Hussayn's Story
The visual-only sim can be a stomach-churner, but a couple of the IqAF Fling-Wing pilots who have come up here from Taji are pretty tough – the only thing that gets to them is my coffee.
Hussayn was recovering from a cup of my extra-strength double espresso with a bottle of tamarind soda (if you’re curious, take a can of Doctah Peppah and add a couple of ounces of OJ, then sip, cautiously). He gave me a bit of perspective on what it’s like to have Crusader Myrmidons roaming your neighborhood.
“After Baghdad falls to the US, I am cashiered out of the Air Force and take a job in one of the markets in my neighborhood. One night, some of my friends are visiting, and we have a barbecue and are watching videos of cowboy movies. There is a knock on my door. I open it and there is a US patrol. They ask if they can enter my house and I say, 'Sure, come in.' I offer them some barbecue, because we see them on patrol; we recognize them and know how long they are out before they return to base. They say, 'No, thank you. We have eaten recently.'
"Then they ask if I have weapons. One of my friends says to me in Arabic, 'Tell them "No" because they will take your guns and you will be defenseless.' I tell him in Arabic, 'I will not lie to them or they will not trust us.'
"So I say, 'Yes, I have a submachinegun, an AK and a pistol.' The patrol leader says, 'Bring them, please. We need to see them.' So, I bring them out. The patrol leader examines them, the submachinegun, the AK and the pistol. He tells me, 'The lubricant you have been using is bad quality.' But I know he is really checking to see if they have been fired recently.
"Two of his men strip the weapons, clean them, give me new lubricant, show me how to use new lubricant, re-assemble the weapons and return them to me. They say, 'We must leave now – thank you for allowing us into your home.'
"They return every night, the same patrol, and ask if my family is well. I offer them food, tea, they say, 'Thank you,' and sometimes they stay for a bite to eat, or a cup of tea. I see them in the marketplace, we say 'Hello, how are you?' and ask about their families, too. They are friends with all the neighborhood.
"One day, everything changes. The patrols are all in Humvees and they travel fast. The soldiers all look at us with suspicion from the Humvees and we do not understand why. Then I hear of Wahabi in the neighborhood, but I do not report them to the patrols – I cannot, the Humvees travel fast and no one comes to my house any more. More and more, we hear shooting down the street, and one morning a bomb destroys the market where I work. I could get another job in another market, but that market might also be destroyed by a bomb. Only a few Wahabi are where I live, but there is no one to tell – no patrols, no police.
"So I come back to the Air Force. I come back because I want to get the Wahabi out of my neighborhood, get them out of Iraq.
"One month ago, the patrols are back, and they are walking, not in Humvees. Different soldiers from the soldiers in the first patrols, but behaving like them – very courteous, very watchful.
"When the patrol knocks on my door, I say, 'Please come in – I would like some lubricant for my pistol.' The patrol leader looks at me with a funny look, then he smiles, then they all come in and drink tea and I draw a map of where the Wahabi are..."
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