thedrifter
02-22-07, 07:40 AM
Marines fighting to win hearts and minds
By Tony Perry
Los Angeles Times
QAIM, Iraq -- In farming communities along the Syrian border, Marines work with Iraqis to open health clinics and a job center and to improve trash collection and water delivery.
In Fallujah, Marines at a center for displaced people greet Sunni Muslims from Baghdad seeking sanctuary from Shiite Muslim death squads.
And along the sniper alley of a freeway between Fallujah and Ramadi, Marines patrol less like warriors than traffic cops.
"I wasn't taught any of these things in infantry school," said Lt. Col. Scott Shuster, commander of the 3rd Battalion, 4th Regiment, with responsibility for Qaim.
In contrast to the security crackdown in Baghdad, most Marines in Iraq's western desert are engaged in nation-building, the kind of venture President Bush had publicly disdained, most notably during the 2000 presidential campaign.
Trained to win quick, decisive victories with firepower and bravery, many Marines in Anbar province never fire their weapons.
The Marine Corps has even changed the rules for its coveted Combat Action Ribbon, allowing troops to win it even when no shots are fired.
The chow hall at the base in this town near the Syrian border sums up the slow, incremental nature of the campaign: "Rebuilding Iraq one meal at a time."
Anbar, which sprawls from the Euphrates River valley west to the borders of Syria, Jordan and Saudi Arabia, remains deadly. Roughly one-third of U.S. casualties since the 2003 invasion of Iraq have occurred here, and the danger of roadside bombs, in particular, is ever-present.
What has changed is not the violence, but U.S. expectations. A little more than two years ago, after the second battle of Fallujah, Lt. Gen. John Sattler, then commander of the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force, boasted that U.S. forces had "broken the back of the insurgency." Now, the watchword is that all gains are small and that prevailing here could take years.
"I think we're making progress," said Capt. Glen Taylor, executive officer of Golf Company of the 2nd Battalion, 8th Regiment, with troops in a run-down hotel in the farm town of Saqlawiya. "I don't know if it will ever be enough, but I think the progress is real."
Fighting an insurgency is frustrating. "You cut off the head and the body doesn't necessarily die," Taylor said.
For some Marines, Anbar is a target-rich environment: The civil-affairs groups, often reservists, describe their mission with the military acronym SWEAT, which refers to rebuilding the sewage, water, electricity, academic and trash-removal infrastructure ravaged by decades of neglect and three years of insurgent attacks.
"The challenges are the same as back home, just 100 times more difficult," said Staff Sgt. Christopher Garcia, a city planner in San Antonio.
Elsewhere in the province, U.S. troops find themselves taking on duties they had not expected. In Ramadi, an Army lieutenant colonel trained as an artillery officer spends his days trying to make sure Iraqi police are paid, lest they desert and join insurgents. In Haditha, Marines patrol on foot, greeting Iraqis at a downtown market, trying to win hearts and minds one at a time.
In numerous communities, including Saqlawiya, Marines listen to Iraqis' complaints about war-damaged homes and businesses, making payments in cases where the damage was caused by Marines. Every payment comes with a gentle lecture: It's time you choose between the insurgents and us.
There is even an attempt at consciousness-raising groups for Iraqi women in hopes they will influence their husbands to favor the United States.
There have been setbacks almost everywhere, sometimes caused by trusting the wrong people: Iraqi contractors who turn out to be insurgents; sheiks pretending to have more authority than they do; scam artists trying to get payments, such as a Ramadi woman who showed the Marines her husband's death certificate, which was dated the following day.
Even when there are hopeful signs, they are contradicted by disappointing ones. Lt. Col. James Donnellan, who commands a Marine battalion with responsibility for a triad of towns along the Euphrates, is buoyed by support from the local police chief and a newly friendly, if tentative, attitude from residents.
Still, competency of the police is questionable. When a joint Marine-Iraqi convoy was attacked recently, policemen began firing in all directions with no discipline. Donnellan said no civilians or friendly forces were hurt.
"Luckily, the police are no better shots than the terrorists," he said.
For the enlisted ranks, particularly those stationed in more austere settings, away from the comforts of chow halls and movie nights and Internet cafes, the "Groundhog Day" repetition of duty in Anbar can be wearing.
"Sometimes you get down, because it seems nothing is going right," said Lance Cpl. Korby Rhodes, 21, of Park City, Kan., stationed at Camp Gannon. "You just have to get over it, you can't linger, you just have to get over it."
Commanders are on the watch for signs that young Marines, out of frustration or exhaustion, are too rough with civilians they meet at checkpoints or while on foot patrols.
"There is a tendency among the young Marines to think it's as kinetic [combative] as it was once," said Maj. John Polidoro, whose troops live in tents in the dusty Euphrates valley.
Troops who have seen buddies killed by roadside bombs or snipers have learned to mourn quickly and move on.
"It's not like it gets easier; it's like we're bottling it up, saving our grief," said Navy corpsman Adam O'Gara, 27, in his second deployment to Iraq.
Col. Sean MacFarland, commander of the 1st Brigade of the 1st Armored Division, an Army unit that controls Ramadi, says the Anbar strategy can be summarized by a quotation from British philosopher Thomas Hobbes: "Be sociable with them that will be sociable, and be formidable with them that will not."
Reminded that Hobbes also said life is "poor, nasty, brutish and short," MacFarland replied: "Yes, that sounds like Ramadi."
Ellie
By Tony Perry
Los Angeles Times
QAIM, Iraq -- In farming communities along the Syrian border, Marines work with Iraqis to open health clinics and a job center and to improve trash collection and water delivery.
In Fallujah, Marines at a center for displaced people greet Sunni Muslims from Baghdad seeking sanctuary from Shiite Muslim death squads.
And along the sniper alley of a freeway between Fallujah and Ramadi, Marines patrol less like warriors than traffic cops.
"I wasn't taught any of these things in infantry school," said Lt. Col. Scott Shuster, commander of the 3rd Battalion, 4th Regiment, with responsibility for Qaim.
In contrast to the security crackdown in Baghdad, most Marines in Iraq's western desert are engaged in nation-building, the kind of venture President Bush had publicly disdained, most notably during the 2000 presidential campaign.
Trained to win quick, decisive victories with firepower and bravery, many Marines in Anbar province never fire their weapons.
The Marine Corps has even changed the rules for its coveted Combat Action Ribbon, allowing troops to win it even when no shots are fired.
The chow hall at the base in this town near the Syrian border sums up the slow, incremental nature of the campaign: "Rebuilding Iraq one meal at a time."
Anbar, which sprawls from the Euphrates River valley west to the borders of Syria, Jordan and Saudi Arabia, remains deadly. Roughly one-third of U.S. casualties since the 2003 invasion of Iraq have occurred here, and the danger of roadside bombs, in particular, is ever-present.
What has changed is not the violence, but U.S. expectations. A little more than two years ago, after the second battle of Fallujah, Lt. Gen. John Sattler, then commander of the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force, boasted that U.S. forces had "broken the back of the insurgency." Now, the watchword is that all gains are small and that prevailing here could take years.
"I think we're making progress," said Capt. Glen Taylor, executive officer of Golf Company of the 2nd Battalion, 8th Regiment, with troops in a run-down hotel in the farm town of Saqlawiya. "I don't know if it will ever be enough, but I think the progress is real."
Fighting an insurgency is frustrating. "You cut off the head and the body doesn't necessarily die," Taylor said.
For some Marines, Anbar is a target-rich environment: The civil-affairs groups, often reservists, describe their mission with the military acronym SWEAT, which refers to rebuilding the sewage, water, electricity, academic and trash-removal infrastructure ravaged by decades of neglect and three years of insurgent attacks.
"The challenges are the same as back home, just 100 times more difficult," said Staff Sgt. Christopher Garcia, a city planner in San Antonio.
Elsewhere in the province, U.S. troops find themselves taking on duties they had not expected. In Ramadi, an Army lieutenant colonel trained as an artillery officer spends his days trying to make sure Iraqi police are paid, lest they desert and join insurgents. In Haditha, Marines patrol on foot, greeting Iraqis at a downtown market, trying to win hearts and minds one at a time.
In numerous communities, including Saqlawiya, Marines listen to Iraqis' complaints about war-damaged homes and businesses, making payments in cases where the damage was caused by Marines. Every payment comes with a gentle lecture: It's time you choose between the insurgents and us.
There is even an attempt at consciousness-raising groups for Iraqi women in hopes they will influence their husbands to favor the United States.
There have been setbacks almost everywhere, sometimes caused by trusting the wrong people: Iraqi contractors who turn out to be insurgents; sheiks pretending to have more authority than they do; scam artists trying to get payments, such as a Ramadi woman who showed the Marines her husband's death certificate, which was dated the following day.
Even when there are hopeful signs, they are contradicted by disappointing ones. Lt. Col. James Donnellan, who commands a Marine battalion with responsibility for a triad of towns along the Euphrates, is buoyed by support from the local police chief and a newly friendly, if tentative, attitude from residents.
Still, competency of the police is questionable. When a joint Marine-Iraqi convoy was attacked recently, policemen began firing in all directions with no discipline. Donnellan said no civilians or friendly forces were hurt.
"Luckily, the police are no better shots than the terrorists," he said.
For the enlisted ranks, particularly those stationed in more austere settings, away from the comforts of chow halls and movie nights and Internet cafes, the "Groundhog Day" repetition of duty in Anbar can be wearing.
"Sometimes you get down, because it seems nothing is going right," said Lance Cpl. Korby Rhodes, 21, of Park City, Kan., stationed at Camp Gannon. "You just have to get over it, you can't linger, you just have to get over it."
Commanders are on the watch for signs that young Marines, out of frustration or exhaustion, are too rough with civilians they meet at checkpoints or while on foot patrols.
"There is a tendency among the young Marines to think it's as kinetic [combative] as it was once," said Maj. John Polidoro, whose troops live in tents in the dusty Euphrates valley.
Troops who have seen buddies killed by roadside bombs or snipers have learned to mourn quickly and move on.
"It's not like it gets easier; it's like we're bottling it up, saving our grief," said Navy corpsman Adam O'Gara, 27, in his second deployment to Iraq.
Col. Sean MacFarland, commander of the 1st Brigade of the 1st Armored Division, an Army unit that controls Ramadi, says the Anbar strategy can be summarized by a quotation from British philosopher Thomas Hobbes: "Be sociable with them that will be sociable, and be formidable with them that will not."
Reminded that Hobbes also said life is "poor, nasty, brutish and short," MacFarland replied: "Yes, that sounds like Ramadi."
Ellie