This little community in the U.S. heartland is welcoming back their farm boys, their grocery clerks, the pizza delivery boy, the girl from the Tastee-Freez, the local troublemaker, and the popular cheerleader. But they are no longer kids. They are not youngsters parading in uniform. They are young men and women who have watched their best friends die, seen their fellow soldiers scream in agonizing pain from burning shrapnel, picked themselves back up, and did what they had to do—over and over again, popular or not.
About a hundred soldiers in desert camouflage uniforms march into the gymnasium, line up in neat rows, and stand at attention. Many of the Iron Pony drivers are here too; they are mingled among the bystanders in the bleachers and watching their old friends from Iraq. The townspeople clearly all know one another and are chatting, shooting pictures, and hugging each other. The KBR drivers are an oddity in that no one recognizes them. No one pays them any attention. They just seem to be a bunch of middle-aged men who must have stumbled into town. The drivers are quiet, but proud, and keep to themselves. Everyone rises for the national anthem. There is hardly a dry eye in the place.
An Illinois Army National Guard officer, a major, begins the ceremony. Paraphrased: We are here today to honor the men and women from the 1544th Transportation Unit. They joined the National Guard for many different reasons. They did not choose this war. They did not ask to go to Iraq. They did not relish the thought of killing or dying. Yet, when they were ordered to go, they went. They performed their mission, and they come home now with honor and dignity. They have earned and deserve our respect. We hope that in some small way today’s ceremony will demonstrate our admiration, respect, and lasting recognition of their accomplishments.
The major has said it all. Several other speeches from local politicians follow. The state deputy adjutant general is the presiding officer. He renders apologies for the fact that the Illinois adjutant general could not make the event. Short of a nuclear holocaust, his absence is hard to excuse to those in attendance. The deputy does his best to honor the 1544th. Dozens of medals, Purple Hearts, and symbolic tokens of appreciation are presented to the soldiers. Throughout it all, the KBR drivers grin from ear to ear. They whisper shared pieces of humor and recollections about this, that, him, or her. None of them shows the slightest evidence of jealousy. They are beyond such pettiness. Their satisfaction comes from simply knowing that they have been there, and done that. That’s good enough for the truck drivers of the Iron Pony Express.
After the ceremony, dozens of soldiers head up into the surrounding stands. At times, a soldier and a KBR driver eye one another from across the gymnasium. They just point at each other and grin. The soldiers and KBR drivers exchange hugs. The soldiers introduce them to their moms and dads. A lot of comments abound like, “Remember when I told you about Ugly Puppy, well, this is him.” Words can’t describe the emotions. Parents don’t know quite what to say. All they know is that this middle-aged man, a civilian and a stranger, was there with their son or daughter. And that makes this trucker important to them. It’s that simple.
That evening, the town of Paris hosts a party for the soldiers of the 1544th. The location for the event is about three miles from the center of Paris, in a farm field with a couple of barns. The townspeople have erected a huge tent and a small stage for the evening’s festivities. The soldiers have nicknamed this place “Malfunction Junction.” Parents, township officials, soldiers, and KBR drivers all show up. The soldiers have changed into civilian clothing; the girls are dressed in jeans and halter tops. The guys are wearing their slogan T-shirts. Beer is pouring from several kegs. Mark and Renee Taylor are there. So, too, are Ken McDonald and Glenn Collins. The soldiers and drivers poke fun at each other and recollect the days and nights they ran the roads of Iraq together. Each one of them creates his or her own twist to the same story as to “how it really happened.” Each finds an excuse to laugh at the other’s antics during some operation in Iraq. Race, age, geographic, and occupational differences have long since disappeared.
During the evening, one soldier boasts, “We had the best looking girls in Iraq. We had to fend off other army units to keep them away from ‘our women.’ “ The gathered soldiers nod and mumble in agreement. When he refers to ‘our women,’ he doesn’t mean it in a sexual way. Rather, his exclamation is much more like a brother protecting his sister. Erin Hutchinson, a soldier from the 1544th, steps up on the small stage and picks up a microphone. She asks to sing a song she wrote while in Iraq. The crowd quiets down. The eclectic collection of moms and dads, sons and daughters, soldiers and war zone contractors stand side by side proudly watching one of their own. Erin sings a heartfelt and emotional rendition of a song she wrote herself, “Hero.”
In this war, combat experience is neither gender nor job specific. On a summer night, in a farm field in the Midwest, the men and women of the Iron Pony Express have come together, as a group, perhaps for the last time: soldiers and truckers, bonded by their shared experience. They have witnessed the best and worst of humanity. For those who lived through it, they will always be proud of what they had the courage to do. Their sense of self is forever changed. Those who died would not have wanted it any other way.
Roadside sign, Baghdad, Iraq (Camp Victory)
Abu Hyder’s guard is taken prisoner and interrogated by the team during their raid to uncover where hijacked trucks and drivers are being held.
Some people in the Middle East haven’t forgotten. This sign is along a major highway in Kuwait just south of the Iraqi border.
Mark Taylor (Ugly Puppy) at the JMMT, Baghdad International Airport. In the background are new up-armored Mercedes trucks that have just arrived for the Iron Pony.
Iraqi machine gunners who vie for the rear gunner position mount and load their Russian PKM machine guns onto the back of Chevy Avalanches.
Ken McDonald and Jodi Rund hug each other during the party at Malfunction Junction. Jodi, a U.S. Army soldier, manned a .50-caliber machine gun on one of the 1544th’s gun trucks.
Ben Strickland takes a moment out from driving his KBR big-rig to try his skill at camel driving.
Greg Garsjo (Montana), a twenty-six-year retired army vet, now delivers mail to soldiers in Iraq.
The Iron Pony Express. Left to right: Greg Garsjo, Ben Strickland, Kendall Hardwick, Abraham Lee, Charles Wilcox, Jeff Dye, Herbert Walton, Phil McCall, Mark Taylor, Mike Humphrey. (Photo by Arthur “Gunny” Alessandro)
Kevin and Randy (driving) at NAVISTAR, along the Kuwait-Iraq border, just finishing up a three-day mission in Iraq.
Left to right: Ben Strickland, Jeff Dye, Greg Garsjo.
Major Thomas Palermo, known as the “Mayor of NAVISTAR,” commands this sprawling convoy staging area along the Kuwaiti-Iraqi border.
In front of one of Saddam’s blown-up palaces in Baghdad: Mark Taylor, Sergeant Joshua Cox, and Specialist Michael Jordan on the top rail.
Soldiers from the 1544th stand in formation at a welcome home awards ceremony in Paris, Illinois.
Mark Taylor hugs a soldier who ran the roads with him in Iraq.
In front of the National Guard Armory building in Paris, Illinois. Throughout Paris are memorials to the local young men and women who didn’t come home.
Jeff Dye stands next to the cab of his truck after one of the many IED attacks on the road to Balad (Camp Anaconda).
MPRI’s training is serious business. Here soldiers react to a simulated firefight and casualty care.
A young soldier takes cover behind the wheel of a giant heavy-equipment transport during MPRI’s training at Camp Yankee just a few klicks south of the Iraqi border.
Paul Collins, MPRI, conducts a training review with soldiers from the Wisconsin National Guard.
Curtis Acton and Larry Word meet with army training coordinators to discuss the rotation of coalition force units through Camp Yankee.
Bill Bratten, an MPRI trainer, monitors the radios at Team Viper’s operations center.
Tariq, a Pakistani
gate guard and translator, with the author at the entrance to MPRI’s Camp Yankee about ten miles south of the Iraqi-Kuwaiti border.
Larry Word, MPRI’s program director at Camp Yankee, reviews the projected training plans for coalition force units deploying through Kuwait to Iraq.
Soldiers scramble to the helicopter landing zone during a mock medevac training exercise at MPRI’s Camp Yankee.
Soldiers killed in action from the 1544th Army Transportation Unit—Specialist Jeremy Ridlen, Sergeant Jessica Cawvey, Sergeant Ivory Phillips, Sergeant Shawna Morrison, and Specialist Charles Lamb—are memorialized in the high school gymnasium in Paris, Illinois.
Chapter 6
Training Contractors
I. An Overview
Dozens of PMCs offer training programs in military tactics and techniques. For most of these firms, training is one component of a multitude of tactical services they offer. Their training programs frequently include executive protection, marksmanship, close-quarters combat, and physical security. However, one company, MPRI, formerly known as Military Professional Resources Incorporated, differentiates itself from the myriad other PMCs that come and go. MPRI consciously avoids the “security service” business and all the associated negativity. When it comes to military tactics and training, few companies can come close to the expertise that MPRI brings to the table.
MPRI’s different philosophy can be traced back to its origins. Unlike the many PMCs formed by a group of low- or mid-level ex-military officers and focused exclusively on tactical solutions, MPRI’s focus is far more strategic. Begun by a handful of very senior officers drawn from the highest levels of the Pentagon, their vision imbued offering training and consulting at every level and every aspect of defense and law enforcement operations. With the exception of not offering security services, MPRI has become a total provider of defense-related requirements. MPRI’s business plan and capabilities developed accordingly.
MPRI offers organization and force development planners; recruiting assistance; leader development; doctrine development; logistics planning; maritime, vehicle, and weapons marksmanship training; systems integration; democracy transition; and international security sector reform. With rare exception, MPRI contractors are unarmed, and that’s the way MPRI prefers it. Any hint of mercenary-like appearance or conduct is shunned. The organization is run like military clockwork and with military discipline. There is no discerning MPRI employees from active-duty military personnel. MPRI’s contact with every level of DoD keeps them in touch with the best military minds in the U.S. armed forces. Consequently, they attract the best former and retired military personnel available.
Most salaries are just slightly above what these men and women made while on active duty. The hourly wage breaks out to less than $20. Here again, the hours are long and hard, and the accumulation of wages when simply reflected as an annualized salary can be misleading. Also bear in mind that MPRI contractors were themselves senior officers and noncommissioned officers so their compensation was already in the upper echelons of military pay. Money is clearly not a primary incentive for joining their organization; professionalism is. MPRI’s vetting process in hiring their contract employees is on a par with those found in the best U.S. corporations. In general, only the best applicants are hired as MPRI contractors. Those who are hired tend to stay with the organization for a long time.
MPRI has more than 1,500 full-time employees and thousands of contract personnel. They are currently conducting operations in Bosnia, Nigeria, Afghanistan, Iraq, Kuwait, and a dozen other countries. Every international operation requires State Department clearance. At their headquarters in Alexandria, Virginia, they have a full-time staff dedicated to complying with State Department guidelines and approval processes.
In both Jordan and Iraq, civilian contractors operate police-training academies through a contract known as the International Criminal Investigation Police Training Program (ICIPTP). More than 380 current and former U.S. law enforcement officers are employed by MPRI in Jordan and Iraq. They conduct several different training programs ranging from four to ten weeks in length. The program offers basic police skills, correction-officer training, and senior leadership classes. The Jordanian location graduates about 1,600 students each quarter, and their Baghdad Police Academy is producing nearly four thousand new graduates every quarter. These programs are directed by the U.S. Department of Justice and are funded by the U.S. State Department.
An executive familiar with the program and affiliated with the Department of Justice analyzes the problems of establishing civil authority in Iraq: “When the U.S. invasion of Iraq was essentially over, U.S. forces were challenged to develop a law enforcement and a judicial system that would be capable of maintaining the peace. Military rule needed to give way to civilian authority. The two don’t mix. Lack of understanding and planning for this transition resulted in a period of chaos and provided a window of opportunity for a plethora of criminal activity, including the creation and expansion of criminal organizations and quasi-insurgent groups. Sometimes, they’re one in the same.
“This transition from the military to civil authority was, and still is, mired in complexities. Military police are good at temporary prisoner detention, convoy escorts, and static site security. They do not have the kind of skills or structure to recruit, train, develop, and deploy desperately needed civil law enforcement and judicial agencies. For a collection of reasons, the magnitude of the requirement was overwhelming, and the United States went through a lot of fumbling in an attempt to establish law and order among the Iraqi population. In fact, I personally believe, if trained correction officers had been introduced earlier, the whole Abu Ghraib prison scandal might never have occurred.
“A major faux pas in the process was that it was begun from the bottom up as opposed to from the top down. Naïvely, early efforts were aimed at putting large numbers of poorly trained police on the streets without a leadership structure, a judicial process, or court system in place. One day the police were being fired and the next day they were being rehired. What laws were being enforced, what procedures were in place, which agency had jurisdiction, in what area, and under whose authority were these police officers working? The transition was a ‘Who’s on first?’ fiasco.”
Police officers, on contract with DynCorp, SAIC, MPRI, or U.S. Investigations Services have stepped up to the plate and developed comprehensive law enforcement and criminal investigation training programs. In the end analysis, the only way to truly gauge the effectiveness of MPRI’s police training will be to have personnel on the ground, in the local police stations, and accompanying Iraqi police on operations and patrols. By necessity, the job will clearly fall on the shoulders of civilian contractors. They are our only resource.
On a limited scale, some partnering is already taking place, however the danger for these contractors is enormous. The vetting process for hiring police recruits has been less than perfect. Insurgents have infiltrated their ranks. Iraqi police stations are attacked daily. Police training contractors working at isolated stations and checkpoints are terribly exposed. Many have been killed. By way of example, in June 2005, a retired county sheriff’s deputy from Oregon, Deborah Klecker, in Iraq under a DynCorp contract to train police, was killed by a roadside bomb. She had been in Iraq just two months.
II. God’s Will
“Enshalla, enshalla,” the Iraqi police cadets respond. Translated from Arabic: “God’s will.” This isn’t the response that Donna Kerns had hoped for when she asked her students, “Do you want to come home alive?” But this is the reality of training Muslims to become police officers in a war-torn country.
Kerns, a twenty-six-year veteran of the Memphis Police Department, has to deal with it every day. “Our Iraqi police cadets are fatalistic,” she remarks. “Their religion, their culture, their history, and their life experience have conditioned them to be subservient. For most of them, it is simply, ‘What will happen, will happen.’” She knows she has to ch
ange her students’ mindset. She has to change centuries of ingrained cultural conditioning to deprivation, torture, and religious influence. She has big job, prays to her own God to make it doable. Still, she has moments of doubt.
This is the U.S.-run police academy in Amman, Jordan. It is here that most future Iraqi police officers come to be trained. This is where young and old Iraqi police cadets, 1,500 in each class, come to learn how to be a cop. To say that democratic concepts of law enforcement are foreign to the student body is an understatement. In fact, such concepts are contrary to nearly everything they’ve ever learned. The cadre has just eight weeks to turn out a product that can return to an active war zone and enforce some semblance of civil law, the kind U.S. citizens take for granted. Many of their students will be killed shortly after graduation. Some are notified of the killing of family members who preceded them at the academy while they themselves have yet to finish training. Yet the students somehow persevere, and the recruits keep coming.
A Bloody Business Page 11