From Baghdad with Love Jay Kopelman (top 10 inspirational books txt) đź“–
- Author: Jay Kopelman
Book online «From Baghdad with Love Jay Kopelman (top 10 inspirational books txt) 📖». Author Jay Kopelman
I’m all keyed up about Lava going to Baghdad, because it’s, like, tense there right now. The country hasn’t seen open voting since before the reign of Saddam Hussein. For Iraqis starved of political power, the ballot represents an all-you-can-eat buffet, and the diners are hungry, and a lot of them have guns.
I mean, get this. A total of 196 political parties and 33 coalitions representing more than 18,900 candidates rush to get on the ballot. The ballot provides voters a heaping helping of hastily formed parties such as the United Iraqi Coalition, the Iraqi Islamic Party, and the Constitutional Monarchy Movement, each providing lists of candidates, including “the Iraqi List,” “the Security and Stability List,” and “the Security and Justice List.”
The election authorities try to keep order—you can’t be funded by a militia, for example—and each registrant has to provide a logo or symbol so illiterate voters can identify them. When logos of Kalashnikov rifles, mass graves, and Korans with halos around them start showing up, everyone knows it’s going to get messy.
But as quickly as candidates register, they receive death threats or, as in the case of at least ten of them, well-placed bullets to the head. Candidates are afraid to leave their homes, and unless a party has its own militia, its people can’t run for office and stay alive at the same time. Campaigning, therefore, is done Iraqi-style: Candidates hire people to run out on the streets, post a few signs, and then run back inside before they’re seen.
Slogans on the signs are straightforward and simple: free homeland—happy people! or we will restore electricity! A few candidates, including interim prime minister Iyad Allawi, pay for television airtime: “We will strive to reduce unemployment by using oil investments to create 250,000 new jobs in the public and private sectors . . .” But even the prime minister isn’t immune from threats. Soon after his television ad is aired, an al-Qaeda affiliate posts a videotape on the Internet showing a candidate from Allawi’s party being murdered. The tape includes a warning to the prime minister: “You traitor, wait for the angel of death.” So most candidates avoid public appearances and just hide in their homes and pray.
Right before the election, the government, such as it is, plans to close the borders, cut all mobile and satellite phone service, and ban travel between provinces. It also announces that it has stockpiled hospital beds and medical supplies in anticipation of democracy.
So, yeah, I’m worried about Lava and Matt and Anne.
I mean, reading the headlines in the week leading up to the election turns monotonous:
AT LEAST 21 PEOPLE KILLED BY SUICIDE BOMBERS
BAGHDAD GOVERNOR ALI AL-HAYDARI ASSASSINATED
AT LEAST 20 PEOPLE KILLED IN INSURGENT ATTACKS
MILITANTS BEHEAD IRAQI WHO WORKED FOR THE COALITION AND KILL AT LEAST FOUR OTHERS
MILITANTS KILL EIGHT IRAQI NATIONAL GUARD SOLDIERS
ELEVEN PEOPLE DIE IN SUICIDE BOMBINGS
AT LEAST 14 PEOPLE KILLED AND 40 WOUNDED BY CAR BOMB NEAR SHI’A MUSLIM MOSQUE
BOMB DETONATES NEAR IRAQI PREMIER’S OFFICES
IRAQI JUDGE ASSASSINATED IN BAGHDAD
CAR BOMB AT A PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT HEADQUARTERS KILLS FIVE PEOPLE
20 PEOPLE KILLED IN SERIES OF ATTACKS INVOLVING ROCKETS, ROADSIDE EXPLOSIVES, AND SUICIDE CAR BOMBS
After a while it’s like reading something from Dr. Seuss: They behead them in Baghdad, yes they do, so make sure your hotel has a room with a view.
People stationed or stuck in Baghdad are starting to unravel as all these contractors and civilians and Iraqi soldiers get killed. As for the US forces, we don’t fare much better. During the month of January, 641 of our troops are killed or wounded.
This includes thirty-one Lava Dogs who go down in a helicopter during a sandstorm four days before the election.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
January 2005
The Syrian Border
I check my e-mail one more time before going to bed. When I see Anne’s name in the inbox, worry surrenders with hands up to a sense of panic I hadn’t felt during even the worst of the fighting in Fallujah.
Earlier in the week the guys at Camp Fallujah created an excuse to convoy to Baghdad where they’re supposed to hand Lava over to Anne, but the wait for the exchange—the trip to Baghdad and then the actual handover—turns into this foxhole of hours, because I have no way of knowing what’s going on. I could play handball with an undetonated grenade and feel calmer.
One of the guys e-mailed that morning, needing the PIN of my cell so he could call Anne and arrange the drop-off. I haven’t heard anything since, so I don’t know if he got hold of Anne or if Anne answered the call or if the guys got off base or if the convoy made it to Baghdad or if Anne got into the Green Zone or if the Marines, Anne, and Lava are even still alive.
I know better. I know I know better. My trust in my fellow Marines is bulletproof. Whether directing an E2C Hawkeye onto a carrier or covering my back in a Fallujah alley, I know they’ll perform as trained. But rescuing Lava is something different. Waiting like this requires an alien faith. If Lava jumps out of the Humvee on the way to Baghdad, will they jump out, too, and go after him? If an officer discovers the puppy in the convoy and orders him shot, will they do it? If they can’t get off base in Baghdad, if they can’t find Annie, if they get a call from home and miss the
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