Fear is more than a four-letter concept in Iraq’s Diyala province. It’s real. It’s constant. It’s all-pervasive, and for years while the area was under the thumb of al-Qaida it was a matter of life and death.
It still is all the above. The number of active al-Qaida-Iraq terrorists in the province north of Baghdad is thought to be less than a hundred following Operation Raider Harvest in early January. Yet terror of those remaining — hiding in plain sight in their home areas or in the palm groves of the agriculturally rich province – is palpable.
“Al-Qaida made us like chickens, afraid of everything,” the mukhtar (headman) of al-Hib village told a U.S. soldier.
“They would kill anyone, even a sheikh, and no one could ask why,” a man who identified himself as Raad said in the town of Hisbum. “Everyone was afraid. People stayed at home because they could just stop you on the street and make you do things, take your money, beat you or kidnap you.
“Four men were kidnapped a week before you (U.S. and Iraqi forces) came. No one has seen them again.”
The mukhtar made the unusually frank admission in his home, away from prying eyes and eavesdropping, when a patrol from Iron Company. 3rd Squadron, 2nd Stryker Cavalry Regiment paid a courtesy call. Raad’s was made on a public street, but two of his friends kept passers-by from crowding around within hearing distance. It was not misplaced caution. Hisbum and al-Hib are located in what’s called Diyala’s bread basket, a region rich in dates, pomegranate and oranges. Until Jan. 8, the kickoff of the U.S.-Iraqi operation, no central government official had visited the area of some 10,000 residents for two years. Hisbum was an AQI sanctuary along a main infiltration route between Baghdad and the northern provinces. There were safe-houses and headquarters buildings – basically homes confiscated from their owners at gunpoint — training camps, arms and munitions caches.
Smoking was forbidden; women were required to wear full hijab and music of any kind was banned. Beards could no longer be kept short and trimmed neatly as Iraqi men favor. No one was allowed out of doors between 5 p.m. and dawn. Those restrictions are gone, but fear of those who enforced it remains and is affecting U.S. and Iraqi security efforts.
“People tell me they are still afraid of the terrorists and also afraid of us,” said Sgt. Rudy Perreno of Iron company. “I ask them why us? When was the last time they heard of us cutting off heads?
“It’s damn frustrating. No one will point out the ones still here.”
An estimated 10-20 terrorists are believed in the Hisbum area, as well as those who do their bidding, either for ideology, for cash or under duress. They continue to plant IEDs (improvised explosive devices) and threaten, through their very presence, retribution on those who cooperate with coalition forces. U.S. soldiers recently found a house booby-trapped with explosives. The house had been searched and cleared just days before. Soldiers also found and destroyed four IED devices planted at spots in the road cleared earlier in the week.
Every day platoons from Iron Company leave a small house they’ve established as a base and check and recheck abandoned houses, roads and building for new bombs. Every day they visit neighborhoods, stop in homes to take information and attempt to get intelligence on terrorists. Most days they come back with little information, but hope people becoming familiar with them will eventually pay dividends. Out of public sight the Iraqis courteous, hospitable, friendly. On the street those same hospitable Iraqis look straight ahead, eyes down, past the U.S. patrols and only smile or utter “Salaam” (peace) when soldiers say it to them first.
Fear of retribution even trumps gratitude. An Iraqi woman’s response to a sign-languaged question as to the health of the young child she was carrying was an almost imperceptible nod and a smile faster than a blink before she returned to her eyes-down march past a column of Stryker armored vehicles. Hours before, a medic in the convoy had helped treat the child who was thought near death because of dehydration and arranged further treatment at a hospital.
“I know you’re afraid, that there are still bad guys here,” Lt. Col. Rod Coffey told a group of men standing near a canal in Hisbum recently. “We understand, but you’ll never be safe as long as there are killers on the street. Tells us who they are and we’ll get them. Tell us in private; no one will know who said anything.”
Whether the colonel’s remarks made an impression is a matter of speculation. But it did help in the gathering of intelligence. When a U.S. soldier went to take a photograph of the group for identity checking, three men in it were seen to shrink back and stand behind those much taller. The second photo taken had the men up front, in clear, unobstructed view.
They weren’t that clever,” a soldier said. “We’ll find out exactly who they are and where they live.”
U.S. forces are also trying to get those who have worked for AQI to turn themselves in. “If they come to me shall I tell them to surrender to you?” the mukhtar of Hisbum asked Capt. David Beaudoin, the executive officer of Iron Company. “Yes, get the word out on the street. Tell them we understand good people were made to do things to protect their families. We’ll be fair and if they surrender it will go better for them. But if they don’t and we hear about them from others and arrest them they stand a good chance of going to jail..”
Beaudoin said two men who had performed tasks for AQI had already surrendered.
“I talked to one of them,” said Sgt. Perreno. “He said he was stopped one day on a street by AQI gunmen who told him they needed a cook and he’d be it. He said he told them he didn’t know how to cook. They said you cook or you die. He became their cook.”
The two were questioned extensively for a day and then provisionally released.
