge, I mentioned travel.   It is just hard to get around  and not much fun.   Makes you want to stay at home.  

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A Man Can Dream

I met two of my chief deputies, who had been on leave when I arrived.  This will be the start of some beautiful collaboration.   We have at our priorities aligned.  I also got a new team member who did his PhD work on the soils of Iraq.  How much better can you get?

My two deputies already know the county and the region.   We talked about making a lasting impact.   Among the projects we discussed are internet hot spots and a solar village.   These dreams seem far fetched for the Iraqi desert, but they are no mirage.  My colleagues have been talking to local authorities about projects of mutual interest.   I asked them to talk harder and find the places for these projects. 

Re solar – energy is expensive in Anbar, but this fact is obscured by the ostensibly nearby pools of black gold and Texas tea.  Oil, however, has a world price.  It does not matter if it is locally plentiful.  A barrel of oil here costs around $80 in direct and opportunity costs just as it does everywhere else.  In fact, in Anbar it costs more because of the problems with delivering the fuel.   Some of the communities here are perfect for solar.  They are isolated from the fuel distribution lines and the sun shines here just about all day, every day.  I have been tacking on solar to other projects, but now the team will actively seek a demonstration project where we can solarize an entire small village.  When it works, it will encourage imitation.  I think it will be sustainable because it is fairly easy to maintain AND they have opened a vocational school in Al Qaim which is training electricians.

The Internet hot spot sounds even more hare brained, but also make sense.  There are many Internet cafes and a pent up demand.  Some of the local people have the skills to run such an operation. We do not want to compete with the private sector Internet café providers.  Working with them, we can help provide wide area coverage for a densely populated downtown.  We already have a village in mind for this.  The progressive mayor has identified the problem.  We hope to work with him to provide a solution.

The soils guy was also inspiring.  I talked to him about the legacy of the CCC and WPA and told him that in 80 years I wanted our contributions to still be creating value and beauty.   We may be able to provide solar powered irrigation pumps.  This is also a great place for solar.  The need for pumping is important, but never urgent.  It can be done when the sun is shining.  He also mentioned the efficacy of French drains in countering salinization of the soils.  He told me that such low cost and low tech improvements could probably sustainable double the productivity of some fields.  I was also surprised to learn that, while it took centuries to ruin the soil, proper treatments can restore it to acceptable form in only three years – providing there IS soil.  Some places it has eroded away.

One thing we need to do this week is help get seeds to farmers who will plant them.  Farmers here are not like those in the U.S.  They have to learn to be more self sufficient.  In Saddam’s time they were told what to do, so they still do not have the resources to go it alone.  The wheat season is already started.  They know what to do; they want to do it.  They need seed.  They will not get a harvest unless they get something in the ground soon.  The seasons do not wait for our bureaucracy.  I believe our flattening some obstructions will help at least some people get a harvest in the spring.  I made that our new Ag guy’s most urgent priority.

We also talked about date palms.  Like John the Translator, he knew about dates.  He told me that Iraqi dates are know worldwide for their sweetness.  It results from particular combinations of soil and climate.   One of the things the coalition did that I do not like is that they knocked down many date palm plantations.  They had good reason.  Insurgents hide among their dense vegetation.  But now that most insurgents have either gone to ground or are below it, I think we need to make up for that.  We can help restore not only roads and buildings, but also the living landscape.  We can help make it better than before.

There is no other job I can think of (at least not one I could get) where we can dream such dreams and have a reasonable chance of making them a reality.   We have access to quite a pile of money.  We either use it for sustainable projects, or we do the popular ephemeral things like picking up garbage, OR the money gets wasted someplace far off.  We need to do some of the ephemeral things too in order to support today’s quality of life.  I funded the creation of eight soccer fields for example, but I want to think farther into the future.   I am a forestry lover after all who knows that the last generation planted for us and it is our turn now.

Will all this work?  Probably not all of it, but dreams drive behavior and I think we will make some of them reality.  If not us, who?  If not now, when?  Those who want to laugh at my windmill tilting plans can do so now.  I enjoy the dreaming and I will post pictures after some of the projects are in place and working.

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Another Beautiful Day in Baghdad

I mean that seriously.  This morning is sunny and pleasantly cool.  This afternoon will be sunny and pleasantly warm.   This evening will be warm with low humidity.  There is a sign over some dust that says “stay off the grass.”  I thought it was a cruel hoax, but now I see that grass is starting to come up.   Birds have returned in great numbers.   At night, bats scoop up insects.   The place is coming alive. 

In Wisconsin, life hunkers down over the winter and burst forth in spring.  You just stay inside and wait it out.  Here it is the opposite.  Fall is spring around here.
I can’t complain.  I hope to leave today to go back to Anbar, where it is as nice, but I expect the weather will be similar (a little cooler).

I got promoted today.   This is a good thing.  I am a little surprised.  I assessed my chances at 15%.  On the plus side, I will get better treatment with transportation and helicopters.  My new rank has a protocol equivalent of a brigadier general.  The Marines take rank very seriously, so unlike Rodney Dangerfield, I will get some respect.

BTW – it was also a beautiful day in Baghdad before I got the news about the promotion.  I wrote the first paragraphs before I opened email, so my assessment of Baghdad’s charms was not influenced by my personal mood.   It is a nice day here.

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So …WaddaIdo?

I have been talking a lot about events w/o ever addressing the existential question, such as why am I here?  What am I supposed to do in Iraq?  Let me give my quick explanation.

First I suggest you look at the new publication AID put out re PRTs.  If  you look at the map, my PRT is called West Anbar. 

They tell me that the PRT concept originated in Afghanistan, where we realized that just chasing away the bad guys would not ensure success if we did not leave behind a viable civil structure that would allow for peaceful development.   It seems to me the concept is a lot older than that.  Everything from a Roman aqueduct in Spain to a WPA shelter or the pine trees planted by the CCC in one of our National Forests are monuments by “provincial reconstruction teams.” 

Prosperity cannot come before security.  This is a step you cannot skip no matter how enthusiastically you sing the song of peace.  And security must be established by force and violence.   Coalition forces have established reasonable security in Anbar.  This is a necessary, but not a sufficient condition for progress.  Now it is the time for us of the softer hands to do our part.

It just makes sense that if you address a problem but leave in place the conditions that created it, you have not addressed the problem.  I have no delusions of grandeur that my small team can solve the problems of Iraq, Anbar or even one of the provincial cities, but I figure if we all do our small parts, eventually – through mere accretion if nothing else – something big may result.

The heartbreak of Iraq is not that it is poor and disorganized.  The real tragedy is that it does not have to be that way. Everybody knows it has oil, but it is also rich in terms of water, agricultural potential and people.   Saddam mismanaged and misappropriated Iraq’s wealth for more than 25 years and leadership was not all that good before either.  Iraq’s misfortune results from more than mismanagement and it cannot be addressed by replacing bad guys with good ones (if that were even possible).   The problem was/is systemic.  Iraq was run as a centralized state.  Decisions and resources came from Baghdad with virtually no consideration for or from the people affected.  This was exacerbated by the “curse of oil”.   The government floated on oil.  It did not need to get the consent of the governed to raise revenue.  Instead it could make all Iraqis dependent on the oil financed “largess” of the central authority.  That, coupled with the real danger of taking any action that might anger the central power and what they tell me is an ancient Mesopotamian pessimism, made the population very passive. 

So maybe our PRTs are peeing the ocean and waiting for the flood, but it seems to me that the recent events in Iraq have created conditions for radical change.  The coalition military has bought the opportunity.  It is the direction of the change that is in flux.  If left on its own, the tyranny pattern of the past will reassert itself.   At this time of maximum leverage, maybe our little pushes will help make the future different from the past.

My team, and the others like mine, is working with the local people: tribes, municipal government, private sector initiatives and other to overcome the over centralization of the past.   I am personally excited about the new push in agriculture.   I just (yesterday) got a new staff member, a guy from Department of Agriculture who has experience rebuilding soils that have been ruined by the salinization that comes with too much irrigation for too long.  I think we can do some good here.  It certainly is worth the trouble of trying.

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Wasting Away Again in Baghdad

I am stuck in Baghdad.  My flight was “rolled” a day, but now I learn that I will not go back to AA right away.  Instead I have to go to another city to meet a delegation from mother State Dept.  Following good OPSEC (operations security), I will say no more.  The Marines tell me that every time someone violates OPSEC, God kills a kitten.

Baghdad is nicer than AA anyway.  You could forget you are in a war zone if not for the choppers flying overhead and the odd bang heard off in the distance. We have not suffered any attacks on the compound for around three months. Good.  Those who were here in the bad times tell me that it was no fun.  Most of the injuries were from people ducking and covering with too much enthusiasm, but a couple people were killed.  This is an experience I do not need. 

I had supper near the pool.  You can see what it looks like from the picture above.  The picture is a little misleading.  The surface that looks like grass is actually just dust, but in general it is pretty. The cans (below) are located among the palms.  It is sort of like Florida with sandbags.  (The sandbags, BTW, are covered with tarps because they are made of an eco-friendly substance that decomposes in the sun.)  You see, I am doing my part to entice colleagues to come to beautiful Baghdad.  There is a lot of stress and a lot of work, but it is not all terrible all the time.  You can find places & moments of significant beauty and tranquility.  It is important to enjoy them.

Take a look at this from “The Onion” Not So Horrible Thing Happens In Iraq, for some reference.

The problem (besides the war) is that there is no place to go.  I walked around the Green Zone.  The picture below is the nicest, most normal, place I found.  Actually Baghdad is like a Club Med in that you are essentially on an island and you cannot leave w/o flying.

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We Few, We Happy Few

Today we are in Baghdad hearing from important people that the jobs we are doing are important.  I am just trying to learn how to do it right.  All the PRT team leaders are here.  There are about 20 of us from around Iraq.   Most of the conference has been insider stuff, interesting to me but only because I need to know it.  I will not go into detail.  Suffice to say that we have big jobs to do, big enough to scare me. For probably the first time in my career I am getting (at least promised) most of the resources needed to do the job, so if I mess it up it will be my fault.

Baghdad looks different to me now.   When I got here a couple weeks ago, I though it looked dry and brown.  Now it looks green and lush.   It all depends on your point of view. Coming from green Virginia, it is indeed a desert.  Coming from dusty Anbar, it is a well watered wonderland.   It is cooler now.   The weather has changed and it is actually very pleasant most of the time.

Our complex is on the grounds of one of Saddam’s palaces and the embassy is in the palace itself.  It is a very impressive place, now cut up by us into office space.  Saddam spared no expense on his own living space and the place has interesting marble work, complex ceiling etc.  In our meeting room I feel like the old State Department worker again, thinking the big thoughts and discussing the big events.   When I have to try to do something on the ground, those discussions are sometimes useful (not always).  

We had a talk by the director general of the FS.   He thanked us for our service and listened to our complaints/comments.  He assured the group that those fat-cats currently sitting in comfortable offices will soon be asked to do their part.   (And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap…sorry it just seemed appropriate)   State Department has up till now managed to staff its Iraq positions with volunteers, but it is getting harder.   There are only 6500 Foreign Service generalists and the director says that 20% of us have already been to Iraq or Afghanistan.   Neverthelesss, some of the people who volunteer do not have the needed skills and some of the people with the needed skills do not volunteer and since there are no very many of us in general, staffing is an issue.

We are becoming an expeditionary service.  I am not sure I like the idea of an expeditionary FS.  I came to Iraq for a variety of reasons.   The choice made sense to me.  I would not have made the same choice when my kids were younger.  Others make different choices.  This is where my particular skills are currently best employed and I am proud to serve here, but it is very possible for someone to be doing more for our great country elsewhere.  A diplomat who has become expert in Germany, France or Japan may better employ his skills in those pleasant places than in the deserts of Anbar.  (he which hath no stomach to this fight,  Let him depart) Some pleasant jobs are also very demanding and important. There is no virtue in making him come here out of some fairness principle or promoting him slower even if he shows real accomplishments.   Most of my colleagues in Iraq disagree, but what does “fair” mean?  Is it fair to get promoted just for living in a hardship?  The fact that I can withstand desiccating winds does not by itself indicate competence.  I think it should matter what you do, not where you were.   Having actually withstood those desiccating winds, even for the short time, I can say that w/o fear of being marked as a malingerer or a mollycoddle, but I think it is true.   But how does State staff these positions when we few, we happy few (be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition) are used up?

There may soon be much wailing and gnashing of teeth in Foggy Bottom. 

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Embrace the Suck

You never know where you will end up or when if you travel helicopter in Iraq.   I had a 745 show time to go to Baghdad.  I was manifest on the impressive sounding “Invincible”.  After waiting around 1.5 hours, they called us forward to write our destinations with marker on our left hands.  You do not have tickets and nobody can hear over the sound of the rotors.  This is a good system.

When they call the flight, everybody goes outside and waits for a bus that drives around 200 meters down the tarmac where you line up and wait another hour or so. In back of me stood an Iraqi with two black garbage bags for luggage (his story later).  Our flight came and we flew to TQ.  It has a rather longer name, but I do not remember.  We flew along the Euphrates, very pretty.  It is a clear aquamarine color.  I expected it to look browner, like the Mississippi. 

We manifested in TQ learning the show time for the connecting flight was 2215.   You see in the picture the waiting room.  On the plus side, TQ has a nice chow hall, which like everything else is run by South Asians employed by Kellog, Brown & Root – KBR (more on that later).  They had prime rib and it was good.

Anyway, you hang out.  It kinda sucks, but it is not really that bad if you take the Marines’ advice and “embrace the suck”.  There is time to think, time to read, time to write and time to nap. 

The key to embracing the suck is to live in the present wherever you are. It is Zen-like – the eternal present.  We live in a communal society over here, so it really matters little where you are.  Everybody has the same stuff and you carry as little as possible because you have to carry it yourself. You do not need much, because everyplace you go you can get something to eat and a place to sleep.   Once you have embraced the situation, things are fine.

BTW – I finally got to Baghdad around 230.  The can they assigned me was very small and the bed uncomfortable, but since I arrived in the proper state of mind…I can embrace it.

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Big John the Translator

The Iraqi guy I mentioned in the post below was a translator who worked for us in a nearby city.  In his garbage-bag luggage were gifts for his wife and children.  He was going to visit them.  When we landed at TQ, we had to walk around 400 meters over the dirt.   His bags looked heavy (and they were) so I helped him carry them and we got to talking.

Ironically, he called himself John.  That was not his given name, but evidently Americans found it hard to pronounce his real name, so he took the expedient of using one that was easier for the Anglophone tongue.   I told him that I did the same with my name for a similarly prosaic reason.   My father mispronounced our family name with a hard “a”, but since the toy company Mattel was better known than we were and was pronounced with a soft a,  the current generation has chosen to go with the majority.  (I thought about naming my kids Barbie and Ken, but that was just silly.  Of course, now I have to explain that I am not responsible for the lead paint in Mattel toys imported from China.) I will not include John’s real name or picture for reasons you will shortly understand.

I asked him how things were for him and he told me that they were bad. Terrorists figured out that he worked for us.  They shot his father (who survived the attack) and shot at his house.  Fortunately, his wife and four kids were not at home.  They have since moved to their native village, where the local people protect them from the bad guys as best they can and it is easy to spot outsiders like the terrorists.  It is like the witness protection program.

John’s family had been reasonably well off.  They own a date farm (orchard?).  John told me all about dates and date palms. It was a lot like Bubba telling Forest Gump about shrimp, but I was interested.  I will not repeat it all.  Date palms can live 200 years and they have a special cultural value in Iraq.  According to John, dates are good for almost everything.

He hopes to take his family to the U.S.  Our lawmakers, in their wisdom and compassion, are making it possible for those are threatened because of their work with us to get green cards.  I wondered about the pain he must feel leaving Iraq.   He had spoken with such passion about his home and date palms there. 

Leaving is not really his plan.  John wants to get his family safe in the U.S. and then he wants to come back to Iraq to carry on the fight working, again, as a translator for the U.S.  What you have here is an honorable man who loves trees.   How much better can it be?   I will make it my businesses to make sure my State Department colleagues treat him fairly when the time comes.

I left John at the landing zone in Baghdad.  He will catch a taxi to his home.  He knows the dispatcher, who will give him a reliable driver and he told me that he thinks he will be safe.   Terrorist used to beset the road.   They mostly just robbed people, but sometimes they killed if they were feeling nasty.  The coalition surge had chased them away in any case and now the Iraqi police were doing a better job of patrolling.  We sometimes forget how secure our lives are.