Paratus Protectiontag:www.paratusprotection.com,2008://12007-10-09T11:51:00ZMovable Type 3.34Paratus Delivers Medicines, Equipment to War-Ravaged Kirkuk --tag:www.paratusprotection.com,2007://1.232007-10-09T11:23:48Z2007-10-09T11:51:00ZCompany transported material free of charge, through hostile territory Way back in June, my blog, as well as IraqSlogger, reported that the government of Kurdistan was in desperate need of medical supplies, especially insulin. The original plea for help came...Company transported material free of charge, through hostile territory
Way back in June, my blog, as well as IraqSlogger, reported that the government of Kurdistan was in desperate need of medical supplies, especially insulin. The original plea for help came from Dr. A. O. Yones, the minister of health for the Kurdistan Regional Government. (this letter is available; please request it via vicki@paratusiraq.com)
One would think that this request would be rather simple as compared to the many missions being asked of us in Iraq. We had to negotiate the roads, sure, but we had the funding thanks to Fondation Danielle Mitterand France Libertes, headed by the former first lady of France, Danielle Mitterrand, and we had the medicines, thanks to
Marc Eichinger of API Capital and executives of Shinar Group. Plus, we had the local government and some local security officials involved. In fact, that was the first thing we did.
I felt it was crucial to foster non-partisan cooperation from all political and security forces within Kirkuk; this was instrumental in presenting a transparent process so there would be no question as to the honest purpose of the mission. Also critical was finding a balance among different factions to assure that the medications would receive proper attention and handling, and reduce the feeling of favoritism of one particular group over another.
A series of meetings took place, with the negotiations centering on the concept of not only delivering the medical supplies but ensuring that they remained secure from donor to recipient. Discussed in detail was the fear that some had experienced in the past by accepting aid; they had a strong fear of reprisals from terrorists.
I’d been talking up the concept of utilizing security as a platform for the successful management and delivery of aid for some time. It was my belief that if a more meaningful effort was placed on mitigating the factors that reduced the utility of aid donations – the black market, pilferage and the fear associated in many cases with simply receiving the aid – then the impact would be tangible and we’d have a much better chance at positively affecting those who need it most.
Paratus assured all of the administrators involved that with this new-found cooperation a better way of delivering aid to the most devastated areas could not only begin but be sustained through a series of high-level and quite sensitive planning sessions.
Another reason for reaching out to the leaders of Kirkuk was to invite them to see just what Paratus is, and to dispel any misunderstandings they had regarding private security in general and to make them aware of the other good deeds Paratus had done in the community. Paratus’ desire is to be a good corporate citizen in the community. This also gave us the ability to plan and conduct these deliveries with better operational security, because a strategy was drawn up that put recipients on notice of a delivery while not compromising the secrecy needed to plan and conduct the operations.
An outreach such as this is a staple ingredient in Paratus’ planning and in its role as local liaison without the loss of operational security. Once a foundation of trust is built, a greater amount of flexibility is allowed us as we perform these critical operations, and we don’t need to compromise individual programs or operations. Though I can’t go into detail, I put several methods in place to measure the success of the deliveries, so I can report back to the donor with greater reliability and assurance of the outcome.
So finally, on the 20th of September 2007, a delivery of insulin was successfully made to the Administrators of Kirkuk Iraq by Paratus Worldwide, a private security company located in North Central Iraq. Paratus delivered the medicines free of charge and coordinated the receipt, storage and ultimately the delivery of the medical aid.
Present to receive the insulin were a manger within the local hospital system, who accepted the donation; representatives of the Kirkuk PUK party; the Kirkuk PDK party; Atun Kopri Asha Eish; and the Iraqi National Guard. Kirkuk TV (PUK local station) and Kurdistan TV (PDK-run satellite TV) covered the event.
This specific, need-oriented and highly planned aid management concept is meant to replace the shot-gun approach used so often (and so unsuccessfully) in the past. In many cases aid distribution could not be followed up on due to security issues. So, the security-oriented-aid-delivery concept was born. This first of many deliveries was highly successful, and there are ongoing discussions to find a way to bring in cholera medicines as well as medical supplies to try and treat the blunt force and burn injuries associated with seemingly endless car bomb attacks. Paratus has encouraged the community’s leaders to be vocal about their medical and security needs so the company can respond with services that are most appropriate; this is rooted in Paratus’ belief that the community is best served by ongoing communications.
It is the hope of Paratus and all of those who worked diligently on this effort to introduce an even more aggressive approach to relieve the medical needs of the Iraqi people by targeting specific cities, and by providing a total package for responding to mass casualty incidents, as well as to use preventative measures in an attempt to reduce the impact the ongoing violence is having on the people of Iraq.
Paratus would like to thank the Minister of Health, Dr. Yones, whose continued support remains critical to the success of this effort. Also the Administrators of Kirkuk who put aside politics and religion and took a stand with Paratus to bring aid to the people of Kirkuk. We would also like to thank the Fondation Danielle Mitterand France Libertes. Without their help and faith this could not have happened.
If you would like to make a donation or have questions on how to get involved to help please contact vicki@paratusiraq.com.
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HOW WILL IT ALL END? WHAT IS HAPPENING NOW??tag:www.paratusprotection.com,2007://1.222007-07-02T17:57:46Z2007-07-02T18:31:50ZMarshall puts some context around the issues, reveals the corruption he encounters every day, illuminates a few dark corners in Iraq and offers some answers.... Ahhhh! ShoNuff, the answers to these questions would take a “small” book to answer (think...
Marshall puts some context around the issues, reveals the corruption he encounters every day, illuminates a few dark corners in Iraq and offers some answers....
Ahhhh! ShoNuff, the answers to these questions would take a “small” book to answer (think Atlas Shrugged, Homer’s The Iliad or War and Peace) Even if I could answer these questions with the amount of treatment they deserve, I am sure you would see some Presidential hopeful or political pundit quipping, quoting, misquoting, stealing, etc. etc. any reasonable idea I may have proffered in my response.
Having said all that I will try and give you my – and this is important – my personal responses. These do not reflect on our fighting men and women here (I love and honor all of them) nor on the current, post, future or would-like-to-be American administrations. (I don’t love all of them…but I honor our institutions.) Did that sound like a disclaimer?
It’s a sad, sad world we live in when my “free” thoughts have to be qualified in such a way. Oh, and I have not even touched on the potential Muslim backlash (think Van Gogh and that well-placed note attached to his chest.) However, when I am the one holding the rifle and I have 150 men (most of which ARE Muslim), and I’m being called an Islamaphobe – well, that seems like it is an argument that borders on Logicphobia (did I just create a new word??)
So here we go.
“How do I think it will all end?”
First of all that answer depends on the positive participation the world takes in the future of Iraq. If we all take our toys and go home then think… Liberia. If we stay and have a “hands off” approach, dabblin’ only here and there, then think French Algeria. If we are active in producing a functioning government (and I will talk a little more about what things need to happen to define “functioning” in a minute) then there is a positive future ahead. But allow me to put this into some context before I go any further:
1. The Iraqi’s are ultimately responsible for their future. Period.
2. In the history of countries moving from something other than democracy – to a democracy – it is usually the bloodiest time in their history.
3. After the formation of a democracy, civil war usually follows at some stage.
4. The good news in all of this is that no democracy has ever gone to war against another democracy.
5. The instability in Iraq has little to do with the presence of American troops. That is to say that the fighting is not Iraqis against U.S. troops (by and large), but it is the outside influences (i.e., Iran, Syria, and Saudi Arabia) that are fostering the instability. This is causing Iraqi’s to fight against one another.
6. No new democracy has been developed without the interference, influence, money, etc. of other countries….ever.
7. Corruption and intimidation are what is crippling the government of Iraq.
8. A misconception at best, or no concept at all, of democracy exists in Iraq.
9. We (the U.S.) are indeed in Iraq, in part, because of its oil. There are other reasons we want to remain in Iraq, such as forming a strategic ally in the region, reducing its terrorism capabilities, and to apply pressure to the smaller, lesser- known “stan’s” (Tajikistan, Waziristan, etc.) to reduce their terrorist capabilities.
10. Warfare, especially this kind of war (known as the 4th Generation of Warfare) is extremely complex, and the people of the United States have shown neither the stomach nor the understanding of the concept of this new kind of war to extract a win on this battlefield (Iraq is just one of many battle zones).
Again, I could go on and on, but that short list should at least place some context to what I will write in response to some of your questions.
First we must define “winning.” For me and for a majority of the local Iraqi’s I talk with, the idea of winning is to:
• Root out foreign fighters from Iraq conducting violent Jihad
• Have a government that performs at the most basic level.
Giving the boot to foreign fighters in Iraq
The borders of Iraq are not only long, but contain some of the most inhospitable land on earth. Deserts that can devour a small military outpost faster than it can be built. So saying that they are porous is a profound understatement. I have been offering, where I can, to have my company provide border-patrol work along the Syrian border, especially in the area near Alqiem. We have offered to set up observation posts to spot illegal crossings and to coordinate with authorities.
To date, the Iraqi Government has been unwilling to even discuss this with us (not that they should – we are not the end-all, be-all solution to Iraq). But the fact remains that this border is bringing in fighters, material, and drugs to Iraq.
The Iranian border is just the same, though there is less desert and, luckily, more areas for long-term outposts. I am sure there has been more of a sustained effort to secure this border. I have been told by a former Iraqi counter-terrorist official (operator), who specialized on Iranian infiltration into Iraq, that large amounts of cash, huge amounts of drugs and huge numbers of weapons are coming across that border.
So securing the borders is the primary key to isolating the physical influences other countries have on the Iraqi government.
There has recently been a kind of Public Service Announcement effort delivered via Iraqi television and billboards calling terrorism “a sin,” and showing the police and the Iraqi army as protectors. This is a positive effort, and is part of the education process that Iraq so badly needs.
One message shows some young Iraqi boys playing around a deserted stretch of land, and while playing they find a hidden cache of weapons. Here, the announcement shows two outcomes. One has the boys playing with the weapons and a rifle accidentally goes off. The other situation has the young boys contacting the authorities and a “sting” operation is then conducted that nabs the terrorists.
This is the sort of don’t-drink-and-drive-type of public announcements we have in the U.S. (or maybe more like the now-ironically naive messages that showed air raid drills with young girls in poodle skirts hiding under their school desks to be protected form the nuclear blast occurring outside. As if the air raid siren or the desk would be of any actual use to the young girl!)
Sorry, just a little of my well-earned cynicism coming through there...
Governing the government: The “we pay, you play theory."
Simultaneously, there needs to be a massive anti-corruption effort sponsored by the U.S. to jail corrupt officials. If you think terrorism is the main issue in Iraq you are way off the mark; it is corruption. There is a massive organized crime element that extends from Kurdistan to Basara. As I understand the situation, networks of criminal activity rely upon the terrorists and vice versa. The stolen funds, the shielding from prosecution, the intelligence leaks, etc. all come from these negative elements that have their hands in the Iraqi government.
The criminals also act to facilitate fund raising for the terrorists (in part, though not exclusively) through illicit activities. The relationship, though not always direct, is, in my view, definitely a symbiotic relationship.
I have told young lieutenants of the U.S. Army, senior analysts, and specialized teams of Americans that work with Iraqi cities to keep a close eye on the prices of food staples (rice, lamb, potatoes, and tomatoes), home rental prices, and the cost of fuel. In areas where there seems to be unreasonably lower prices, or less-volatile price fluctuations, it may be an indication that organized crime is active in that city/village, and if this area is close to a particular “hot spot” of terrorist activity then it is a good bet that applying pressure on the organized-crime efforts in the city/village will likewise have the effect of adding pressure to the terrorists active in the area.
So what I am saying is this: The relationship between the two activities are very likely linked, and applying pressure on both can have a positive effect on the Iraqi instability as a whole, including disrupting terrorist cells.
I have been asked (or, let’s say it has been suggested to me), that if I bribe a particular official of the Ministry certain aspects of my business would be made easier. I refused. This has caused me a lot of problems, and though I cannot (and will not) speak for other security companies in Iraq, I am sure if they are asked a similar answer will be given.
Local Iraqi businesses have to pay so many people off that there is little benefit for them to get involved with any sort of large investments in the business sector in Iraq. This is true for foreign investment as well, but in that cast it’s usually cited as “a lack of security.”
Some may ask how I know this. The answer is simple: I have been here in Iraq for more than four years now, and after a while you get to know how things are being done.
I also know this because I faced a “mob” figure head on. I told this individual I would not allow him to demand “tax” from my men. (The “tax” would have been forced and amounted to nearly 1/3 of their pay, each pay period.)
The result was a gun being pulled on my brother, and my having to go directly to the “boss” and make it clear that I would never fold, and I would not sit by and take his threats or the beatings of my men without him having to pay a “tax” that I would levy on him – personally.
Sound harsh? Yes, it does. But I still have the x-ray of the young boy they beat in the face with a rifle to “get my attention.” There were no “authorities” to turn to at the time and, well, in the face of this kind of behavior I could do one of three things:
1. Leave (out of the question as that would have only emboldened him and left my men exposed).
2. Pay his tax (or allow it to be levied against my men), which I refused because aside from being simply immoral, I would have been defeating the very effort the United States and our allies were undertaking – to create a viable and honest government and economy in Iraq.
3. I could stay and fight for a basic human right: To live free of intimidation and to try and earn a living that betters a person’s station in life.
I chose the third option. Not because I am a hero (God no! Far from it.) Nor am I Mr. Elliot Ness taking on Al Capone in Chicago. I chose it because it was the right thing to do.
The United States Federal Law Enforcement Agencies have nearly perfected an incredible anti-corruption program over the last 70 years that can be imposed on the Iraqi government. Though the “honeymoon” phase of the war is well over, I believe that the U.S. can force a suitable anti-corruption program on the Iraqi Central Government that is tied to additional funding.
If we are paying for this war, and I still believe in the reconstruction effort here, then anti-corruption efforts such as laws, task forces (headed by Iraqi and U.S. law enforcement officials), sting operations, and bank auditing of Iraqi government officials (especially looking into foreign bank accounts in neighboring countries such as in Dubai) must be undertaken. This effort must extend to all public service posts (not just focusing on Baghdad), and focus on key positions nationwide. This will vastly decrease both corruption and terrorism. It will also increase the actual power of the dollar and increase confidence of both the people of Iraq and the international community in the government of Iraq.
Education:
My last comment will be on an education process that must begin immediately. The people of Iraq must…absolutely must be taught the basic concepts of democracy. Like in the U.S., when we were children we had to watch the “I Am Just a Bill” cartoon with the catchy tune telling us how laws are made. (man, --- what a great song!)
They need to understand that there can, and will, be change as stated in the constitution allowing each person to vote for the people they want in power. So if a Shia, Sunni, Communist, (yes there are many Communists in Iraq) or an Islamist is in power then a political process is there to create change.
Billboards, pamphlets, school programs and television all need to be used to explain what democracy is and how it can be used for change. I have not seen this kind of effort in Iraq to date. In part because there are families, clans and religions that do not want the people to know that, in fact, it is themselves (the people) who have the power to change things they do not like.
Again this initiative could be a requisite for the Iraqi Central Government to get more monies from America.
I told you this would not be an easy or a short response to your question. But squashing the organized crime elements, hitting the borders harder and increasing the basic understanding of democracy would do wonders here.
Certainly, regardless of what your political beliefs are or what you think about our involvement here in Iraq, we can all agree that keeping terrorists out of Iraq, squashing corruption and educating Iraqi’s on the basics of democracy is something we can all get behind. If it is tied to getting more money, then a lot of Iraqi officials will have to get behind it as well.
A side note:
A prediction: Article 140, which is an Iraqi constitutional provision that states that the Kirkuk issue, a question of whether Kirkuk city is part of the Kurdish Regional Government (KRG) or Iraqi Central Government (ICG), must be enacted by the end of 2007.
The answer, whatever it may be, may lead to disaster. The KRG will not stand for any delay in the implementation of 140.
I fear that if there is a delay, for whatever reason, then calls for the Iraqi constitution as “void” and “invalid” will lead to a huge increase in the level of violence and even the intervening of other regional countries (not to mention furthering the goal of Al Qaeda).
On the other hand if the Iraq Central Government keeps Kirkuk as is this may cause the Kurds to break away by not recognizing the authority of the ICG and thus angering the Turks, Taliban, the Iranians, and frustrating any forward motion on the Iraqi reconstruction efforts.
The result would be the realization of America’s worst nightmare: Complexities that are usually kept in Baghdad will now move throughout Iraq or even the region.
If Kirkuk is given over to the Kurds then Turkey would be, shall I say, less than pleased and its toe-hold inside of Northern Iraq may grow.
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tag:www.paratusprotection.com,2007://1.212007-06-27T17:39:38Z2007-06-27T17:58:05ZFIREFIGHT It was hot. About 110 degrees. I won’t give you the line about dry heat vs. wet. Hot is hot especially when you’re carrying way more than 40 pounds of gear on you. We were on a mission to...FIREFIGHT
It was hot. About 110 degrees. I won’t give you the line about dry heat vs. wet. Hot is hot especially when you’re carrying way more than 40 pounds of gear on you. We were on a mission to deliver much-needed workers and a re-supply of food and water to a distant outpost in the western desert known as Al Anbar.
For those of you who don’t recognize the name Al Anbar, Falluja, Ramadi, Habenia, Hit, and Haditha may ring a bell. This is still in active “war” territory where our Marines and Army are doing a tremendous job.
But the cities and villages are interspersed with miles and miles of desert. The monotony is broken only by the pocked scars left by road side bombs and the occasional burnt vehicle or bus.
Six-hundred kilometers is a long stretch, moving through – literally – the worst areas of Iraq, and it is in no way close to a Sunday stroll. But my opinion, and that of my men, is that we will do it gladly to get the men at our destination what they need.
Mission complete. Men and material delivered. We “rested.” Rested is defined as sleeping on top of our cars, wedged into gun boxes, opening medical stretchers and sleeping on the ground under the vehicles (for shade), or for the new guys, sleeping on the dirt. Since we are not on a government contract, these things (life-support as it is called) are not provided. But we don’t complain. We truly feel as if we are doing a small part in this effort. Though I must admit it is getting harder and harder, and it seems that some private security companies make it very difficult for smaller ones like us (we only have 150 men or so).
Early the following day we take the same route back. Only this time, once we passed a check point in Habaneya, one of the lorries (semi-trucks) called in that he was overheating. I decided to stop the convoy (22 vehicles strong) and wait for an assessment. At the same time this was occurring I received a report via my satellite phone that the Green Zone (or International Zone as they call it now) was closed due to several kidnappings.
With mechanical problems and no destination at the moment (we had been headed to the Green Zone), I decided to put a forward-perimeter defense around the vehicles, but set the vehicles off into the desert so they were off the immediate horizon. This would prevent suicide car bombers and drive-by shootings. It also would allow us to not close the highway (something we do, but would rather not as there are good people who are inconvenienced for hours sometimes).
Some arm chair QB’s may say that was a bad move (moving off the road). To that, I say I would rather defend a horizontal 360-degree battlefield than a horizontal AND vertical field of fire. But, second guess me if need be.
At any rate we were attacked. Not by a drive-by or a hit and run RPG attack. We were engaged in a fire fight that last longer than 30 minutes.
It went down something like this. I was walking around my vehicle when one of my machine gunners stated that he saw some men moving around a sand dune. I looked over and just glimpsed an unmistakable AK-47.
I grabbed my rifle, used my scope on the man and confirmed that he had a rifle. Just as I was about to call it in via radio, they began to attack. Several of them running down between the two dunes firing at our vehicles (mine included). Truth is…running and shooting from the hip is what we call “spray and pray” – rarely works…but when it does…the result is the same as a well-aimed shot.
So now my scope, and it’s large red triangle (the reticule), is firmly placed on a pudgy man wearing a brown dishdasda (the traditional long robe for men). Several shots later the attack moved to a flank about 1,000 meters to our left.
During this I had to coordinate response and ensure that my men (and the truck drivers) were safe. I also established communication that my translator handled.
Once they engaged from the left, I noticed plain-clothed men as well as light blue police shirts (similar to U.S. security guard uniform tops), and called to my men via radio to cease fire.
They did.
Then the terrorists, now roughly over a dozen that I could see, began the attack again. Again my red triangle found what it was looking for. Repeating this several times, and it was a magazine change and then back to it. Over and over again.
Finally, a police truck (white and blue) reinforced more “insurgents” even further out to our left flank but exactly 90 degrees to my position. This is when I felt like things were more serious than what we’d had so far. Until then, we had control and were pushing the enemy off.
I felt nervous because it was flat desert between him and me, and I thought he was a suicide car bomber. Only the good Lord could have guided my shots (and those of my men) to the exact spots they needed to go, and at the right time.
Now 30 minutes does not sound like a lot, but when you burn through all your sugars and are operating on pure adrenalin, 30 minutes can seem like a polka dance—never ending.
But dance we did, and these men, some in Iraqi Police uniforms, some in plain clothes, attacked us using AK-47’s and PKM belt-fed machine guns. Their flanks were reinforced by a police Ford F-250. Ironically, I had ordered six F-350’s and they were all stolen at the Iraqi border, but these guys got theirs and were fighting from them.
I won’t go into details of loss…suffice it to say we had no injuries and the other guys were not so lucky.
But when the “good” police came, the bad guys, way more than two dozen, “melted into the crowd,” saying they had been there to “help us.”
This is one aspect of the life of a security contractor; can’t trust anyone too much. As the saying goes…you’re not paranoid if someone IS trying to kill you.
I checked my men and then went to the truck drivers. They were still in a panic (as there was still sporadic gun fighting); some were wailing and throwing sand on their heads, some played dead, and others stared at me with fear…pure fear.
My men did a tremendous job collecting up the truck drivers and putting them into our own vehicles. We did this because the only way out was to take a road that led us no more than 100 meters from where the initial attack took place. We gathered up the men and laid down suppressive fire on those dunes until we were on the hard road. Again.
To their credit, the U.S. Army arrived in less than one hour from notification (travel time), and the site of Abrams tanks and Bradley fighting vehicles made our people feel like we’d won the lottery.
Is there fear in these situations? Yes. No doubt. No equivocations. No John Wayne’s. The only thing that overrides fear is training and the desire to keep the terrorists from getting any closer to the people and the material we’re pledged to protect.
On that day we did both; we took it on the chin, pushed back harder than they were prepared to endure, and all men and material made it home.
We came home to cold pizza and warm Pepsi. There are no bonuses. No plaques or ribbons. There is only the memory of a day when the bad guys hit us and we hit back. A memory that each man who participated with Paratus can look back on with pride.
As for the police: It is still unknown who was real and who was not. The general consensus in some areas of Iraq is they are police by day; terrorist by night. We do not furnish them with American weapons, but I wonder who pays for those weapons, Fords and uniforms? The irony is so thick you can build a government on it (or are we doing just that?)
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Marshall respondstag:www.paratusprotection.com,2007://1.202007-06-24T16:35:42Z2007-06-25T11:36:52ZMany of you took time to write about the beheading, and Paratus' efforts to get hospital supplies to those in need. Others wrote in regarding other posts, and we thank you all!! Marshall has responded to each of you. Very...
news posted about a 30-minute firefight near Habaneya. Thirty minutes that felt more like 30 years.... ]]>
Beheaded for Trying to Helptag:www.paratusprotection.com,2007://1.192007-06-20T16:45:38Z2007-06-20T17:29:49ZA father and son were recently beheaded when their truck, carrying much-needed medicine to Iraqi Kurdistan, was ambushed. First reported on IraqSlogger.com, the episode inspired Marshall and his Paratus Iraq team, which is active in northern Iraq, to transport, protect,...
IraqSlogger.com, the episode inspired Marshall and his Paratus Iraq team, which is active in northern Iraq, to transport, protect, and distribute medical supplies to and within Kurdistan for no cost.
Paratus also got involved because one of its Iraqi employees was recently wounded and was unable to receive any semblance of acceptable medical care, leaving him blind in both eyes (see entry below).
Marshall will be posting more very soon. It's horribly ironic, but he was wounded in a recent firefight and so he has time.
Asked what he thinks about the current situation in Iraq, he carefully replied:
There does not seem to me, after four years in Iraq, to be a significant change in the situation here other than the amount of paperwork generated by a bureaucracy that has neither compass nor map to navigate its fledgling administration forward.
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ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER BOMBING, ANOTHER LOSES HIS EYEStag:www.paratusprotection.com,2007://1.182007-03-26T13:21:34Z2007-03-27T13:03:22ZGRAPHIC PICTURES FOLLOW We have all heard the saying “it can happen when you least expect it.” That’s especially true here in Iraq. As the violence rages I am constantly reminded of how precious each moment is. Not in some...GRAPHIC PICTURES FOLLOW
We have all heard the saying “it can happen when you least expect it.” That’s especially true here in Iraq. As the violence rages I am constantly reminded of how precious each moment is. Not in some sappy greeting-card kind of way. But in a way that seems to be branded on my soul by the searing heat of the reality of war.
This time it came in the form of an attack that involved two of my men. There is nothing poetic about how it occurred. No heroics. Not even much to the story.
I sat and thought about what had happened and how I could share the experience. But how do I share something so random? The details are short, simple and plain. Two of my men were stopping to buy cigarettes when two rockets slammed into the sidewalk where they were. One of the men was nearly untouched. The other had his eyes blown out of their sockets. The swollen tissues and caked blood was all that held them from dangling on his cheeks.
Some have said that writing about what I see may be “cathartic.” It isn’t. The feelings of helplessness that day will never go away. How do you help a man that you have trained with and worked with daily for months, when you know that pulling the shrapnel embedded in his eye would be nothing short of torture?
(Pictures by Marshall Young/Paratus Protection)
We could barely give him enough medicine because he was in such a state of shock we would have had to clear an airway and breathe for him just to relieve it.
Mind you all of this has to take place in the back seat of an SUV. The first of the three hospitals we took him to had not so much as enough tape to hold down the IV catheter put in his arm.
By the time we reached the final hospital his eye had fully migrated from the socket and stared blankly up and to the right. His iris had turned grey from the pressure and drying fluid. Even as I write this the bile starts to rise in my throat.
How did it happen? A piece of shrapnel entered into his left temple and traveled though to his right eye socket. The shard of metal then struck a bone and ricocheted out his right eye. His skull was fractured in several places and the metal was left protruding from his right eye.
After my medic and I worked on him for hours, even while he was at the hospital we finally left, leaving two men with him.
I sat for the past few days thinking about this incident. The true feelings I have about this cannot be written down in a way that would do them justice. It will have to suffice to know that this man was blinded by another man for nothing more than a political statement that was lost in the smoke and screams of that day. It was lost and buried with the dozens who died on that sidewalk.
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Please sir – don’t forget my hand…..tag:www.paratusprotection.com,2007://1.172007-03-14T17:15:09Z2007-03-14T17:45:09ZThe day was like any other in Iraq. It started with a cool morning, a cup of strong coffee and reports of the previous day’s atrocities. I finished them all and then began to check my men. A call came...
Listen, in an incident like this, calm is superficial and clarification is always over the horizon; never fully realized.
Mission logged, men prepped and medical gear on board. Launch! For the man in charge of this kind of mission, three large SUV’s roaring down the desert highway at 160 KL/PH is nothing less than performing exacting maneuvers with 10,000 pounds of armored steel. Once inside a besieged part of a city, it is nothing more than driving through a plate of spaghetti hoping you don’t end up the meatball.
We passed Snap VCP’s (road blocks) and balanced respect with crossed fingers that this was a legitimate road block and not an insurgent operation.
Then we see it. Just like I have seen so many times before. Throngs of people pressed against the gate of an understaffed and overwhelmed hospital. We pull up. I radio to be on the watch for “JUBA” (slang for snipers) and secondary attacks that have accompanied these scenes too many times in the past.
The Iraqi police wave us through the gates and people try and rush the gates like something out of those grainy techno-colored films of Operation Eagles Talon at the U.S. Embassy in Vietnam. Police fighting them back and us driving through this like foreign warships navigating a river of people.
Once inside the hospital it was more of the same, except outside our vehicles the only things stronger than the smell of burnt clothes, flesh and death were the screams and ghastly wailing of old women. Slapping their sun-beaten faces. Tears rarely present in their dark eyes. (Oddly, the men are the ones who literally cry whereas the women are more vocal.)
My men are trying to clear the hall as we walk through the grieving men and woman, and those who look up are either startled at our presence or their eyes light up in (sadly) the false hope of sorts for the relief of their loved ones.
“Salam-tec,” I say. (A greeting to the sick. Best I can explain it is “Peace to the sick.” Sort of the Western version of “my condolences…”) I say this as I pass them as respectfully as I can.
I enter the room and find it crammed with more than twice the amount of people it should hold.
I am led by my local security operator to two gurneys we have found in the crowd. One holds a young woman, maybe 19. The other an older woman; they are the mother and daughter we have come to help.
A quick assessment of the situation and setting of security. I look over the young woman first; I spot a large pool of smeared blood under and on what looks like a soviet era gurney. The blood is not hers. I see she is “bandaged” on her right hand and a thin “bandage” around her throat. I tell her that I am here to help, ask for the man in charge and repeat the same.
I turn to the mother. She is vomiting, and all who can touch her are trying to comfort her. She, as I assess it, is vomiting from sheer terror rather than internal injury. It is foul smelling bile. I again say “I am here to help.” She cries and pulls up her dress (a shocking thing, especially in this part of the world! This helped me to understand that she was terrified). She revealed her left breast and several very large blunt force trauma injuries. No penetration. I help her get her dress down to restore modesty in the room and pat her hand. (Remember that this happens in seconds, and in the midst of chaos.)
I turn to the young woman. I looked at her hand (what is left of it) and realize that it is primarily the flesh of her palm that is holding it together.
I look at her throat under the bandage. Nothing there. An old woman (a relative?) in a panic that I might miss her injuries, lifts the back of her head from the gurney. My heart almost stops. Her head was near 30 percent severed and her vertebrae were exposed through a 7-inch long by 4-inch wide gash of missing flesh.
I quickly grabbed her head to stabilize it and applied pressure (minor) to stabilize her now bulging vertebrae and to set her head back down. I tried several times to tell the old woman to not touch the head. I finally had to have one of my men take her to the back of the room.
I called for a specialized extraction device to be brought to me and called for my medic to get the larger trauma kit and an Israeli stretcher.
We then took to securing her hand. This is the first time she spoke. Her face “tattooed” from the blast suddenly crumpled, and wincing she cried in broken English, in a sweet voice that was so out of place in all of this. “Please sir, do not forget my hand. Please sir, no… lose… hand.”
I tried to comfort her but quickly got back to the mission…getting her to a place where she could receive care.
See, the hospitals are more like large aid stations immediately overwhelmed in these incidents, and people are left to the care of their relatives in almost every case.
We took the two women out of the hospital followed by throngs of people – both relatives and people who were hopeful that we would take their loved ones, too. We could not. People were stowing away and my men were had to force people out and away from our vehicles.
Once secured I double checked the men. All accounted for. It was at that point (usually is) when another of my men received a call. His relative was in the very hospital we were at. I called my team leaders over and told them to reposition the car while the medic and I would check this man.
We rushed as fast as we could through the dirty concrete halls to a bay of beds and found his relative. He had lost the top of his head in the blast and was being transferred from gurney to bed (by his family on a family supplied blanket.)
There was nothing we could do. I double checked with the medic and he concurred. Moving him during a 1½-mile trip while he is lying in the back seat of an SUV going to the other hospital would surely kill him, and because his injury was brain, we were ill-equipped to keep him alive.
I am not ashamed to say that I placed my hands on the man’s chest and prayed for God to “ease his suffering and to forgive me.”
I simply gave a thumbs up and said “good…good,” as I tried to escape from the people and guilt. As I was leaving I was quickly handed a wad of bandage by two men I did not know. I opened it. It was a combination of metal, brain matter and skull….from the man I just left.
We arrived at my compound to stabilize the two women for the longer part of the journey. They were now safer and we had a controlled environment to prepare them for the trip.
We cleaned the young woman’s hand. It was terrible. She repeated again in broken English and through my interpreter that she was a student and did not want to lose her hand. Her hand was so badly mangled; through the cleaning of it we realized that the reason for the lack of blood loss was that the entire wound was filled with nothing but bone shards and a solid piece of metal.
The metal was 90 percent the length of her hand and at its widest point ran from the finger joint to her wrist. It was obvious that the blast had wedged a piece of metal into her hand – not clean like a knife, but flat like a pancake burying itself deep into her hand resting on the thick skin of her palm.
She was going to lose her hand. It was this metal both from pressure and the searing heat at entry that had caused it to bleed so little. The only way to get the metal out, as it was flat, was to cut around. A serious surgery. Knowing hospitals here, that was sure to mean she would lose her entire hand to the wrist.
She was taken to the other hospital after we stabilized her and her mother. Before my men drove off the last I saw of her was when I poured several caps full of water into her mouth to ease the dryness from the heavy pain medication we had given her and I responded to her thanks and the barley audible now…. “Please sir”….”Please sir….with “Salam-Tec.”
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What about my son?tag:www.paratusprotection.com,2007://1.162007-03-03T17:37:17Z2007-03-03T17:49:41Z I get these questions from time to time; this one was from a woman with a son who suffers from a physical impairment of his legs. My captain knows more of their details, so if you want them, write...
I get these questions from time to time; this one was from a woman with a son who suffers from a physical impairment of his legs. My captain knows more of their details, so if you want them, write a comment and ask…. The point is that some of the local population believes that because I am American, I possess some additional powers that allow me to help them more than they can help themselves.
I swallowed hard and told her in my best bedside manner, “I will try.” She began to cry and in a mixture of Arabic and broken English said “Thank you sir. I am sorry..baby..Ipky (cries)….sorry sir.…”
Her son Hussein is probably only five years old, and he has this smile that is broad and innocent, and, well, boyish. I met him after she brought him here to my compound because of her inability to care for him, her other son and her ailing husband.
My first reaction when I saw the little boy was “Why in the world is this child in my compound? This is no place for a child!” I talked to my Captain, a Kurdish man who has worked with me for two years now, and asked him to tell the woman not to bring the child again.
Despite my request, two days later I saw her with the child, half-hidden in a restroom area that she was cleaning. Though my first reaction was anger, once I began to tell her to never bring the boy again she began to cry. She told me of how she had been kidnapped for three days and released after being severely beaten. She showed me the scars on her wrists from the restraints and repeated “Sorry sir, sorry sir.”
It was then that I took another look at the boy and saw his smile. I grumbled something about keeping the child clear of the men and she said softly, “Thank you sir.”
Since then he has become part of the family. The men have taken him in, and the little boy has begun to mimic them, wearing a beret, attempting push-ups and giving a “thumbs up” when we walk by.
It may not be a “thrust,” but I can tell you that this little boy may have helped me and my men more than we could ever help him.
His story is like so many other children here. Except his choices for a positive life, even despite the violence that will surely impact his future, are made nearly impossible by the challenges of being disabled in Iraq.
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Marshall's response:tag:www.paratusprotection.com,2007://1.152007-03-01T20:31:39Z2007-03-02T12:21:47ZRegarding Christopher Cruise's questions in his comment: There is no way for me to answer that with 100% certainty, but munitions are usually, by international law and operating under the K.I.S.S.principle for their own soldiers, marked with nomenclature that identifies...
Regarding Christopher Cruise's questions in his comment: There is no way for me to answer that with 100% certainty, but munitions are usually, by international law and operating under the K.I.S.S.principle for their own soldiers, marked with nomenclature that identifies its type and country of origin. Three keys to this, as I understand munitions, are as follows:
**Farsi nomenclature (spoken primarily in Iran and in small parts of Afghanistan and along the Silk Trail) is a key part of my reasoning;
**The revolutionary emblem seen on the RPG on the left is another key;
**And finally, Iran is no friend of Iraq and to my knowledge no munitions WITH Farsi was sent to Iraq pre-invasion (to any Arab speaking country).
Say hello to my little friends!tag:www.paratusprotection.com,2007://1.142007-02-21T21:35:34Z2007-02-28T23:47:27Z I was given these little fellows by an arms dealer. When I say “arms dealer,” I mean little more than a farmer with the courage to collect weapons stashed around various homes, and then venture onto the roads trying...
I was given these little fellows by an arms dealer. When I say “arms dealer,” I mean little more than a farmer with the courage to collect weapons stashed around various homes, and then venture onto the roads trying to sell them. In doing so he runs the risk of being caught with a trunk full of weapons at a checkpoint or by American soldiers. If he was caught, at minimum it would lead to detention by the Coalition Forces (CF) or it could mean prison if caught by the Iraqi Central Government (ICG). So I can assume that selling these weapons brings in much-needed extra cash.
With an RPG (Rocket Propelled Grenade) wrapped in a dirty burlap sack placed in his trunk, I’m sure he used one of the thousands of dirt roads that cross the country. And he probably used an additional step to throw off any prying eyes: he had his two small children with him in his car while en route here.
There are quasi-legal weapons markets around because owning rifles is not illegal. It’s not so much about owning a rifle, it is really a matter of how many a person owns and why. Self defense is an acceptable reason. But weapons like hand guns and sniper rifles are not permitted for obvious reasons. I have visited the weapons’ markets and they amount to little more than men with homemade bullets (always thrown away by me when I find them) and your standard fare of Russian, Iraqi and Romanian rifles and ammunition. The Iraqi ammunition is cheap and of low quality, however the Russian stuff can be bought in bulk, still in the manufacturer’s container. Those come with 770 high-quality bullets for less than $300. (This is a huge price increase over just 8 months ago.)
When I say I was “given” these rockets, I literally mean that they were given to me as a “gift.” No charge! Just for buying a couple of rifles from him. It makes me wonder…. If the man is willing to risk so much to put these things in his car and try to sell them, then how plentiful and cheap are the RPG’s in Iraq? This guy is poor and yet he felt he could just give away a complete and high quality anti-tank weapon system??
If you look at the rocket closely you will see that all the nomenclature is written in Farsi.
That’s right, these are more than likely made in Iran. Even though I have had these in my possession for approximately four months now, coupled with the recent rattle in the mainstream press regarding Iranian weapons found in Iraq, I thought I should show them to you. Truth is RPG’s, sniper rifles and the horrific shaped charge road-side bombs (technically called EFP), coupled with Iranian know-how, have been increasingly present on the killing fields of Iraq.
Essentially EFPs are comprised of molten metal that is blasted out at more than twice the speed of sound, usually into motor vehicles. The result is terrifying: severe burns, blunt-force trauma, blast damage to organs, and massive penetration to both armor and humans alike. Not only is the technology that produces these things well beyond the other types of bombs, but the way they are triggered is more sophisticated, too (I will refrain from commenting on that for now).
As for how they are getting here? Well I can’t imagine they are falling from the sky. There is no rail system. And the border to Iran is sometimes only an hour or so from hotspots (Karbala being only about 190 kilometers from the Iranian border.) Simple deduction helps form an educated guess.
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Why am I doing this blog?tag:www.paratusprotection.com,2007://1.102007-02-21T17:27:10Z2007-02-21T17:34:08ZAfter spending nearly 4 years here in Iraq, I have seen and experienced more than my share of the evils of war. I have also witnessed a depth of human caring rarely expressed back home. I have had the misfortune...
After spending nearly 4 years here in Iraq, I have seen and experienced more than my share of the evils of war. I have also witnessed a depth of human caring rarely expressed back home. I have had the misfortune of standing ankle deep in blood and human debris. I’ve sat with some of the poorest people, ravaged by war and a generation of despotism, only to have them respond to me in a kind and generous way. The “layers” of Iraq are so varied and so deep that anyone who claims to be an expert is simply not looking past the bombs and 30 second news bites.
That is the impetus behind this blog. Because I’ve spent less than a total of four months back home since I came to Iraq in 2003, I lost touch with what people viewing the war through the eyes of the American media felt was truly news. When I recently returned home and watched the “experts” discussing Iraq, I felt like the people were being cheated in some way. The brave soldiers fighting and dying here are being cheated. The local Iraqi’s risking their lives working along side them deserve more. The courage of the children has never been told. The private security contractors who are here risking their lives to make that small stretch of road, or convoy, or compound a little safer one more day are silent heroes. All of these people are here living in Iraq for reasons that most would find archaic in our aloof world.
I believe that news consumers back home should be presented with a picture of what is happening here that could validate the spirit of the freedom-loving heart, regardless of the flag you march under.
Don’t get me wrong, there is a war here. People are suffering and dying. In truth, you may not have seen the worst of it. I have to continue to live a surreal existence between being “out there” every day, balancing what I see with what we all hope for – a better day. I do not live with the military. In fact I have not lived on a military base since early 2004. So what you will get from me is a snapshot of what I experience. Some “news” from a regular person who lives an irregular life in Iraq. Nothing more…nothing less.
A series of meetings took place, with the negotiations centering on the concept of not only delivering the medical supplies but ensuring that they remained secure from donor to recipient. Discussed in detail was the fear that some had experienced in the past by accepting aid; they had a strong fear of reprisals from terrorists.
I’d been talking up the concept of utilizing security as a platform for the successful management and delivery of aid for some time. It was my belief that if a more meaningful effort was placed on mitigating the factors that reduced the utility of aid donations – the black market, pilferage and the fear associated in many cases with simply receiving the aid – then the impact would be tangible and we’d have a much better chance at positively affecting those who need it most.
Paratus assured all of the administrators involved that with this new-found cooperation a better way of delivering aid to the most devastated areas could not only begin but be sustained through a series of high-level and quite sensitive planning sessions.
Another reason for reaching out to the leaders of Kirkuk was to invite them to see just what Paratus is, and to dispel any misunderstandings they had regarding private security in general and to make them aware of the other good deeds Paratus had done in the community. Paratus’ desire is to be a good corporate citizen in the community. This also gave us the ability to plan and conduct these deliveries with better operational security, because a strategy was drawn up that put recipients on notice of a delivery while not compromising the secrecy needed to plan and conduct the operations.
An outreach such as this is a staple ingredient in Paratus’ planning and in its role as local liaison without the loss of operational security. Once a foundation of trust is built, a greater amount of flexibility is allowed us as we perform these critical operations, and we don’t need to compromise individual programs or operations. Though I can’t go into detail, I put several methods in place to measure the success of the deliveries, so I can report back to the donor with greater reliability and assurance of the outcome.
So finally, on the 20th of September 2007, a delivery of insulin was successfully made to the Administrators of Kirkuk Iraq by Paratus Worldwide, a private security company located in North Central Iraq. Paratus delivered the medicines free of charge and coordinated the receipt, storage and ultimately the delivery of the medical aid.
Present to receive the insulin were a manger within the local hospital system, who accepted the donation; representatives of the Kirkuk PUK party; the Kirkuk PDK party; Atun Kopri Asha Eish; and the Iraqi National Guard. Kirkuk TV (PUK local station) and Kurdistan TV (PDK-run satellite TV) covered the event.
This specific, need-oriented and highly planned aid management concept is meant to replace the shot-gun approach used so often (and so unsuccessfully) in the past. In many cases aid distribution could not be followed up on due to security issues. So, the security-oriented-aid-delivery concept was born. This first of many deliveries was highly successful, and there are ongoing discussions to find a way to bring in cholera medicines as well as medical supplies to try and treat the blunt force and burn injuries associated with seemingly endless car bomb attacks. Paratus has encouraged the community’s leaders to be vocal about their medical and security needs so the company can respond with services that are most appropriate; this is rooted in Paratus’ belief that the community is best served by ongoing communications.
It is the hope of Paratus and all of those who worked diligently on this effort to introduce an even more aggressive approach to relieve the medical needs of the Iraqi people by targeting specific cities, and by providing a total package for responding to mass casualty incidents, as well as to use preventative measures in an attempt to reduce the impact the ongoing violence is having on the people of Iraq.
Paratus would like to thank the Minister of Health, Dr. Yones, whose continued support remains critical to the success of this effort. Also the Administrators of Kirkuk who put aside politics and religion and took a stand with Paratus to bring aid to the people of Kirkuk. We would also like to thank the Fondation Danielle Mitterand France Libertes. Without their help and faith this could not have happened.
If you would like to make a donation or have questions on how to get involved to help please contact vicki@paratusiraq.com.
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Some arm chair QB’s may say that was a bad move (moving off the road). To that, I say I would rather defend a horizontal 360-degree battlefield than a horizontal AND vertical field of fire. But, second guess me if need be.
At any rate we were attacked. Not by a drive-by or a hit and run RPG attack. We were engaged in a fire fight that last longer than 30 minutes.
It went down something like this. I was walking around my vehicle when one of my machine gunners stated that he saw some men moving around a sand dune. I looked over and just glimpsed an unmistakable AK-47.
I grabbed my rifle, used my scope on the man and confirmed that he had a rifle. Just as I was about to call it in via radio, they began to attack. Several of them running down between the two dunes firing at our vehicles (mine included). Truth is…running and shooting from the hip is what we call “spray and pray” – rarely works…but when it does…the result is the same as a well-aimed shot.
So now my scope, and it’s large red triangle (the reticule), is firmly placed on a pudgy man wearing a brown dishdasda (the traditional long robe for men). Several shots later the attack moved to a flank about 1,000 meters to our left.
During this I had to coordinate response and ensure that my men (and the truck drivers) were safe. I also established communication that my translator handled.
Once they engaged from the left, I noticed plain-clothed men as well as light blue police shirts (similar to U.S. security guard uniform tops), and called to my men via radio to cease fire.
They did.
Then the terrorists, now roughly over a dozen that I could see, began the attack again. Again my red triangle found what it was looking for. Repeating this several times, and it was a magazine change and then back to it. Over and over again.
Finally, a police truck (white and blue) reinforced more “insurgents” even further out to our left flank but exactly 90 degrees to my position. This is when I felt like things were more serious than what we’d had so far. Until then, we had control and were pushing the enemy off.
I felt nervous because it was flat desert between him and me, and I thought he was a suicide car bomber. Only the good Lord could have guided my shots (and those of my men) to the exact spots they needed to go, and at the right time.
Now 30 minutes does not sound like a lot, but when you burn through all your sugars and are operating on pure adrenalin, 30 minutes can seem like a polka dance—never ending.
But dance we did, and these men, some in Iraqi Police uniforms, some in plain clothes, attacked us using AK-47’s and PKM belt-fed machine guns. Their flanks were reinforced by a police Ford F-250. Ironically, I had ordered six F-350’s and they were all stolen at the Iraqi border, but these guys got theirs and were fighting from them.
I won’t go into details of loss…suffice it to say we had no injuries and the other guys were not so lucky.
But when the “good” police came, the bad guys, way more than two dozen, “melted into the crowd,” saying they had been there to “help us.”
This is one aspect of the life of a security contractor; can’t trust anyone too much. As the saying goes…you’re not paranoid if someone IS trying to kill you.
I checked my men and then went to the truck drivers. They were still in a panic (as there was still sporadic gun fighting); some were wailing and throwing sand on their heads, some played dead, and others stared at me with fear…pure fear.
My men did a tremendous job collecting up the truck drivers and putting them into our own vehicles. We did this because the only way out was to take a road that led us no more than 100 meters from where the initial attack took place. We gathered up the men and laid down suppressive fire on those dunes until we were on the hard road. Again.
To their credit, the U.S. Army arrived in less than one hour from notification (travel time), and the site of Abrams tanks and Bradley fighting vehicles made our people feel like we’d won the lottery.
Is there fear in these situations? Yes. No doubt. No equivocations. No John Wayne’s. The only thing that overrides fear is training and the desire to keep the terrorists from getting any closer to the people and the material we’re pledged to protect.
On that day we did both; we took it on the chin, pushed back harder than they were prepared to endure, and all men and material made it home.
We came home to cold pizza and warm Pepsi. There are no bonuses. No plaques or ribbons. There is only the memory of a day when the bad guys hit us and we hit back. A memory that each man who participated with Paratus can look back on with pride.
As for the police: It is still unknown who was real and who was not. The general consensus in some areas of Iraq is they are police by day; terrorist by night. We do not furnish them with American weapons, but I wonder who pays for those weapons, Fords and uniforms? The irony is so thick you can build a government on it (or are we doing just that?)
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(Pictures by Marshall Young/Paratus Protection)
We could barely give him enough medicine because he was in such a state of shock we would have had to clear an airway and breathe for him just to relieve it.
Mind you all of this has to take place in the back seat of an SUV. The first of the three hospitals we took him to had not so much as enough tape to hold down the IV catheter put in his arm.
By the time we reached the final hospital his eye had fully migrated from the socket and stared blankly up and to the right. His iris had turned grey from the pressure and drying fluid. Even as I write this the bile starts to rise in my throat.
How did it happen? A piece of shrapnel entered into his left temple and traveled though to his right eye socket. The shard of metal then struck a bone and ricocheted out his right eye. His skull was fractured in several places and the metal was left protruding from his right eye.
After my medic and I worked on him for hours, even while he was at the hospital we finally left, leaving two men with him.
I sat for the past few days thinking about this incident. The true feelings I have about this cannot be written down in a way that would do them justice. It will have to suffice to know that this man was blinded by another man for nothing more than a political statement that was lost in the smoke and screams of that day. It was lost and buried with the dozens who died on that sidewalk.
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I am led by my local security operator to two gurneys we have found in the crowd. One holds a young woman, maybe 19. The other an older woman; they are the mother and daughter we have come to help.
A quick assessment of the situation and setting of security. I look over the young woman first; I spot a large pool of smeared blood under and on what looks like a soviet era gurney. The blood is not hers. I see she is “bandaged” on her right hand and a thin “bandage” around her throat. I tell her that I am here to help, ask for the man in charge and repeat the same.
I turn to the mother. She is vomiting, and all who can touch her are trying to comfort her. She, as I assess it, is vomiting from sheer terror rather than internal injury. It is foul smelling bile. I again say “I am here to help.” She cries and pulls up her dress (a shocking thing, especially in this part of the world! This helped me to understand that she was terrified). She revealed her left breast and several very large blunt force trauma injuries. No penetration. I help her get her dress down to restore modesty in the room and pat her hand. (Remember that this happens in seconds, and in the midst of chaos.)
I turn to the young woman. I looked at her hand (what is left of it) and realize that it is primarily the flesh of her palm that is holding it together.
I look at her throat under the bandage. Nothing there. An old woman (a relative?) in a panic that I might miss her injuries, lifts the back of her head from the gurney. My heart almost stops. Her head was near 30 percent severed and her vertebrae were exposed through a 7-inch long by 4-inch wide gash of missing flesh.
I quickly grabbed her head to stabilize it and applied pressure (minor) to stabilize her now bulging vertebrae and to set her head back down. I tried several times to tell the old woman to not touch the head. I finally had to have one of my men take her to the back of the room.
I called for a specialized extraction device to be brought to me and called for my medic to get the larger trauma kit and an Israeli stretcher.
We then took to securing her hand. This is the first time she spoke. Her face “tattooed” from the blast suddenly crumpled, and wincing she cried in broken English, in a sweet voice that was so out of place in all of this. “Please sir, do not forget my hand. Please sir, no… lose… hand.”
I tried to comfort her but quickly got back to the mission…getting her to a place where she could receive care.
See, the hospitals are more like large aid stations immediately overwhelmed in these incidents, and people are left to the care of their relatives in almost every case.
We took the two women out of the hospital followed by throngs of people – both relatives and people who were hopeful that we would take their loved ones, too. We could not. People were stowing away and my men were had to force people out and away from our vehicles.
Once secured I double checked the men. All accounted for. It was at that point (usually is) when another of my men received a call. His relative was in the very hospital we were at. I called my team leaders over and told them to reposition the car while the medic and I would check this man.
We rushed as fast as we could through the dirty concrete halls to a bay of beds and found his relative. He had lost the top of his head in the blast and was being transferred from gurney to bed (by his family on a family supplied blanket.)
There was nothing we could do. I double checked with the medic and he concurred. Moving him during a 1½-mile trip while he is lying in the back seat of an SUV going to the other hospital would surely kill him, and because his injury was brain, we were ill-equipped to keep him alive.
I am not ashamed to say that I placed my hands on the man’s chest and prayed for God to “ease his suffering and to forgive me.”
I simply gave a thumbs up and said “good…good,” as I tried to escape from the people and guilt. As I was leaving I was quickly handed a wad of bandage by two men I did not know. I opened it. It was a combination of metal, brain matter and skull….from the man I just left.
We arrived at my compound to stabilize the two women for the longer part of the journey. They were now safer and we had a controlled environment to prepare them for the trip.
We cleaned the young woman’s hand. It was terrible. She repeated again in broken English and through my interpreter that she was a student and did not want to lose her hand. Her hand was so badly mangled; through the cleaning of it we realized that the reason for the lack of blood loss was that the entire wound was filled with nothing but bone shards and a solid piece of metal.
The metal was 90 percent the length of her hand and at its widest point ran from the finger joint to her wrist. It was obvious that the blast had wedged a piece of metal into her hand – not clean like a knife, but flat like a pancake burying itself deep into her hand resting on the thick skin of her palm.
She was going to lose her hand. It was this metal both from pressure and the searing heat at entry that had caused it to bleed so little. The only way to get the metal out, as it was flat, was to cut around. A serious surgery. Knowing hospitals here, that was sure to mean she would lose her entire hand to the wrist.
She was taken to the other hospital after we stabilized her and her mother. Before my men drove off the last I saw of her was when I poured several caps full of water into her mouth to ease the dryness from the heavy pain medication we had given her and I responded to her thanks and the barley audible now…. “Please sir”….”Please sir….with “Salam-Tec.”
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It may not be a “thrust,” but I can tell you that this little boy may have helped me and my men more than we could ever help him.
His story is like so many other children here. Except his choices for a positive life, even despite the violence that will surely impact his future, are made nearly impossible by the challenges of being disabled in Iraq.
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That’s right, these are more than likely made in Iran. Even though I have had these in my possession for approximately four months now, coupled with the recent rattle in the mainstream press regarding Iranian weapons found in Iraq, I thought I should show them to you. Truth is RPG’s, sniper rifles and the horrific shaped charge road-side bombs (technically called EFP), coupled with Iranian know-how, have been increasingly present on the killing fields of Iraq.
Essentially EFPs are comprised of molten metal that is blasted out at more than twice the speed of sound, usually into motor vehicles. The result is terrifying: severe burns, blunt-force trauma, blast damage to organs, and massive penetration to both armor and humans alike. Not only is the technology that produces these things well beyond the other types of bombs, but the way they are triggered is more sophisticated, too (I will refrain from commenting on that for now).
As for how they are getting here? Well I can’t imagine they are falling from the sky. There is no rail system. And the border to Iran is sometimes only an hour or so from hotspots (Karbala being only about 190 kilometers from the Iranian border.) Simple deduction helps form an educated guess.
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