The Iraqi Police (IP) forces have come a long way in the last year; I doubt our predecessors would recognize them these days. When we arrived most of the IPs stayed hunkered down in their police stations, content to restrict their patrols to the roads circling their stations. As they gained confidence the areas they patrolled slowly expanded and a few months after we arrived their heavily armed patrols were flitting through areas that had been a virtual no mans land. Their expansion into new and dangerous areas wasn’t easy, and they suffered no small number of casualties in the process. But with our Battalions patrols backing them up when they were heavily engaged their confidence skyrocketed, and they went from being the hunted to being the hunters.
Despite their considerable progress there are still some sectors of Baghdad that are so rife with danger they are assiduously avoided by the IP patrols. One of those areas is the sector of Southern Baghdad my company patrols each and every day. It’s not that the IPs aren’t doing their job, our area is only a fraction of the area that they are responsible for patrolling, and truth be told it is far less populated then the neighborhoods to our North. But that being said I’m sure the fearsome reputation of our Area of Operations (AO) didn’t help much either.
When we first arrived in our new sector the IPs assured us that they conducted daily patrol through the area, but after a few weeks it became clear that we had vastly different ideas about what comprised a daily patrol. To remedy the problem we started building a stronger relationship with the IPs, and over the ensuing days and weeks their attitude started to slowly change. After a few weeks there were several members of their strike teams who were more then happy to conduct joint patrols, and eventually that teamwork started paying rich dividends.
Before I go on I should explain a little about the AIF, because without describing our enemy the IPs reticence won’t make a lot of sense. A good starting point to understanding the AIF in our sector is to dump all your preconceptions… because chances are they are dead wrong. After watching countless televised clips of AIF attacks you might think the average AIF fighter is a ferocious, shadowy figure cloaked in menace and seething with hatred for the United States. The truth is far less flattering. The AIF forces are indiscernible from the average Iraqi, on more then one occasion we have had to pick up individuals who had offered us tea during one of our daily patrols. Instead of hiding in some shadowy spiderhole they hide in plain sight. Their defining characteristic isn’t courage, it is deception. They operate a little like a school yard bully, when we aren’t around they threaten their communities with death to ensure they aren’t compromised, then when we arrive they smile and wave as we pass by.
When the IPs conduct raids the trapped AIF fighters occasionally stand and fight, but even when they don’t many IPs are concerned for the safety of their families. Before some raids they can be seen masking their identity with thick woolen ski masks - you can judge just how dangerous their target is by how many of their officers decide to “mask up”.
While the AIF occasionally takes their chances by standing and fighting the IP raids they never seem to contest US raids. By this stage in the war they know that they can’t win a fight with US forces, and they don’t even try to put up resistance. Because the AIF lives in mortal fear of a US raid the IPs are more then happy to conduct joint operations with our forces, they know that the mere presence of our forces is enough to cow the most stubborn AIF fighter into submission.
Tonight, during one of our routine joint patrols the Iraqi officer riding in my HMMWV started to fidget and look decidedly uncomfortable. After working with the IPs I’ve learned to use their unconscious body language as an impromptu diving rod for AIF activity. And at that moment it was obvious that something, or someone was nearby. As my soldiers pulled up a security perimeter I started to slowly wheedle the information out of the IP. After a few minutes of question and answer the story started to unfold, apparently several hundred meters away there was a home that harbored a particularly lethal gentleman affiliated with Al Qaeda in Iraq. The mere mention of Al Qaeda immediately piqued my interest, and the proximity to several recent IEDs sealed the issue… our patrol had a new mission. The IP and his comrades looked decidedly uncomfortable at the prospect of bringing in this particular fighter, but when I pulled out several black ski masks out of the trunk their distress vanished. As they pulled the woolen caps over their faces they seemed renewed, and for a second I silently laughed at the sudden transformation. In that moment, in that darkened patch of road, they looked for all the world like some B-Movie superhero putting on their crime fighting outfit.
Once they were all clad in the ebon masks the IPs were eager to take point and lead us towards the suspected safehouse. We shuttled through the underbrush in a low and stealthy column, and once we the vegetation started to thin up we gathered together in a small hollow and called forward the HMMWVS. The vehicles crept into overwatch positions, while the gunners slewed their turrets towards the target buildings. Once they were in place the IPs stood up, and prepared to charge the target building. As they stood up some of their nervous energy seemed to dissipate, but once they watched American soldiers stand up behind them ready to follow their confidence seemed to magically congeal. Without a second glance they hurtled towards the house at a dead sprint, and we followed a handful of steps behind them.
I won’t get into the tactical details of the next few seconds; passing along that type of information could be calamitous to our mission and make life easier on the AIF. What I will mention is one particular memory that was burned into my mind in those first few seconds. A memory of the AIF leader seeing the American forces enter behind the IPs and squeal like a little girl… then proceed to urinate on his dishdash.
A careful search of the home provided more then enough evidence to verify the IPs intelligence, and once the search was complete we escorted the IPs back to their police station. As they walked into the station the IPs strutted like peacocks, proudly displaying the captured AIF fighters the way a fisherman might display a trophy bass. We remained several paces behind the IPs, and watched their antics with great amusement. Our translator quietly passed along their story as they passed it along to the other police officers, and I was mildly surprised at how much the story had already evolved. Despite their inflated claims I was happy to let the IPs take all the credit, if nothing else it would help build their confidence in their own abilities. We spent a few minutes confirming the slightly swollen accounts of bravery, and then we said our goodbyes and started on our long dusty ride home. As we drove back to the FOB I kept thinking of the complete and utter fear that seemed to ooze out of the self proclaimed Al Qaeda member… and I laughed when I remembered his soaked dishdash. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at Al Qaeda the same.
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