“The Jordanian police officers who work at the camp see it as their personal mission to punish violators. They have threatened language assistants who have not been fasting. They intimidate them with ruses of how they will be reported as ‘security risks’ and not permitted to enter the camp or return to their jobs. The language assistants are not flaunting their eating or smoking and really try to be private about it, but the Jordanian police tenaciously go after them. . . . Supposedly, Jordan advocates freedom of religion, but the reality is that this freedom seems to be meant for Westerners [who] happen to work in Jordan. They want to make sure that no Muslim drifts too far away from Islam.
“All of this is really troubling because we are trying to instill religious freedom in Iraq. We are teaching our students to be tolerant of other religions, but right here at our camp, the cadets can see that it is not practiced. Even within the various sects of the Muslim religion, the sect that is in power enforces its beliefs and traditions on the rest of the population. So much of the violence and subjugation that we see in here is Muslim against Muslim.” Kerns sums up her feelings: “I will not stand by and allow people in power, who are supposed to have the best interest of their citizens, victimize the powerless. As far as I am concerned, this is why I am here.
“The cadets were allowed to vote here at the camp and they were so proud of their right index fingers, which were all stained with red ink proving that they had voted. Every one of them that I saw had that mark of their future. One of my students told me that he would never wash his finger, because it meant he was a free man at last. Things like this are encouraging but they must be really strong and make it come together when they get home. I want so badly for the U.S. to be able to leave Iraq. I don’t see it happening anytime soon, but at least there seems to be some progress. . . . I can see a difference in their attitudes and the way they have started to carry themselves. Maybe it’s starting to sink in.
“When our students get on the job back in Iraq, many of them will have commanding officers who are from the ‘old school’ of the Iraqi police force. Effectively, they will be told to sit down and shut up. They will face insurgents and criminals every day. They will face an Iraqi military that opposes their authority. Our cadets will have to deal with cultural and religious beliefs that fly in the face of democratic processes.
“They will have to overcome the long-held belief that if they try too hard to stay alive or they mourn too much over someone’s death, they are questioning the will of Allah. In fact, it is this reason that Muslim men often deter women from coming to the grave site of a deceased relative. They say that women are too emotional and it could appear that they are questioning the will of God. I hope we have taught them a sense of self-preservation. I hope that they will want to live and become the hunters and not the hunted. Once they leave our academy and return to Iraq, ironically, I guess all that I can say is enshalla.”
III. Iraqi Boot Camp
MPRI is also engaged in training military units around the world. In Kuwait, MPRI operates and manages training bases in both Kuwait and Iraq. The Kuwait facility, Camp Yankee, is a predeployment training center for coalition forces. In Iraq, they operate Butler Range, about forty miles east of Baghdad. Butler is a former Iraqi republican guard base and MPRI’s in-country centralized training facility for Iraqi and U.S. military units. Throughout Iraq, MPRI employs civilian military trainers that are co-located with Iraqi forces on Iraqi army bases.
There is no doubt that the MPRI trainers working with coalition forces have contributed immeasurably to the combat effectiveness of coalition units and have subsequently saved the lives of coalition soldiers. There is, however, far greater skepticism concerning the effectiveness and relative value of preparing Iraqi army units to assume responsibility for stabilization operations in their own country. Many critics fault the trainers. The problem is not the lack of contractor effectiveness in training Iraqi recruits, but the abundance of cultural, tribal, ethnic, political, and religious impediments to the effective application of that training. In short, the trainees remain unconvinced that the cause is worth shedding their blood.
To a lesser extent, we experienced this problem in Vietnam. In that war, rural people found it difficult to relate to the established government in Saigon. In fact, many South Vietnamese peasant farmers felt a much greater cultural relationship with the North Vietnamese leader, Ho Chi Minh, than they did with their ownpresident, Thieu. When left without U.S. counterparts, many local militia units weren’t willing to fight and die for their government. Placing soldiers and/or contractor advisors with these units in Iraq might help temporarily, but it will not solve the problem. At this time, it’s merely a Band-Aid on a hemorrhaging chest wound.
Iraq is far more fragmented than Vietnam was. The divisions among the Shiites, Sunnis, and Kurds are only the tip of the iceberg. Within these groups there are yet further divisions. Surrounding nations complicate matters by encouraging the chaos. Probably one of the few saving graces in this whole mess is that the insurgents haven’t come up with an alternative proposal. At least Ho Chi Minh had a plan—the unification of the country. That was attractive to many Vietnamese. In Iraq, the insurgents seem to kill just to kill. They have no specific agenda to bring to the Iraqi people except defeating U.S. efforts at democratization, which doesn’t do much good for the people of Iraq.
Only time will tell if Iraq can create a government that has the support of all of its people. Until then, how much support can we really expect from Iraqi soldiers? Are PMCs creating well-trained, unmotivated soldiers? Undoubtedly some are picking up the ball and running with it. But as to the bulk of the Iraqi military, how aggressive will they be in seeking out and exposing insurgents? They are, after all, a microcosm of the population.
Iraqi army basic training units are a mix of both Arabic and Kurdish recruits. Placing these historical enemies into the same geographical area, let alone the same work space and sleeping quarters, creates unique challenges. Just a few years ago, one could never have imagined men from these archrival cultures in the same space, especially with guns. Conversely, keeping them separated would indirectly support centuries-old racist attitudes and be counterproductive to the developing government in Iraq.
As the coalition forces are engaged in ferreting out insurgents and maintaining stability, the task of training and equipping the one-hundred-thousand-man Iraqi army has fallen largely on the shoulders of civilian contractors. At the same time, predeployment training for more than 115,000 coalition forces each year has also become a major responsibility of private military contractors. Perhaps if this war lasts long enough, the expedient solution of employing civilian contractors will no longer be necessary. Over time, the military might gradually assume most of those responsibilities. Let’s hope these longer-term solutions are never required.
Meanwhile, the Department of Defense continues to use private contractors to conduct military training over active-duty instructors. It is not as much of a stretch as some might think. Private contractors in the role of trainers, a.k.a. observer-controllers (OCs), have as much, if not more, experience than many senior soldiers. MPRI’s OCs are all former soldiers or marines, most with twenty or more years of military service. Nearly all have fought in the first, and some in the second, Gulf conflict. In many cases, their retirement was driven by the military’s up-or-out policy. The military employment pyramid gets very narrow at the top of the senior enlisted and officer ranks. Droves of otherwise highly qualified soldiers are forced into retirement every year. Civilian contracting opportunities aren’t the reason most of MPRI’s trainers left the service. Rather, most find that being a civilian contract trainer is as close as they can get to doing what they do best.
MPRI is able to amass highly skilled men and women for nearly any worldwide training mission on a moment’s notice. The company maintains a huge database of available personnel. They can quickly acquire contract employees with rare skill sets that the military doesn’t have
or can’t cut loose from other critical missions. It is not politically or economically feasible for the army to be recalling soldiers to active duty to meet these significant, but temporary, training requirements. Department of Defense outsourcing to civilian contractors is an efficient short-term solution. Finally, contractors have more time in country than most of the soldiers they train. This provides continuity, an invaluable commodity considering the frequent rotation and deployment of often inexperienced troops to the war zone.
John Karuza’s son reported the news with some excitement in his voice: “Dad, my unit’s deploying to Iraq.”
Karuza paused for a moment to digest what his son had just said, then responded, “I’ll see you there.”
His son had recently completed basic and advanced individual training, and graduated from parachute training (Airborne School) at Fort Benning, Georgia. His new assignment was with the army’s elite 82nd Airborne Division.
It satisfied his parental protector instinct to know that at least they would both be in the same hemisphere. A month or so earlier, a contracting firm recruiter from Group IV had called Karuza from Ireland and offered him a security contractor position in Kosovo. It was crazy to think that they would ever cross paths in Iraq.
But having retired from twenty years of infantry duty with the army, Karuza’s skills were in high demand. While in Kosovo, he got a call from Bob Meley, an MPRI recruiter, offering him a position as a military trainer in Iraq. Group IV was empathetic and agreed to let him out of his Kosovo contract. The way everything came together could hardly be believed, like a Hollywood script or something from the pages of The Celestine Prophecy. But it was happening—both dad and son were going to Iraq, one as a civilian, the other as a soldier.
John jumped the next flight to the States and reported to MPRI. As the 82nd Airborne prepared for deployment to war, Karuza began his predeployment orientation with MPRI. He arrived with a dozen other contractor applicants at the company’s Virginia headquarters for two weeks of orientation. They put him up in a first-class hotel and gave him ample time to get his personal affairs in order. Karuza relates: “They were very professional and strongly encouraged us to have family members visit during our weekends and time off. They did not glamorize the job we were about to do. The MPRI staff went to great lengths to provide a shameless exit for anyone not comfortable with the job. The days were filled with videos and briefings on the environment in Iraq, the enemy tactics, and the Iraqi culture, and completing administrative paperwork.
Next, the entire group of contractors flew to Fort Benning, Georgia. This army post was, coincidentally, the same location, at the same time, that his son was attending Airborne school. Now, in twist of fate, John Karuza would be able to attend his son’s graduation.
The MPRI contractors remained at Fort Benning for three days of orientation, vaccinations, and equipment issue. “It was like being back in the army [all over again],” said Karuza. “We moved through the line at the supply depot and one by one the pieces of equipment were handed out: flak vests, helmets, pistol belts, sleeping bags, boots, and canteens. More than ever before, the reality of what we were doing was sinking in. This was for real. We were going to Iraq.”
By now, the personal bonding of Karuza’s contractor group was starting to take hold. Nights were a mix of reflection, introspection, apprehension, and a thinly veiled pretense to be casual about things—to think that they had undertaken such an audacious and terrifying adventure by choice.
The collection of civilian contractors boarded a plane back to Virginia. MPRI provided two last opportunities to their new employees: the first was to give them another chance to back out, and the second was to provide a few more days to see their loved ones one last time. As the moment of departure approached, some men had a change of heart. As Karuza puts it: “From afar, these jobs seem like a great adventure, but as you get closer and closer to going, the adventure can begin to look pretty unattractive. We boarded a commercial flight to Kuwait with an intermediate stopover in Amsterdam. I’ve heard stories that some contractors have been known to turn around in Amsterdam and head back to the States.”
After a couple of days in Kuwait adjusting to the hot, arid climate, Karuza and his fellow contractors were on a C-130 cargo plane headed for Baghdad. From the airport they traveled through the city streets to one of Saddam Hussein’s grand palaces where they bunked out in ornate splendor. To Karuza, the mix of people, clubs, bars, blown-out buildings, palaces, tanks, armored personnel carriers, traffic jams, strange-looking characters with weapons, and soldiers doing PT on city streets seemed surreal to him, like being dropped into a scene from Apocalypse Now.
Three days later, his team of contractors and their convoy escorts had finalized preparations to make the journey about sixty miles northeast to the town of Kirkush, near the Iranian border. There, at an Iraqi army base, Karuza would settle into his new home for the next year.
“We packed onto something like a Greyhound bus. We were wearing our flak vests, load-bearing equipment, canteens—the whole nine yards. We had everything except a gun. A ‘cherry’ [inexperienced] army lieutenant was in charge of the movement. Most of us were experienced soldiers or marines having served many years in the service. Many of us onboard had seen extensive combat action. Having no control or influence over the lieutenant and his security detail was unnerving. The lieutenant put a gun truck in front of the bus and one behind it. As we plowed through bad neighborhoods and got stuck in traffic jams we found ourselves developing a plan in case the shit hit the fan. We even planned on what we would do if the bus driver cut and run during an attack. This was a tense drive through Baghdad. I doubt that there was a single contractor on board that bus [who] wasn’t asking himself, ‘What did I get into?’
“Eventually we left the urban sprawl behind us and traveled for hours across the barren desert landscape. From time to time we approached some isolated town. You could see it ahead from miles away. The towns were surprisingly green with vegetation sprung from a network of irrigation canals. People watched us with curiosity and sometimes warm smiles and greetings.”
But the sight of waving children, curious men, and women in their burkas was hardly a reason to relax. “We were wary of everyone and everything. Finally we closed in on our Iraqi army training camp in Kirkush.
“It was a desolate place, construction by the Yugoslavians having been halted when it was only half complete. We passed by the makeshift dilapidated buildings housing U.S. military personnel. Soldiers had placed blankets in the windows to block out the searing sun. The convoy came to stop at our quarters. Our buildings were prefab structures called PODs and were laid out in circular formations of five to a group. We referred to them as donuts. All in all, they were in a lot better shape than those we saw the army living in. Everything’s relative, so we really had no complaints.
“We got two hot meals a day, one in the morning and then [another] in the evening. Our noon meal was always meals ready to eat (MREs), sometimes referred to as rat feces. For the most part, the soldiers ate MREs three times a day. That’s a pretty rough diet. I felt bad for them, but I also remembered operations during my time in the army when I was in the same boat. Evidently, contract trainers, at least in regard to food, were a higher priority than the soldiers: a phenomenon that may have [stuck] in the craw of some. But, they had guns and we didn’t. We felt pretty naked without a weapon. If I’d had a choice between a rifle or a hot meal, over there, I’d take the rifle. I don’t think that the soldiers would have traded places with us.
“We began training the Iraqi recruits following a basic program of instruction torn from the pages of the U.S. Army’s basic combat training program. Our instructor group was mostly American but we had a mix of cadre from other countries like Australia and Great Britain. We were known as the coalition military training team. The Aussies insisted on formation drills and marching in a manner reflective of their British heritage. They contended that since Iraqi history was h
eavily influenced by the Brits, they were on solid ground with their program. So they won that argument, but we insisted that all cadence calling and running songs would be from the U.S. military. You gotta know when to hold ’em and know when to fold ’em. I’ll never forget hearing Iraqi soldiers with their Arabic accents trying to sing, ‘C-130 rolling down the strip, Airborne daddy gonna take a little trip.’
“Our camp was covered in gravel. It is kind of like volcanic ash. Everywhere you walk you can hear the sound of gravel crushing beneath your feet. At night, you can hear a person walking across that gravel a hundred yards away. Sometimes, I would lay awake listening to the crushing sound of someone walking outside my hooch. I would test myself to figure out which way they were walking. I will always think of Iraq whenever I hear that sound. It’s just one of those things that sticks with you.
“Everything in Iraq is called ‘Haji’ this or ‘Haji’ that. I never figured out exactly what that word means. I guess we just used the term to describe any collection of people or stuff that we didn’t know what else to call it. Hell, we even called insurgents Hajis. Anyway, the Haji shop inside the camp sold Iraqi junk food and trinkets. The shops just outside the gate sold everything: prayer beads, prayer rugs, alcohol, food, guns, watches, jewelry, motorcycles, and even women. Some of our contractors bought Russian motorcycles from them. Of course, they were no substitute for a good Harley but you gotta have some fun. You can buy anything at a Haji shop. All you gotta do is ask for it.
“The Iraqi recruits bonded with us, and we with them. We trained hard and played hard. They love to dance and invite you to join at every chance. The dancing turns competitive and by dawn you can barely walk. They are good at it, really good. At night everyone would watch Arabic television. This was a problem in that we were also training Kurdish soldiers from northern Iraq and the Kurds resented that all the TV programming promoted Arab adventures. In a compromise to solve the problem, the Kurds procured some VHS tapes featuring Kurdish themes and actors. TV night alternated between Kurdish and Arabic movies.
A Bloody Business Page 13