Bad Drivers

I’ve spent the last week in Bayji, Iraq with the 1-187 Infantry known as the “Rakkasans.” When we arrived last week, not only were we greeted with our own “Chu,” a one room aluminum apartment, but we were also given an old beater humvee to make our way around camp. I was just learning the intricacies of turning on the headlights and parking brake and Gina and I had plans to decorate it with an Army Times logo but before we could do so, the vehicle was “appropriated” in the middle of the night and we haven’t seen it sense. Oh well, easy come, easy go.
Bayji is a Sunni town with an oil refinery near the northern tip of the infamous, “Sunni Triangle.” I’ve been going on daily missions here which largely amounts to overseeing the Iraqi Army and Security Forces. It appears that, at least in this area, the U.S. is stepping back and letting the Iraqi’s deal with their own problems and I am told that most of those problems are a result of the corruption and organized crime in the form of extortion.
The greatest threat to our troops here, as in so many areas of Iraq, are the roads. Those nasty little Improvised Explosives Devices (IED’s) are prevailant here, as are mines and the occasional suicide bomber. Soldiers wear full protective gear which not only includes their helmets and body armor, but ballistic eyewear, fire retardent gloves, and even earplugs to preserve hearing in case of a loud boom. Things have been so bad here that the gunner that usually stands up with his head out of the hatch, stays crouched down until he needs to man the gun. As they drive, everyone in each vehicle constantly scans the road for any trash or pothole, or greesespot or anything outside of the norm that might be an IED. The problem is, trash, and potholes, and greesespots are EVERYWHERE and the soldiers try to remember whether that particular piece of trash was there yesterday. This makes any drive off the base a nerveracking endeavor.
Here in Iraqi, when coalition forces travel the roads, the locals know to stop and pull over to show they are not a threat. So, as you advance through a town it appears you are riding in a funeral procession or an ambulance as all approaching vehicles pull over to the shoulder while you pass.
At sunset yesterday, I was with A Company, in the lead vehicle on our way to visit an Iraqi Army checkpoint. We were cruising along with lights flashing and sireen wailing. Cars were pulling off the road in front of us until we hit a long straight stretch and I watched the small white dot of a sedan grow larger and larger in the wind shield. As the car got closer I noticed that I could only see one head in the car. A vehicle that fails to stop and only has one person inside is the common profile for suicide bomber. On my last trip here I got a chance to see them and their results numerous times but back then, I was riding in a large, heavily armored vehicle. This time, I was sitting on top of the fuel tank in a Humvee and time seemed to slow. I felt the gunner tense and then straighten in the hatch. I gripped a camera in one hand and the complicated door release in the other, my knuckles white. I think I stopped breathing as I watched the car get closer and closer without slowing. I voice in my head was commanding, HE’S TOO CLOSE, SHOOT! but it seemed like an enternity before our vehicle commander finally shouted the same order, “SHOOT, SHOOT, SHOOT” and the gunner up top began firing his M-4 on the approaching car. It always amazes me how much can go through your mind in those seconds. I saw the sparks of bullets richocheting off the ground in front of the looming vehicle. As it reached us I thought, TOO LATE! THIS IS IT, WE’RE DONE. The gunner continued shooting. Seven shots in all as it passed us and there was no explosion. We got out of the humvee and the soldiers cautiously approached the car now sitting beyond us with four flat tires. As I crouched near the back of our vehicle shooting pictures, I was alternately still expecting an explosion and dreading seeing the bloody remains of the driver when he emerged from his car with his hands up. He was untouched by the bullets which had cut a neat hole in his front bumper and pierced his tires. He explained through the interpreter that he was driving into the sun and therefore didn’t see our Humvees and that his music, still blaring an Arabic ballad, prevented him from hearing any sireen. Our platoon leader called for help to repair the vehicle and we waited for it to arrive in the form of Iraqi Police. Then we loaded back up and continued on the mission, Alpha Company’s evening just getting started on the roads of Bayji.

Note: I’ve finally updated my web page with pictures from the first half of my trip. More to follow.