Bayji: Learning a new rule set

6 May 2004 2344 hours I have not written enough details pertaining to the local population in order for anyone to have an image of the condition in which they live. My perspective of Iraq is drawn from fourteen feet in the air, the turret of my Bradley. I do not have a lot, if any, actual contact with the populace. I only know what I see during missions, and hear from the dismounted Infantrymen.

There is not a lot of trash lining the streets. The Iraqis in Bayji do not have a lot of prepackaged products that produce garbage. If you consider destroyed vehicles, and scrap metal as trash; then the country is filthy. Little huts for merchants are built out of the scrap metal. Awnings for shops are built from sheet metal with unserviceable car parts to weigh them down. The shops I have seen contain the same products. Bottled beverages in crates, knock-off cigarettes, and lots of fresh vegetables do not seem to be in short supply. All of the shopkeepers are male. I have never actually seen anyone make a purchase from a stand. When we drive through the city, groups of four or five males sit around some of the shops. It is an uncomfortable feeling to gaze upon them. I wonder what they talk about?

Everyone stops to watch us as we pass. The men just stare back at us, expressionless. How does their economy work? It seems that there are a lot of men just milling around the city all day. There are no movie theatres, shopping malls, Starbucks, bowling alleys, pool halls, dance clubs, or the like. I am such a typical American. Have I been bred to believe that in order for an economy to work there has to be a large entertainment network? I understand that I work for money. The money I make is spent on products that advertising makes me feel that I cannot live without. Countless people support each other as our money exchanges hands. I think the average person knows what I am trying to say. My point is this; everyone seems to be sitting around waiting for something. I wonder what these men were doing before Saddam was removed from power. Too deep, my brain is shutting down.

Back to describing things. The children come running when we drive by. A vast majority of them give us thumbs up or peace signs as we pass. Most of them are all smiles. I am referring to about eight years old and down. My Platoon does not give out MRE's and candy to the children. We understand that it is a huge security risk to allow children close to combat operations. It would be fairly accurate for me to assume that the rest of our task force is in the same practice. When we enter a sector where soldiers have been giving gifts to the kids; they immediately surround and suffocate us with "mista, mista, give me MRE". That is not the case where we operate. It would be catastrophic to believe for one second that an enemy would not fire his RPG with kids in his line if fire.

The kids that are older than 10 are dangerous. They are old enough to know how to aggravate us. In one of the areas we operate, they have become a nuisance. First they will approach us and ask for MRE's. We will not give them away. If you give them a bite, they will bring their whole family to get a four-course meal. After we shoo them away, they will perch themselves in our areas of overwatch. They have even thrown rocks at some of the dismounts. Our men handle the attacks very delicately. It is very important to realize that at any moment a child might throw a grenade given to him by an enemy. As sick as that may sound, it is a very real threat. They can also distract us from an actual enemy threat if the situation is allowed to develop. Enough on that.

Most of the kids walk around barefoot. There feet are tough like little leather booties. Their clothes are dirty and tattered. It is with an uneasy conscience that I turn my head from them. They wander the areas immediately outside of their homes during the hours of daylight. I do not know if any kind of formal education exists outside of the larger cities. At the same time, why would it? (note: I know why education is important from my perspective, but look at it from theirs)

Most of the homes are either one or two story high stone wall structures with flat roofs. A large water tank stands on the edge of the roof of most houses. Water trucks fill them. The houses have tall stone walls surrounding the property line. They are mostly all gated with huge metal doors. I can see inside the compounds as we drive by. Very few houses actually have furniture of any kind. The dismounts told me that most searches only take a few seconds because there is so little to sift through. They sleep on thick blackest laid out on the floor. The blankets are piled in corners of the rooms during the day. It is a rare day to find a house with pictures on the walls, or tables and chairs. The type of kitchens we are used to with microwaves, stoves, refrigerators, wall clocks, and a huge assortment of appliances does not exist here. It is a completely different way of life than anything I have seen before.

The women do wear burqua's everywhere. I have never seen a woman in the front seat of a four-door car unless there were four women in the backseat. If she is the only passenger, she sits in the backseat alone. Forget about driving, ladies. As of yet I have not seen a woman drive anything except a whip to a mule. I have seen men riding their asses while herding sheep, but the women walk next to the donkey. I have not seen any form of physical abuse towards women in our presence. We pass small groups of women working the fields together; seldom is a man present.

There are countless flocks of sheep in the countryside. The sheepherders wear dresses and appear very dirty. They usually wave at us or give thumbs up. I believe that it is a reflex mechanism so they feel like we won't shoot them. Most of them maintain standoff from the roadside, smart move. It is humorous to see the ones that have jackasses. It looks like the herder is holding his feet up to keep from hitting his heels while riding. Considering the amount of sheep, it would seem that wool is a huge industry here. Huge flat bed trucks strapped with massive piles of sheep's wool drive by us daily. They smell incredibly horrible. When we are downwind of either the herd, or an oncoming truck; the smell is unmistakable and persistent. If you have read my account of how the oil pollutes this country; you might assume that this country smells undesirable. It does.

1st Armored Divisions stay has been extended here for a few months. I cannot even begin to comprehend how that must feel. I do not even want to speculate how I will react if I am placed in that situation next year. My respect goes out to those men. I know that it will take some great leadership to lead those men back into the fire. The government better make good with the extra $1000 a month they promised the Joe's.

My mother and Pete are about 300 miles North of the Appellation Trail start point in Georgia. I am so proud of the fact that my Mom is out there accomplishing her goal. It takes a lot of guts to walk from Georgia to Maine. I would like to end this entry with best wishes for them.

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SSG Philip Jarvis
SSG. USA
Section Leader