thedrifter
04-17-03, 10:49 AM
Baghdad War Memorial a Sad Sight
Thu April 17, 2003 11:21 AM ET
By Matthew Green
BAGHDAD (Reuters) - A U.S. Marine sits in a wheelchair, head bowed in concentration. Behind him is a stone wall inscribed with the names of tens thousands of war dead.
It could almost be a scene from the Vietnam memorial in Washington, where American veterans pay homage to the fallen.
Only these names are in Arabic, and this monument is in Baghdad. The Marine is relaxing with a science fiction novel, sitting in the only seat he could find.
"You use what you've got," said Major Davin Keith, 42, looking up from the pages, before walking back to his duties.
Two armies have collided under the elegant martyrs' memorial, or the Shaheed Monument -- one dead, one alive.
The first is an army of names -- the thousands upon thousands of Iraqis killed in the 1980-1988 war with Iran. Their identities have been painstakingly carved into walls running in a giant circle round the base of the monument.
The second army is a battalion of about 700 U.S. Marines.
An American tank now stands guard at the gates to the gleaming azure monument set in the middle of a huge artificial lake. The car park is choked with armored vehicles. Tents dot the lawns. Water purification trucks suck water from the lake.
The national memorial itself is untouched, a colossal abstract which has drawn the admiration of many Marines.
The monument features an enormous turquoise tiled dome, resembling those topping Baghdad's mosques. The dome is split down the middle, with the two halves offset, and the walls of the dome sheltering an "eternal" flame. But on Thursday, there was no flame.
The 40 yard-high dome sits on a circular platform 190 yards in diameter and was opened in 1983.
DARK DESCENT
Marines say they have been told by locals that the monument and a war museum beneath were no-go areas for the public, reserved as a facility for senior Iraqi officials.
They are still off limits, but not to Marines.
The tour starts in a service tunnel under the colossal sculpture. The power is off. It is so dark you must carry a flashlight.
Take a few steps, and heavy metal music drifts up a flight of stairs leading down to the cafeteria -- now a haven for several off-duty Marines reclining in black arm chairs.
A blue Frisbee whizzes overhead and the smell of cigarette smoke lingers. A belt-fed machine-gun rests on a table.
"We picked up all the trash, mopped it, cleaned the place up a little," said Lance Corporal Aaron Findley, 20. "Just so we could have a place out of the sun," he said, explaining how Marines cleared the mess left by looters in the dining area.
Pulling on his boots, he leads the way into the museum proper -- a cavernous subterranean hall following the curvature of the walls.
Arcing a beam of light up to the distant ceiling, the flashlight reveals yet more names -- 80 rows high and too many columns to count. Around a million people were killed on both sides during the conflict.
Broken glass crunches underfoot, the shards of shattered display cases. A green military shirt lies crumpled in a corner, a fiberglass mannequin dangles through a broken screen.
Looters left precious little else in the hall, where the lists of the dead seem to go on forever.
"It's like our Vietnam Memorial, only a lot worse, a lot more people," said a young Marine from the shadows, the name "Hamilton" visible on a patch on the right breast of his jacket.
"It's sad, that's a lot of people that died for someone that didn't give a **** about them," Findley said.
The yell of a superior called him away, so he missed the dozens of snapshots of men's faces scattered on the floor.
TIRE TRACKS, BONFIRES
Senior Marines say they are anxious to respect the memorial, partly to help charm city residents but partly because they feel they should honor all war dead.
Marines raised Iraqi flags at the entrance -- hoisting them again after they were mysteriously cut down one night.
Despite the gestures, living armies are always clumsy.
Tire tracks stain a lawn. The ashes of ration cartons smolder in pits dug in the grounds. Radio antenna mar the view of the shimmering domes.
Officers of the First Marine Tank Battalion say they aim to leave the monument in better condition than when they found it -- hoping it will one day be opened to the public.
Until then, Marines hold memorials of their own.
The voice of a priest echoes around the domes, their concave interiors acting like giant amplifiers as he performs mass for about 10 Marines.
Sempers,
Roger
Thu April 17, 2003 11:21 AM ET
By Matthew Green
BAGHDAD (Reuters) - A U.S. Marine sits in a wheelchair, head bowed in concentration. Behind him is a stone wall inscribed with the names of tens thousands of war dead.
It could almost be a scene from the Vietnam memorial in Washington, where American veterans pay homage to the fallen.
Only these names are in Arabic, and this monument is in Baghdad. The Marine is relaxing with a science fiction novel, sitting in the only seat he could find.
"You use what you've got," said Major Davin Keith, 42, looking up from the pages, before walking back to his duties.
Two armies have collided under the elegant martyrs' memorial, or the Shaheed Monument -- one dead, one alive.
The first is an army of names -- the thousands upon thousands of Iraqis killed in the 1980-1988 war with Iran. Their identities have been painstakingly carved into walls running in a giant circle round the base of the monument.
The second army is a battalion of about 700 U.S. Marines.
An American tank now stands guard at the gates to the gleaming azure monument set in the middle of a huge artificial lake. The car park is choked with armored vehicles. Tents dot the lawns. Water purification trucks suck water from the lake.
The national memorial itself is untouched, a colossal abstract which has drawn the admiration of many Marines.
The monument features an enormous turquoise tiled dome, resembling those topping Baghdad's mosques. The dome is split down the middle, with the two halves offset, and the walls of the dome sheltering an "eternal" flame. But on Thursday, there was no flame.
The 40 yard-high dome sits on a circular platform 190 yards in diameter and was opened in 1983.
DARK DESCENT
Marines say they have been told by locals that the monument and a war museum beneath were no-go areas for the public, reserved as a facility for senior Iraqi officials.
They are still off limits, but not to Marines.
The tour starts in a service tunnel under the colossal sculpture. The power is off. It is so dark you must carry a flashlight.
Take a few steps, and heavy metal music drifts up a flight of stairs leading down to the cafeteria -- now a haven for several off-duty Marines reclining in black arm chairs.
A blue Frisbee whizzes overhead and the smell of cigarette smoke lingers. A belt-fed machine-gun rests on a table.
"We picked up all the trash, mopped it, cleaned the place up a little," said Lance Corporal Aaron Findley, 20. "Just so we could have a place out of the sun," he said, explaining how Marines cleared the mess left by looters in the dining area.
Pulling on his boots, he leads the way into the museum proper -- a cavernous subterranean hall following the curvature of the walls.
Arcing a beam of light up to the distant ceiling, the flashlight reveals yet more names -- 80 rows high and too many columns to count. Around a million people were killed on both sides during the conflict.
Broken glass crunches underfoot, the shards of shattered display cases. A green military shirt lies crumpled in a corner, a fiberglass mannequin dangles through a broken screen.
Looters left precious little else in the hall, where the lists of the dead seem to go on forever.
"It's like our Vietnam Memorial, only a lot worse, a lot more people," said a young Marine from the shadows, the name "Hamilton" visible on a patch on the right breast of his jacket.
"It's sad, that's a lot of people that died for someone that didn't give a **** about them," Findley said.
The yell of a superior called him away, so he missed the dozens of snapshots of men's faces scattered on the floor.
TIRE TRACKS, BONFIRES
Senior Marines say they are anxious to respect the memorial, partly to help charm city residents but partly because they feel they should honor all war dead.
Marines raised Iraqi flags at the entrance -- hoisting them again after they were mysteriously cut down one night.
Despite the gestures, living armies are always clumsy.
Tire tracks stain a lawn. The ashes of ration cartons smolder in pits dug in the grounds. Radio antenna mar the view of the shimmering domes.
Officers of the First Marine Tank Battalion say they aim to leave the monument in better condition than when they found it -- hoping it will one day be opened to the public.
Until then, Marines hold memorials of their own.
The voice of a priest echoes around the domes, their concave interiors acting like giant amplifiers as he performs mass for about 10 Marines.
Sempers,
Roger