Once
the mermites were stacked away the Soldiers who weren’t manning positions settled
into a satisfied torpor, and several rooms filled with soldiers sprawled out
like vagrants. Security is far and away
the most critical element in a defense, but that duty also shares the
distinction of being one of the most onerous. The difficulty with pulling guard doesn’t stem from any physical exertion;
in fact it’s quite the opposite. When
you stand guard behind a fortified position your awareness collapses down into a
single lonely arc. As the hours wear on
focusing on the same narrow shard of earth starts to weary the eye and numb the
brain. Although you won’t read it in any
book there are thousands of techniques to wile away the time. The techniques are passed down from Soldier
to Soldier, forming a oral tradition that a Zen monk would envy.
But however apt the technique, over time
it becomes increasingly difficult to remain focused and alert. An hour or two after the off shifts had
settled into sleep I walked between positions to check up on the Soldiers. The moon glittered in the winter sky like a
silver lantern, and it drenched the area with its cool light. As I settled into each site there would be a
short whispered exchange and then the troop on duty would point out the
highlights of the last few hours. They
would point out the houses with generators, and note how often the occupants
would slip out their doors to refuel their growling engines. They would point out the packs of haggard
canines, and point out their pack hierarchy as if they were safari guides
describing mysterious denizen of the African plains. Each conversation was carried out in soft
whispers, despite the fact that our positions were unmistakable. Our subtle conversations weren’t based on
tactical necessity, they just seemed appropriate in the silvery light of a
desert moon. After a few hours I
returned to the pink classroom that served as our CP and settled into a
restless sleep.
The next morning announced its arrival
with waves of burnt orange that seemed to crash against the horizon like waves
breaking on a reef. The fiery light of
dawn leeched into the Eastern sky like dye spreading in a still water, and
eventually the colors condensed into the bright eye of morning. The soft light did little to improve the local
aesthetics, the area around our position still seemed raw and unfinished. The one and two story homes in the vicinity
were in various stages of decay, and they all shared the same general look of
disrepair. The slipshod appearance had
little to do with economic prospects, there were several glittering cars
sitting outside some of the careworn buildings bearing testament to their
owners financial acumen. There just
seemed to be an unspoken agreement that the aesthetic qualities of a home were
secondary to convenience.
As the day wore on the driving ban went
into effect, and as it did the streets started filling with laughing kids
playing riotous games of soccer. The
kids would carry out random pieces of garbage to serve as goals, select their
teams, and start boisterous games back and forth along the empty asphalt. We conducted several dismounted patrols with
the POB soldiers to secure the local area, but other then the children playing
soccer the area seemed strangely vacant.
The highlight of the morning was watching the
antics of an midget donkey just outside our security perimeter. Physically
the donkey was a rather plain animal, standing a shade higher then a Great
Dane. But it wasn’t the donkey’s small
stature that attracted so much attention, it was the creatures ridiculous
displays of territorialism. It didn’t matter
what wandered into the little donkey’s patch of dusty earth – if it came into
range the bitter little animal bared its ridiculously blunt teeth and charged
like a Spanish bull. The little animal seemed
to lack any real maliciousness, choosing to butt its victims instead of
trampling them under it gangly hooves, but that just made its ridiculous
attacks all the more amusing. Regardless
of whether the victim was a chicken, a stray dog, or a small child the donkey’s
tactics remained the same. As the prey approached
the donkey would bow its head and act like it was grazing on the dead underbrush. As the target drew closer the little donkey
would bend its knobby knees as if it were attempting a feeble imitation of a
jungle cat. When the victim was in range
the donkey would make an ungainly leap into the air and clumsily gallop towards
its cross species rival. I can think of
no less fearsome sight then a temperamental midget donkey, but somehow the
little animal managed to ward off all rivals.
After all the preparations were complete
the election officials gathered into a small room and drank steaming cups of
tea the rest of the afternoon. The officials
didn’t share any common uniform, they were dressed in a mixture of western and traditional
garb. In fact the only evidence they
were election officials were the laminated identification cards each official
wore around their neck. If you squinted your eyes to blur the bright
identification cards they could have passed for a random gathering of friends
chatting about old times. As I watched
them casually rest behind our curtain of security I had to smile, their lackadaisical
posture was proof positive that our mission was succeeding. During the last two elections the election officials
flatly refused to show up for fear of their lives, but now they were lounging
around the election site without a care in the world.
As the sun settled low in the sky I
breathed a sigh of relief, our second day had passed without incident. All that was left was the big day…the day Iraq
would become a true democracy.


Posted by: Lenny | December 26, 2005 at 08:56
Posted by: David M | December 26, 2005 at 05:25
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Posted by: MissBirdlegs in AL | December 19, 2005 at 17:15
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Posted by: Lenny | December 19, 2005 at 14:44