BAGHDAD — Four of us were driving the dangerous BIAP road to
take CJ to catch a plane back to the States. When we were about 300
yards from the airport gate, all traffic came to a stop and it
started to pile up behind us. Soon, a fair-sized traffic jam had
been created. CJ was able to call a “source” who informed him a car
bomb had been found near the gate and its imminent detonation was
the reason for the delay. Our driver, Khattab, walked up in that
direction to check and confirmed that a car bomb was being
de-activated so as not to explode and put the road out of
service.
After a 45 or 50 minute wait, there was a monstrous explosion
and a large shower of dirt and debris and “stuff” came flying from
a spot about 25 yards from our car. It was not the car bomb being
detonated. It was an 82mm mortar shell fired at us from a spot
about 125 yards to our right. The caliber was determined by someone
more familiar than I with the relative decibel sounds of exploding
mortar shells.
On the road ahead of us were about 200 cars in rows, three or
four abreast. It looked like the start of a NASCAR race. Behind us,
a line equally long extended to what seemed the horizon. I would
guess half the cars were armored SUVs belonging to Private Security
Companies (PSCs). They are a modern-day version of “Have Gun Will
Travel” — soldiers of fortune and mercenaries from all the usual
countries: the U.S., South Africa, Australia, the U.K., Ghurkas and
so on. As soon as the shell exploded the traffic jam was paralyzed
in place. It’s hard to know if the episode was planned, or if it
was simply coincidence. The terrorists are very good at putting a
mortar on the back of a pick-up truck and heading for any traffic
jam they hear about, then firing shells into the jammed up cars,
trucks, and SUVs. In fact, it is possible the reason for placing
the car bomb where it is, is to cause precisely the traffic jam
that has now resulted.
Also in the traffic jam with us were two convoys of about eight
or ten Humvees each, and a Bradley Fighting Vehicle which is a
thing that looks like a tank but isn’t one. That made me feel a bit
reassured. Ordinarily, convoys stop for absolutely nothing since
they quite rightly perceive that it is THEY who are the most
desirable group of targets to isolate in a traffic jam. Usually
they just barrel down the outside lane and go wherever they are
going and, if necessary, they will literally push others off the
road. This time they did not. My guess is that they wanted the car
bomb up the road to be eliminated so they held their positions. As
soon as the explosion took place, however, they roared off.
A split second after the explosion, every car and SUV in the
quarter-mile-long line of cars started to disgorge small armies of
heavily armed mercenaries and ordinary civilians. Every last one of
them was armed with an AK-47. (Male babies in the Middle East
appear to come out of the womb with an AK-47 in their hands!) My
guess is that from front to back there were about 300 to 400 people
firing wildly at targets I could not see, and I am sure they
couldn’t either.
The four of us also dismounted, but none of us fired since we
could not see anyone at whom to fire. Our driver was able to swing
the SUV around sharply to the left and we made for the median
strip, which was three feet or so below the level of the road, thus
providing some natural shelter. There I was told (God knows by
whom) to take cover behind the wheels of our car. I could hear wild
shouting in five or six different languages.
In the midst of all the firing and confusion, the Bradley came
racing up the road and made a right turn toward the tree line,
crossing the highway about ten feet in front of me. The gunner
standing in the turret smiled at me, gave a thumbs up, and
continued drinking from a quart of Pepsi in his other hand. The
whole thing lasted three or four minutes. It stopped of its own
accord, probably because everyone ran out of ammunition.
A few minutes later, I saw a number of U.S. soldiers, holding a
stretcher, race toward a clump of trees. Soon they came back
carrying a boy between eight and ten, his arm hanging limply over
the side of the stretcher. The sight of this kid who was hit by a
bullet recklessly fired by one of these PSC thugs made me very
angry. Later we heard the boy died, but I don’t know that for a
fact.
IT WAS INTERESTING TO NOTE that throughout this chaotic
free-for-all, the American soldiers never fired a shot. Their
“rules of engagement” authorize firing only when they see a target,
and that target represents an ACTUAL threat. In this engagement
there were no targets to be seen. The PSCs have a lot to learn from
the Army.
The mercenaries fired non-stop. One of them explained to me that
their “rules of engagement” dictate you immediately fire in the
direction from which the fire is coming, whether you actually see
anything or not. In this case, the mortar shell had clearly come
from the right so everyone fired blindly toward the right. Pretty
undisciplined and self-indulgent, I thought.
As far as I know, whoever fired at us got away. I don’t think
anyone in the long line of cars was hurt — perhaps a few scraped
knees from diving down the embankment. There were no casualties
among the passengers in our car.
What was my sense of all this fire and brimstone? Other than
being very startled by the sound of the huge explosion 25 yards
away, I never felt any concern, fear, apprehension, or foreboding.
I found it very difficult to stay behind the car wheels when I was
down in the ditch and continually stood up for a better look at
what was going on. After it was over I was very relaxed and thought
to myself: “That was interesting! Was the first time someone tried
to kill me what I thought it would be?”
I didn’t fire my pistol for two reasons; there was never a
visible target trying to shoot at me and, you don’t use a 9mm
pistol to fire at a target 125 yards away.
During the three or four minute “battle” several thousand rounds
were probably fired. We have seen it dozens of times on the evening
news when they show stuff from the Middle East. It is always
hundreds of young men running around to show their “machismo” and
metaphorically claiming “mine is bigger than yours” by firing their
AKs in the air. It’s called “happy fire.”
The rest of the day was quite normal. The plane was about five
hours late taking off. On the way back there wasn’t a single car on
the road. It all made for a very eerie feeling. As we approached
Baghdad we encountered a lot of U.S. troops. Normally, this is a
signal of time-consuming checkpoint delays, but this time they were
a welcome sight.
