TIME: Life Behind Enemy
Lines
Monday, December 15, 2003
By BRIAN BENNETT; MICHAEL WARE / BAGHDAD
For Abu Ali, lethal rocket strikes against the U.S.
occupation army are part of the regular routine. At
the modest farmhouse of a fellow member of his
network of insurgents one recent evening, Abu
Ali--the nom de guerre he has chosen--welcomes seven
fighters into a room lined with worn sofas. Despite
the steady whoomp-whoomp of circling U.S.
helicopters, the insurgents sit back, chain-smoking
and chatting about weapons, tactics, the long lines
to get gasoline, whose children are starting to
crawl. A young man spreads a plastic sheet on the
floor and lays out plates of roasted chicken, rice,
bean soup and boiled vegetables. As the men eat, the
talk is jovial, full of laughter and noisy boasting.
The presence of a reporter for a U.S. magazine does
not seem to faze them. "American soldier very
afraid," roars Abu Ali. "We are not." A grinning
fighter brags about what would have happened if he
had known President George W. Bush would be in the
Baghdad airport complex on Thanksgiving Day. "We
would have ... whoosh!" he says, motioning as if
firing a shoulder-launched missile.
Outside, under a sliver of moon, the cell's
surveillance teams are hard at work, monitoring
firing positions for their next assault. Spotters
circle the area in taxis; others pose as workmen
walking home and flip hand signals to passing
colleagues. They all report to Abu Ali, a former
officer in the Fedayeen Saddam militia who is well
schooled in guerrilla tactics. A tall, sinewy figure
with a weathered face, Abu Ali makes no secret of his
ambition to attack Americans: "I want to kill all
Bush's soldiers until they leave Iraq or it becomes
their desert graveyard."
Checking his watch, Abu Ali abruptly rises from a
sofa, throws on a woolen overcoat and orders
everyone, including the reporter, to move out. The
men pile into three cars and tear off in different
directions. For more than an hour, they cruise near
the launch site until all looks clear. Then a small
team walks into a flat field to aim a rack of
homemade launching tubes toward the lights of the
Baghdad airport, home to U.S. chopper squadrons,
supply units and the CIA-led Iraq Survey Group, less
than two miles away. The insurgents load three
air-to-air rockets they have modified to launch from
the ground, flash a signal with car headlights and
disappear. A second team creeps in to fire the
volley, while a security detail armed with assault
rifles and machine guns forms a perimeter. Beyond
these fighters, according to the cell's security
chief, a ring of men with shoulder-fired
surface-to-air missiles and rocket-propelled grenades
is watching for U.S. helicopters that might try to
stop the assault.
A blacked-out attack chopper buzzes in the distance,
and the low, heavy drone from what might be an AC-130
gunship rumbles terrifyingly near. Some of the
insurgents scramble into a ditch. But Abu Ali calls
them back. His plan is set. "God is great," he
intones. The three rockets ignite at 2sec. intervals
and screech away into the dark. In a matter of
minutes, the raid is over. The firing team picks up
the launch frame and loads it into the waiting cars.
The perimeter detail melts into surrounding fields.
The vehicles fan out to take team members--and the
reporter--away. According to the insurgents, U.S.
helicopters cased the field in vain after the cell
left. "We move here with no problem," says Abu Ali.
"This is the lie of American power." (A U.S. military
spokesman later refused to confirm or deny whether
any of the rockets hit the complex.)
This is one face of the insurgency challenging the
American occupation of Iraq, an insurgency that so
far has claimed the lives of 191 soldiers since
President George W. Bush declared the end of "major
combat operations" last May. And there are many more
faces. U.S. authorities are struggling to illuminate
who exactly is out there creeping around in the dark.
"It's hard to get your hands around what the enemy
looks like," says a U.S. official close to the
occupation. In briefings, U.S. officials often claim
to know the enemy's size, origins, motivations and
chances of success. In private, however, they concede
that they know a lot less than they would like about
what they are up against. Pentagon optimists remain
convinced that the insurgency is small and slowly
choking to death. "Real insurgents need the support
of the local population, and they don't have that,"
says a senior civilian aide who traveled in Iraq last
weekend with Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld. "They
are going to wither and die. The question is how long
it will take."
But it seems clear to others, including many American
officers on the ground, that if the gangs of
anti-U.S. fighters have not yet coalesced into a true
insurgency, they are trying hard to become one.
Attacks against coalition forces have grown bolder,
better organized and broader based. A double ambush
last week in Samarra "was the biggest, most
sophisticated so far," says a senior intelligence
official in Washington. As a Pentagon official sees
it: "They know they can't beat us militarily, but
they think they might be able to defeat us
politically." The guerrillas are trying to drive U.S.
casualties so high that the American public turns
against the war, he says, adding, "They could
succeed."
To prevent that, the U.S. needs to defeat the
insurgents, a job that first requires figuring out
who they are. U.S. intelligence experts are
struggling to patch together a working profile from
tidbits gleaned from captives, scraps of information
of varying reliability and facts collected after
attacks. They now believe the insurgents are a
volatile mix of groups and free-lancers who include
loyalists of the former ruling Baath Party, Fedayeen
militiamen, former Republican Guard and intelligence
agents, foreign jihadis, professional terrorists,
paid common criminals and disaffected Iraqis. Men, in
fact, like the well-educated, English-speaking fellow
who appears on TIME's cover displaying a cherished
weapon he is learning to use. American analysts
generally believe that former regime loyalists, who
stand to lose the most in a new Iraq, are calling the
shots, while a diverse group of fighters are heeding
the call. It has taken months for lines of
communication to open among them. Now, say U.S.
officials, these disparate elements seem to be
learning how to work together toward a common goal:
driving the U.S. out of Iraq.
Over the past three months, TIME has interviewed
dozens of insurgents and disgruntled Iraqis, attended
resistance meetings and viewed videotape of attacks
against coalition forces. Often reporters have been
required to submit to blindfolds, circuitous drives
at night, vehicle switching, meetings that rarely
occur in the same place and, of course, frequent
personal searches for phones and tracking devices.
(At no time did TIME reporters have prior information
about attacks.) As seen from the inside, the
insurgency looks as complex and diverse an enemy as
the U.S. could possibly face. Here is what TIME
found:
"BRING BACK SADDAM"
Under the apparent leadership of experienced former
Saddam loyalists, the resistance network is growing
more organized. Leaders of small cells that once
acted independently now share intelligence and
tactics and divide up targets. On another night in
November, Abu Ali held a meeting of eight cell
commanders and 17 lieutenants in a kerosene-lit house
a good distance from Baghdad. The younger men cradled
AK-47s; the senior men, each representing a different
resistance cell with at least two dozen foot soldiers
apiece, carried sidearms. Abu Ali gestured toward
each man, who in turn rattled off his area of
operation. The place names sketched a map of trouble
spots for the U.S.: Baghdad, Dora, Hilla, Abu Ghraib,
Fallujah, Ramadi.
Abu Ali is the network's technical expert and de
facto chief. Trained in Europe for Saddam's weapons
program, he specialized in missile warheads and
electronics as an Iraqi official. Recently, he says,
he has developed methods to launch helicopter
missiles from the ground. Following a strict chain of
command, cell leaders report to Abu Ali, passing
intelligence up the chain and carrying instructions
back down. Under his guidance the insurgents weigh
information on U.S. troop movements and select
targets. When they are ready to strike, they quickly
activate men and weaponry. The cells work in their
own regions, but from time to time, squads are
dispatched to other jurisdictions to blur U.S.
attempts to identify them. On occasion, Abu Ali says,
they also conduct larger, coordinated raids.
Former officials of Saddam's regime tend to have the
technical know-how and the cash to mount operations.
The organizers are generally midlevel officials from
Saddam's extensive security apparatus. "They're
colonels, lieutenant colonels and majors who are
really the hard-core loyalists," U.S. Major General
Raymond Ordierno, commander of the 4th Infantry
Division, tells TIME. While the deposed dictator is
the ideological inspiration for these loyalists,
chances seem slim that he is directing attacks
himself. "The communication involved," says a
Pentagon official in Iraq, "would expose him too much
to capture." Instead, U.S. officials believe,
strategic direction for the resistance is left to
Saddam's longtime second-in-command Izzat Ibrahim
al-Duri, the highest-ranking regime official still at
large. He was the target of a 1,000-soldier raid in
Kirkuk last week. Al-Duri escaped, but the operation
nabbed his deputy, who could potentially deliver a
phone book of resistance commanders receiving money
and orders from al-Duri. The wanted man's wife and
daughter turned themselves in to the Americans two
weeks ago. "She was tired of living out of a
suitcase," says a U.S. intelligence operative in
Iraq. "She wants the $10 million," the reward being
offered for helping capture al-Duri.
Financing and armaments appear to be in plentiful
supply. When Abu Ali's network runs low on resources,
it turns to a man identified only as "the Emir," a
shadowy loyalist leader who summons Abu Ali to
meetings at irregular intervals. "We are not rich
men," Abu Ali says, "but we have everything." Old
Soviet surface-to-air missiles that had been
stockpiled by Saddam's regime go for upwards of
$1,000 apiece on the black market, yet Abu Ali's
organization has them in abundance. It also has
access to a pipeline of weapons flowing across Iraq's
borders. Another major Baghdad cell leader, Mohammed,
happily displays the latest acquisition, a batch of
60mm mortars with markings in English that were
hidden in a boggy field and retrieved by a farmer's
wife. When asked how the group obtained them,
Mohammed responds in a word: "Syria."
Abu Ali's most frightening plans involve his desire
to employ unconventional weapons. His most prized
possession, he says, is a cache of 82mm mortar
rounds. Mohammed displays one of the rounds and
proclaims, "This is a chemical mortar." Encased in a
green storage tube with a flip-lock lid, the weapon
has liquid sloshing inside a bulbous head reeking
with a putrid odor that burns the nostrils. The
Russian markings on the weapon identify it as a TD-42
liquid, high-explosive mortar. It's impossible to
know what is really in the device or if the boasts of
Abu Ali and Mohammed are true. Iraqi scientists in
the Military Industrialization Commission in the
1980s and early 1990s imported Soviet munitions to
refill with unknown substances. Abu Ali claims that
his cache came from that commission, and he is
convinced the mortar contains a highly lethal gas.
His group, he says, is just waiting for the right
U.S. target and the right meteorological conditions
to use it. When a reporter expresses skepticism, Abu
Ali smiles and says, "Wait and see."
"ALLAH IS GREAT"
Not all the rank-and-file fighters are die-hard
Saddam supporters. Many are thought to be devout
Iraqi Muslims who believe that fighting "infidel"
occupiers is a Koranic imperative. Tensions exist
between former military officers and paid militia,
called fedayeen in insurgent circles, and the Muslim
fighters who label themselves mujahedin, or holy
warriors. The very name indicates that they would
like the insurgency to become a sanctioned religious
jihad against the U.S. So far, though, the groups
have largely set aside their differences to focus on
a common goal.
Some of these mujahedin are foreign. An unknown
number of passionate but untrained young Muslims from
all over the Middle East have been slipping into
Iraq, eager for a chance to fight Americans in an
Islamic country. According to U.S. intelligence
officials, the men tend to come from places like
Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Yemen and Syria, whipped up by
enthusiastic imams back home. Once across the border,
they head to mosques to link up with local resistance
cells. U.S. officials believe that most of them then
carry out missions under the orders of Saddam
loyalists. "They use the fundamentalists as cannon
fodder," especially for lethal attacks on soft
targets involving car bombs, say the officials.
"Suicide bombers are generally not Iraqis or former
regime types."
Still, some analysts may be overstating the foreign
presence. North and west of Baghdad, in the
rebellious Sunni triangle, which the 4th Infantry
patrols, Odierno says no more than 30 or 40
foreigners have been picked up. Many dedicated
Islamists in other countries have no affection for
Saddam loyalists, whom they regard as having little
religious faith. Nor do they agree with tactics that
target innocent civilians, which pious Muslims abhor.
The resistance groups of former regime members TIME
talked to said they have had no contact with
non-Iraqi fighters.
But the mujahedin's ranks are easily filled by
Iraqis. A 29-year-old fighter who gives his name as
Abu Abdullah agreed to meet in a small village
outside Ramadi, home to many regime loyalists. He
says he rejoiced at Saddam's downfall, believing it
would bring an Islamic government to power. But
religion now motivates him to oppose the U.S. "Islam
tells us that no one should occupy our land," says
Abu Abdullah, who earns his living by building houses
along the Euphrates River. "The Koran allows us to
kill anyone to defend our country." He contends that
some sheiks and mosques in the area support his group
of about 15 fighters. But he won't allow his cell to
target civilians. "We believe we have only the right
to kill soldiers," he says.
Abu Abdullah started planning for a guerrilla war
when Baghdad fell, back in April. In the ensuing
chaos, he and a few colleagues looted several
ammunition stores. "For days we carried weapons and
ammunition away and put them in hiding places," says
Abu Abdullah, a chubby man in a gray robe. "We knew
we would continue fighting the Americans." Abu
Abdullah's wife encouraged him to fight the
"infidels," he says. "If I am killed, she will be
proud of me. We will meet in paradise." Abu Abdullah
says he fights only for his convictions. "Nobody pays
us to fight," he says. "We fight because America has
come to kill our people." He's grateful U.S. soldiers
came to Iraq to topple Saddam, but he thinks they
should leave. "The Americans got rid of him," he
says. "Now we have to get rid of the Americans."
"DOWN WITH THE U.S."
An unanswered question is whether professional
terrorists, particularly those linked to al-Qaeda,
have infiltrated the insurgency. Senior U.S.
intelligence officials say a small number of
dedicated terrorists slipped into the country just
after the U.S. invasion. "They are burrowing way
down, looking for opportunities to strike for maximum
political impact," contends Senator Jack Reed of
Rhode Island, a Democrat who toured Iraq with
colleague Hillary Clinton.
But it's unclear whom these terrorists are affiliated
with or how important they are to the overall scope
of the insurgency. Some intelligence officials point
a finger at Ansar al-Islam, a small Kurdish terrorist
group that operated out of the northern mountains of
Iraq against local Kurd rulers before the U.S.
invasion. In March, during the war, Ansar's mountain
headquarters was bombed by U.S. air strikes that
scattered its leaders and killed a few hundred
fighters. Intelligence officials say some of the
highly trained men slipped away to regroup in Iran.
Those who took refuge in Iranian Kurdish cities have
been crisscrossing the border in teams of two or
three to launch attacks. Analysts in Washington say
Ansar operatives appear to be roaming the country,
looking for targets on their own or occasionally
hooking up with regime loyalists. "They're still
alive. They're still a factor. They're a danger,"
says a senior U.S. intelligence official.
According to a U.S. official in Iraq, Ansar is
transforming itself from a dispersed remnant into
reconstituted cells operating locally under the
guidance of leaders who escaped to Europe. Few
fighters are as qualified to carry out the recent
spate of suicide-bomb attacks in Iraq as the men
trained in Ansar's camps. Before the war, according
to a Kurdish intelligence operative who recently
briefed a team of Pentagon officials, Ansar soldiers
training to be suicide bombers were given elaborate
mock funerals to prepare them mentally for their
martyrdom. After recently interrogating two captured
fighters, the Kurd believes there are Ansar cells
operating in Kirkuk, Mosul, Samarra and Haweja. "They
have sophisticated communications methods," he says,
and they keep in touch with former intelligence
contacts in the Saddam regime.
An Ansar lieutenant, a 55-year-old lawyer who uses
the name Abu Wael, was the Iraqi intelligence
service's main contact within the organization, and
he is thought to be in Baghdad acting as the group's
cell leader. The U.S. suspects that Ansar maintains
close ties with al-Qaeda. A number of Ansar fighters
trained in Osama bin Laden's Afghan camps, and U.S.
officials say Ansar takes its cues from Abu Mousab
al-Zarqawi, viewed by Washington as a top-level
al-Qaeda affiliate. An Arab intelligence official
believes al-Zarqawi is playing a major role in lethal
attacks in Iraq that bear the hallmarks of al-Qaeda
sophistication in terms of planning, timing and
technical ability. Based on information from arrested
operatives, the Arab official says there are
indications that al-Zarqawi has become al-Qaeda's No.
1 leader in the Middle East.
The Bush Administration, for its part, wants to
portray the insurgency as mainly homegrown. That
allows Washington to claim, as it repeatedly does,
that when the die-hards run out of men and munitions,
the insurgency will dissipate. It also allows Bush to
avoid the charge that the war actually increased
danger to the U.S. by stirring up a hornet's nest of
terrorism. Yet the Administration's greatest fear is
that the rebellion will get too local if the general
population turns on the occupiers. "We minimize their
impact at our peril," says a Pentagon official.
In a new effort to blunt the insurgency, the U.S.
Central Command plans to form an Iraqi quick-reaction
force that can identify and counter the guerrillas
better than the U.S. can. Commanders want the five
main political parties in the temporary governing
council to pool their militias in a single unit by
Dec. 26. But experts like Mustafa Alani, an Iraqi
security specialist at London's Royal United Services
Institute for Defense and Security Studies, warn that
politically aligned militias are a prescription for
civil war once the insurgents have been vanquished.
And the disparate elements that make up the rebellion
may also find it hard to hang together. Breaking the
Ramadan fast last month, Abu Ali talked to his
fighters about civilian casualties. "I will kill 10
Iraqis to slaughter one American," he said. Abu
Raheman, a former military officer who was playing
with his 10-month-old son, retorted that a dead G.I.
was not worth a single Iraqi. Mohammed, another
ex-army man, said he couldn't abide harming the very
people they were fighting for. Abu Ali grunted and
waved a dismissive hand. "They are not like me," he
said. "I drink blood." The others sat eyeing him
impassively. "One day when there are no more
Americans, I will kill the mujahedin," he joked,
running his finger over his throat. Not, perhaps, if
someone gets him first.
--With
reporting by Massimo Calabresi and Douglas
Waller/Washington, Bruce Crumley/Paris, Mark
Thompson/Baghdad and Vivienne Walt/Ramadi