TIME: Change in Command --
The Iraqis Learn the Ropes
Monday, April 25, 2005
A new U.S. program for training local officers
may hold the key to getting out of the
country
By
MICHAEL WARE / BAGHDAD
Captain Chris Johnson is ready to roll. He is sitting
in his armored humvee at the gate of a U.S. military
compound in Baghdad, preparing to head out onto Haifa
Street, a haven for insurgents and one of the most
dangerous districts in Baghdad. Johnson isn't fully
certain where he's heading, so he reaches for a
handheld radio slung from his body armor and clicks
the hand mike. "Colonel, is everybody going to Gator
Base?" A voice crackles back: "Yes." It's a routine
exchange, save for one thing: the voice of Johnson's
convoy commander belongs not to an American but to
Colonel Mohammed Faiq Raouf, a former officer in
Saddam Hussein's army who shot down a U.S. jet during
the first Gulf War. Johnson and his small team of
U.S. soldiers are serving under Raouf's command.
Having received his direction, Johnson radios back to
Raouf. "I'm ready, Colonel," he says.
If U.S. war planners have their way, exchanges like
that will soon become commonplace. With a new Iraqi
government settling into office, Washington is in a
rush to train an Iraqi army capable of taking over
the fight against the insurgency. And it's still a
fight. Though senior Pentagon officials are
"cautiously optimistic," as one puts it, that the
insurgency may be starting to subside, few think the
war is close to being won. The Pentagon's measures of
the insurgency's strength--there are more than 50
metrics--show that the battle is basically where it
was a year ago. For every hint of good news in Iraq,
there's still cause for concern. The number of
attacks against U.S. and Iraqi forces is hovering
around 30 to 40 a day, down from a spike of 140 in
the days leading up to the Jan. 30 election. But a
senior Pentagon official doesn't know whether the
lower number amounts to a trend or only a lull. "It
could just as well go up next week," he says. The
ever present dangers for both foreign and Iraqi
civilians were underscored last week by the
kidnapping of a U.S. contractor and a rash of suicide
bombings; 19 Iraqis were killed in a single day.
Given the level of violence, the number of U.S.
troops in Iraq--currently 138,000 in 17 combat
brigades--won't come down in the foreseeable future.
And the Bush Administration insists it's prepared to
keep forces in Iraq until the country is pacified.
"We don't have an exit strategy," Defense Secretary
Donald Rumsfeld said during a surprise visit to
Baghdad last week. "We have a victory strategy." But
behind the scenes, military planners in Iraq are
putting in place a program that provides a glimpse of
the future of the counterinsurgency. As the bulk of
U.S. troops retreats from the front lines, small
groups of military advisers--like Captain Johnson's
12-man team--will form partnerships with Iraqi units
fresh out of boot camp, sharing their barracks and
accompanying them on missions but allowing the Iraqis
to command themselves.
The U.S. plans to increase the number of advisers
working with the Iraqis from 2,000 to 10,000. It's a
potentially harrowing assignment--modeled on the
adviser program in the Vietnam War--since the
advisers operate without the force protection that is
standard in U.S.-run operations. But the approach
could yield big dividends if the Iraqis quickly prove
they can become cohesive fighting blocs. "In the past
it's been more about getting them out there on the
streets," says Lieut. Colonel Mark Kneram of the 10th
Mountain Division. "Now it's a more holistic
approach, training and fighting together. It's going
to be our ticket outta here."
Will it work? To get a sense of both the promise and
the perils of the adviser program, just look at the
base of the new Iraqi army's 303rd Battalion, in
western Baghdad. Outside the gates of the compound is
a repurposed Taco Bell sign that reads THE ALAMO. The
1,100 Iraqi soldiers live in a strip of two-story
concrete barracks. Johnson and his men sleep in a
separate part of the compound where they keep an
independent operations room, but spend the rest of
their time living and working side by side with the
Iraqis, helping Raouf with logistics and
communications and making sure the Iraqis' operations
are coordinated with U.S. forces. All the G.I.s in
Johnson's team of advisers volunteered for the job.
"It's something different," says a U.S. sergeant.
"And unlike the guys back in my unit doing their
thing, I can actually see I'm making a difference."
The lives of the advisers bear similarities to those
of Green Berets. While conventional units cannot
leave U.S. bases with fewer than three armored
humvees, Johnson's team heads out in only two
vehicles for nighttime missions accompanying pickups
filled with Raouf's soldiers. The Americans are
passengers, with the Iraqi officer selecting the
route and determining when it's time to return to
base. Raouf says his U.S. advisers are the "same as
my family. But I'm the father," a description Johnson
doesn't dispute.
The division of labor is evident as the troops head
out on a foot patrol through Haifa Street. Raouf's
men fan out in patrol formation while the colonel and
his bodyguards move through the middle. Raouf, in
dark wraparound sunglasses, a pistol strapped to his
thigh and a snubby machine gun dangling from his
waist, waves at men sipping tea at sidewalk cafes and
barks orders to soldiers as they scan the alleyways
and rooftops for snipers. Johnson hangs back,
surveying the street and occasionally radioing the
humvees behind him. When Raouf stops to talk to a
crying woman whose son has been arrested, Johnson
listens in, cocking his head to the side as a
translator relays the conversation. "I think he is a
bad man," Raouf tells Johnson at the end of the
exchange. Johnson nods wordlessly and follows the
Iraqi up the street.
The U.S. trainers hope that by turning over decision
making to Iraqi officers, they will groom leaders who
can hold units together and prevent desertion, a
chronic malady of the new Iraqi forces. Judging from
the progress made by Raouf's battalion toward
pacifying Haifa Street, the strategy is bearing
fruit. Since Feb. 15, when Iraqi forces took over
responsibility for the area, attacks have dwindled to
nothing. That is partly because of the aggressive
tactics of Raouf's men. But the biggest contributor
to peace in the area appears to be the shrinking
presence of U.S. troops. According to sources in the
insurgency, Shi'ite and Sunni leaders in the area met
earlier this year at a Haifa Street mosque and agreed
to halt sectarian attacks and allow the new Iraqi
forces to operate. The imam at a local mosque says
the arrangement has succeeded for a simple reason:
"Now there are no more Americans here."
It will take months, perhaps years, before the same
can be said for the rest of Iraq. Though the adviser
program has contributed to a rare success on Haifa
Street, getting the rest of the Iraqi army up to
speed will take some doing. A Pentagon official says
most of the 62,000 Iraqi army soldiers the U.S. has
trained are still kids who "just know the basic
soldiering skills--they've learned to march and shoot
their rifles." If the U.S. hopes to get its troops
out anytime soon, those Iraqis are going to have to
grow up fast.
--With
reporting by Douglas Waller/Washington